The Club Invitation That Changed My Nights

The first time I saw him, I went to the meeting dressed as a guy, still not daring to show myself as I really am. He was a middle-aged man, tall, with big hands and a calm voice that never needed to be raised for people to pay attention. I’ll call him Rolando, because his real name doesn’t matter and because he asked me to keep it discreet from the very first minute.

We sat down at a secluded table in a noisy café. He ordered a coffee he never touched. He watched me the way someone assesses you, not rudely, more like he was measuring whether I fit into something he hadn’t explained yet.

—I have a proposition —he said at last—. I run a private club. Meetings on Friday and Saturday nights. Men with money, discreet men, looking for the company of trans women. Real attention, not just anything.

I felt the heat rising up my neck. Not from shame, but from something harder to name. A mix of curiosity and a tingle I knew well, the one that would wet the tip of my cock inside the tight underwear under my guy clothes.

—If you’re interested —he went on—, I’ll explain the conditions, the rules, how things work inside. But the decision is yours. I don’t talk anyone into anything.

—I’ll think about it —I answered, and noticed my voice came out firmer than I expected.

He left me his contact and told me that if I decided, I should reach out to him. He wasn’t going to push. That attitude, that calm of a man who knows exactly what he offers, left me restless for days.

***

I thought about the proposal more than I’d like to admit. I thought about it in bed, before sleeping, with my hand between my legs and my fingers sliding between my ass cheeks as I imagined other men’s cocks sinking into my hole. I thought about it in the shower, with hot water running down my back and my hand wrapped around my little dick, jerking off against the tiles. I thought about it while I did my makeup to go out and stared at myself in the mirror, wondering what it would feel like to make that a routine, a whole world of men paying to fuck me.

It wasn’t just the money, though I’d be lying if I said that didn’t matter. It was the idea of a place made for women like me, where what I’d had to hide so many times became the most valuable thing about me. Where a man paid to look at me, to want me, to shove his cock all the way in and cum inside me while treating me like the woman I am. That fantasy haunted me and wouldn’t leave me alone.

I talked to myself in front of the mirror more than once. I pictured myself walking into a room full of men turning to look at me, their cocks swelling under their pants. I imagined the brush of a hungry gaze climbing up my legs until it settled between my ass cheeks. And every time I imagined it, I knew a little more clearly what my answer was going to be.

After several days I contacted him. My fingers trembled a little as I typed, but the message was short and clear: I accepted, and I wanted to know more.

His reply came right away. This time he wanted to see me dressed as a woman. He wanted to get to know the real me, he said, to be with me, to show me how to attend to the men at the club and what each of them was looking for. I gave him an appointment for the following Thursday, at five in the afternoon, on a corner near my neighborhood that I already knew from other meetups.

That afternoon I got ready calmly. I shaved until my skin was smooth, with not a hair left from my navel down to my ass, perfumed myself, chose a short dress that hugged me where it had to hug me and a black lace thong that barely contained my package. I did my makeup slowly, lining my eyes, painting my lips as if for sucking cock. When I finished and looked at myself in full, I smiled. That woman there was me.

The car arrived on time. I lowered my gaze to the window and saw him watching me from head to toe before I even said a word.

—Wow —he said—. You’re gorgeous. I have no doubt you’re going to have clients.

I got in. The interior smelled of leather and his cologne. I crossed my legs and noticed him looking at them out of the corner of his eye as he pulled away, his gaze slipping in at the hem of my dress until it brushed my thigh.

***

He drove for about twenty minutes to a large, secluded property surrounded by a high wall and a gate that opened by itself as we approached. The house where the club operated was enormous, with high ceilings and dim lights, designed so everyone would feel important and no one would feel watched.

He showed me the spaces while explaining how the meetings were organized. He told me that, if I came in, I’d get dance lessons to improve the performance when it was my turn to go out into the lounge. That each night a professional makeup artist would do my face before we started, because presentation was almost everything. And then he led me down a hallway to a room.

—This would be yours —he said, opening the door.

