by Deland Vincent

I watched my beautiful wife casually tinkering with the pool robot for a moment before returning to his recliner to sun himself. He looked happy and relaxed. As much as I love to touch him, there are times when I really enjoy standing back and taking him all in with my eyes, contemplating the things I will do with his body later in privacy. He has a slight frame and he’s just five and a half feet tall, but he’s in excellent shape. He’s even more fitness conscious than myself. I work out solely to have bigger muscles, and it shows, but his small body is that of a true athlete, one who enjoys sports just for the sake of sports. His diet tends to be better than mine also but since he primarily feeds me, I do pretty well.

Is that disconcerting? Does it sound strange that I refer to my male partner as my wife? Why? For many male couples, it’s reasonably common to take on traditional roles to some degree or another. No couple should be expected to conform to any particular template, but it works for us. I consciously took on the more masculine and dominant role, the husband, both in the bedroom and elsewhere. For the most part, Josh relaxed into the role of wife. It was what came naturally to him... for the most part.

We have the perfect marriage. It wasn’t easy. We’ve had our bumps in the road but I find if you put the relationship first, the rest will work itself out.

He was unaware of my attention. His eyes were closed and his cherubic face was turned toward me as my eyes went down his body past the clearly defined abs and hard legs, without even a pause at the bit of loose-fitting cloth in the front of his speedo. None really fit him well.

It was shot day. I prepared the syringe with the right amount of hormone and went outside. Nothing needed to be said. These moments about once every two weeks were very quiet. It’s like neither of us wanted to remember this disruption of normality, so we allowed the moment to pass as quietly and inconsequently as possible. I swabbed a spot on his thigh and his smile faded for a moment. He didn’t look at me. He acted like he didn’t even know I was there but he stayed still so I could do the deed. I pushed it deep enough to penetrate the muscle of his thigh and slowly pushed the fluid into his body. I knew it was a bit painful but he didn’t flinch. He would be particularly horny for the next few days. When it was over, his smile came back and it was like I had suddenly become real again.

“I was thinking of blending some margaritas. Want one?”

“Sure.” I said.

As I waited for him to return, I sat by the pool and reflected on the sacrifices we had to make to keep our marriage strong.

We got married early. It took no time at all before we realized that we were meant for each other. We shared the same philosophical views, the same politics, and we were both unusual for gay men. You see, we wanted a true monogamous marriage. It wasn’t recognized legally at the time, but we both wanted a traditional marriage and that’s exactly what we did. I honestly don’t know of any other same-sex marriages like that. My friends who use the term “marriage” to describe their relationships all sleep around with the consent of their partners. I’m not judging them, but we both discussed it and we both agreed that we wanted a stronger degree of commitment in our marriage.

The sexual chemistry was amazing. We worked out certain things up front. Josh was a total bottom and proud of it. I admired that. So many guys put up a front, maybe to seem less feminine or something, but he didn’t have those insecurities. I had always preferred the masculine role and with Josh it wasn’t just permitted; it was expected. We fell into these roles as naturally as we did the other gender roles. The quid pro quo of traditional male-on-male sex was gone. The sense of keeping up with who owes who a blow job, or whose turn it was to bottom; these were other couple’s problems. No part of the sex was a task and that made it better than anything either of us had experienced.

Over time our sexual roles became even more defined. It didn’t take much coaxing to get him to experiment with kink, letting me tie him to the headboard for sex or handcuff his hands behind his back while I fucked his face. At times I’d leave him tied up and we’d go to sleep that way. We both loved it. The bondage gradually became more and more elaborate. I persuaded him to be naked at home while I usually wore comfortable clothes. It made him seem vulnerable to me. He would sit naked at my feet and rest his head on my knee or sit between my legs while we watched TV.

Still, in some ways, it was like he was on a symbolic pedestal. I slathered him with attention. I started painting his body and taking pictures of it. For one photo I did wild things with his hair and put a pair of animal horns on him. Then I painted his body with orange, red, and yellow; fiery colors, to make him look like an imp. Another time I put beautiful make-up on his eyes and lips and photo-shopped the picture to put wings on him and make him into an angel.

