Chapter 3

"What are you doing here?" I'd expected a guy selling vacuum cleaners, or some Jehovah's Witnesses or something.

"Surprise!" Shelly smiled at me. She stood on my doorstep like a little girl, hands behind her butt, twisting on her hips.

I have to admit I was at a complete loss. I probably should have slammed the door in her face. I could have called the cops maybe. At the very least I should have told her in no uncertain terms to get the hell out of my life, but I didn't do any of that. I just stood there blinking at woman ... er, man, I mean.

Except she was posed in a red mini-skirt, the stretchy kind, and her legs didn't belong to any guy I'd ever heard of. Neither did Shelly's breasts, which were kind of right there, jutting proud and firm between her slender shoulders and flat tummy. She wore a short halter top, a black one, and it said, "Naughty boy ... Go to my room!" across the front. Her golden hair fell in waves around her beautiful face. Her blue eyes twinkled and her pink tongue teased her ruby lips. Jesus! Even her teeth were perfect.

"Aren't you gonna let me in?" she asked, mocking a pout that made my heart stutter, but I wasn't about to fooled again.

"Uh ... no," I replied with a hard swallow.

"Bobby!" Shelly put her hands on her hips, the stern little girl now. "Do you want me to tell your mommy on you?"

"What?"

"You're so cute!" She giggled and kissed my cheek, slipping past with a quick rub of her tits against my chest.

"Wait! What are you doing here?" I repeated, spinning on my heels as she dropped her purse on my sofa.

"It's Friday night, silly!" Shelly replied. "You're taking me out, remember?"

"I am?" I shook my head. "No, that's not ... I never ... We didn't even ... Don't you have to work or something?"

"I've been working all day," she sighed. "Would you be a dear and give me a foot massage?"

"This is crazy," I decided, shutting the door before one of my nosy neighbors happened to walk by. Not that I had nosy neighbors, I didn't, but why take chances? I liked my apartment a lot.

"No, it's not," Shelly said. She sat on the sofa, looking over her shoulder because it faced the wall and my big flat-screen television, and ... What was she doing here?

"Look, I don't understand any of this," I told her, honestly. "I'm not gay, alright? I'm not looking for some weird transvestite girlfriend thing."

"Excuse me?" She narrowed her eyes and I felt my stomach knotting up. I wasn't very good at confrontation.

"Um..."

"Did you just call me a weird transvestite?"

"Kinda?" I said, making it sound like a question. You know, like maybe we hadn't heard me right. It didn't seem to work as she stood up again, smoothing her skirt and walking towards me.

"For your information, Robert," she poked me in the chest with her finger, "I'm not a transvestite and I'm definitely not weird."

"Sorry," I mumbled, looking down as she poked me again.

"I'm a non-op transsexual," Shelly explained, except I didn't know what that meant. "You can call me a tranny. You can call me a shemale. You can even call me a chick with a dick, I don't care."

"Alright," I agreed quickly.

"But don't ever call me a transvestite."

"I won't," I promised. "I was just confused for a second there."

"Tell me you're sorry."

"I am sorry."

"Prove it."

"Huh?"

"Massage my feet for me and I'll forgive you," Shelly said, smiling again as she led me around the sofa.

I don't know why I gave in so easily. I didn't want to, believe me, but Shelly just didn't give me a chance to be forceful. Just as I thought I was getting up a head of steam, she deflated me completely. I've never been good at dealing with girls anyway and even though I knew she had a penis, the rest of her looked so ... girlish! It wasn't fair at all. Boys aren't supposed to look like that, or sound like that, or have size seven feet!

"You like my feet, don't you, Bobby?"

Shelly had pulled me down to my knees, tugging on my necktie until she had me right where she wanted me. Her legs were bare, but she had such smooth skin, tanned and toned, she didn't need stockings. Shelly wore patent leather shoes, expensive ones, probably, with open toes and spiked heels. Her toenails were red like her lips and fingers, and she had small, female feet. I'd spent three years selling shoes at Pay-Less as a teenage boy, so I had a lot of experience with women's feet and Shelly's were incredible.

"Yeah," she sighed, tilting her head with satisfaction as I removed her left shoe. "You're a foot guy, I can tell. Some men like legs, some of them like tits or ass, but you like feet."

"Ahhh..." I cleared my throat. "I guess so."

"You're shaking like a leaf!" Shelly giggled. "It's okay. Relax, Bobby. Nobody's going to steal Christmas from you, I promise."

"I'm sorry," I said, for no good reason at all. I could feel myself blushing as well, and my hands were trembling as I cradled her naked foot.

"We've got all night," she whispered. "Go ahead, baby. Kiss my foot. Mmmm ... Right on my toes. Do they smell good?"

"Yeah," I breathed, closing my eyes and inhaling her decidedly pleasant scent.

