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Category: Erotica/BDSM Erotica/Gay Fiction
Description: A cross-dressing cowboy, a post-war pin-up, and a wolf in grandmother's clothing all find a special home in My Mistress' Thighs. This collection of erotic transgender fiction and poetry by Giselle Renarde makes room for everyone. There's a secret solstice sacrifice, a case of spring fever, an online romance, and a Wednesday night dinner routine that's anything but dull. This anthology includes erotic favorites, new surprises, and never-before-seen poetry. From the timid closet dresser of "Love in the Time of Instant Messenger," to the post-op rodeo queen of "Leslie Goosemoon Rides Again," all who seek love find it in the world of Giselle Renarde Erotica.
eBook Publisher: loveyoudivine, 2011 2011
eBookwise Release Date: June 2011

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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [274 KB]
Words: 59943
Reading time: 171-239 min.

George stopped short as he approached the Grand Marigold Hotel. Pearl Paulsen! There she was, before his very eyes! His whole body felt topsy-turvy as he surveyed her, from the rhinestone brooch clipped to her mink pillbox hat, down past a matching mink coat, and all the way to her seamless stockings and high-heeled shoes.

Apart from Hollywood starlets, Pearl Paulsen was the most recognizable woman in the country. When she first returned from Europe, her photograph was smeared across the cover of every national daily. Even now she appeared in the odd newsreel, still greeted by the jeers and hisses of cinemagoers. But George never hissed, and he held to the hope that very few among the hecklers held any feelings of enmity toward poor Pearl.

And now she stood before him, chatting with the dapper men and elegant women of her sycophantic clique. Pearl Paulsen! What a glamorous girl she'd become since the war! With her blonde SwirlaWave hairdo and her deep red lipstick, she looked nothing at all like the young private George had landed beside on the beaches at Normandy.

His mouth opened and a name tumbled out. The wrong name: "Howard!"

Pearl's head whipped around. Her gaze was hard when it met his. And then recognition sparked, thank goodness, and her expression softened. She smiled faintly at first, but her lips soon wore a full-blown grin. Excusing herself from her elite circle, she ran to George and threw her arms around his shoulders.

"Why if it isn't good old Georgie Kensington! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes!" Backing away to get a load of George in full military uniform, Pearl snapped up her fallen shoulder bag from the ground. Her wide smile gleamed. "How long has it been? How are you? What are you doing in the big city?"

George wasn't terribly interested in talking about himself. His life was a bore. He'd much rather hear about hers.

"Is that fellow giving you trouble, Pearl?" one of the men from her clique called out.

"Heavens, no!" she chuckled. The late-evening sky threatened with drizzle, and Pearl grabbed George firmly by the arm and dragged him beneath the hotel's overhang. "I would like you all to meet a darling man I served with in the army. This is Private George Kensington."

He'd risen significantly in rank since the war, but George didn't bother her with that information. The clique mumbled their hellos and then resumed conversations amongst themselves--all but the man who'd interrupted their reunion. "So you knew our girl Pearl on the battlefield, did ya?"

The man's intense smile made George nervous. "We were like brothers," he replied in earnest.

"Brothers!" Pearl released a shimmering giggle. "I certainly hope you don't see me the same way now!"

George gazed down at his feet. "Why, no ma'am. No, I certainly don't."

It was no secret Pearl had once been Private Howard Paulsen--no secret to anybody anywhere. The whole country had been treated to the most intimate details of her transformation when she arrived home from surgery in Europe. "Private Paulsen went abroad and came back a broad," the joke went. She was one of only a handful of individuals across the world who'd experienced a full change of sex, and she was famous for it.

The clique was distracted by the arrival of their stretch limousine, but George couldn't keep his eyes off Pearl.

Waving a gloved hand to her party, she said, "You go on without me. I have a heap of catching up to do with Georgie here." When she wove her arm through his, George's lungs clamped. His heart leaped into his mouth. How he'd wished Private Paulsen had touched him with such care in their army days! And yet, it didn't seem quite right back then. Now, he didn't have to hide his love for the woman she'd become.

Pearl's devotees sighed and looked at one another as though they couldn't bear each other's presence without the cushion of Pearl's glittering personality. They moaned in the haughty fashion of the elite, but Pearl insisted. When they'd finally piled into the white Chevy limousine, she waved goodbye before tugging on George's military jacket. "Come now, Private Kensington. I'll let you buy me a drink."

They sat at the very back of the hotel lounge, and still Pearl was greeted by looks askance. Before the waitress had even arrived to take their drinks orders, the patrons' whispers had grown into jeers.

"Mustn't take these reactions to heart," Pearl reassured George through a pained smile.

