Chapter 3

The first days of summer were hot and damp. For almost fifteen days the weather has been beautiful and not a drop of rain has dropped from the heavens, a rather exceptional occurrence in New York and its surrounding region.

Six o'clock is striking. The old grandfather's clock is bellowing out the hour in stentorian clangs.

Richard has just returned to his studio slightly fatigued after a long errand. His first preoccupation on entering is to make himself comfortable. A few moments later he has freed himself of all clothing. Although, not given to expressions of vanity, he now observes himself complacently in the large mirror.

It would be really improbable to find such a body as his, except in a dream. His man's body is completely effeminate-a tiny waist, no prominent muscles, overdeveloped breasts, long naturally wavy hair, a snow white skin which is as smooth as velvet, and not a hair to be found on his body, not even his legs.

He was certainly musing in a very similar vein at that moment, for from an antique chest he now drew a rubbery girdle. Also in the same chest appeared to be stored a numberless pair of women's stockings, probably the relics of many a forgotten love.

He now stands contemplating himself with the girdle around his hips and sheer, flesh colored stockings molding his leg. If it weren't for his face one would be absolutely convinced that he was a woman. The impression is accentuated by the fact that he has hidden his member between his thighs, leaving only his bush visible. When seen from the back the illusion is perfection itself. Voluptuously he caresses his thighs, his buttocks...

His imagination flies off to a land of dreams. Alas, if only to be a woman. And yet behind this apparently effeminate body one can not deny the presence of the male animal and all its vigor. That which is strange is that he has the soul of a woman and the will of a man. But a fact that is to be remarked is that whenever he found himself in the grips of some emotional problems his woman's soul again took the fore. This was now the case as the consequence of his having separated from his last mistress some two weeks ago after they had had a fight.

Bah, the hell with her, he thinks, after all she was a bad fuck. For one thing he always had a lot of trouble in getting his tool all the way into her tunnel of love, and furthermore she made him hold back coming too long for she wasn't hot enough to come soon and often, and it would all end with his being in a bad temper. She just wasn't woman enough for him, and that's all there's to it. It's all over, so let's stop thinking about it. And of course he continues to think and mull it over and over...

Alas, we are but toys in the game of destiny. We like to think of ourselves as being strong, as being the master of the situation, and in fact we are always at the mercy of the slightest fantasy of our senses.

At seven o'clock he suddenly remembers that he has an errand to run downtown. In his hurry to get dressed he puts on a pair of trousers that are ripped. The hell with it hell put on his beige raincoat. He forgets to take off the girdle and stockings, but then they do not bother him the least bit.

Coming up to his friends house, a neighbor comes up to him and hands him a card; the friend had left that morning and was going to be absent for a few days.

Well how do you like that! That's what you get for hurrying-a closed door. Seven-thirty. What can you do at such an ungodly hour, especially since he has no desire to work at his paintings.

"I'll go take a walk in Central Park; maybe that'll change my mood."

He begins to walk in the direction of Time Square and 42nd Street, not being able to decide where to take the subway. The women along the way are most appetizing, their bare necks seem to invite a more intimate acquaintance with their breasts which are asking for nothing better but to show themselves completely. Their well shaped legs seem to incite him to follow. But no, he is happy in the act of looking and trying to visualize what the cloth is hiding. Even though, in his trousers, he feels his member becoming erect he knows that this is not what he wants...

What it is that he wants, he doesn't exactly know, or rather, although he knows, reality separates him from his desires.

Walking along near Ninth Avenue, he sees a horse drawn laundry cart standing at the curb. Richard's attention is riveted by the enormous tool of the horse. The heat of it hits his face. Oh, what a tool!

Oh, since little Bella had introduced him for the first time to the pleasures of a piece of candle (as the reader I hope will remember), how many times had he tried, when all alone just on such days when he was daydreaming as the result of some material or emotional problems that we are all familiar with, he had tried a little bit of every thing: vegetables, wooden sticks being of the same size as a cock, but now he wanted to experience the sensation of a real and handsome dick swelling out the depths of his ass.

The night before he had wandered aimlessly around the area of Grand Central Station. That first evening he had gone into the public rest-room and after a few moments a man standing next to him had taken his cock in his hand. Emboldened, Richard in his turn took the strangers tool in his. The room was deserted. Looking at the instrument which he held in his hand, a wild idea crossed his mind, and at that very moment he bent down and took the other cock all the way into his mouth, almost swallowing it. As one can imagine the one being sucked off was quite happy, and fascinated Richard's efforts by moving his tool in and out of his slobbering mouth till suddenly the hot sperm spurts into his mouth to be swallowed to the last sticky drop.

Satisfied, the 'other' went his way. Richard, kicked himself in the ass for not having followed him. Hell, the cock which he had just emptied was much smaller than his own, and what he was looking for was a cock considerably bigger than his own. He just wandered about afterwards, entering into all the public rest-rooms that he encountered on his way. He met other neighbors' whose cocks he sucked till they shot their hot sticky loads into his mouth and whose soft skins he enjoyed feeling in his hand. He had sucked still two more since, but all of them were small, too small for what he desired...

The next day he returned to these same haunts and after having caressed, fondled, and seen a whole battery of cocks, all of which were mediocre, he did have one moment of happiness and hope. In a rest-room off Madison Avenue, a neighbor installed next to him was flipping the last drops from a tool almost the size of his own, a little less thick, but nonetheless. Just then he felt a hand on his buttocks and then his neighbor's voice murmuring in his ear, "Come with me, I know a place where well be safe."

A few yards from where they had started the stranger led Richard through a courtyard and then to a room on the ground floor. The door was closed on a burning light, and Richard saw through the window what appeared to be a pig pen with a bed, the only piece of furniture worthy of the name. His friend of the moment lost no time, and immediately unbuttoned his pants, revealing a cock already erect.. .

Instinctively, Richard stretched himself out on the bed, after having removed his trousers in all haste, and then picking up the tails of his shirt, unveiled a luscious pair of cheeks. He did not have to wait long, for almost immediately he felt the erect tool trying to enter his orifice, but hardly had the tool implanted itself up to the head, than he felt the hot discharge trickle down his rear...

Alas, he still had not tasted the pleasures of having a tool buried in his bung hole to the very hilt.

A few moments later the two went their separate ways, the one happy to have come in an ass placed between such pretty cheeks, and the other still unhappy at not having been able to satisfy his desire.