The Party Where Someone Finally Took My Virginity
Before I tell what happened that night, I need to introduce myself. My woman’s name is Vanesa, although for years I was a closeted travesti, one of those who get dressed up behind closed doors and never dare go out. From a very young age I was fascinated by my older sister’s clothes: I stole her stockings, her dresses, anything that smelled like perfume and another possible life.
As time went on I started working and making my own money, so I stopped asking to borrow things. I bought my own. I’m twenty-eight years old and have a body that, with a little skill, passes: a defined waist, long legs, shoulders that a good blouse cut can disguise. With a wig and makeup I looked at myself in the mirror and had a hard time recognizing myself. I liked what I saw. I liked it too much.
The problem was that everything ended there, in front of that mirror. I dressed like a woman ready to be desired and then I removed my makeup alone, in silence, feeling that this Vanesa only existed within four walls. I didn’t dare go out. I didn’t dare do anything.
Everything changed when I opened an account on a social network with my woman’s profile. There I could show myself exactly as I really was. I posted photos, sometimes a video, and for the first time I felt like someone on the other side was seeing me. Within a few weeks I had hundreds of followers commenting, writing to me privately, saying things that made my hands tremble.
I replied to everyone. I flirted, sent the occasional carefully chosen photo, fed the game. But it was still just that: a screen game. Hot conversations that cooled off when I closed the app.
Until one account commented on one of my photos with something different.
—You’re gorgeous, Vanesa. When are you going to come to one of our meetups?
I opened the profile. It belonged to a group that organized private parties for trans girls and admirers. A place where a girl could go dressed as a woman, without hiding, and let the night decide the rest. I replied almost without thinking that yes, I’d love to. They wrote to me privately and invited me to the next event.
***
The day arrived faster than I expected. The appointment was in a discreet hotel, one of those with a sleepy reception and long hallways. I was greeted by the organizer, a warm woman who took me to a reserved room so I could change.
—Take your time, but don’t be long —she told me with a smile—. The admirers are already arriving.
I was left alone in front of the bathroom mirror and took a deep breath. No one had ever seen me dressed as a woman. No one flesh and blood. I took the clothes out of my suitcase like someone laying out an altar: sheer stockings, a set that hugged my body, a fitted blouse, and a straight skirt that reached mid-thigh. I put on the brown wig, lined my eyes, and finished with a deep red lipstick. The heels made me look even more elegant.
I looked at myself one last time. I wasn’t the Vanesa in my bedroom mirror. I was a real woman, about to step into a world I had been imagining for years.
I went up to the lounge with my heart in my throat. There were a dozen men and several trans girls spread among the sofas and the bar. Knowing I wasn’t the only one relaxed me instantly. The host saw me come in and came over to get me.
—You look gorgeous, Vane. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the girls.
She took my arm and led me to a group.
—This is Vanesa. It’s her first party, so be nice to her.
The girls welcomed me as if we had known each other all our lives. We started talking, laughing, and soon shots of tequila appeared. I have to confess something: when I drink, I loosen up. The embarrassment goes away and all that’s left is desire.
They were all gorgeous, but I felt like that night I was shining a little brighter than the rest. The men couldn’t take their eyes off me. They kept asking me to dance, and even though I barely knew how to move, they led me. They took every turn as an excuse to press close, to brush my waist, to leave a hand a second too long on my hip. One of them pressed me against his hard bulge while he talked in my ear, and I felt my heart pounding in the fake pussy I’d spent years imagining I had. I let them. For the first time in my life I felt truly desired.
The night went on and yet none of them quite pleased me enough. I was happy, but something was missing. Or someone.
***
It must have been close to midnight when he walked in. A guy with slow gestures and a sharp gaze, the kind who seems to have all the time in the world. Something in his air of owing no one anything hooked me immediately. I couldn’t stop looking at him. I saw him exchange a few words with the hostess and then step away, as if he were sizing up the place.
It took a while before he came over. Directly, no bullshit.
—Hi, gorgeous. You look edible. Wanna dance with me?
Reggaeton was playing, so I made up an excuse just for the fun of it.
—That music is danced pretty close —I said, pretending to hesitate.
—Exactly —he answered, with a half smile—. It’s for getting real close. Come on.
He had a rough way of speaking that in anyone else would have made me cringe, and in him, I don’t know why, it turned me on.
—All right, but don’t call me gorgeous. My name is Vane.
—I’m Darío. Nice to meet you, beautiful. Now then, let’s dance.
He grabbed a beer with one hand and took me to the dance floor with the other. I danced slowly for him, letting him hold me by the waist while he took a swig from the bottle without taking his eyes off me. Then he started talking to me, making me laugh. He was rough, yes, but funny, and he had that confidence that makes anyone attractive.
