"Fuck Me like a tranny whore" the ad read. Adeline was taken aback especially since this was the "women for men's" section of Craigslist. Somehow in her prudish southern upbringing complete with mint julep and iced teas sipped in the hot Georgia sun she had missed the memo. Adeline was in Chicago now and alone and every moment that passed she became more keenly aware of her singleness.
Adeline had been married to her job she barely noticed as the months turned into years good friends dropped off the social radar only to return swollen with child and hinting for expensive gifts. Now that she had been laid off from her job as a travel editor for a small newspaper, she had time to reflect on her isolation. No one was there to be the strong shoulder to cry on.
Adeline found herself wondering what it would be like to be fucked like a tranny whore. She imagined a lover; a stranger's hands taking liberties with her making her feel used, desired and discarded all at the same time. She shook her head, "that bitch is sick," she thought. The successive ads weren't any tamer. She secretly envied these women they asked for what they wanted even if it was from the anonymity of the personals ads.
Adeline closed her laptop and immediately went to the bathroom. There in the cold sterile white 6' by 6' bathroom she would take complete stock of herself. The most honest assessment any woman in her middle thirties had ever taken without a drink. Adeline closed the door to the bathroom as if she needed to be even more alone in the aloneness of her small Andersonville apartment on Chicago's North side.
Adeline took the bottom of the white silk chemise and bellied up to the mirror and wiped the surface with her hem. Then she stood back. A deep cleansing breath was had and she pulled the white chemise off in one movement and let it sail its way to the floor. She closed her eyes as she slipped out of the white and blue nautical striped bikini panties that hugged every inch of her smooth short legs as she pulled them down low enough to step out of them.
She stood up and tossed them behind her so they landed somewhere on the edge of the porcelain tub. She found herself squinting as she opened her left eyelid peeking at her reflection with one hazel eye as she bit her lower lip to brace herself for impact. It wasn't so bad. She had a heart shaped face that was partially hidden behind glasses most of the time until an assistant finally had harassed her into buying contacts. She had worn glasses so long she still found herself absent mindedly pushing the bridge of her glasses up with her index finger and realized that she wasn't wearing them. The missing glasses had become something of a phantom limb she could feel them even when they weren't there.
Her wavy black hair was still in a messy chignon with a pencil holding down the works. She slowly pulled the pencil out as if she were in the middle of a cinematic strip tease, expecting her hair to fall down around her shoulders in glorious thick ringlet curls. The hair was frozen in a stiff ponytail. Finally she bent down at the waist and then ran her hands through her hair. The wild tousled hair demanded grabbing. She could imagine large masculine hands twisting roughly through her locks as if it were the mane of a horse as he thrust himself into her from behind.
The image made her laugh and she self- consciously crossed her arms over her large 38 C breasts. They were what an ex-boyfriend called perfect ski-slope breasts. A good slope tipped with pert nipples and with a round underside. The breast had held up, genetics had given her one thing in her favor good boobs as a way to counteract the burden of crazy ass relatives.
She shook the idea of her relatives out of her mind so she could continue with her self-assessment. She had a round woman's body it was not fat and not supermodel thin either. She had a soft tummy but it complimented the hips and the round buttocks. She had short legs but they were shapely and had a nice muscle tone to them. She had a nice tan owing to her Dominican and Italian heritage. When she looked at herself her body reminded of her of the slave girls that would grace the covers of the old sci-fi and sword/sandals and barbarian books. "I'd fuck me" she said to the mirror. "I'd fuck you hard."
Her hand trailed down to the chestnut fur that hadn't been shaved in weeks. She kind of liked the idea of being a little furry down there. It seemed like a rebellion from the sea of waxed snatches that graced the screens everywhere. It also seemed more womanly she had a woman's body and a woman's body was meant to be touched, held, kissed, fingered and fucked properly and not necessarily in that order.
