The Night a Trans Girl Changed Me Forever

My name is Andrés, I’m twenty-nine years old, and I’m from Cali. Up until that Friday, I considered myself a pretty predictable guy: work Monday through Friday, the gym three times a week, a steady girlfriend, and no story worth telling. That night, without meaning to, I stopped being that guy. And I never wanted to be him again.

It had been a long week. Double shifts, an unbearable boss, and, above all, seven days without seeing Mariana. I missed her in an almost physical way, with a building urgency that nothing could soothe. On Friday we finally lined up: I picked her up, we went to eat at a Thai place she liked, and from there, straight to a motel on the outskirts.

I was fired up, with that stupid adolescent impatience. But as soon as we shut the room door, she sat on the edge of the bed with an apologetic look on her face.

—I have to tell you something —she said—. You won’t be able to go in tonight. I’ve got an infection, the doctor told me no sex for a few days.

Of course. That very night.

—But I can take care of you another way —she added, biting her lip.

And she did. Mariana knelt down and sucked my cock patiently, unhurried, looking up at me the way she knew I liked. It was good, it felt great. The problem was it didn’t quite cool me off: she left me half-finished, with my body awake and my head spinning. When we were done, I stared at the ceiling for a long while.

—Should I take you home? —I asked her, more sharply than I meant to.

She nodded. I dropped her off at her apartment close to two in the morning, kissed her on the forehead, and drove off with my body still buzzing and a foul mood.

***

The tank was almost on empty, so I stopped at a gas station in the south, one of those open all night. While the pump filled the car, I looked across the avenue almost by reflex.

That was the tolerance zone.

I knew it existed, everyone in the city knew where it was, but I had never really stopped to look at it. That dawn, under the orange glow of the streetlights, there was a row of women leaning against the walls and poles. And they weren’t just any women. They were trans women, I knew it right away from the exaggerated, perfect shape of their bodies: impossible hips, endless legs, necklines that seemed to defy gravity.

Something in my chest tightened. I had never paid for sex. Never in my life had I even considered being with a trans woman. But the frustration of the night, the accumulated lust, and that line of silhouettes short-circuited my brain.

I paid for the gas, pulled out, and instead of taking the avenue toward home, I went around the block. Just to look, I told myself. Just curiosity.

I drove slowly past the line, windows up, my heart pounding against my ribs. And then, right in front of me, a taxi stopped and one of them got out.

She was blonde, not very tall, with an incredible body. She had enormous breasts, a narrow waist, and curves that looked deliberately designed to drive anyone crazy. She walked to the curb with the confidence of someone who knows she’s desired. My stomach tied itself in a knot and, without thinking, my cock went hard against my pants.

She saw me. She came to the car with a sideways smile.

I got scared. I sped up half a block, my pulse racing, telling myself it was insane, that I had a girlfriend, that I’d never done anything like this. But halfway down the street, I braked. My head was already fucked. I wasn’t going to be able to sleep without knowing.

***

I turned around again and stopped beside her. I rolled the window down with clumsy fingers.

Up close her face wasn’t as delicate as the silhouette had promised: harsher features, a deep voice that gave away everything her body hid. For a moment I hesitated. But I was already there, and the doubt didn’t take away my desire one bit.

—What are you looking for, baby? —she said, resting her arms on the window.

—I’m not really sure —I admitted—. What do you offer?

—Something you’ll never forget. —She said it with complete calm, as if it were a fact and not a promise.

She was absolutely right, though I didn’t know it yet. We agreed on a price, I opened the door, and she got in. Inside, the car filled with her sweet, heavy perfume.

—I’m Valeria —she said, motioning with her chin for me to pull off—. What’s your name?

—Andrés.

—Has a trans woman ever sucked your cock, Andrés?

—No —I confessed, and my voice cracked a little—. I’d never been with one.

—Then tonight is your lucky night. —She laughed softly—. I’m the best at this. Afterward you won’t want anything else.

