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Hormones driving him nuts with desire he couldn't quench. Someone attractive had only to bump up against him these days and desire surged filling his imagination with cocks spurting cum. Desperate to get home he started walking, teetering on his heels. This had been a hideous mistake. He wasn't homosexual, he wasn't even bisexual, he wasn't transvestite nor transexual, not originally. He'd just lost his dick but hadn't lost his balls and need for sex was turning him inside out twisting him into into chrissknewwhat! He'd lost his dick in a war and now he was home and his country wasn't taking care of him the way it ought or maybe there really was nothing to be done and it was all his own fault but sure as hell he was fucked up and getting fucked-upper daily. At he teetered along the early a.m. sidewalk he noticed a car keeping pace alongside but this was New York so he ignored it till the driver quit tapping his horn lightly, overtook, mounted the kerb, stuck his fat bald head out and waved a ten. Where were cops when you needed them? Probably getting blowjobs in alleyways from men who lost their dicks in wars. "C'mon" fat baldy said waving the ten spot. He smiled greasily. "C'mon babe, ten bucks and you blow me." Disgusting fat creep imagined him a cheap hooker, cheap indeed at $10. What did he think this was, 1962? He didn't look dangerous anyway so Philip put his chin up and hastened, wobbling dangerously on the high heels, around the car and headed on homeward, feet in torment. The guy took off revving the engine angrily and Philip took pause to stop walking, support himself with one hand on a store windowsill, remove one shoe at a time and massage his feet. He saw his reflection. No wonder the guy stopped. A fantasy woman: long blonde hair, big bosom, tiny waist, long smooth legs on high high heels. He peered at the face. If you thought about it you would discern masculinity in the bone structure yet the hormones were taking effect and with the makeup Philip looked femininely attractive in a slutty way. He wasn't queer. He hadn't been, anyway, he'd been driven to this abortive night visiting a transvestite-transexual-trans-bloody-sister club by testosterone-pumping desire. Since he couldn't make it with a woman, what the fuck else was there for him to do, he wanted to know, with cum-exploding cock on his mind all the time but no cock of his own to explode, not even to look at or tie a knot in for fucksake. He'd been in turmoil these past months and gradually the idea firmed in him that if he needed sex, and he fucking well did, he'd have to take female hormones and try to become a passable woman and get sex with the sex he knew best: men, goddamn them. "Hey babe!" Shit! It was him again, drawn back by the magnetism of his hungry balls, driven around the block and sitting fatly in his car grinning a fat smile. "Can I at least give you a ride?" Near breaking his neck in the impossible shoes Philip stamped off, losing the man when he suddenly rounded the corner and entered the lobby of his apartment block to safety. This all can't be happening to me he mumbled numbly to himself five minutes later as he shouldered the stained old door out into the night street again. The landlord had changed the lock on his door because he'd not paid rent for months, not paid because he'd been busy going nuts. A car passed, braked, made a U and came back alongside the kerb. "C'mon Babe, I not getting any younger" fatso said. He'd thought this first night on the town in drag had thoroughly convinced him it wasn't for him, shown he was still a man oriented toward women, a man without a dick, true, but a man nonetheless. Yet now his goddamn hormones were kicking in and the thought of sex, some sex, any sex gradually began to appeal, along with the fact that he had to have money for a hotel. "$50 for a hand job" he said with a quiver of fear and excitement. "Are you nuts! I could do that myself for free.." "$100 for a blow." "Its 5 am and you're still looking so stop fucking around and come suck my dick. $25 maximum or I'm off home to the wife." Philip approached trembling, four months of hormones bulling the gate, climbed in the car. "Drive into the alley behind the building." Fatso undid his pants and the rank hormone odor made Philip imagine for a moment he was getting his own cock out to fuck a broad only he wasn't. The tool looked pathetically stunted in the man's lap but was already hard and Philip dipped his head tentatively . A few months previous this would have been unimaginable and the thought would have disgusted him to nausea and fury but now Philip actually found he hungered for this cock in his mouth and took it between his lips and slid slowly down it. Fatso's left hand suddenly found the lever which reclined his seat and it went abruptly back as his right hand grabbed the back of Philip's head and held it as his hips began thrusting upward, fucking. Philip pressed his tongue hard against the cock's underside, clamped his lips around the shaft and let the man do the work. "Yeah, oh yeah, suck hard, yeah swirl that tongue. Yeah, get it, suck me dry, you love this." And Philip did, he wanted it, he wanted the feeling of semen spurting as his own had used to, wanted feel cum down his throat and soon it shot and he hungrily lapped it up. "Oh, ah-ah" fatso panted zipping himself up hurriedly. "Ok, not to bad, needs a little work." Philip had forgotten the hooker's cardinal rule: get the money first. He sat on the seat beside the man looking at him like a puppy looking for a treat, actually wanting more. The man took out his wallet, extracted a $20 and handed it to Phillip. "We agreed $25." "Next time I see you." "We agreed..." "Get outta here!" the man said reaching across Philip's lap, opening the door with one hand and giving him a shove with the other. Fist Bang has Tons of Fist Fuckers Pictures
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