It made my cock hard, that faintly sour musk of female sweat, but don't think Shelly was dirty or anything. Her feet were pristine, scrubbed pink during a recent bath, I imagined. Her pedicure must have been new as well, the crimson lacquer applied perfectly to her wonderfully shaped nails. She had been walking around, however, and feet tend to grow sweaty with even the smallest exertion. Not much, but just enough to make them interesting and feminine and a wonder for the senses.

"Someone likes it," Shelly teased, pressing her right foot against the tent in my trousers. She still wore her shoe and I didn't mind the pressure, even if it did humiliate me getting caught like that.

"Mmmph..." I groaned, massaging the deliciously soft sole of her foot with my thumbs while I closed my lips around her big toe.

"That's a good boy," she whispered. "Like a pretty little cock, isn't it? Use your tongue, baby. That's it ... Ohhhh ... You've done this before, too!"

I wasn't about to tell her that I'd done it for Marilee, my first and only girlfriend. Looking back, it may have been the only reason the slut had gone out with me at all. Besides getting free shoes, I mean. I'd probably spent more time kissing Marilee's feet than I had kissing her mouth, and I'd only gotten to kiss her tits once. She wanted to save herself for marriage, or so she'd claimed. Yeah right! Saving herself for my best friend's dick, more like. The only girl I'd ever loved had betrayed me, but for the moment I took solace in the realization that Marilee couldn't hold a candle to Shelly in the foot department.

Or any other department, now that I was thinking about it.

Look, I know how ludicrous it sounds, believe me. I mean, Shelly had a penis. She'd raped me with it. Butt fucked me in my own bed and then a couple days later mouth fucked me in a public restroom. Okay. I get it. Thank you. My asshole still burns, but as I knelt on the floor, sucking her toes and feeling my cock throb beneath the heel of her shoe, I experienced something unexpected and unwanted. A confusion of joy and excitement, perhaps even more than that, growing deep in my gut and spreading through my flesh like a cancer. She wasn't just pretty. She wasn't merely cute. The girl was a transsexual escort for a reason, you know? She walked, talked, tasted, smelled, and even laughed like a normal, gorgeous, sexy, well-adjusted young woman.

"What's wrong?" Shelly wondered, narrowing her eyes as I'd frozen with surprise. Or shock, maybe. Surprised shock.

"I love you ... your, uh ... toes," I stammered. "They're, um ... nice."

"You love me?" A smile crept over her face. "Or just my feet?"

"Well..." I licked my lips and she curled her toes, briefly teasing my tongue. She used them to pull my bottom lip down and I shivered.

"No, don't tell me," Shelly decided, pushing her toes gently, but insistently into my mouth. "Let me figure it out all by myself, baby."

She soon had all five of her toes between my lips, forcing my mouth wide and giggling happily. I used my tongue to worship them, that's the only word for it. I teased, tickled, and wriggled the tip over, around, and between her toes like they were candy. I didn't have to hold her either, Shelly was more than content to tilt and turn her foot, pushing and pulling with it as if fucking my face. That allowed me to reach down and free my swollen erection. After I'd removed her other shoe, of course.

"Do you want to cum on my foot?" Shelly wondered, massaging my penis with the unbearably soft underside of her foot. "Go ahead and use my foot if you want. Jerk off for me, baby. Show me how much you love me."

I made muffled noises of agreement, using my hands to hold her foot and trap my cock against the sole. Her smooth heel would rub against my balls as I worked her foot up and down along the shaft. Shelly played with the head of my penis and she'd turn her foot slightly to the left and right, gathering precum on her toes before pulling then downward. She was quite dexterous, too. She didn't have very large toes, as I mentioned, and very small feet for man, but she could spread her toes nearly enough to fit my erection between them. She certainly liked to try and pinch me, but I didn't mind.

To be honest, I almost wished my very average sized manhood was a bit smaller, because I would have loved to slide it between her toes and make love to her that way. The erotic sensation of Shelly's foot jerking me off felt heavenly for me. Like nothing else I'd ever experienced in my life, but I have to admit that I'd dreamt of such things before. Not with Shelly, though. I mean with Angelina Jolie, mostly, and I guess I just have a thing for strong, intimidating women or something.

"What?" I gasped, feeling dizzy as my orgasm perched ready to explode any second.

"I said, don't cum yet," Shelly repeated, having pulled both of her feet away from me. "Kiss the other one for a little bit. It's feeling neglected."

But the other one glistened with my own precum, I wanted to protest. My cock was leaking like a faucet, drooling clear fluid over her skin, and even if the stuff tasted like pistachio ice cream, I didn't want it in my mouth. Shelly didn't give me a choice, however, and as it turns out, that precum stuff doesn't taste like anything at all. Thank goodness!

We did that for a long time it seemed to me, but not long enough. Shelly kept alternating, playing musical feet with my cock and mouth every time I'd get too close to cumming. Talk about frustration! I was almost desperate for release when she put her legs around me, and willing to do just about anything if it meant I could cum.