I was pushing ever inward, wanting to control more and more of him, and he just kept yielding to me. It was a delightful game, seeing how far he would let me in. One day we were sunning by the pool, drunk from several beers each, and I suggested we take a dip to cool off. I started playfully splashing him and occasionally tackling and dunking him briefly. It evolved into a game of chase with me as the predator. He was a nimble little minx and at one point sprang up and out of the pool. I followed, though not as gracefully. He tripped on the garden hose, controlling his fall well and tumbled into the bushes against the wooden fence.

He was lying on his back giggling and I was standing over him smiling down evilly. I thought the magic would be broken then because I suddenly realized I had to piss. It comes on fast with alcohol. I grabbed my crotch and told him. His smile faded and he just looked at my face with a knowing look; a naughty look like he wanted to be bad. My smile faded too. There was this amazing moment of electricity between us and without a word, we instantly knew that we were thinking the same thing. I looked around to make sure no one would see, which was silly. We had a tall wooden fence and two-story houses are nearly unheard of in our part of L.A.

I ripped open the velcro on my swim suit and pulled it out. It was already hard so it took some effort to force it down to point at him, but once the piss started to flow I was able to let it soften just a bit and the water pressure increased. He looked ecstatic. His eyes rolled back in his head and he ran his hand over his stomach under the stream, making it splatter everywhere. He opened his mouth wide and stuck his tongue out like a spoon. I gladly accepted his invitation. He let it spill over his cheeks for a little while before starting to swallow mouthfuls of it. Afterward we both looked so contented. I’ve always had an inexplicable sense that a piss outdoors in the open was more relieving than pissing in a toilet, but that was the most satisfying piss ever.

Josh may actually be too perfect, and that was something of a problem for me. I was always prone to jealousy with Josh. I’m a good-looking, confident man and proud of my own body, but I’ve never been deluded enough to think I was in the same league with Josh in the looks department. Many men have desires for him. I can see their eyes on him when we go out and I’ve felt anger brewing. I always felt lucky for his affection and I try to be worthy of it by expressing just how much I love him.

For a while I did it with gifts. I’d buy him a shirt here, some flowers there, a dinner in a restaurant on the ocean front. I’m not exactly wealthy, but I could afford to pamper him a bit now and then. I considered it a necessary investment. It wasn’t so much about spending a lot of money as much as doing something frequently; enough to remind him that he’s at the forefront of my mind. This was all on top of supporting him while he finished law school.

After a while he actually seemed to get frustrated with it. He knew what I was doing and it took a while for him to convince me it wasn’t necessary. He was just too practical and he pointed out that he would rather I avoid such frivolous and wasteful expenditures and instead save the money for our future. He assuaged my jealousy for a while. Everything really did seem perfect, but soon I would realize it took compromises for a marriage to really work.

I sensed the moment when our marriage was about to be tested. One night I fucked him and he came all over his stomach before I spent my load inside him. Then I dragged my fingers through his own mess and stuck them in his mouth. I ignored the stickiness and lay on top of him to shove my tongue into his mouth and felt a painful tug as he sucked it hard like it was my dick. Though a bit routine for us, it was still absolutely delightful. It was the passion of true love. Just being with him was all it took for me to get turned on. The kink was just icing as far as I was concerned.

I was almost asleep when an unusual feeling of foreboding came over me. We had been spooning with Josh in back and I felt his small erection against my naked butt. It wasn’t terribly unusual, but then I sensed he was holding it and rubbing it against me suggestively. I tried to pretend I was asleep. He started stroking my side with his other hand as if to let me know he didn’t want me to sleep yet. So subtle, and yet it was immediately clear to me what he wanted. I couldn’t fathom what was happening in his head at that moment to even suggest such a thing. Was he so comfortable with me that he felt there was no longer a need for this well-established boundary in our relationship? It felt very wrong to me. It seemed like a pock on the unblemished perfection that was our love.

“Just this one time, Vince. You know it’s small. It won’t hurt.” He accompanied the seemingly harmless request with vane attempts to probe my hole, but my cheeks were clenched together. He really wasn’t endowed with much. Unless I got into just the right position for him, he wasn’t getting in.

I complained of being tired but he knew better. I was still well awake.

“Vince, we’ve been together for five years and I’ve never fucked you! I want to experience you completely.”

I wouldn’t even turn to him. He wouldn’t like the faces I was making. I felt like he was violating our pact. I’d never even put his dick in my mouth though I frequently and gladly ate his ass.

“We talked about this when we first started dating. You said you wanted to be with a total top and I wanted a total bottom. You said you would never want that.”

“People change.” He said.

