Two Wet Trannies and a Cowboy

I know the title of this post invokes some pretty raunchy images, and for that I’m sorry.

The party that I spoke of in my last post, happened on Saturday night during a huge downpoor in Houston.  Of course like all trannies worth anything, we were late.  Tranny time is different then average person time.  We live by our own rules, probably a result of taking charge of our lives and becoming who we are with a middle finger extended at the world’s social constructs.

My girlfriend does makeovers for people and had a client who also was attending the party.  So, after an hour or two, of making a man into a beautiful woman, we began the process of transforming ourselves from average looking trannies, into TS goddesses, and well, this simply takes time.

It was around midnight when we finally braved the storm, dodging trees, and arriving late enough to have to park a block away.  I assure you this was never part of the plan given our hair, makeup, heels, and a raging storm all coming together to form less then desirable tranny conditions.

After parking the car we took off in a slow teetery mincing sprint encountering a group of black girls coming from another building who apparently had the good sense to bring umbrellas and rain coats.  I love black girls because they immediately become your best friend when you’re a tranny, calling you sweetie, baby, and guuuuurrrrl, when they ask you why you don’t have any type defense against the elements.

Of course we didn’t have time to chit chat, and I hadn’t even noticed that my girlfriend had slipped in the rain skinning her knee and covering her leg in mud.  As I waited under the awning by the front door, she appeared wet, hair a mess, and looking at me as if to say,  What the F… you left me.  Of course the eyes in the back of my head have long since been covered by hair, and I had no idea she fell.  I never heard her cries for help, which she never even shouted, and yet, I was expected to simply know she wasn’t right behind me.  Maybe there is some type of tranny force or something that I’m not quite in tuned to.

Once inside, my eyes took a second to adjust to the darkness, and you can make out the silhouettes of the various people engaged in various activities, some as innocent as chit chat, and some not so much.

My girlfriend goes to clean her self off, and immediately some of the guys who have become a bit smitten with us make their way in our direction.

Thank God, I was by the bar because a quick Tequilla and sprite was exactly what I needed right before I excused myself to run and make sure everything had remained in place during the heeled cross country trek.

My girlfriend and the other girls can deal with the men for a bit, I had to make sure I was presentable.  Kind of evil I guess, but hey, It’s a tranny eat tranny world, and I know my priorities.

As I explained in the last post, my friends place of business is set up in three main rooms, and one locker area where the bathroom is.

I made my way from the first room, through the second which had two or three trannies dancing in the cage, through eyes oggling my bicyclist legs proudly displayed from the bottom of my short shorts, and the tops of my heels, and into the locker area, where another girl I know was talking to a guy.  She was already feeling the affects of her drinks, and had already passed the point that let me know she’s in for a long night, and a day of miserable recovery.

I say hi as I slip into the restroom, that also has a full shower for the girls who must detranny before they return home to their wives and girlfriends.  The lighting is good, and after some fixing, my hair was better, and I was really thankful, I hadn’t worn any kind of hair piece.  No one wants to sit around in a wet musty hair piece all night after being in a rain storm, and thankfully my hair being shoulder length now with highlights is just getting to where I’m proud of it.

Lip gloss, Liner, and a refixing of the hair, I am once again presentable.  I grab my drink, my purse, and it’s back out into the lustful tranny jungle.

I make my way back through the stares, as I picture those animal eyes in cartoons where you can’t see anything but a bunch of bushes and some beedy eyes flashing as they blink.  Techno music is playing, and luckily the rain has made it a bit less crowded then it usually is, however, there is still about 40 people and a good enough ratio of girls to guys to make sure that everyone has an opportunity to make a friend.

Once back in the first room, I notice my girlfriend has cleaned up, but now she’s sporting a bandaid on her knee, and I do feel a bit sorry for her.  But, she’s a trooper and quickly shakes off the fall, and is already talking to D, a man she’s known for a while, and one I met in the first party.

I’m going to take a pause and explain some of the effects transition has on you.  First as a man I was only into women sexually, and even now I consider myself somewhat of a lesbian.  Women’s bodies are still far more beautiful then a man’s in my eyes, but as you fit more and more into the role of a woman, you start to see yourself in a relationship with a man.  White picket fences and all that.  Suddenly the idea of being with a man is more appealing even if it doesn’t dominate your thoughts.  I can absolutely see the attractive qualities in a man, and a good set of shoulders, and a rugged face isn’t lost on me.

