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From: "Evan Karpel" <evkarpel@attbi.com>
Subject: {ASSM} DOUBLE D's DERRIERE DELIGHT
Date: Tue,  2 Apr 2002 16:10:05 -0500
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oyt. SHM doc
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<1st attachment, "SHM.doc" begin>

SHM

I sat directly on his lap and danced as the music from the
jukebox played a fast-paced jazz tune.  I knew the middle-aged
gentleman under my satin-covered tush liked what I was doing,
because I could feel him squirming beneath me.  I half turned to
face him and watched his mesmerized stare at my loose halter top
that indicated my 42 inch, double "D" tits must have been
bouncing all over the place. I could see the poor man's hand
reach for one of my spheres, but I stopped him with a wave of my
index finger and a no-no swirl of my long platinum blonde hair.

I could barely hear his apology, and to make him suffer even
more, my bottom began to sway back and forth over the apex of his
trousers.  I turned my head front wards and moved my arms at a
crazy speed to put more tension on his lap.

Strangely, I couldn't feel it - the telltale bulge I thought I
was creating in the man's pants.  When he first summoned me over
to his table I figured he was another middle-aged businessman in
town during one of the conventions, looking for some vicarious
action.  I figured that by the time I was through with him, he'd
dash quickly back to his hotel room and jerk off. As I continued
to dance on his lap, I could feel his nervousness return, and
realizing that what I was doing created it, I worked with even
more fervor.

When the music finally stopped I just sat still in his lap for a
moment feeling the heat of his midsection permeating my satin
panties but still I couldn't detect the presence of a hard on, at
least nothing I could feel.  As I got up from his lap to return
to the dressing room I shared with my female co-workers, I turned
and gave him my biggest smile and licked my heavily caked lips
suggestively.  As I stood next to him to receive my tip, I bent
facing him so he could stuff my tip in between the material of my
top and one of my large orbs. I didn't even look at the folded
bill he nervously slid, his finger touching the boob that I
wouldn't let him touch earlier.

With a sigh, I walked past all the other male patrons watching
one or two of my co-workers doing their jobs as the next jazz
selection came on. Backstage, I entered the dressing room and sat
at my assigned chair. Peering at myself in the mirror I saw a
fantastically developed woman of thirty-three with a somewhat
tired look on her face. As I moved my seat forward I could see
the d**e9**collet**e9** of my pendulous breasts shaking like a
bowl of gelatin.  I was proud of my 42 DD's especially since they
stood firmly out from my chest whenever I bared them.  I stood up
for the moment and turned around, lifting the miniskirt to reveal
my rounded tush accentuating the pink satin panties. As I sat
down to repair my makeup several of the other girls came in and
we casually greeted each other.  

Two of the girls began to take off their brief dancing costumes,
and the third casually asked me what that middle-aged gent had
given me after I got off his lap. 

Damn, I forgot to look.  I pulled the folded bill out of its
nesting place between each of my boobs and the top that barely
supported it.

"Wow!" I managed to exclaim.

"I figured he'd tip you rather well, since I could see you were
causing him absolute discomfort with you traipsing all over his
lap," the other grinning lewdly said.

The remaining two were still disrobing, having finished their
stints for the night. They began to show interest in my
conversation with the third woman.

"Hell," one of the two, a rather slim brunette who was already
naked from the waist up exclaimed. Her wine glass-shaped boobs
stood out from her chest like two searchlights. "The best I ever
got was a twenty from one of the patrons whose hands I could
hardly keep off of me," she said reminiscing.

The other girl, a pretty Afro-American, already naked, with large
boobs and a nicely shaped ass like mine, sat in her chair and
remarked.  "I got fifty once from a white man who said he had
never had any nigger ass and was willing to give me another fifty
to go back to his room with him.  I didn't care about what he
called me, but if my husband ever found out I screwed one of my
customers, he'd beat the shit out of me," she sighed, slumping
back onto her chair.

The curtains that separated the dressing room from the backstage
hallway parted at that moment and the gentleman with whom I had
lap danced stood at the opening.