“Well change back to the guy I married!” I almost shouted it. I was angry.

“Ok, ok! I’m sorry, Vince. I thought you’d be… I didn’t realize how serious it was to you.”

He stroked my ass.

“You really do have a beautiful round ass. What a shame it’s just going to be wasted.”

A little spitefully I said, “If you like it so much, why don’t you kiss my ass?” Then, hardly skipping a beat, he did just that. He went right down and buried his face deep between my butt cheeks. After a few moments I got up and we shifted positions to one we had assumed many times before but usually with me on bottom. I practically sat on his face and he ate me out. This seemed kind of ok in terms of our established boundaries and frankly, it felt awesome. He was clearly enjoying it too because he had a raging hard-on and was jacking it furiously while digging his tongue in as deep as he could get it. Before long we were both cumming all over his stomach. His tongue retreated from my ass but when I started to get up, he reached around my thighs and pulled me back down, wanting to savor the intimacy with my ass a little longer. He finally gave a gentle push to signal he was ready to come up for air. As usual, I ran my fingers through the mess and fed it to him before we fell asleep holding each other.

Josh tried a few more times to hint about what he wanted and I continued to make it clear it wasn’t going to happen. He resented me for it for a while, but eventually I thought it had passed.

There were about three or four guys that Josh hung out with regularly. I didn’t care for them so much. Maybe they were too “L.A.” for my tastes. They just seemed like the typical West Hollywood fare. They obsessed over clothes, cars, and celebrities. Frankly I didn’t see how they meshed with Josh because he was deeper than that. It wasn’t that I had anything against his little circle of friends. Our personalities just didn’t mesh. However, one of his friends particularly rubbed me the wrong way.

How do I describe Steve? Steve was what some might call “catty”. Steve worked really hard on maintaining a certain image. He had an attitude. He was the kind of guy who made comments about the fashion styles of complete strangers in bars like he wanted to seem stuck up. Steve worked at an agency and was always dropping names about what actor or singer he chatted with at work that week. I usually kept to myself as much as possible when he was over.

Steve had a fascination with me. I think that was his real motivation for spending so much time with Josh. I’d hear him and Josh whispering as I came down the hall and they’d break into a giggling fit when they saw me. I was in hearing range a few times, unbeknownst to them, so I knew Josh was talking about our sex life. I felt violated. Steve wanted to come between us and that made him a threat in my eyes. How could Josh not see that? I spent a lot of time pondering what to do about it, but I was afraid to bring it up with Josh only to look like the bad guy.

One day Steve stayed behind while Josh left to rent a movie. As I was making a stop in the kitchen and trying to keep it as brief as possible once I saw Steve alone in the living room, he stopped me in my tracks. It felt like the blood ran out of my body leaving me as cold as ice when I heard his voice.

“You know he’s fucking me.”

I froze for a moment. I didn’t know. Maybe I had deluded myself but I really didn’t know. Our love still seemed strong. Our sex life was still good.

“Get out.” I commanded.

“Don’t you want to know why?” he asked.

I just got back to putting away my glass but I was taking longer than I needed to, rinsing it out excessively before putting it in the dishwasher, going around the kitchen and tidying up the countertop; details Josh normally takes care of. I was busying myself while I tried to think what to say; what to do. I was putting up a very unconvincing pretense of not caring.

“He says you won’t let him fuck you. That’s all he wants from me. There’s no need to be jealous. I don’t even care for it frankly. His dick ain’t all that, as you well know. It’s practically charity on my part.”

I was avoiding looking in his direction over the breakfast bar. The foundations of my world were crashing around me. He came into the kitchen making it impossible to ignore him anymore.

“I’m not like Josh. I don’t need such things. I’m a real bottom and I need a real top.”

He came up behind me and put his arms around my waist. His hand went down to my crotch. I snapped. I grabbed his forearm and turned rapidly forcing him to lift his elbow high to save it from being twisted. He gasped in pain and after enjoying the look of fear and pain in his face for a moment, I let go.

“Have I ever given you any impression that I wanted you? Do you really think I’m going to throw away everything Josh and I built together for a little weasel like you?”

His face was twisting up. He was starting to cry. I took him by the arm again and dragged him to the door and tossed him out.

“Now get the fuck out like I said. And don’t talk to Josh. If you do I’ll just tell him what you’ve really been up to. Your friendship with him is over. He was fine until you showed up.”

