My True-Love Story by Young Kim youngkimyoung@yahoo.com
Hello, and a happy Independence Day to everyone.
My name is Kim Young. I'm a happy and healthy nineteen this year. My story begins five years ago, when our neighbors moved in next door. I will always remember that sunny April afternoon in Omaha, when they climbed out of their sky blue minivan with out-of-state license plates. They were Korean, a father, mother and daughter. Mom and Dad and I greeted them with open arms, and we really hit it off at once. Steve had just accepted a job at our nearby local hospital, Maggie was a housewife, and I caught their daughter sneaking peeks at me all through supper. For me as well, it was love at first sight. We became inseparable. To my surprise and immense relief, her parents warmly embraced me into their family. Annie at fourteen was a couple of years younger than I, lovely and petite. My blond, blue eyed good looks perfectly complemented her golden skinned, luxuriant black mane and her absolutely beautiful amber eyes. We'd hold hands at Church, where my Dad would preach while Mom played the organ. The only times we spent apart was when I'd be at football practice or she'd be at piano lessons. More often than not, she'd stop by the local library when I was working and just hung out until closing time. We'd walk home the long way, hand in hand. I thought I could never be happier. Her Mom and Dad would teach me a few words of Korean, and I'd sometimes join Annie and Steve in the mornings and evenings when he taught her Hapkido and Tae Kwon Do. I learned to love beef bulgogi. Our blissful world ended when a drunk driver in a pickup crashed into that same minivan on that rainy night in 2001. Annie and her mom were in the front, and thankfully didn't suffer. I was in the back, and spent five weeks in the hospital, crying out my eyes and my heart. During my long recovery, Steve looked in on me every day. I'd often wake up and see him quietly sitting there in the darkness. During that month, something deep inside me changed. My love for his family became an obsession, and I resolved to spend the rest of my life devoted to his happiness. Steve is in his thirties, with jet-black hair and coal-black eyes. He is physically very fit. He was born in Seoul and went to medical school in Pennsylvania. I was always in pretty good shape, but not a jock. At five-five and one-twenty, I really don't have the build for it. Reflecting on the events of that awful night, I decided to do something about the situation. Gradually, I added to my therapy sessions until my workout routine ran to two hours each day. I'd let my hair grow out as my plan took form. I avidly devoured Internet pages like mad. Nifty gave me purpose and direction, saving my life. I became a student of the transvestite sites, and tried everything from tight tank tops to lingerie. Nothing looked right for the longest time, and I frequently gave up in disgust and despair. Many nights I would cry myself to sleep as my self-appointed goal seemed unattainable. Weeks turned into months of practicing posture, slinking about like a model, and posing before the mirror, wetting my lips and gazing soulfully into my own reflection. One fateful night, the perfect doe-eyed, mouth slighly agape expression looked out at me from the mirror, perfectly capturing the depth of desire that was in my heart for a wonderful man. I smoothed cocoa butter over my naked form and inhaled deeply, savoring the moment. Blind, unreasoning pure lust filled my breast as I hungrily drank in the sexy vision that was my creation. The fingers of both hands teased distended nipples while I bit my lower lip between white teeth. My head tilted slightly forward, pupils gazing upward at myself. I stroked my penis with one hand while the middle finger of the other penetrated my boy-pussy. I gasped aloud when I came, chest heaving and body covered with a fine sheen of perspiration. Experimentation with perfume, body oils, nail polishes, eye shadows, cut-offs, lip gloss and body glitter took countless hours. I practiced giving myself enemas and taking dildos up my ass until I felt I could stroke them with my tight belly muscles. I gave myself countless climaxes by probing my prostate with fingers and carrots. My abs and calves were cut like diamonds. I played with myself each night, until my stamina and capacity for sex were up to my own exacting standard. Did you know the prostitutes of ancient Egypt had all sorts of marvelous tricks, including the invention of lipstick to advertise oral sexual services, and imbibing small quantities of kerosene to make their urine fragrant like violets? For two weeks, I masturbated myself before my reflection - stopping just short of blessed release. I wanted my first night with Steve to be memorable, and I was saving it up for a spectacular seduction. My entire allowance went toward cosmetics, bath oils, toys and lingerie. After a long nine months of preparations, with tanned glowing skin and a sense of confidence, I felt ready at last to spring my love-trap. Annie and I often slept over at one another's respective homes, so Mom and Dad readily accepted my request to spend my sixteenth birthday at Steve's house. Steve was grateful for the prospect of my company in his lonely solitude. My cover story was that Steve and