"May I talk to you," he asked meekly, his eye surveying the naked
black beauty and the bra-less brunette, before turning his gaze
back to me.

"Talk," I commanded, rather perturbed by his unannounced
entrance, even though I knew the backstage manager accepted tips
from some of the patrons to let them come into the dancers'
dressing room to ogle us in privacy. The girls were pissed
especially since the old bastard never shared any of the money
with the girls. But, the prick was one of the bosses and none of
us girls wanted to lose our jobs so we accepted this invasion of
our privacy, so to speak.

"Please it's important," he pleaded, motioning that he wanted to
talk to me privately.

"We can go into the john. No one's in there now," I suggested,
moving off my chair and leading the way.

Once inside the small room with just a sink and toilet, I sat
against the porcelain lavatory and nodded my platinum locks
affirmatively for him to talk.

"It's, ah..." he hesitated sheepishly. " It's kinda lonely,  ugh,
back in my room." he finished.

"So because I got you all hot and bothered you want me to go back
with you to your room and fuck. Is that it?" I asked rather
defiantly.

"I'll give you, ugh, $500," he said matter-of-factly. That
stopped me cold.  Since I only worked three nights a week, $500
was more than a week's tips.

"I don't think so." I murmured in return, somewhat hesitantly. 

"'Make it a thousand," he pressed on.  "I got the money, and, and
I 'spect you'll be worth it," he finished, a weak smile on his
somewhat parched lips.

"A thousand dollars?" I repeated flabbergasted, without realizing
that I was considering his offer.  Lap dancing, yes, getting guys
hornier than hell, yes.  But screwing this out-of-towner would
turn me into a WHORE... a SLUT! Strangely, that was all the vile
names I could conceive at that very moment.

"You sound interested?" he asked hopefully.

"How long?" I queried, definitely interested. Besides I was
curious that I hadn't felt any kind of swelling in his pants when
I danced on his lap.  I wondered why.  For a grand, I could soon
find out. It wasn't as if I was cherry.

"How long could you spend?" He asked eagerly.

"Depends on what you have in mind," I asked, testing him.

He looked tentative...nervous, and didn't answer...at first.

We were interrupted by one of the girls knocking on the door.

"Hey...in there.  I got to take a piss. How about coming out so I
can go," she yelled from behind the closed door.

We departed from our private habitat.  There were more girls in
the dressing room now and they all looked at us as I went to my
table to retrieve my purse.

"Lead on," I told the middle-aged gentleman. I'd be safe at the
hotel, at least until he told me what he wanted me to do, I
figured. I reasoned that I was stronger than he, besides I have a
powerful voice if I needed to yell to get away from a pervert.


Two



I had never been in that hotel before, and upon entering I was
amazed at the size and decor of the lobby, especially all the
activity going on.  As I accompanied my gentleman friend to the
front desk for him to retrieve his key card, my dress, or lack of
it, was causing a stir, among both the men and women in the
lobby.  As we stepped into the elevator an elderly man and woman,
I presumed was his wife, gave me stares, as if I was a prostitute
going up to this man's room for a little nookie.

Well, I was, wasn't I? 

 I wanted to hear from the man what was expected of me. If he
wanted to fuck me that was worth one thousand dollars. I
calculated in my mind how long it would take me to make him come.
 How tiny was his cock, I wondered, since I couldn't feel it
while on his lap? I suspected I was as curious about that as I
was willing to make a quick thousand bucks.

When we got off at the penthouse level, and proceeded down the
deserted hallway to his room, I was really impressed especially
when he inserted the key card into the hollow opening and the
massive door magically opened.

Once inside, I was amazed at the expensive furnishings.  It
looked more like a luxurious high-rent apartment than a hotel
suite.  After I walked over to the massive hanging curtains at
the other end of the gigantic living-dining area with its Queen
Anne furniture, I was further astounded. The gentleman had
pressed a button and the curtains parted and a huge French window
overlooked a balcony. My eyes could see all the lights of the
city outside.