He was talking through his sobs.

“You can think that if you want, Vince, but it’s bullshit. He confided in me when you closed yourself off to him. If it’s not you and it’s not me, it’ll be someone else. Deal with it.”

With that he turned and walked quickly back to his car. I slammed the door and practically fell onto the couch with my head in my hands, frantically thinking of what I needed to do. I had to do something to save my marriage. It was too important for something this petty. Josh would be back soon and I couldn’t let him see me like this. I wasn’t ready for a confrontation and I didn’t want to put up a conspicuous silent treatment either. There would be no hiding that I was upset. I had to get out of the house for a while and think about what to do. I turned off my cell phone and headed to a quiet coffee shop.

I stayed until I had a plan to save our marriage. It was almost morning when I got back and found Josh curled up on the couch still in his clothes with the tv on. He woke almost immediately at the sound of the door.

“Where the Hell have you been?” he asked, clearly worried. “Where’s Steve?”

“Did he call you?” I asked.

“No. Was he supposed to? What’s going on? I came home to an empty house and my imagination ran away with me!”

I didn’t really think Steve would call. He really had no reason to talk to Josh now. Josh was just his means of getting to me and at least for the moment, he realized I wasn’t accessible.

“Steve was right. I shouldn’t have closed myself off to you.”

“Oh God.” I saw it dawn on him that Steve had told me everything. “Vince, I don’t give a shit about Steve. I just… I just needed to try it now and then. It didn’t mean anything. I never did it with anyone else. I swear. I’d so much prefer to do it with you, but I know you’re not into that.”

“He said you were too small for him to enjoy it. He called it charity.”

That stung. I saw him glance down at his own crotch for just a moment and swallow. I felt guilty because I enjoyed it a little, hurting his ego. I needed to vent my anger a bit.

“I think maybe that’s why I couldn’t get into it too. It just didn’t seem right.”

He was staring blankly with his mouth open just a little bit. Something that never mattered before suddenly seemed to bother him a lot.

“God, I love you so much, Josh. You’re so fucking adorable. You know I never cared about that. I mean, if you really need to fuck me that bad, there are options available, procedures.”

He looked at me in shock. His masculinity was suddenly inadequate.

In time he warmed up to the idea. I felt horrible about my deception, but our marriage was worth going to extreme measures. I sold him on the idea that the surgery would make the act more appealing for me and he consented. It would be my gift to him and I promised to arrange everything. He seemed nervous, but ultimately, he put his trust in me.

I convinced him that the best surgeons in this area were in Thailand, which is probably true. These sorts of things also happen to be less expensive there. Of course those weren’t my real reasons. I needed to avoid the red tape I would encounter elsewhere. I was also hoping to take advantage of the language barrier. There was an interview with an English-speaking representative to sign paperwork and get questions answered, but most of the staff spoke just enough English to fulfill their functions, which wasn’t much.

The interviewer asked if Josh had read the material they sent and was given a chance to ask questions. I made sure his questions had all been answered beforehand. She never mentioned the procedure by name. All that had been discussed on the phone with me pretending to be Josh, so there was no need. And frankly they didn’t really seem interested in discouraging him now. They were business people when it got down to it and they wanted to do the procedure and get paid. Josh had read the material I gave him on penis extensions and what I handed him to sign in the office looked a lot like the paperwork I’d given him to review.

I had even gone to the trouble to make a few edits in anticipation of what they might ask. I added that the penis and testicles needed to be permanently denuded of hair. I was very fortunate that Josh had already had that hair removed by laser and electrolysis purely for aesthetic reasons. Sure enough, they ask if he’d in fact taken care of this and he said “yes”.

Josh thought it odd that I seemed more nervous than him. He had no idea how worried I was that the interviewer would say something to spoil my ruse. But it went off without a hitch. The very same day, he was being prepped for surgery and I was accompanying him down the hall.

I waited patiently and nervously for them to finish. It was several hours that I spent with my guilt and fear building. I tried to prepare myself for what Josh would say when he found out what had been done. I tried to anticipate and have the right thing to say. In the end, I realized there wasn’t much to say but that I loved him very much and would always love him, and I would just let him say whatever he needed to say. I’d let him scream at me, or cry, or hit me, or whatever he needed to do. That was his prerogative.

The doctor finally came out and nodded and smiled. He said a few words to a translator who let me know that everything went well and Josh was fine.