I would spend the day at the local Fun Plex Amusement Park. I let myself into the darkened house while Steve was still on his rounds at Methodist. Their home was as familiar to me as my own, and I knew his secret passions for lesbian and shemale porn. His DVD stash was as familiar to me as my own bookmarks, and I would marvel at each addition to his extensive library. We had so much in common it made my throat ache each time I thought of him. My overnight bag yielded up precious candles. I doubted the purported aphrodisiac properties which the aromatherapy shop had advertised, but their scent perfectly set the romantic mood for my devious seduction. I lit them and let their fragrance fill the empty house. The CD which I'd painstakingly prepared played romantic music, from Ravel's Bolero to "Chances Are" and "La Vie en Rose." Steve's shift ended at eleven o'clock, so I spent the night getting ready by applying clear polish to my long fingernails and my toenails. I slept nude, and dreamt of Steve. When I awoke the next morning, I showered and gave myself another enema. My hair was a sumptuous dream, and the strawberry lip gloss mixed intoxicatingly with the chocolate aroma of the body rub I carefully applied all over myself. A hint of mascara, a few strategically applied dabs of Chanel No. 5 to my pusle points, and I felt ready for anything. I donned the tan half-tee that exposed my toned midriff to devastating effect. My white tight short-shorts clung to my muscled ass and accentuated, rather than hid, my waiting erection. I busied myself in the kitchen preparing waffles and coffee. I squeezed fresh orange juice and made a tray. Barefoot, I padded to Steve's bedroom door. My heart was in my throat as I let myself in. He was asleep, one arm outflung. Satin sheets covered my sleeping love, and I stopped for a moment to admire his smooth muscular torso sheathed in a white athletic shirt. Inspiration struck when I caught a glimpse of myself in his bedroom mirror. I set the breakfast tray down on his bed and dipped my fingers into the ceramic pot of butter. I applied a generous handful to my hair and to my face, slicking it down. Then a dollop went up my ass, for later. I poured out a small handful of maple syrup and smoothed it over my face. Then, with my face inches from Steve's, I breathed a husky "Good Morning" into my sleeping love's ear. He stirred and opened his eyes. They widened as he took me in. "Kim?" "Yes, Steve. It's me. How about some breakfast?" I whispered, as sexily as I could manage. He was clearly struggling. For the first time, I felt fear. What if I had miscalculated? Would he reject me? Without waiting, eyes closed, I impetuously pressed my lips to his. He stiffened abruptly. Then, after the longest time, I felt him relax and his arms encircled me. I felt like a million dollars. Making throaty grunts, I felt him all over. My hands roamed from his shoulders, over his hairless face, down his taut thighs. I felt his manhood quicken even as mine pressed against his body. I broke our kiss to move the breakfast tray to the floor. He just stared at me as I slipped out of my top and wriggled out of my shorts. Steve remained motionless as I slid the sheets down. "Are you sure..." he croaked. "Shhh." I placed a finger over his lips. Then I kissed him again. This time, my tongue penetrated his lips and he opened his mouth to received me. Our mouths clung together as my hands found the elastic of his underpants. He wore boxer-briefs, and I noted with excitement that his penis was now completely erect. I slipped off his undervest and ran my hands over his rippled chest. "Mmmmm." I toyed with his nipples before I ran my tongue over the left one. He shuddered. I took his right nipple between thumb and forefinger as I suckled at his left. With my other hand, I began stroking his hard cock. "Oh, Steve...I've been dreaming of this moment...you're soooooo sexy...let me just..." My lips travelled down his magnificent body until they skirted his bush and reached his dick. I looked him in the eyes with all the love I could muster and took him into my mouth. When he moaned, it felt to my ears like applause. The salty precum tasted fantastic. I took his length into my mouth and down my throat. He groaned and went rigid. My head bobbed and my fingers explored his entire body while I made animalistic noises deep in my chest and my throat. It was heaven. We made love all day long. I took him in my ass on all fours, in my mouth, and made him piss on me in the bathtub. He did everything I asked, and more. The best was when I laid on my back, and he fucked me up my ass. I thought I would never stop coming. The sperm I'd reserved for weeks just kept spurting and spurting over my ripped abs. I thought I would faint from happiness. We would wash each other, dry each other, and would soon afterwards need another bath! Mom and Dad did not understand or approve. After another interminable fight, I moved out to live with my true love right next door. Steve applied for a position out of state. I'm on estrogen treatments. Cosmetic surgery and saline-bag implants have made me into the image of the perfect mate for Steve. I now live full time as a woman, and am enrolled in the local community college. Our happiness has been made complete when we were able to take our marriage