I needed a drink before we started to discuss my reason for being
there and sensing my thoughts the man asked if a scotch and water
would be okay.  I just nodded my platinum-coifed head and sat
mesmerized at my surroundings, accepting the drink with pleasure.


Once my drink was served, the gentleman sat in a stuffed chair
opposite me on the couch sipping from a glass of sherry.  I
noticed his eyes were glued to my long legs encased in the dark
opera hose, then squinting, his gaze moved down to my high-heeled
black pumps.

The mystery had gone on long enough, besides I wanted the
thousand as soon as possible.

"So what's the story," I asked sparking the conversation.

"Story?" He asked, his eyes somewhat perplexed.

"I'm sure you didn't offer me a grand to come up to your room
with you because you thought my original tip was too small," I
quipped.

I could see the corner of his mouth curve into a slight smile. 
When he smiled he looked almost boyish.  Yet he wanted to fuck
me, didn't he?

"Where do you want to do it?" I asked putting down my
half-finished drink on the cherrywood coffee table.

"Do it?" He asked as if I had asked an uncouth question.

I decided to be more direct this time. "Where do you want to fuck
me, here, or in the bedroom.  I suppose this fine suite has a
place to sleep, does it not?" I asked frankly using my best
English this time

His smile lasted longer this time, and was even stranger than the
first time.

"I do not want to, ah, sleep with you," he said, deferring from
the street vernacular I had used for the act.

I couldn't believe his statement. "If you don't want to fuck,
what do you want to do?" I asked suddenly becoming alert to the
fact that this guy might be into sadism, bondage, or something I
wouldn't do. Not even for a thousand dollars.

"Well what do you want me to do, give you a spanking like the
naughty boy you are?" I ventured jokingly. My mind suddenly
seized on the idea that perhaps this man enjoyed being treated
like a young boy.

His eyes opened wide and I felt that somehow I had hit a nerve. 
"That's what you want me to do? Give you a spanking? Then
afterward put you to bed, you naughty boy?" I asked rather
surprised at my hypothesis.

His eyes began to tear.  "I am not a naughty boy," he said almost
defiantly.

"If you want me to give you a spanking then you evidently want me
to treat you like someone who needs a severe scolding., " I
declared. "And that's what I'm trying to do."

"I...I don't want to be treated like I was a naughty boy."


"Then what do you want me to do?" I asked more confused by the
minute.

"I want to be treated like a naughty..." he hesitated before
changing the gender, "...girl, actually woman, I should say."  

"What? Are you a closet transvestite?" The thought hit me like a
thunderbolt. "I think that's the word they use for men who dress
up like women." I was really shocked at this possibility.

"But, I'm not a...transvestite.  I'm transsexual," he finally
blurted, gasping for breath. 

Now I was really dumbfounded. I knew what the term meant, and
although I had met transvestites before, I had never met, nor
even envisioned a transsexual or what they might have looked
like.

"I've been to Scandinavia and had the operation, except...for..."
he hesitated, looking dismally at the ornate ceiling.

His admission did not cause me any embarrassment only curiosity.
What would a woman's body look like with a...with a cock instead
of a cunt? Maybe he had the complete operation. Maybe, just
maybe, he had his cock and balls removed.  I wondered, if that
were true, that might have been the reason I didn't feel his
stalk stiffening when I was lap dancing.  Maybe...just maybe what
remained was an elongated clitoris, which I would hardly have
been able to detect.  The money was no longer the primary reason
I was here, now the mystery of what he might look like was even
more hypnotizing.

"I don't understand.  You're wearing a man's suit and you look
like a man, how could you be a...a woman?" My eyes narrowed.

Without asking he stood and took off his suit coat, and then his
vest. After he removed the vest I could see a little rise in his
chest. He removed the tie and began to unbutton his starched
white shirt. Removing it and his undershirt, I could see the wide
strap around his upper chest.  It had a Velcro fastening and as
he took a deep breath and pulled it apart, I was astounded.  His
bare chest supported one of the finest pair of tits I had ever
seen. They came complete with cute rosebud nipples in the
centers.