D is a distinguished man, with a nice corporate job.  He’s not the typical man that has a problem with you being connected to him on facebook, and doesn’t seem to worried about his friends finding out that he is friends with trannies.

He’s fit, easy to talk to, and I’m sure has no problem gaining the attention of women wherever he goes.

I also know my girlfriend has a bit of a crush on him, even if he has a crush on both of us, and would love it if we were a packaged deal.

Apparently D has been around the community for a bit, and with any smallish community, degrees of separation are typically less, and any girl he’s dated is bound to know us, and we’ll know her.

One of my good friends had such a history with him, and was flirting with him pretty heavily.  But D is unphased and it’s obvious his attention is squarely directed at my girlfriend.

My friend that I mentioned is a tiny little petite Mexican tranny with silicone boobs, and juviderm lips, long blonde hair, and is simply stunning.  She exudes a confidence that I hope I can learn from, and even though she’s much younger I adore her.  She’s known me since I was a boy and has never treated me in any way other then with total sweetness, and I’m happy for that.

My girlfriend is already playing the host bouncing from small group to small group, her loud infectious laugh being heard throughout the party, and she’s making everyone think long and hard about throwing caution to the wind.  She really is the little devil sitting on your shoulder calling that little angel a damn dirty lying bitch.

My girlfriend works with a group of girls at another bar here in Houston, and they call themselves the bad girls club.  If you can imagine the group of girls from highschool, not the popular mean girls, but the girls who hung out with the guys in the mechanical courses.  Girls with tattoos, probably smoking in the back, the kind that you weren’t ever sure if they had a blade under there miniskirt.  But for some reason those girls were actually the nicest girls you could come across once you got through their hardened exterior.  Well, that’s the bad girls club, but instead of a blade under their skirt, it’s another surprise, possibly even more dangerous depending on how you look at it. 😉

They all arrived, and I hear my girlfriend yell from accross the room that the bad girls are here, and it’s time for the party to start.

It really was as if the music stopped as they entered and with that announcement completely changed tempo blasting from the speakers with even more chest beating thumping.

Drinks flowed, men came and went, and the once crisp edges of reality faded into a blur that lets you know the night is well underway.

Vanity, the owner of this crazy establishment, a black gay crossdresser who always looks as if she’s the black version of Heather Locklear from those posters every adolescent boy had in his room in the 80’s, comes up to me, her silicon breast plate jutting her chest out obscenely, as she lets me know there was a cowboy here asking about me.

I had noticed him when  I walked in, ruggedly handsome, cowboy hat, belt buckle, wranglers, you name it, and I had never notice just how enticing cowboys were until just then.  It seems he had to go help a friend with their car, and I wasn’t sure he would return, but the thought of being wanted feeds the ego, and who doesn’t like that?

I found myself in the second room, girls dancing in the cage, by this time, shirts were off, boobs were shown, and fuzzy movement occupied the couches along the back wall.  The party had morphed into more of a strip club where the girls all have something extra, and the men aren’t afraid to slip a dollar or two in the G string of the girls dancing seductively in the cage.

Of course I’m of the “innocent” sort and am not participating in such activities when my girlfriend calls out to me pointing at a cowboy in the corner who’s eyes are locked on me.  In her overly loud way of talking she announces to everyone in ear shot that he thinks I’m beautiful, and has been asking about me.  As difficult as it is, to shrug off my modesty and obvious embarrassment  something pushed me in his direction somewhat happy he had returned.

He was more then happy to obtain my attention, and keep it for the rest of the evening, this cowboy from Huntsville.

One of the very real issues when speaking to trannies, is the fact that most of us are taller then your average woman.  At 6 foot flat footed, and 6-3 in the heels I was wearing, his 5-11 frame put the brim of his hat in perfect position to bump me in the bridge of my nose just as I was thinking to myself how hot I must be.

It’s always these moments of harsh reality that keep you grounded, and with out them, we’d all go around believing we were the hottest things in the world.

We talked about ourselves, introductions, interests, likes, dislikes, and of course felt the ever present sexual tension as we moved closer to each other, eventually his arm around my waist and mine perched on his shoulder as his warmth and cologne washed over me.

He wasn’t too pushy, and like all cowboys should be, was very much a gentleman, and that was good because the night, I’m sure didn’t go where he wanted, and I had just a bit of guilt feeling like a tease when it was all over.