He didn't know how she could stay so calm. He was trembling, and even his uniform couldn't draw him into action. George was no better than a veteran coward. Pearl was braver than he'd ever be.

When full-blown threats erupted from the far side of the glitzy hotel lounge, the pianist at the baby grand stopped playing and looked in Pearl's direction. With a timid smile, she nodded demurely and said to George, "Perhaps we'd best take our conversation up to my suite, if a lady may be so bold."

As they passed the front desk, Pearl requested a bottle of champagne be sent up to her room. The awe-struck clerk assured her it would be "on the house." Jeers from the lounge rebounded from the crystal chandelier to the marble floors, and George clung to her furs as they headed for the elevator. In those high-heeled shoes, Pearl stood taller than he was. She petted the back of his neck as they ascended.

Champagne and flutes were delivered post-haste, and then they were alone in the luxury suite. George had never seen such a ritzy hotel room, but he knew Pearl was well to do. They sat together on the elegant straight-back sofa and chatted about everything but the war. That was a lifetime ago. Private Paulsen was now a celebrity with her own stage show. George had never heard her sing--at least, not as a woman--and after two glasses of champagne she serenaded him with a few bars of a Cole Porter tune: You'd be so nice to come home to. Her voice mesmerized him. There was such honesty in her expression.

After a lengthy pause, Pearl set her hand on his. "Did I ever tell you why I enlisted in the first place?"

"To show the Jerries who's boss," George replied with a shrug.

"Well, yes, I should say so. And we certainly accomplished that much. But there was another reason too--one more sinister and terribly, terribly selfish."

George was all ears. He leaned in close to hear, because now Pearl had her head bent down toward her chest. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

"Georgie, I wanted desperately to die." She rose from the sofa, clutching her hand to her breast. "Every day and every night I prayed the Nazis would shoot me right through the heart. I couldn't go on living. It was the body that was the problem, you see. Nature gave me the wrong one."

In the time they'd served together, George had seen every conceivable emotion in those eyes, but he'd never fully understood their pain until now. Did God really make mistakes? If the atrocities of war were any indication, he could only conclude yes. Those images clawed constantly at the door to his mind. Pearl was haunted too, he observed, by a life she could never erase.

"But I lived through the war, as you know," she went on. "Others died, and I lived. It seemed such a cruel twist of fate...until one day I received a letter from my Scandinavian cousin and confidante. She sent word of a revolutionary new surgery performed there and encouraged me to stay with her at the ancestral home."

"I heard all about it in the newsreels," George replied, watching as she paced the room. She'd tossed her mink over the chair by the writing desk, but she looked equally elegant in her simple grey dress. "I heard your voice and I could hardly believe it was you. You never had a husky voice, I suppose, but now it sounds like music, to my ears."

Pearl stopped pacing and covered her smile with lacquered fingernails. "Flatterer," she said, blushing.

They watched each other, again, for a good long time. George revelled in their silence. He'd gone out that night to meet up with a few war buddies who were also on leave. Instead he'd come upon the one soldier who would be eternally excluded from the boys' club.

"I've clipped every article about you," he admitted. "Right from that very first front-page expose: The Public Life of Private Paulsen."

"Oh," Pearl demurred.

Her blush suggested she felt embarrassed, which wasn't at all what George had intended. "I always respected your reluctance to answer some of those...those very personal questions..."

A smile grew across her bright red lips. "Thank you," she said. "Some of my interviewers have been perfectly horrid, asking all sorts of...personal questions, as you say. I had to tell them in no uncertain terms, 'These are matters that are of no consequence to anybody but myself and those closest to me.' It would be an entirely different matter if, say..." She offered an encouraging gaze. "...if it was someone I trust asking. Someone who cares for me. Someone like you, Georgie."

He hopped from the couch and before he knew it, was holding her hands. "Oh, I do care for you, Pearl. I care deeply--always did, even back when you were...the other way."

Guiding him back to the sofa, she sat him down and held his hands tight. "Is there anything you'd like to know about me, Georgie? Any of the matters I wouldn't discuss with reporters?"

His heart raced. There were so many things he'd like to ask, but he didn't want to come off as crass. Private Paulsen had never appreciated indiscretion.

"The surgery," George began. He couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye as he asked. "I never was quite sure...what did that doctor do to you, exactly?"

Without releasing his hands, she explained the operation step by step. George always had been squeamish, but Pearl had been through a year of medical school before the war. Her understanding of physical matters was far more solid than George's would ever be.

"I also take hormones to feminize my body," she added. "I'll take them all my life. Without all this--the hormones and the surgery, the change of sex--I doubt if I'd still be alive today. The war didn't kill me, but I might have taken matters into my own hands."

George stared at those hands that seemed incapable of harm before bringing her pretty fingers to his lips and kissing them left, right, and centre.