I watched as Josh was pushed by me on a gurney, deep asleep. Several people walked out in scrubs who I assumed were working on Josh. There was something I needed to do. I didn’t know if I’d get away with it but I had to try. No one was watching. I went into the swinging doors and down a short hall and found the operating room. I was lucky to find it empty of personnel. There were bloody implements on a tray next to the table. Below that were two open medical waste bins.

I retrieved a pair of latex gloves and a ziplock plastic bag from my pocket and quickly stretched the gloves over my hands. The bins weren’t very full so the parts weren’t hard to find. The testicles were pretty obvious. The penis was nearly unrecognizable. It was just a shriveled tiny thing with no skin and missing a piece of the glans. I bagged it all carefully but quickly and slipped the gloves off and dropped them into a bin before pocketing the bag.

It was overcast as I stood on the rocky beach and prepared my little farewell ritual. I pulled the transparent bag out of my pocket and held it up to get a good look. It seemed such an insignificant bit of flesh to cause so much trouble. As I stared at it, I thought of where it had been and the trouble it had caused and my hate built up inside me. Finally I dumped it out onto a rock and stomped on it over and over and ground it under the heel of my boot until it was nothing but a bloody smear of pulp across the rock. When I was confident it was thoroughly and irrevocably destroyed, a kind of relief passed over me and my anger drained away.

I went back to Josh’s room. He was still asleep. He looked so peaceful and innocent. The evil, cheating part of him had been cut out like a malignant tumor leaving him purified. I had not an ounce of anger left for him. The whole process had already proven incredibly therapeutic for me.

I lifted up the sheet and then his hospital gown for just a moment to inspect. It was excellent work; very realistic. He still looked very male in most respects except between his legs. Once the swelling went down, his crotch would be completely flat except for a couple folds of skin and a little bump of a clitoris formed from the head of his previous dick. I brushed aside a lock of hair that clung to his forehead from sweat and spoke to his sleeping form.

“Now you’re truly mine again.”

As soon as he woke I made sure to shower him with affection and repeatedly tell him how much I loved him. As soon as he found out, his first concern would be that I wouldn’t find him attractive this way and I had to banish the thought from his mind. It would be a terrible shock but I was confident he would adjust well. He was oblivious for a little while. He said his whole abdomen felt a little sore “for some reason”. He said he needed to piss and I told him about his catheter and that he could just go, and he reluctantly did. He said it felt odd. I knew I needed to tell him before he discovered the truth himself.

I braced myself and then I climbed up on the bed and straddled his body. I held his wrists over his head pinning him to the bed. He was confused but he smiled at me. This wasn’t that unusual of a position for us, if not for the timing. But his smile faded as he saw the serious look on my face.

“Josh, we’re in a hospital with lots of people around, so I need you to stay calm.”

Suddenly he looked panicky.

“Oh my god! Something went wrong!”

“Nothing went wrong. Everything went just as planned.”

“Then why are you acting weird?”

“I need you to understand how much I love you and that I’m willing to do anything to save our marriage so we can be together always. I love you as you are right now and I will always love you.”

“Vince, what the hell are you talking about?”

“They didn’t perform a penis extension. That’s not what I arranged. I arranged for sex reassignment surgery. You signed the paperwork. Your testicles and most of your penis were removed except for the skin and part of your glans which were used to form what they call a neo-vagina. I know you’re going to be angry with me and that’s ok.”

“I don’t believe you.”

His voice was cracking though and his eyes were watering up. He could tell from the look on my face that I was telling the truth but the denial was to be expected. He was starting to struggle weakly against my hold on him.

“I’m going to get off you in a moment and let you check. Stay calm and be gentle because you’re healing. You’ll be in the hospital for almost a week and then we’ll be staying in a nice resort for a couple of weeks before you can travel.”

“This isn’t funny. Stop it, Vince.”

He had stopped struggling. He was weaker than me anyway and particularly so now right after surgery. I got off him. Both hands went immediately to his crotch. He looked terribly confused. Most of the stitching was internal so the canal was packed, but the rest could be seen and touched and seemed pretty normal aside from the swelling.

“It’s swollen right now, which is normal. It’ll shrink down and get flatter as it heals.”