The next day Adeline hit the phones calling every job prospect she could find. She even dressed in a navy pinstriped blazer with a white oxford shirt from the waist up. From the bottom down she wore only white cotton panties with little red stop signs on them, except instead of stop they said "lick" or "touch." She figured that if she was dressed that way then would- be employers would hear her professionalism on the phone. The pants were an oversight because the navy blue pants hung on the back of her clack black Parsons' chair part of her dining set.
She didn't want to wrinkle the pants in case she needed to wear them later for a job interview. The idea of talking to strangers about serious matters such as finance in only a blazer and a pair of panties started to turn her on.
"What is your degree in?" the man on the phone asked. He had a nice gravelly voice and it kind of added to the feelings she was already having. She found that her right hand had switched the receiver to her left hand and her right hand began to slowly caress her mound through the cotton panties.
He continued his questioning. "Uh-huh that's fine. Can you send me a transcript?" Now she leaned back in the chair and had it balanced on its back legs. She moved the phone cradle so that she could put her left leg on the dining table for better leverage. She started drawing soft semi-circles over her clit through the panties. She could feel the individual hairs as she stroked herself smoothly and softly while answering his questions.
She was a little afraid that he would sense what she was doing and not give her the job. She promised to give him everything he asked for and quickly hung up. Now when she placed her hand down her panties the whole area was filled with a moist heat. She kept her hand there for a minute and just let the heat from her pussy warm her hand then she took her index finger and traced the outline of her outer lips followed by the inner lips. She squeezed the bright bulb of her clitoris and rubbed until she could have set her cotton bikini briefs on fire.
The panties were tight and her hand didn't have much room and somehow this made it hotter. She could have easily whipped off the panties and rubbed herself raw but she wouldn't. She kept her left leg on the table and now she propped her right leg on another parson's chair. She was essentially spread wide and she now took her other hand and pinched her own tits while stroking the hell out of her cunt.
She stroked until the fingers of her right hand wanted to cramp a combination of writing notes and this vigorous activity but she wouldn't stop. She strummed herself until she was contorted with pleasure. Her legs were stiff as she was coming. Sweat beaded across her forehead and her tits were wet. She could feel the sweat through her bra until finally she let out a few squeaks. She could feel the electricity pulse through her pussy until her whole body jerked and jolted from the shock of it.
Finally, she let go. Her breathing was hard and raspy. She sat there for a moment her legs spread everywhere until the tiny tremors in her cunt subsided and she could catch her breath. She took her fingers slick with cum and she sniffed them. She even thought of licking them like she had seen porn actresses do but who was she trying to impress -- again she was alone.
She felt instantly guilty for touching herself while she was on the phone with potential clients. He could have thought she was unprofessional a wanton whore masquerading as a writer. Maybe he was gay and the thought of someone stroking their furry snatch while on the phone with him would be abhorrent. Or worse he could look like a troll with that gravelly voice and now she'd have to blow him every Monday just to start off the week and keep her job.
A couple of interviews later left Adeline no better off then she had been before. She scrolled through the job board but found she thinking about the personals. I must find work --that can wait. Another thought came back to her that has always waited. You have delayed being a woman for so long how much longer should you wait? Can you wait? How much longer until you are the desperate old cougar with the wrinkled skin wearing head to toe leopard print, too much lipstick and 4 pounds of hair extensions?
With determination she typed in the web address and she scrolled through the personals many of them were men who claimed "that they only wanted oral nothing else." They had even furnished pictures of themselves eating pussy or a snapshot from a porn site. Then something caught her eye an extremely simple ad among the raunchier contenders. "Come celebrate nude day with me."
She saw a few others with the title nude day. They offered similar enticements. She clicked on the "Come celebrate nude day with me" ad again. "Let me eat you underneath the stars as we share Nude Day in the woods as nature intended."
Despite her better judgment she called the phone number spelled out in the text. It took her a minute to understand that this was an attempt to get passed the censors.
She dialed and then before she could get scared and hang up a male voice answered, "Hello?"
"So what's Nude Day?" she said in her very husky southern drawl.
