Trans Lesbian Sexy Surprises: Sexy Surprises, #39

By Giselle Renarde

Dive into a world of love, passion, and self-discovery with "Trans Lesbian Sexy Surprises," a captivating collection of six spicy romance stories that celebrate the beauty of transgender women finding love with other women. From the tender exploration of newfound desires to the complexities of navigating relationships in the face of unsupportive friends, each tale offers a unique and empowering glimpse into the lives of transgender characters.

 

Join trans women and their girlfriends as they navigate the ups and downs of romance, friendship, and self-discovery. From supportive allies to unexpected challenges, these stories delve into the joys and struggles of being true to oneself while exploring the depths of desire.

 

Prepare to be swept away by the heartfelt connections within this anthology. Let these stories ignite your imagination and awaken your senses as you immerse yourself in a sensual world of transgender romance and sexy surprises.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Giselle Renarde
• Release date: Apr 8, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224425358

Giselle Renarde

Giselle Renarde is a queer Canadian, avid volunteer, and contributor to more than 100 short story anthologies, including Best Women's Erotica, Best Lesbian Erotica, Best Bondage Erotica, and Best Lesbian Romance. Ms Renarde has written dozens of juicy books, including Anonymous, Ondine, and Nanny State. Her book The Red Satin Collection won Best Transgender Romance in the 2012 Rainbow Awards. Giselle lives across from a park with two bilingual cats who sleep on her head.

Book preview

Trans Lesbian

Sexy Surprises

6 Erotic Stories

Giselle Renarde

Hot Oil Treatment

Ihad to ask my girlfriend’s opinion before I put pen to paper.

It’s not that I’m particularly needy, or that I bow to her beliefs, or that I couldn’t remember which of our sexual experiences impacted my life most deeply.  It’s more that my satisfaction is inextricably tied to hers.  If my Sweet hasn’t taken pleasure in an experience, then it isn’t terribly significant to me.  Even if I come forty times.

Orgasms used to be the end goal, especially when I was younger, but they’ve always been a dime a dozen for me.  These days, sex isn’t about coming.  It’s about being close to the woman I love.  There are a lot of sexual experiences I could write about because they were scandalous or sensational, or would make for titillating confessions, but I’d rather share something close to my heart. 

When my girlfriend and I started dating, I lost friends.  People near and dear to me called her a freak, a pervert, a deviant.  They couldn’t handle my romantic involvement with someone who identifies as a male-to-female transsexual.  It’s a shame their fears and prejudices prevented them from discovering what an amazing girl Sweet is.

Generally speaking, I wouldn’t advocate outing a trans partner to the reading public, but I do have Sweet’s permission.  She finds it empowering that I share not only our sex but our love on my blog and in my body of work.  She says my transgender fiction humanizes people like her, so she’s happy to appear in print, even if it is through the filter of my pen.

I asked Sweet which of our sexual encounters she thought I should write about, and her responses charted the entire course of our relationship so far.

First, she said, Write about sucking my toes.

Actually, I knew she was going to say that.  We’ve been together just shy of seven years, and already we’ve become repetitive and predictable and repetitive.  Did I mention repetitive?

It might seem like a small thing, but the first time I sucked Sweet’s toes was also the first time we did anything overtly sexual.  Sex did not come easy for us, not in the beginning.  I was incredibly attracted to her, but she rebuked my advances.  Before Sweet could give herself to me, she needed to feel confident that I viewed her as a woman and an individual—that I wasn’t fetishizing her gender expression, or thinking of her as a cross-dresser.  She didn’t want to provide just another lurid experience for my shocking little list.

That’s why the toe-sucking was so significant.  Before that day, I’d only ever kissed Sweet once—on my balcony.  She didn’t say anything at the time, but the next day she told me it made her feel weird and uncomfortable.  I persevered, not because I wanted to force her into a sexual relationship, but because I had a suspicion she would blossom even more fully into the woman she’d always been on the inside.  All she had to do was open herself to something new.

When I kissed her on the toe-sucking day, she let me do it.  If I’m not mistaken, she even kissed me back.  I touched her arms with just my fingertips and she shivered. 

I asked, Is this okay? and she nodded.

She was leaning, fully dressed, against the side of her bed.  I touched her thighs and listened to her breath grow shallow.  I thought she’d tell me to stop, but she didn’t.  I sank to the floor and unbuckled her shoes.  I took off her socks. 

It squicks some people when I talk about taking my girl’s toes in my mouth after she’s been walking around all day, but I love her feet.  When I sucked her big toe, she gasped.  It sounded like a degree of orgasm every time I took a fresh toe between my lips.  I looked up and her eyes were rolling back in her head, her lashes fluttering.  She told me it was the first time she’d ever had an orgasm fully dressed.

But I’ve told everyone that story, so I asked Sweet for another experience to write about.

Wearing sexy stockings for you, she said.  I felt so self-conscious, even with them under my clothes. I’m not into fetish stuff. It was hard for me to cross that line.

I knew precisely the day she was talking about—the night, actually.  We’d gone to a free k.d. lang concert as part of Toronto’s Luminato festival.  Afterwards, we had to choose between a Stars performance at NXNE, or heading back to my place.  As much as I love Canadian indie bands and open-air concerts, I could never resist the sparkle in my girl’s eye.  Especially when I thought she might be up to something.

It was my bed she leaned against this time.  She kicked off her pants to show me her secret: black stay-up stockings, the kind with lace tops.  After the number of times I’d told her how much I love women in sexy lingerie and hosiery—and she’d told me she didn’t feel comfortable wearing things like that—the gesture took my breath away. 

So did her legs.  If you ask Sweet her favourite feature, she’ll tell you it’s her legs.  They’re pale and lovely, leading up to the generous swell of her ass and curve of her belly.  She’d worn ultra-tight black panties that day.  When she stripped those off, I hardly knew what to say.  So I didn’t say anything.  I fell to my knees, and I took her in my mouth.

We don’t say cock, or even penis, when we talk about her body.  In fact, we stay away from specific references to her genitals.  Some trans women refer to that part as their big clit, but that term strikes Sweet as silly.  I asked her once what she preferred, and she said, "I like when you refer to it as me."

So I took her in my mouth.  She was small and soft, and I could swallow her whole without gagging. Grasping the base of her shaft, I swirled my tongue around, like she and I were kissing. I sucked.  At first nothing much happened.  She scratched my shoulders and moaned her approval, and after a time, she grew.

I purred around her hardness, running my hands down her sheer black nylons.  Her legs felt so smooth against my palms.  That was my pleasure—the sucking and the smoothness.  I went at her more vigorously.  She told me to slow down, that I was hurting her, and I obeyed.  Her erection didn’t last long.