When the song ended he invited me to the bar. He got me whatever I wanted and we kept talking, getting closer and closer. When the music came back on I danced for him again, and no longer facing him: I rested my back against him, rubbed my ass against his crotch, and he held me with both hands, ran his hands down my legs, brushed my tits over the blouse. Within minutes I felt his cock hardening against my ass, hard as a rock, pressing into the hollow between my cheeks through the fabric. I bit my lip and kept grinding, rubbing myself against that bulge until he let out a low growl by my ear. The music covered what was happening between us, even if nobody around was missing it.
At some point he turned me toward him and kissed me. He shoved his tongue all the way in, hungry, and I sucked on it like we were already in bed. I couldn’t stop him, and I didn’t want to. His hands went under my skirt, squeezed my ass over my stockings, searched between my legs and found me hard, pressed tight against my underwear. He smiled against my mouth when he realized.
—Look at you, you slut —he whispered, squeezing my cock over the fabric—. All wet already.
I could barely manage to return the kiss, my knees weak. What turned me on most was knowing that half the room was watching us: the new girl, the one who had so many times dreamed of being desired like that, making out in public with the hottest guy at the party, letting herself be groped in front of everyone.
—I have a room in this same hotel —he told me in my ear, his voice rough—. Let’s go. I want to fuck you alone.
—Really? —I asked, playing hard to get for one more second.
—Really. Come on, before I grab you right here.
He took my hand and we left.
***
His room was a few feet from the lounge. As soon as he closed the door, the air changed. He pushed me against the wall and kissed me hard, biting my lip while he ripped my blouse open button by button. When I was left in my bra, he bent down and sucked my nipples through the lace, tugging with his teeth until the first moan of the night slipped out of me. Then he led me to the bed between kisses and let me fall onto the cover. His hands gave me no respite: he hiked my skirt up to my waist, traced my stockings with spread fingers, squeezed my thighs as if he wanted to memorize every inch.
He tore my thong off in one yank. My cock sprang up hard, leaking a thread of clear fluid from the tip. He smiled when he saw it, licked his lips, and grabbed it with his right hand, squeezing from the base.
—Look what a tasty little dick you’ve got, Vane —he told me, stroking me slowly—. All mine.
I was trembling, but not from fear. It was pure anticipation. I’d spent years imagining a moment like this and I still couldn’t believe it was really happening. He bent down and took my cock all the way into his mouth, sucking it eagerly, pulling off with a smack and then swallowing it again to the root. He licked my balls, ran his tongue along my perineum, and when he placed the tip of his tongue on my asshole I screamed and arched over the coverlet.
—Wait —I told him, sitting on the edge of the bed, my voice rough—. I want to do you first.
He understood immediately. He lay back, unfastened his pants, and pulled them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, thick, dark with blood, the tip shiny and a vein throbbing along its length. My mouth watered just looking at it. I knelt between his legs, took it in both hands, and ran my tongue from his balls to the tip, slowly, looking him in the eyes every so often, enjoying the way his jaw tightened.
Then I took it all in. Well, as much as I could, because it was big and it caught in my throat. I sucked it hungrily, up and down, letting saliva drip down my chin, squeezing his balls with one hand while the other caressed my own cock. I did things I had spent years watching in videos, alone in my room: pulled it all the way out to lick just the tip with a quick tongue, then shoved it back down my throat and held it there, feeling it pulse against my palate. There was no rush. For the first time I had control of something, and I savored it.
—Like that, slut, suck it all —he growled, grabbing my hair—. You suck cock so well, bitch.
He let me take the lead for a long while, until his breathing grew heavy and he started setting the rhythm with his hands on my head. He shoved me against his pelvis and then let me go, made me gag and then let me breathe, playing with the limit, and that back-and-forth drove me crazy. I slobbered all over his balls, ran my tongue underneath, sucked the tip with tight lips, and felt him swelling even more in my mouth.
—Get on all fours —he asked in a rough whisper, pulling my hair upward—. I want to see that ass.
I obeyed without hesitation. I got up on the bed, pressed my chest to the mattress, and lifted my ass high, my skirt still bunched up at my waist. I showed him everything, vulnerable and surrendered like never before. I heard him take something from the nightstand drawer and then felt the cold stream of lube spilling between my cheeks. He took his time. First one finger, slowly circling at the rim, then pushing in to the knuckles. I bit the pillow.
—So tight —he murmured, moving it inside—. You’re going to have to loosen up for me, Vane.
He slid in a second finger, then a third, opening me patiently while with his other hand he patted one cheek and squeezed it, until there was no turning back. I felt the head of his cock press against my entrance, slick with lube, and I ran out of air.
—Slowly —I begged when I felt him push—. It’s my first time.
—Easy, baby —he said, stopping just enough, his hands firm on my hips—. At first it’s hard. Afterward you won’t want me to stop.
