hot trans lady

My local closest friend is a hot trans lady.  We are very close–best friends.  We met last summer, and I see her almost every day.  She’s close to my spouse also.

I want to have sex with her–this hot trans lady.  She is not planning on fucking me.  My whole body says a huge YES.  Her body says a small yes, last I knew, and there are other factors.  I am too old for her–she’s afraid I’ll die before her and leave her alone in the world.  She sees me as a role model, and she thinks it’s not good to have sex with role models.

So we are long term figuring things out.  Some days are easier than others.  Our relationship feels good this morning.  Other days–not so much.  When I feel underappreciated, or when I’m scared of her dating–I get hurt and feel like I can’t do it anymore.  But we talk, and we stay close.

Recently she gave me keys to her house.  We cuddle a lot; I feel fortunate for the physical contact.  I get high from being aroused by her substantial, gorgeous body.  My body pumps out bonding hormones, drugs.  I’m an oxytocin slut, after all.

I learn a lot from her–she’s extremely creative in ways I’ve never been close to.  Just the art alone would be enough.  But we talk about trust and safety.  We’re real about death and our deep griefs.  She’s grieving her longer term best friend.  We’re surviving the first year.


Yesterday she made music as I dozed on her bed.  It was bliss, to hear as my lullaby.  Then I sat up and danced.  It ended too soon.

Then she invited me to cuddle as we listened to the recording.  She was the big spoon, and I felt so loved and safe with her body, in her clean bed.  I was thrumming with arousal.  It’s normal for me to feel aroused when we’re cuddling, but my cunt was salivating.  My clit was a big boner in the warmth of my cunt.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Mmm, doing good,” I said.

I wanted to tell the whole truth and say, “I’m sooooo horny.  Please let me cum on you today.”

If she said yes, I would have turned over, kissed her, and rubbed myself on her until I was cumming on her hip or hands or wherever she would accept my hot pussy.  She could feel me thrash around and hear me voice that orgasm that was specifically for her.  It would be a powerful release after wanting her since the day we met, which is unusual for me.

But I’m trying to be a good pumpkin.  I was nestled close to her body, and her arm was on my arm.  I felt in heaven– I rode the wave of desire and longed for her.  She’s getting what she wants, and I need to trust her that she’ll let me know if she ever wants more.


I want sex, but I know rationally that we can barely do what we’re doing.  If we shared our bodies and hearts and lives in a sexy, partner way, I would need her even more than I do now.  Is she up for that?  How about me, and my spouse?

We would encounter many more questions.  Where would we have sex?  Her bed is too small, and my bed belongs to me and my spouse.  How much would my spouse be involved in the sex part?  What does he really want as desire originating from him, and how much is he going along with?

Is the risk of pregnancy and STIs worth it?  Will she yell at me, like she yelled at her ex?  So far she has never yelled at me.  I’m scared of anger.  My whole goal is to be safe.

Things would change a lot.  So we stay here, cozy and intimate and trusting, and not having sex.  I feel paused in the foyer.  We could go through that door.  But what would we risk, and would it be worth it?

The foyer is beautiful.  We can decorate it with fairy lights and beautiful art, expand it, live in it.  But mostly, I really want to live in the entire house.


She needs help with her survival.  All three of us are disabled.  I’m sorry that in a far off way, it’s a matter of life and death.  She doesn’t want to get together and break up–that’s been the pattern with others she needed.  She doesn’t want to lose us.

Yes, I know what she means.  But she could lose me by breaking my heart on a daily basis also.

We can frame it that it’s my problem.  I ask for help.  On the worst days, it feels more like her problem.  I get the feeling it’s just a garden variety fear of intimacy.  Babysitting selfish children who refuse to grow up is something I’ve done way too much of.  I’m done.  I should respect myself more, say no, and take my body elsewhere, where it will be wanted, treasured, and my holes will be used as they should be.

Why waste my life, building the empire of this hot trans lady who doesn’t want to fuck me?  Her almost wanting me is not enough.  What is my life for?  Am I giving her energy I need for myself? These huge questions come up–I get overwhelmed and shut down.

Maybe we can make it more balanced.  Maybe we are nourishing each other equally, and sex is not the point at all.

We weigh desires and enjoy another day.


Yesterday I saw a pack of condoms in her room–I’d never seen condoms there before.  I know she has a date today.  I wish the condoms were for me, but maybe the condoms are for fucking that new person.

It hurts not to be chosen.  But it’s not because she doesn’t love me enough.  She loves me so much, she doesn’t want to mess around with me.

It’s an honor to benefit from her integrity.  She’s not going to use me and discard me when I have needs, like so many people have.  She knows where her bread is buttered.  I’m the one asking if she ate, touching her shoulder as she cries, petting her hair, and telling her how beautiful she is on a daily basis.

I don’t want to keep sex so separate from the rest of life.  But I’m trusting God this is the relationship God wants us to have.  We are where we need to be.  If we could do more, we would be doing more.


She txted me that she thinks of me and my spouse when she goes to bed at night, and when she wakes up in the morning.  It was so sweet.  I replied that I think of her when I wake up in the morning, especially when I’m horny.

“What do you want to do with me?” she asked.

“Am I allowed to say?” I asked.

My spouse and I had driven out to a beautiful cemetery.  There were deer and wild turkeys.  I looked over the graves.  I wanted to be present with my spouse and the dead.  Instead I was distracted on my phone.


I told her what I want.  “I wanna kiss you a thousand times, cherish you my whole life, cum on you, stuff you into my holes, fuck the shit out of you, hold you down, make you my bitch, engage your breasts for hours, uplift you, nourish you, swallow, hold your hands, baby you, mark you, listen to you, tell you everything.”  She put a lil heart on it and said it was beautiful.

Then I had a panic attack.  My heart was pounding, and my breath felt wrong in my body.  My spouse touched my back as fear overcame me.  What I said was so vulnerable.  I can’t live with this much rejection on a daily basis.  I didn’t know saying what I want so directly would feel terrifying.

Her response confused me.  If it’s beautiful, give it to me.  Give your body to me, and let me love you how my entire self is instructing me.


I’m not going to push her or anyone.  But I suspect that most relationships enter sexual territory with drugs or because someone pushed.

Maybe it’s wrong, to respectfully watch it unfold.  Her date today might be less cautious, and my hot trans lady will be under his spell.  I could lose everything that way.

What is a reasonable risk?  Is living in the foyer just fear?  I want more options than relationship escalator.  The world is so much richer than cis-het gender roles repeated by trans people who know better.

But lust is real.  Desire is worth risking our lives for.


My last relationship, I was very respectful to my now ex-girlfriend, as she got together with the man she had sexual tension with, and who she was trying to manipulate into crossing her boundary.  It was such a strange power play.  People do amazing things, in order to avoid being direct and telling the truth.

I lost my ex girlfriend by giving her the time and space she told me she needed.  Or that’s one way of seeing it.  My respect was boring.  I could be more valuable and wanted if I was aggressive.

People are strange!  There’s a reason I’m an outlier introvert.  It’s not just autism.  Who is actually worth it?

My hot trans lady is worth it.  My spouse is Jewish like she is.  He tells me that in Judaism, you’re supposed to think of God when you go to sleep, and think of God when you wake up.

Maybe we are like God to her.  I know she’s a goddess to me.  I’ll worship as long as she lets me.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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