I walked over to him, even his face, despite the mannish haircut,
had taken on a decidedly feminine touch, or was it just my
imagination? Now I could see the mystery of his mouth.  Having
tits made it look more feminine.

"But why?" I began to ask, absorbed in his revelation. "Are you
dressed like a man?"

Immediately, he knew what I meant. "I am the head of a large
manufacturing firm back east.  How would it look if the male head
of the manufacturer of nuts and bolts showed up, suddenly, as a
female."

I could understand that statement.

"So to all your friends and business associates you dress like
the man you're supposed to be, but in secret you change yourself
into what you want to be - the opposite sex?  But what about your
family?" I asked realistically. 

"I have no family, no wife, no children, no relatives that are
known," he admitted.

"Since you are now a woman, why did you have me dance on your
lap?" 

"Because women, rather than men still kind of turn me on," he
admitted.

"What do you mean kinda. Do they or don't they?" I sat at the
edge of the couch totally mystified.

"No, even though I've basically changed my sex, women still
attract me, and when you were on my lap tonight, I started to get
more excited than I've ever been.  Do you mind having sex with
another woman?" He asked directly.

"I've never considered it, but I am interested in seeing what you
look like, and if your offer of that grand still stands, I'm
willing to ah, participate." I admitted.

His face lit up, and he agreed that he'd pay me the thousand in
cash. Then he unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the
floor.  His midsection was flat like a man's but his thighs were
rounded like a woman's, and when he turned, his ass was round
like a woman's instead of flat like a man's.  The panties he wore
were an adorable pair made of thigh high black nylon/lycra. As he
stepped out of his slacks and kicked his loafers off, I notice
that his legs were devoid of any hair, like a woman's.

He stood before me looking more like an attractive woman sans
long hair, than the man he pretended to be. Truthfully, I
couldn't wait for him to remove his sexy panties to see what his
prick looked like. If he still had one!

When he removed the panties I was in for another shock.  His
genitals for all practical purposes was feminine, the thick lips
at the apex of his lower stomach and between his thighs appeared
to be the portal to a cunt. Surprisingly, however, where his
clitoris should be, there was a short appendage that looked more
like a male cock with a tiny helmeted head. The appendage was too
large to be a clitoris, yet too small and thin to pass as a male
organ.

Naked, he quickly turned to show me what his backside looked
like, and evidently, the doctor who had operated on his body made
his backside shaped like a sexy woman's.

"If I didn't know you as a man, I've got to admit that
Scandinavian doctor of yours did a great job.  Except for that
strange looking cock of yours, with the proper makeup and
hairstyle you could try out for a part as a lap dancer at our
lounge." I quipped.

"Thank you for the compliment," my pseudo gentleman-friend
nervously grinned.

I was curious about his strange looking cock. Would it harden
with the proper amount of tactile or oral stimulation? I had to
find out, so without asking, I dropped to my knees in front of
this naked pseudo woman and reached for his prick.  It was much
too small to hold in my fist so I held it between the thumb and
forefinger of my right hand and gently began to yank it.  I
increased the speed, then slowed down and instead of hardening,
nothing happened.

That's probably why I couldn't feel a hard on while I was dancing
on his lap.

I bent my face to his strange looking attachment and opened my
lips until I could feel the pencil-thin aperture inside my warm
mouth. Greedily I began sucking on it. I could feel something
happening.  But I suspected it would be some time to get it
sufficiently hard for him to be able to use it. When I got up
from my knees I could see the beginning of happiness showing on
his face.

"I have been with other women, and they would make love to me
that way but nothing we did would make me get it aroused enough
to give me a climax," he admitted downcast. So I figured since
you turned me on so much when you danced on my lap maybe you
would be able to satisfy me. You excited me so much that I had to
see if you'd be willing..."he hesitated.

His tale drove me insane. If I could be this creature's messiah,
whatever I would do with this woman/man would be for his
immediate benefit. If I could get his thing hard enough, I
suddenly thought of the perfect way to bring him off, as awoman.