My heart was breaking as I watched his face turn red and take on a horrible grimace as he started crying openly. The tears were flowing like little rivers now, wetting his pillow. His sobs were stifled, like he was holding all the pain inside him, which made it much more painful to hear than open cries. I leaned over to hold him and he punched my chest pathetically. I hardly felt it and I stayed over him and let him punch me some more until he had no more energy for it. Then I squeezed him tight. His arms became trapped between his chest and mine as I held him tight and stroked his hair while he soaked my shirt with his tears.

“It’s ok. Our marriage is safe now. I know you must worry that guys will not want as you are, but it’s not true. I want you like this and that’s what matters, right? I’ll always love you, Josh.”

There was one thing that worried me. I knew from my research that Josh may not be orgasmic anymore. The degree to which a post-operative transsexual could enjoy sex varied quite a lot between individuals. I thought it best not to bring that up.

He ordered me to leave but I didn’t go far. I kept checking on him. I think I was worried he might do something rash. I guess he had time to think about the situation that night and realized he wasn’t ever going to be as he was so he may as well make the best of it. Whatever anger he had for me, he knew he would not likely find someone who loved him like I did, not as a semi-female. A calm fell over him surprisingly suddenly by the next morning when the doctor came by with a nurse who spoke English. He didn’t make a scene. He just played along as they told him that everything looked good and explained about how he would need to dilate his new vagina for several months to prevent it from healing shut. He even forced a smile, but it looked fake to me. I was fascinated with the expressions on his face as they changed the packing bandages. He was clearly feeling unusual sensations in a part of him that didn’t exist before. I had to hide my own intense erection as I watched. When they left, I asked him if it hurt. His voice was a dull monotone when he answered. “

“A little but not so much; not nearly what I would expect. It felt really strange.”

His mood shifted a lot over the next couple of weeks. I didn’t know if it was the shock of adjusting to a life change or if it was due to a sudden drop in testosterone, but probably both. It wouldn’t be until later that I arranged for hormone replacement therapy. Mostly he was calm and just gave me the silent treatment. Sometimes he would seem to forget his situation and giggle at something he was reading. Other times he would suddenly get this look of despair and tears would well up in his eyes. It seemed like I could sense it coming on, however subtle. I’d be across the room reading and I’d have a sinking feeling and look up at him. He usually didn’t cry openly. The tears hovered in his reddened eyes. Occasionally a tear would fall down his cheek.

The nurses gave us a series of special dildos to dilate his vagina regularly. I tried to help him with it, but he wouldn’t let me. He wouldn’t let me see him naked. He’d tell me to wait in the bathroom while he dilated. It was tearing me apart. It seemed like he was punishing me but I think he was ashamed of it. So I tried a new tactic. I made it about pleasing me. I begged him to let me see it and touch it as I stared at the spot between his legs imagining what was beneath his house robe, but to no avail.

The first day home, I woke to him sucking my dick. I just lay there and enjoyed it for a while. Then I tried to reach down and touch him between the legs, but he locked his thighs together and pushed my hand, and continued sucking me. The time passed when I would normally have cum in his mouth but I could tell it wasn’t happening. He was closing himself off to me and it was killing my passion. Eventually my dick softened in his mouth. He increased his enthusiasm but I pushed him off of me.

“It’s ok.” I said. It was too dark to see his face, but I had that sinking feeling that I was getting back at the hotel when the look of despair came over him. I just held him for a while. My hand was on his stomach and I tried letting it drift down, but he grabbed my wrist and pulled it back up to his stomach. Finally I got up to shower and left him in bed where he stayed for a couple of hours.

For the next couple of weeks, sex was limited and awkward. I didn’t dare even fuck him in the ass because it was just too close to the parts that were still healing. I made a point not to jack off. I figured if he couldn’t experience pleasure, I should endure with him. Maybe in time it would be easier to cum when he sucked me. After about four days of self-denial, I woke in the middle of the night with a raging boner. Josh was lying on his stomach and I got on top of him and started thrusting my dick between his firm ass cheeks, without entering him. He woke.

“Don’t stop.” He insisted. I knew he was eager to please me somehow.

I was active and in control now. I was enjoying his body a great deal. Before long I was coming on his lower back. I swept it up with my hand and fed it to him. He licked my hand clean. Then I kissed him and we fell asleep spooning. It felt like the best night’s sleep either of us had had since we got back.

We eventually got him on hormone replacement therapy to replace the testosterone that his body no longer produced. A few days later I got back to work.

