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I had been going out with Val for a few months. We had fun together and enjoyed each other’s company. We hadn’t discussed whether we were dating each other exclusively. We hadn’t said “I love you,” the charmed words that mark the boundary waters of a serious relationship. We saw each other most weekends, and occasionally during the week. Our sex was electric, and at the time the primary glue of our relationship. She was in many ways still a stranger to me, and I to her. We were sitting at a table at a fairly ritzy downtown bar on a Friday night. Val noticed I kept staring at the woman behind her, and I was. She had arresting, firecracker red hair. She was dressed in a short skirt and a sparkling silver halter top, and showing a significant amount of cleavage and leg. It was hard not to look, and I was getting a little hard as I talked to Val, imagining bending her over the table and getting under her skirt. I tried very carefully to conceal my darting eye from Val. I was unsuccessful. “You keep looking at something behind me.” “No, I’m not,” I stammered, realizing it was an inexcusably lame response even as I said it. She turned to see the redhead sitting behind her. She turned back to me. “She’s hot.” “Yes she is.” A loaded moment passed, and I wondered if she would be angry at me. It was admittedly rude to be looking at other women while out on a date. I wasn’t sure of her reaction. I waited. “Would you make a pass at her if I weren’t here?” I still couldn’t tell how she was feeling. I didn’t know what to say. I decided to test the waters. “Yeah, I might buy her a drink.” “Would you fuck her?” She emphasized the word “fuck,” so that it came out hard and harsh and fricative. istanbul travesti “I might,” I said, not sure if I should be venturing into this arena or not. Val got the oddest expression on her face. I was utterly unable to read what it meant. It was like the face of someone I didn’t know. Val said, “She’s kind of slutty,” wearing a cat and canary smile as she said it. “Yes.” “Does that turn you on?” “Does what turn me on?” “Slutty girls in bars. Picking up slutty girls in bars and fucking them.” It was the kind of thing that might have sounded angry, if said in a different tone, but a new note in her voice made it sound very sexy. I got instantly hard as I wondered where the conversation was going, my body was more aware than my mind of where this may be leading. “It turns me on. Yes.” Then, venturing further, I added, “It’s turning me on to hear you talk about it.” “It’s hot to imagine you picking up a strange woman and fucking her.” I went a little deeper. “Do you want a threesome with her?” She laughed loudly. “No.” Then she added, “I’m saying, if we weren’t together. I mean, if I was here by myself, and you were a stranger, and I was watching you. It would be fun to watch you pick up some hot stranger.” “Do you want me to do that?” “Don’t you wish,” she said, pairing her words with that intoxicating smile. “No, I’m just fantasizing. I’d be too jealous.” Her response was a tiny clue as to how she felt about me. All we had were clues. She leaned in and said, “But I have the next best thing.” I asked her to tell me what, but she wouldn’t tell me, choosing to tease me instead by withholding details. My cock was hard and throbbing, imagining the possibilities. istanbul travestileri I begged for a hint. “You’ll find out soon enough.” I threw her against the wall of her apartment as soon as we got there, and we were fucking on the floor within minutes. No foreplay. The foreplay had been our conversation at the bar. As she rode my cock and caressed her tits she hissed, ”You’re imaging fucking that little slut, aren’t you?” I thrust into her harder and harder. “You’re my little slut.” “You’re imagining ripping her clothes off and sticking your cock inside her.” She was meeting my thrusts, pinching her nipples, her pussy squeezing my cock. She was close to cumming. “I’d fuck her right in front of you.” I was fucking her even harder now, my cock throbbing with cum. “Would you cum on her tits?” Would you jerk off on her tits?” “Oh God yes,” I cried, so close to cumming. She rolled off my cock and started jerking me off with one hand while she slid two fingers of her other hand deep in her pussy. “Cum on her tits” she snarled. “Cum on her slutty little tits.” As I groaned and shot out hot ribbons of cum all over her tits, she pressed her fingers deep into her pussy, grinding against them as she came. She lay back on the bed, her body still quivering. She rubbed my cum into her tits, playing with it, lingering on her nipples, her fingers circled them. It was the hottest sex we had ever had. I had never seen her like this before. Perhaps I didn’t know her as well as I thought. Perhaps I didn’t know her at all. *** She called me at work the next Friday and told me her to meet her at the same bar. It wasn’t an unusual request. “I might look a little different.” travesti istanbul “Okay,” I said, unsure, drawing the word out. “What does that mean, exactly?” “Can’t tell you,” she said, clearly amused. “Okay.” “ And my name’s not Val” I was confused. “What’s your name?” “You’ll need to ask me.” She giggled. “I’ll be at the bar.” She hung up abruptly. I tried to concentrate on work but was unable to do so for the rest of the day, imagining what might happen that night. As I walked in I scanned the bar for her but didn’t see her. I walked up, ordered myself a beer. Waiting, I scoped the room using the mirror behind the bar. A redhead caught my eye in the mirror. At first I thought it might be the redhead I had been caught staring at last night. I looked closer. It wasn’t her. It was Val. She was dressed to fuck. No subtlety about it. She wore stiletto heels, a short red dress with black thigh highs you could see the edges of if she stood just right. She wasn’t wearing a bra, so her small, pert breasts were in full view. While her nipples weren’t visible yet, they would be soon. Her nipples got very hard and thick when she was aroused. And she would be soon, I was sure. I know I already was. The most arousing change of all was the color of her hair. It was a much brighter red than the redhead we had seen last night, more exaggerated, certainly not a color found in nature. It was a costume. It was a disguise. It was a mystery. I got my beer, walked over and sat next to her at the bar. I ignored her. While I nursed my beer two guys hit on her, one right after the other. She brushed them of effortlessly. “It must be annoying to have guys trying to pick you up all night,” I said. “Depends on the guy.” She didn’t even look at me as she said it. She sounded bored. “How about me?” She turned to look for the first time. “We’ll have to find out.” Her voice gave nothing away, but I noticed her nipples beginning to harden. “Can I buy you a drink?” “Sure.

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