I had him move to the couch to sit beside me and I reached for
his thing once more. I gave it all the affection that one person
could bestow on another, and between my mouth and fingers and his
eagerness to seek relief, my mouth and fingers began to flow some
life into the almost inanimate object.

As each stroke began to work its magic, the man began to cry in
disbelief, until getting it hard enough so that it stood up from
within his labia, I quietly led him into his sleeping room
despite his protests.

If the front room was luxurious, the bedroom was magnificent.  A
huge four-poster bed against one wall, a large chest of drawers
on the other and a solid oak doorway that led to a bathroom which
included a Jacuzzi tub.

Without pulling off the satin coverlets, I jumped aboard the
large bed and assuming a position on my hands and knees, I told
this tortured individual to pull down my satin panties.  When he
had pulled my panties down my backside, he sighted my small
puckered nether hole.

Now the money was the third thing on my mind.  The first had been
to see his genitalia, and the second was to give this half woman,
half man a proper orgasm in his male state.

Turning, I slavered his dainty tool with some Vaseline I found
beside the bed, then a petroleum jelly forefinger I placed at my
nether hole to provide some lubricant. Still on my hands and
knees I reached behind me and put his thin cock at the entrance
to my anus.

His cock meantime had lost a bit of its stiffness, so between
thumb and forefinger I vigorously jerked on it until it hardened
once more.  Then I instructed him to fuck me in my ass. At first
he couldn't get into the right rhythm and his pen-shaped cock
kept popping out, but with the proper coaxing from me, he began
to get the proper rhythm down pat, and within minutes I could
hear him groaning and grunting like a stuck pig.  I could also
feel the spunk of his orgasm creating a pathway inside my anus. 

Wonder of wonders...I came also!


 Three


I had no idea how long I had been asleep but I awoke with a
start.  Looking around the strange room, I first believed I was
dreaming.  Some type of covering was above my head and when I sat
up, my hands spread apart supporting my body, the satin sheets
exposed my formidable 42 double D's. 

It all came back to me. I began to remember my experience with
the man who had become a woman. Well, sort of. I peered at the
other side of the huge bed. He wasn't there. I looked around the
fashionable bedroom. Maybe, I had just been dreaming. But, if I
had been dreaming why did I find myself in a strange room?

And then I heard him.  He had emerged from the gigantic bathroom
and reentered the bedroom, smiling, a huge satisfied grin on his
lips.  I focused my eyes and saw that he had, once again, dressed
in his male garb, and was ready to greet the new day.

"Would you like some breakfast? I just want some coffee and a
Danish," he said, straightening his tie.

For some reason, I modestly pulled the covers over my chest and
smiled back to him. "That would be fine."

He sat on the other side of the large bed, picked up the phone
and ordered our breakfast.

"It'll be up in ten minutes," he said turning to me. "I want to
thank you...for last night," he added.  "I haven't felt such
pleasure since I had the operation."

So it wasn't a dream. It had been reality.

The buzzer sounded, and he got up to go into the other room to
sign for our breakfast. He then called me into the main room of
the penthouse suite.

For some reason, I looked for and located a robe from the closet.
It barely fit me because of my pendulous boobs but at least it
prevented me from entering the next room naked.

He was seated on the couch with the meager breakfast tray on the
cherrywood coffee table, pouring my coffee into a dainty china
cup.

"How do you like it?" He asked politely.

"Cream and no sugar," I said, sitting down next to him and
struggling to keep his robe from revealing my nakedness.

He laughed as he handed me the cup and saucer.  

"My robe does not fit.  When we get back home I'll buy you new
clothes," he ventured.

"Home...new clothes?" I questioned.  "What are you suggesting?"

"After last night, you think I would let you out of my sight?" He
poured himself another cup then took a tiny bite from his roll.

"You certainly take a lot for granted," I mused aloud.  "I
already have a job and I'm satisfied with my life as is," I
refuted him.