A few weeks later, I decided to come home early and surprise Josh with a gift of concert tickets. I opened the door quietly and didn’t see him. I carefully went down the hall toward our bedroom when I heard little moans. I didn’t know what to think. I peaked around the corner and saw Josh lying naked on his back with his legs spread and his knees up at his sides. He was gently stroking the nub of his clitoris. He looked content. I walked up to the side of the bed. He still didn’t know I was there. His head was turned the other way and his eyes were shut. He licked his lips and turned his head toward me but his eyes were still shut. I was smiling down at him. I don’t know how to describe how beautiful he was at that moment. I felt such a sense of hope as I watched him pleasuring himself like that. It meant maybe I could please him sexually too.

I startled him when he opened his eyes a bit and he jumped. His legs reflexively snapped together trapping his hand. He pulled the covers over him with the other hand.

“Jesus, Vince! Why did you sneak up on me!”

His face was bright red. I was still smiling at him. I just slowly looked down at the tent in the front of my khakis to bring his attention to it as well.

“That was so fucking hot. Holy shit. Don’t stop!”

I felt I had to seize the moment before he had time to start analyzing and getting self-conscious. I quickly started stripping down and got in bed with him. I jerked the covers off of him. He kept covering himself with his hand. My cock was jutting straight up toward him.

“We can’t fuck yet.”

“I know that. I just want more of what you were just doing. Let me help.”

I got down under him and forced his knees open. It was working. He seemed so discombobulated by my sudden burst of enthusiasm that his embarrassment had been replaced by confusion. I noticed an open bottle of lube next to the bed and saw that his fingers were shiny with it. I squirted a bit of it on my right hand and replaced his hand with mine. I was breathing rapidly and I could feel my cock throbbing with my pulse. I think seeing how much he had turned me on was working on him. He let me gently massage his clit and before long, his legs relaxed to give my hand more room to work. I was stroking my cock with my other hand. After a few minutes his abdomen was clinching and semen was squirting from his new piss hole below his pussy. I quickly put my other hand under to catch some of it. When he was done with what I think was his first orgasm since the operation, I held it up for him eat. He laughed and turned his head away.

“Gross!”

“What are you talking about? You eat it all the time.”

“Not pussy juice!”

“It’s not! It’s exactly the same as it was before. It comes from the same place.”

Well not exactly. In truth, it was the same fluid except lacking in sperm. His prostate was intact and his testosterone had been replaced, but his balls were gone. Anyway, he refused to eat it. So I looked him right in the eye as I delightedly licked my hand clean. He watched with a humorously disgusted look on his face. With my wet fingers still in my mouth, I finished jacking myself off and came violently all over his stomach. Then I pinned him down with my weight. The stickiness of my cum caused our heaving chests to slide against each other and we rested like that for an hour.

We broke through an intimacy barrier that day and more days like it followed. When enough time had passed for him to completely heal, we were ready. He was comfortable opening himself up to me. We had both been eagerly looking forward to the day when we could be joined as one, like we had many times before but in a new way. At first, I let Josh decide how I would fuck him. I felt I owed him that. He still liked it in the ass but he discovered his new orifice was excellent for the task. Often I would switch back and forth or Josh would sit in my lap and control it, lifting off and switching when the mood hit him. After a while, he put me back in control. That’s how he wanted it.

He frequently came but not always, which worried me at first, but I came to understand that it wasn’t as important as it had been when he was fully male. He explained to me that he enjoyed sex in a different way. His orgasms were different now. He was in more control of his pleasure. Sex was something to be enjoyed more thoroughly throughout and there wasn’t a sense of having to work toward this event that would provide relief from his desire. The pressure to cum was no longer there. It was a difficult concept for me to grasp, but I had to believe him. He seemed to really like the sex and more importantly, he was happy.

One night while I was spooning with him and we were drifting off to sleep, I whispered to him.

“Do you forgive me?”

There was a long pause during which I wasn’t sure if he had fallen asleep already or if he was just thinking. I guess he was picking just the right words.

“You had no right.”

“I know. It was wrong.”

“You can never leave me. You owe me now. You will always owe me.”

I never asked for his forgiveness again. I didn’t deserve it and I eventually realized I didn’t really want it. Forgiveness is like letting go, and I didn’t want him to do that. It was the pact that would hold us together.

“But you’re ok, right?”

“I’m better than ok. I’m special.”