vows in California. We flew out first class, holding hands all the way there. We honeymooned for a week. Steve booked us into the Bridal Suite. I was so proud when he carried me over the threshold in his strong arms. We had room service (I was naughty, dressed only in my bathrobe when they delivered our oysters, surf and turf on a cart!). We had endless champagne and bubblebaths, and fucked and sucked for over four hours. Exhausted, and deeply in love, we fell asleep in each other's arms. I still remember my pillow being wet with my tears of joy, and Steve's come in my mouth as I dropped off to a dreamless sleep. Steve and I have decided that I'll remain pre-operative. We have a spectacular love life, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to me. He fucks me nearly every day, sometimes he takes it from behind from me. We jog together every day. More often than not our workouts end up in full-blown all out marathon sex, so maybe we'll just stick to running together. Once, we were stretching out and ended up doing a hot 69 for what seemed like hours. Then Steve rammed my bottom until I was raw. I loved it! Our love life is full. We shop adult stores together, and have turned more than a few heads. I guess they don't see a lot of Asian men. With all due modesty, I guess I must pass well enough as a woman. We've never been asked to leave, and have seen more than a few other trannies being ejected. I suck Steve off in the video booths as often as possible, and we enjoy collecting lesbian and transsexual movies and magazines together. We've videotaped ourselves, experimented with foodplay (melted dark chocolate and whipped cream is still our favorite), and spend hours every day surfing the porn sites for new ideas. Once we arranged to meet outside a video store, me dressed to kill in stiletto heels and a very RED dress and him in a business suit. I slipped into a booth and played an Asian lesbian film, while Steve purchased lube and condoms at the counter. Without a sound, he joined me. Then, undoing his trousers, he joined me. It felt wickedly decadent, the cold lube slicking my hole up while he breathed down my neck, his fingers pulling my thong to the side. I took his free hand and placed it over my breast while I whispered how I'd never done anything like this before. The fear of being caught lent a tangible edge to our lovemaking. I felt slutty and sooooo sexy. What haven't we tried? We watch each other masturbate while talking dirty to each other (I love his cute accent, and his voice alone is enough to set me off). We give each other hand jobs while watching the latest videos. Role-playing is great (I have a very tight schoolgirl outfit with a plaid skirt). Steve is fond of the medical exam (we've snuck into his office a few times after the cleaners have left), and I like our private tutor game. My jugs stretch out the tiny swimsuits that are much too nasty to wear outdoors, and I try to keep body as tight as I can with diet, rest and plenty of exercise. My man could easily win any number of bodybuilding or modelling contests. He saves it all for little old me. For his birthday, I called him at work. He was covering the graveyard shift. After making sure he wasn't needed elsewhere, I told him about a VERY special checkup with my Korean gynecologist in which we tried all sorts of new positions. He was quite surprised when he got home and I presented him with the videotape of me draped over his office chair, dressed in a kimono and stroking myself while I was telling him my telephone story. The moment I shot my load over myself while licking the phone mouthpiece was the highlight, and we've watched it again and again. I'll always remember one Saturday when Steve was off-call. Unplugging the phone, and switching off the mobile and the pager, he wore his green scrubs while I made myself up in the boudoir. We drank nothing but clear juice and water that day. Around noon, I dressed in my nurse's uniform. My bladder felt wonderfully full. We went to the office we keep in the basement and played at dictation for a little while. Then I asked to excuse myself. I left the bathroom door slightly ajar and carefully inspected my makeup in the mirror. The Doctor peered in through the cracked door, and slowly inched his way in. Breathing heavily, I backed away while he ravaged me, pawing my boobs and fingering my asshole. He smeared my lipstick and felt me up, cupping my balls while his lips crushed mine. Then he slowly undressed while I staggered over the tub. I crouched submissively, eyes never leaving his manly form. Steve pissed a hot, clear stream into my waiting mouth while I squatted on my haunches in the bathtub. My hands clutched my full breasts, the nurse's whites over my shoulder and my lacy brassiere exposed. I thought my cock would burst from the excitement. Steve used petroleum jelly to lubricate my hole, after giving me a thorough tongue examination while I squirmed with pleasure. I peed myself while he took me from the back, hands squeezing my ample tits while I panted out how wrong it was for him to misuse his intern like that. That uniform needed a thorough cleaning after that, I can tell you!
I feel truly blessed that I've been able to live out all my dreams and fantasies with the man I love. Who knows what the future can bring?