He entered little by little, gaining ground with each thrust. The head went in first and tore a long moan from me; then the rest slid in, centimeter by centimeter, until I felt his balls hit my thighs and knew he was all the way inside. He stayed like that for a moment, still, letting me get used to it while I breathed against the sheet with my mouth open.
He was right. What started as a sting slowly turned into something else, a slow wave that rose from below and made me bite the pillow. He started moving, slowly at first, with long thrusts, pulling almost all the way out and then driving back into me to the hilt. My moans changed tone, from pain to pure pleasure. He noticed and adjusted the pace, attentive to every reaction I had, as if he could read my body better than I could. He grabbed my hips and started fucking me harder, with sharp strokes that made the slap of skin on skin echo through the whole room.
—See, Vane? —he told me against the back of my neck, never stopping his thrusts—. I told you you’d like it. Look at that ass taking my cock, slut.
—Yeah —I managed between gasps—. I like it. Don’t stop. Fuck me hard.
He laughed softly and pulled my hair, arching my back, and started pounding even deeper. I was gripping my own cock, dripping between my legs, and jerking it in the same rhythm as he drove his cock into my ass. Every thrust pulled a sharper moan out of me. The bed creaked. The headboard banged against the wall. I didn’t care about anything, only that cock sinking in and out, that hand squeezing my nape, that rough voice saying dirty things in my ear.
—Turn over —he suddenly ordered, pulling out with a yank that made me moan from the emptiness—. I want to see your face when you come.
He turned me onto my back, spread my legs, and put them over his shoulders. He slammed his cock into me again in one stroke and looked me in the eyes while he fucked me. I could see his mouth open, his forehead sweaty, his pecs tight with effort. I held on to his arms, dug my nails in, and he answered every scratch with a deeper thrust.
—Look at me —he said, grabbing my cock with his right hand—. Come for me, slut. Come with that little dick in my hand.
He jerked me hard, in time with the pounding, and I felt everything building. The wave rose from my ass, climbed up my belly, and exploded between my legs. I came in streams over my own stomach and over his fist, without stopping moaning, without stopping feeling that cock inside me buried to the hilt. With the contractions I clenched my ass around him even tighter, and I heard him growl like an animal.
—You’re gonna kill me, bitch —he gasped, sinking all the way in—. There it goes, there it goes.
He drove into me three, four more times, each time faster, and I felt him swelling inside before he let out the first jet. He came hard, filling me, his chest pressed to mine and his mouth against my neck, biting my skin while he emptied himself. Every pulse of his cock sent another wave of hot semen deep inside me, and I took it all with my ass clenched, trembling beneath him.
All that existed in that room was us and the heat rising without restraint. He held my hips, talked to me softly, and I let myself go without thinking about anything outside. I was no longer the closeted travesti who got dressed up alone in front of the mirror. I was Vanesa in full, desired, alive, with the cock of a stranger still buried in my ass.
When he finished, he stayed over me for a moment, catching his breath, his forehead resting against my chest. He pulled out slowly, and I felt the warm thread of his cum seep out of me, sliding between my cheeks and onto the sheet. Then he rolled to one side and pulled me against his chest. I lay there, exhausted, with my own cock still hard and sticky, feeling our two hearts beating out of sync.
—You’re dangerous —he murmured, chuckling under his breath, while he ran a lazy finger through the semen dripping from my stomach.
I didn’t answer. I just smiled against his shoulder, still unable to believe what had just happened.
***
We stayed like that for a while, in silence, while the music kept thudding softly on the other side of the wall. At some point I got up to fix my hair and makeup, which had been half-wiped away by all that movement. I looked at him in the mirror’s reflection: he was stretched out on the bed, his cock still heavy against his thigh, watching me with a crooked smile.
—You’re fixing yourself up already? —he said—. The night isn’t over yet. You still have one more fuck left in you.
I laughed, feeling a new pulse between my legs just from hearing him. Everything ached in a new way, a sweet soreness in my ass that I secretly liked, because it was proof that it had been real. I walked over to him, gave him a slow kiss, bit his lower lip, and let him hold me again.
When we went back to the lounge, several people turned their heads to look at us. I made my way to the girls’ group and sat down carefully, exaggerating the gesture on purpose.
—Sorry, I need to sit —I said with a smile—. They left my ass well and truly wrecked.
They laughed, made jokes, asked me filthy questions that I answered with fake modesty and a few precise details. I loved being the star, the new girl who had arrived shy and was now the talk of the night. For the first time I didn’t feel on the outside. I was inside, at the center, exactly where I had always wanted to be.
Darío came over every so often, stole a kiss from me, chatted with the girls like it was nothing, and vanished back into the crowd. Before we left he asked for my number and we agreed that maybe, just maybe, this would happen again.
Who knows. But that night I learned something the mirror in my room had never been able to teach me: a woman only truly becomes who she is when someone else looks at her, desires her, and fucks her without asking permission. The rest, what came later with Darío, is another story.