I didn’t even get to answer. Her hand was already on my crotch, undoing my belt with a skill that left me breathless. I was trying to drive toward the nearest motel, but she pulled my cock out of my pants and leaned over the gearshift.

What came next nearly took me off the road.

She sucked me off like nobody had ever sucked me off in my life. There was no rush and no mechanics: there was hunger. She took me all the way in, played with her tongue, went up and down while glancing at me every so often to make sure I was losing my mind. And I was. I had to grip the wheel and stop at a red light just so I wouldn’t crash.

—Pull over for a second —she told me, barely breaking away—. Why go so far? Do it here.

I parked on a dark street, behind a closed warehouse, without thinking twice.

***

I leaned the seat back as far as it would go. Valeria settled herself in, sucked me a little more, and then pulled a condom from somewhere in her top. She put it on me with her teeth and hands, slowly, savoring my face of desperation.

—Do you mind if you watch me? —she asked, hiking up her short skirt.

I shook my head. At that moment I didn’t mind a single thing. I just wanted to be inside her.

But when she lifted the fabric and I saw it, I lost my breath. She had a big cock, bigger than mine, semi-hard, swaying as she settled astride me in the car’s cramped space. I thought it would put me off. It didn’t. Something in that contradiction —the fantasy body and that raw, obvious part— turned me on in a way I never expected.

She sat on me slowly, controlling every inch, and started riding. At first slowly, finding the rhythm; then with hunger, bracing her hands on my shoulders and throwing her head back. With every movement her cock pressed harder against my belly, and I couldn’t stop staring at it, hypnotized, while she bit her lip and exhaled through her nose.

—You like it, baby? —she panted—. I knew you would.

I couldn’t even answer. I dug my fingers into her hips and let her do it. She knew exactly what she was doing: she rose almost all the way off me and came down hard, squeezed me, laughed softly every time I moaned without meaning to. She started jerking herself off while she rode me, that firm hand going back and forth over herself, and the whole image —her face, her breasts, that hard cock between us— took me to the edge much sooner than I wanted to admit.

—Not yet —she ordered, stopping dead—. Try something first.

She stood up, turned around in the narrow seat, and brought her cock to my mouth. I, who two hours earlier wouldn’t even have imagined myself in that situation, opened my lips without protest. What happened after was intense, almost brutal, and ended with me breathing hard against the seatback while she looked down at me with a triumphant smile.

—I liked how well behaved you were —she said, stroking my jaw—. Now it’s your turn.

She went back down, pulled the condom off with her teeth, and sucked me to the very end, not letting go of me for a single second. I didn’t last more than a minute. I came with a shudder that ran from the nape of my neck to my feet, and she held everything, looked straight at me, and slowly swallowed it. That image —her eyes locked on mine while she did it— has stayed burned into me like nothing else.

We stayed silent for a moment, both of us catching our breath in the fogged-up car.

—Told you so —she murmured, adjusting her skirt—. You won’t forget it.

I took her back to her corner. Before getting out, she winked at me, as if we shared a secret only the two of us would understand. And in a way, we did.

***

The next day Mariana came by my apartment. She wanted to make up for the motel, and knelt in front of me with the best intentions. I let her, stroked her hair, smiled at her. But inside, I looked at her with a strange mix of affection and pity. She tried, she really did try. And even so, there was no comparison.

That dawn something opened up inside me and it was never going to close again. Over time I left Mariana —not because of guilt, but because by then I knew I wanted something else— and since then I’ve been with several trans women: in motels, in cars, in borrowed apartments, with strangers who ended up unforgettable. I have a new girlfriend now, and I love her. But if someone asks me, quietly, what the most intense thing I ever lived through was, I don’t talk about her.

I talk about a blonde with a deep voice, on an orange-lit corner, who one ordinary night promised me something I would never forget. And she kept her promise.