The footsteps begin again, more cautiously then before and stop close to where I’m standing in wait, trying without success to steady my shaking body. When I slowly turn my head to look at the door it has already been noiselessly nudged ajar and eyes are observing me – the portion of craggy face jolts away when I look back, but after a few seconds it very slowly returns for another inspection. I feel like I’m on fire, my belly fizzes and cold faintness washes across me.
I’ve learnt to show my colours immediately so as to avoid problems later (not everyone appreciates a tranny not even a young one), so with my back still facing him, I hitch up my coat and lower my jeans to my knees. I turn my feet in, touch knees together and bend slightly pointing my bottom out (the well rehearsed, naïve pose no.2). My face is genuinely flushed with frightened expectancy and partially hidden by the shoulder of the large winter coat, my mouth open and tongue just visible; my breath quick. The eyes remain there… travelling up and down my smooth white legs, fixing on the little slinky panties and widening.
Slowly and gracefully I turn to afford another view. Half facing him now I lean against the wall arching slightly and let my coat fall open. He has a full view of my smooth, naked youth, from my knees to my face. I just hold there, looking into his eyes, my feet on tiptoes to accentuate my self-created femininity.
And he’s in… busily intruding and locking the door behind him with some force. I see him clearly for the first time. He’s of medium size and build, larger than my diminutive figure and he is quite dishevelled. What I’d taken as being advanced years was in fact considerable wear and tear. A strong smell of alcohol had followed him in. He loomed there staring at my body, panting loudly. I felt a little afraid; he wasn’t the kind of mild mannered, slightly perverted ‘50 years and over’ whose attention I so relished.
Rudely he grabbed at the front of my panties and pulled them forward and then down, I lost balance momentarily and whimpered. He scrutinised my bald pubis and my frightened little pecker for a few seconds, grunted and then thrust his hand between my uncooperative legs. He began to insensitively probe my tightly closed hole with his gritty index finger. I didn’t want it to enter me and so wriggled, but the filthiness of this situation had not escaped some dark part of me and I started feeling excited by the sheer loathsomeness of it all. I offered him my tit cupped in one hand and his greasy, odorous head began nipping at it. As my cock stiffened he took hold of it and squeezed. I groaned and leaned back further, stretching my arms to reach and hold the top of the partition behind me.
I couldn’t help myself, I could try to run - I could make my excuses and retreat into the night. But something hot and unintelligible in my stomach fixed me there. Something that had taken the power from my legs decided it all for me, it insisted that I was going to stay and let him take me… even let him abuse me if he had to.
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