It was spacious, with a big bed, warm light, and its own bathroom behind a half-open door. It smelled clean. I pictured myself there, taking men, with my legs open and some stranger’s cock opening up my back hole, and the tingle from the café came back, this time stronger, soaking my thong.

—But first —he added, coming closer to me without hurry—, I need to see how you handle yourself. It’s part of the deal.

I wasn’t surprised. Deep down, I’d been expecting it since the moment I got in the car. And the truth was I was already very turned on, with my little cock hard and straining against the thong, so I decided to give myself over and do my very best, everything I love and everything I’d learned sucking cock since I was eighteen.

I moved closer to Rolando and kissed him. He kissed me back slowly, pushing his tongue deep into my mouth, with that same calm he had for everything, one hand sliding up my back and the other dropping to squeeze my ass over the dress. I started unbuttoning his shirt, button by button, and went down kissing his chest, the center of his torso, the line of hair below his navel, all the way to the belt buckle. The hard bulge was already pressing against the fabric of his pants, and I licked my lips at the sight.

—Mmm —he murmured—. Very good. Just like that, slowly.

I knelt in front of him. I undid his belt, yanked down his pants and boxers in one pull, and his cock sprang out hard, thick, heavy, the tip already shining with pre-cum. I took it with both hands, one above the other, and there was still enough glans left to fit in my mouth. I stroked it unhurriedly, feeling it throb against my palms, feeling it get even harder as I ran my broad, flat tongue over the tip, sucking up the salty drop, and hearing him hold his breath.

—That’s it —he said through clenched teeth, voice breaking—. Suck my cock, bitch, suck it all.

I opened my mouth wide and took it in slowly, feeling the hot glans scrape my palate and slide down my tongue until it pushed into my throat. I gagged a little at first, tears filled my eyes, but I relaxed my jaw and took the whole thing until my nose bumped against the hair of his pubic mound. I stayed there, choking, eyes locked on his, a string of saliva dripping from my chin.

—Jesus fuck —he groaned, grabbing my hair—. You know what you’re doing.

I pulled off in a sudden jerk, took a breath, and took him back down to the hilt. I started sucking him in rhythm, bobbing my head up and down, sucking hard on the way out and choking on the way down, while with one hand I grabbed his heavy balls and kneaded them gently. I sucked them too, one by one, ran them all over my mouth, and went back to his cock, now licking it from top to bottom along the side, like a melting ice cream cone. I tasted him, teased him, left him on the edge and eased up, over and over, until he couldn’t stay still anymore and was fucking my face with his hands on the back of my neck. When he lifted me by the shoulders, we were both trembling, and a thread of spit mixed with precum hung from my lips to the tip of his shaft.

—I want to see you —he said—. All of you.

I tore off the dress in one motion. I was left in nothing but the black thong, my little dick bulging hard against the wet lace, nipples erect, skin prickled, standing in front of him under the warm light of the room.

—You have an incredible body —he exclaimed, running his eyes over me—. Truly incredible. Take off that thong. I want to see that little ass too.

I pulled it down slowly, swaying my hips, and let it drop to the floor. My cock sprang free, stiff, dripping, pointing toward the ceiling. He smiled and threw me onto the bed.

He started kissing me everywhere. My neck, my shoulders, my breasts, he took my nipples into his mouth and bit them until I was panting, he sucked on my belly. He laid me face down and kept going lower, kissing my back, my hips, and spread my ass cheeks with both hands to expose my asshole. I felt his hot tongue sinking in there, circling, sucking me, coating me in saliva, and I screamed into the pillow. No one had eaten my ass like that before.

—Oh God —I panted—. Yes, yes, like that.

He licked me for minutes, tonguing me, biting my ass cheeks, while his hands prepared me with a cold gel that made me arch. One finger sank into my hole to the knuckle and slowly opened me, searching for the spot that made me lose my mind. When he found it, my cock throbbed so hard against the sheets I almost came right then and there. He put in a second finger, then a third, and stretched me wide, circling them, fucking me with his hand while I pushed my ass back against them like a bitch.

—You’re so tight —he murmured—. And so hot. You’re a real female.