I didn’t feel too guilty about this perceived infidelity with my girlfriend, as she was having her own “conversations” with D in the back room.  We aren’t a jealous couple, and we know who we’ll leave with by the end of the night.  Besides, the atmosphere lends itself to sexual exploration and a good helping of new found open mindedness.

Those edges of reality were completely absent when his lips found mine and his goatee tickled my lip in a not unpleasant way.  My own hands massaging the muscles on his shoulder and back as we kissed let him know that I was in no way resisting.

Reality faded in and out, and finally in with clarity as my girlfriend was standing next to us obviously in a state of inebriation, happy to see that I was letting loose and not my usual pensive self at these sort of things.

As she goes on telling this cowboy just how good I am at certain activities, I let myself become that girl.  One who has no problem with someone knowing my more intimate details and letting his opinion of me drift a little right of dirty.

As my girlfriend continued her pitch in what was starting to seem like a pimp selling one of his girls services, she stumbled stepping squarely on my left toes.


Suddenly the pain in my foot and the mild irritation at just being stepped on, brought me out of this little fantasy world for a moment, and as she walked off, I let him know, I needed to sit down.

And here we were, sitting in two low sitting chairs, he moving back into gentleman mode, and I carefully nestled under his arm.


And i’m back in the fantasy world this place is providing.

A black tranny is dancing in the cage now, dollars peaking out of her g string, her perfectly toned muscles directing her body to move to the music, raising the temperature in the room, as a man and a small asian tranny walk up to us smiling telling us how beautiful of a couple we are, invoking those picket fence fantasies that have been invading my mind of late.

Suddenly the passionate tranny lounge with dancing girls had slipped away and I found myself thinking of meeting parents, thanksgiving dinner, having a dog, and adopting children.

These fantasies quickly replace the ones that clouded my mind in my old life, and I’m not to sad to see the change.  It surely makes for a clearer head, and less time worrying about when the next time I’ll get laid is.

Our lips met again, this time more passionately, and I struggled to maintain my composure as I was truly becoming in a state of lust.

His shirt may have become unbuttoned, my hand may have found his chest, and he may have had a tattoo above his left nipple of a bull’s skull with Indian feathers hanging from it’s horns peaking through his chest hair, I can’t be too sure.  😉

Right about now, I couldn’t be too sure, just how this evening was going to end.  Would I just go home with my girlfriend, eat Taco Bell, and talk and laugh at the nights events?  Or would I end up with this man forever changing my outlook on such things?

Needless to say, that was decided for me, as my inebriated girlfriend sat down next to us, having a wonderful time herself it became obvious that at 3 am, it was time to go.  Dreams of  a perfectly manicured lawn, minivans, and soccer practice again gave way to dancing trannies,  lust, and what my actions must look like to those around me.

I apologized, gave him my number, a final kiss, and to my girlfriends vocal protests, I dragged her outside to wait for me while I repeated my cross country teetering heeled trek to my car parked blocks away in the rain.

I drove up and there was the cowboy making sure my girlfriend was ok while I retrieved my car.  I have to admit, I have a bit of pride in my car, a 2012 Infinit G 37 convertible.  I take pride in letting everyone know I’m a tranny of my own means, it was nice for the cowboy to see this.

It took a bit of convincing, but my girlfriend finally got into the car mumbling about how horrible I am, and how mean I am to her by pulling her out of there when there was fun to still be had.  A member of the bad girls club until the end.

Back through the rain with broken branches strewn across the roads, as my girlfriend begins to de drag, hair, lashes, shoes, all coming off prematurely before we even arrive.  We make our way into the apartment when she announces she’s hungry, and I, the loving girlfriend, make my way back out into the rain to Taco Bell, our traditional after dinner of choice,  to bring back much needed nourishment to dilute the alcohol in her stomach.

As I enter, holding bags of tacos, bean borritos, and a Sierra Myst, I call out to her with no answer in return, and find her passed out in the bed, her makeup and glasses still on.

I smile as I turn back, flipping on the TV to the many commercials with chat line numbers promising love, and that kitchen gadget I just can’t live with out, and finally settle on a rerun of the golden girls.

I bite into my chicken supreme challupa, and I smile thinking of picket fences, dancing trannies, chest tattoos, silicone breasts, soccer practice, dark hazy silhouettes, and a perfectly manicured lawn.  You know,  Just like any normal average every day girl.  But most of all, I think about the love I have for my girlfriend.

Just another night for a very happy tranny on the go.


2 thoughts on “Two Wet Trannies and a Cowboy

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