"You always were my defender," she said. Her words reverberated within his chest and his groin. He felt proud as a peacock when she gazed into his eyes. "When the other boys called me a Nancy, it was always Private Kensington to the rescue. I loved you even then."

When her pretty blonde head fell against his wool serge chest, he kissed it instinctively. Her hair smelled of coconuts, but that aroma mingled with a spicy perfume--expensive, no doubt--and the varied scents of ladies' cosmetic powders and potions. They were mysterious creatures, women, and it mattered very little that the girl in his arms was once the boy on the battlefield.

Pearl rested, wrapping her arms around his army green uniform and squeezing his ribs. He ran his hand down her back, dwelling on the outline of her brassiere as he skimmed his fingers along the fabric of her dress. This moment of softness he'd never experienced in any realm of life. His body surged beneath his military-issue trousers. It begged for his buttons to come open and his belt to unbuckle. As he gazed down past his WWII Victory Medal, he shamelessly hoped Pearl's hand would stray to the front of his military jacket and descend between his thighs. He deserved nothing, but he wished for everything.

"You know what, Pearl?" he whispered. "I've always believed that no one is completely male or female. Seems to me we all have elements of both inside of us. Does that make sense?"

When she raised her head, he smiled at the red circle one of his bronze buttons had left on her cheek. "Yes, Georgie. That makes perfect sense." Tracing her finger along the knot of his black army-issue tie, she said, "I have a terrible confession to make." Her shoulders heaved as she took an extended breath. "After my final surgery...after I'd healed, of course...I stepped out with a good many young men."

A pang of jealousy struck George in the chest. Still, he said, "That's nothing to be ashamed of."

She toyed with his tie until it came loose and she could pull it up and over his head. "Well, you see, I stepped in with them too..."

"Ah." A heady mix of protectiveness and envy infused his veins.

"I wanted to know how it would feel, and I wanted it to feel good."

Pearl's downcast gaze spoke volumes. "It didn't feel good?" he asked, though he could see the answer in the pallor of her cheeks.

Her lips quivered even as she smiled. "I didn't care for any of them, you see. I didn't care the slightest bit."

George understood just what she meant. Bringing her in close to his chest, he pressed his lips to her hot forehead. "I hear it's different when you love a person," he assured her. If he'd been a bold man, he would have offered a bold suggestion. But he was George. He said no more.

Perhaps he should have.

With his military-issue tie in hand, Pearl rose from the sofa and sauntered the perimeter of the suite. George's heart fell into his stomach as she opened the door--until he realized it wasn't the door they'd come in. No, this door led into another room...the bedroom. As she wafted inside like a spectre, George rose to follow. Was he led by Pearl, or by his booming heart? Or, indeed, by the erection growing larger by the second?

Pulling down on his army green jacket, he entered Pearl's bedroom. The room was elegant, but generically so. This was not Pearl at home. Was Pearl ever at home? Did she have a home? He wanted to ask, but went mute as she turned her back to him and reached her arm around to unzip her dress. Grey fabric split in two, revealing a V of silken flesh as the zipper bled down her back.

Without turning to look at him, Pearl pulled her arms from the dress as though she were removing opera gloves. The garment fell to her feet and he watched her step out of it before letting his gaze ride up her long legs. Her sheer stockings glimmered in the faint light from the other room. When she bent back to unlatch her garters, his erection pulsed in his briefs. His anticipatory fluids seemed to soak the cotton fabric. Watching Pearl undress and not quite knowing what would come next roused his desires to unseen levels. He pawed nervously at the hems of his cuffs as she unlatched her brassiere.

In her satin jacquard underwear, Pearl turned to face him. Before looking down, he searched her eyes for permission. Her gaze was beseeching. Standing before him in only underpants and high-heeled shoes, she appeared every bit as nervous as he felt. Her lips hung slightly open and she stood very still as he let his gaze flutter down to her naked breasts. They stood out from her chest like pointy-ended cones; in the same form her brassiere had held them.

She stuck her thumbs underneath the waistband of her underwear and bent forward as she pushed them to her feet. Her pubic hair was darker than her blonde coif, but George found it inoffensive, wispy and sparse as it was. She stepped out of her shoes and her satin panties simultaneously. When she was fully naked, she summoned him closer.

George walked into range of the mirror's view and caught a brief glimpse of them together: he, fully attired in his freshly-pressed military dress jacket and pants--army green with stripes of black running roundabout the cuffs--underscored by a khaki shirt. His medal of victory complemented the jacket's gleaming bronze buttons. His black tie was missing, of course; Pearl had removed it and placed it on the dressing table. She was utterly naked, and a woman through and through. Hard to believe this beautiful blonde had once been the winsome boy fighting at his side.