He flipped me over again and kept kissing the inside of my thighs, moving upward with a slowness that made me writhe against the sheets. He took my little dick whole into his mouth and sucked it in one go, all the way to the base, and I nearly flew off the bed. Every time he came close to where I wanted him, he veered away, stretching the wait. By then I was breathing in short gasps, hands gripping the pillow and my body begging for more than he was giving me.

—Don’t rush —he whispered in my ear, smiling in his voice—. The night is long.

He made me turn to face him. I met his eyes and begged for it without shame.

—Now —I panted—. Put it in already. Please. Fuck me. I’m yours, I’m your whore.

He lifted my legs, threw them over his shoulders, and set the tip of his cock against my saliva- and gel-slick asshole. He pushed in slowly, looking at my face so he wouldn’t miss a single expression, and I felt his fat glans forcing its way in, felt the ring give way and let him enter centimeter by centimeter. I swallowed a cry that was half pain, half pleasure, and he kept going, sinking all the way in until his balls slapped against my ass.

—All the way in —he growled—. Take it all, my love.

I felt him filling me, opening me, turning me into what I am when I let myself get fucked: a lustful woman, surrendered, with an ass made for cocks. He started moving, first softly, pulling almost all the way out and then sinking back in slowly, and then hard, pounding me until the bed creaked. Every thrust ripped a moan from me and jounced my tits.

He flipped me over, put me on all fours, and grabbed my hips. He shoved it back in with one brutal stroke and started fucking me from behind, spanking me until my skin was red and burning. I pushed my ass back against him, looking for him, begging for more, my face buried in the pillow and dripping spit.

—Harder —I pleaded—. Harder, break me, don’t hold back.

He fucked me with rage, gripping my hair, yanking my head back so I’d arch my back. He pulled out, dripping, and made me turn around again to sit on top of him. I lowered myself onto him slowly, feeling every vein of his cock brushing my walls, and began to ride him, up and down, squeezing my ass around him, looking him in the eyes while he squeezed my tits and sucked my nipples.

—That’s it —he panted—, ride it, bitch, show me how you’re going to take the club guys.

He grabbed my dripping cock and started jerking me off to the rhythm of my movements. I felt everything building inside me, a lash of pleasure climbing my spine. I didn’t fake a thing. I didn’t have to. I let myself go with him, with his rhythm, with that way he had of taking control without ever making me feel like anything less than the center of everything. When we came, we came together, both of us trembling, his cock buried to the hilt, throbbing, emptying into me in hot spurts I felt one by one, and my orgasm shaking me at the same time, splattering his chest and stomach with my thick load. I screamed, screamed loud, not caring who might hear me.

He collapsed on top of me without pulling out, panting into my neck, and I felt him slowly shrink inside me, his semen sliding out when he finally withdrew.

***

We stayed quiet for a while, catching our breath, the room heavy with heat and that smell of skin, ass, and sex that takes time to fade. I felt the warm semen leaking from my open asshole down my crack to the sheets and didn’t bother to clean myself up.

—There isn’t much to teach you —he said at last, still not moving, with a tired smile—. Just a few details, that’s all. But you’re hot, obedient, giving. You suck like a goddess and you’ve got an expensive bitch’s ass. You know how to let yourself be handled. That’s exactly what the men at the club are looking for.

He explained that all the members were tops, that none of them would ask me for anything I didn’t already know how to do. That soon he’d introduce me to the others, that I’d get to know the atmosphere little by little, without pressure.

As I got dressed in front of the mirror, fixing my smeared eyeliner and still feeling the sting of a well-fucked ass, I watched him reflected behind me, buttoning his shirt with that same calm as always. I thought about the meetings, the dance lessons, the makeup artist, the room that was now mine, the cocks that were going to pass through it. I thought about the Fridays and Saturdays ahead of me.

What am I getting into?, I asked myself. And the answer made me smile, because the truth was I already knew, and the truth was I wanted it.

We got back into the car. Before starting up, he put a hand on my knee and slid it up until it brushed my still-sensitive crotch.

—Welcome to the club —he said.

And I, looking at the gate opening again in front of us, knew that that afternoon I had crossed a door I had no intention of ever going back through.