"I could see it on your face after I...after I finally
experienced a climax," he sighed.  "I could see that look in your
eyes as if you were a health practitioner discovering a
non-existent cure for a sick person.  And you did you know," he
added, content with his estimation.

"So what if I did feel sympathy for your plight. That don't mean
I'm giving up my whole life to be your personal mistress," I
admonished.

"I presume that like me you do not have any family that would
preclude your taking on that duty," he said.

"No. But that's not the reason."

"I'd be willing to give you a thousand a week, and all the time
off you needed, within reason, of course.  If you wanted to be
with a man, I wouldn't be at all jealous, as long as you returned
to me and catered to my, ah, special needs," he exclaimed.

"But then I'd become a rented slut.  I don't want to be a
mistress. That's not my calling," I admitted.

"I suppose you'd rather continue dancing on men's laps and
getting them so aroused that some might go home and rape their
wives or the first unaccompanied woman they accost?"

He had a point.  "So I'd go from one sordid pastime to another,"
I suggested flippantly.

"Not at all. Please let me rephrase my need for you
as...well...therapy.  If you're so alarmed at what you'd be
thought of, I can hire you as a...a special assistant to me as
president and CEO of my firm.  I can give you enough information
about my company and you're intelligent enough to learn the
products I manufacturer so that you could give a respectful
account of your status as my special assistant. How's that
sound?" He beamed.

"It makes sense," I wavered. "But wouldn't people want to know
why I'm living with you?"

"You wouldn't...ah, be living with me.  I'd set you up in an
apartment of your own and allow you to do your own entertaining,
discreetly of course," he ventured.

"But I'd still be your mistress," I said frowning.  

"Why are you so fixated on that word?" He enjoined.  "I would
only require your, ah, special services a couple of times a week,
and I'm sure I could teach you enough about my business that
you'd become an asset.  You figured out how to address my problem
and relieve my frustrations," he attributed to my success.

"I have some meetings to attend to downstairs.  You can relax and
go shopping for new clothes on the thousand I've already given
you.  When I leave tonight, you'll be on the plane with me back
to my place.  If there's anyone you have to notify, please do
so," he said, picking up his attach**e9** case and leaving the
suite, seemingly assured that he knew my answer would be
affirmative.

I settled in with my third cup of coffee and prepared the Jacuzzi
for a luxurious hot bath.  I figured a whirlpool would both relax
me and help me make up my mind.

I already had decided, but the whirlpool would make it an easier
decision. Besides I needed additional sexual relief, AGAIN!

Four


I sat beside him in first class and enjoyed the amenities that
came in that seating area of the large jet aircraft as it wended
its way eastward. As I consumed my second cocktail, I peered down
at my skirt, and realized that it had crept up my exposed thighs
to reveal the dark silken framework of my stockings.  No one was
looking at my sudden awkwardness to my sexuality, but my mind
began to play tricks on me.

Could anyone...especially the male occupants of this first class
section...tell that I was this "man's" mistress accompanying
"him" back to his lair - so to speak?

I sat up in my seat, as much as my tightened seat belt would
allow, and attempted to pull the hemline of my skirt over my
knees.  But it was impossible. I tried crossing my legs but after
so doing, my lower body began to look even more sensuous.

Was I imagining it, or was the male steward pausing longer to
pour coffee for my seatmate, his eyes roving over the
scintillating scene of my silken limbs?

In an almost unconscious gesture I turned toward the window,
hiding, what I felt, was the air steward's lecherous staring at
my exposed thighs and long legs. Actually I was elated that this
young man found me so sensuous. 

Seated beside me my new boss finally took notice of the young
man's wayward glances and instead of jealously, he began to smile
and feel rewarded as he noted the steward's attraction to his
seductive seatmate.
	
========================================

(This is just the beginning. If you like this story please
contact me at ASSTR and let me know. You may use any part as your
own, but I NEED TO BE NOTIFIED FIRST OF YOUR INTENTIONS. I find
that plagiarism is the ultimate form of admiration for another's
work.)
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