He stared with all his energy into the mirror, because the mirror couldn't capture his image without hers, or hers without his. They were together inside the gilt frame, reflecting from mystical glass. Not simply George in his uniform and Pearl in her birthday suit, but both together. In the mirror, they held each other's gazes. George's cock responded noticeably to her warm presence. He hoped and prayed this was really happening, and not another fantasy dreamed up by his starved imagination.

Casting her gaze to the carpeted floor, Pearl slipped quickly past him to close the bedroom door. The space became so dark he scarcely noticed her approach. Unbuttoning his wool serge jacket, she pulled it from his shoulders and tugged it free from his arms. She fumbled with his shirt buttons as he slipped off his shoes and unbuckled his belt.

The combined scents of her hair, her perfume, and her cosmetics beguiled him as she traced fingers down his bare chest. When he pushed his briefs down to the floor, his erection surged against her thigh.

"Your skin," he said tracing his fingertips down her arms. "It's so smooth."

Pearl let out a shimmering giggle. "You can thank the hormones. Estrogen makes skin soft to the touch."

He didn't know that. Private Paulsen always had been clever, but Pearl brought wit to a gleaming high. She stepped in close and circled her arms around his naked middle. When her peaked nipples pressed past the hair to tempt his bare chest, George could scarcely contain himself. His buttocks clenched as he kept himself from picking Pearl up by the underarms and tossing her to the bed. He'd always been a patient man. Hard as his cock had grown, he would force himself to wait until Pearl said it was time.

Setting her head against his chest, she hugged him and breathed rhythmically. Her hot breath kissed his skin, and then her lips kissed it. He could feel the lipstick she'd left in her wake, but the room was too dark to see it.

"This feels right, doesn't it Georgie?" Her words were quiet but racing. She didn't wait for a response before saying, "It feels right to me. It feels like this is the way we should have met to begin with, but the fact that we knew each other before...why, I think it gives you a more profound respect for me as a person."

George agreed wholeheartedly and told her so by easing her face up from his shoulder. When he felt her breath on his lips, he kissed her gently. That one slow kiss tasted so indescribably delicious it would have satiated his appetites if he hadn't already been naked. His cock pummelled Pearl's thigh, splashing it with liquids. She laughed, leading him toward the bed before tossing back the covers. When he was in beside her, she covered up their nudity and traced her hands the length of his flesh.

"My body," she told him, "it isn't like other girls'. Well, you knew that already. What I mean to say is that..." Reaching across his chest, she pulled open the bedside table's Bible drawer. He listened while she unscrewed the lid from a pot of something or other. "We'll need to use some jelly."

She surprised him by slathering thick lubricant down his shaft. He couldn't control his body's reactions. His hips jerked forward in her hand and she stroked him in a powerful grip. She knew just what to do with his cock, George imagined, because she'd once had her own. He wondered if he could ever give up his penis, and came to the quick conclusion he could not.

Every man in the country had no doubt speculated on the sensation Pearl's surgically-fitted pussy would provoke. Now George was about to find out, and he knew he'd never tell a soul.

Did all human beings know instinctively how to make love? George felt unsure of himself, but Pearl seemed to pick up on that. She lay on her back, bringing George down on top of her body until he found the magic place. Spreading her legs beneath him, she grasped his erection. With her hands, she guided his greased-up cock to the gate of her slit. The warmth of her body flowed into him through the tip of his cockhead until he couldn't hold back his passion any longer. Wrapping his arms around her, he plunged his strong cock deep inside Pearl's pussy.

With a gasp, she tossed her head to one side and then the other. He could sense the tears brimming in her eyes as she whimpered his name. The joy of diving deep inside her body surpassed any other experience. He thrust his hips, lunging at her as she pressed her smooth cheek to his. Her lips brushed his chin en route to a kiss, and when her tongue entered his mouth he felt utterly complete: his cock in her pussy, her tongue in his mouth...she and he were truly one.

Grasping her lower back with one hand, he sent the other through her hair as he kissed her. He thrust relentlessly, rejoicing as her sighs grew into cries of approval. She whispered his name, and then spoke his name, and then shouted it full voice. His heart pumped at double speed as emotion grew all around it.

He loved her.

George lunged into the warmth between Pearl's legs. His muscle paired with the emotion of his split soul as it enveloped her like two loving arms. Launching his thighs forward, he locked his hips in place. His muscles clenched, from his toes all the way up to his balls. His breath soared into her lungs as his seed surged from his body to hers. He'd read in the papers it was impossible for Pearl to have children, and he felt a sense of longing inside that moment of bliss. George liked children. He could see himself living with Pearl in a house full of rugrats. That was a pleasant thought.

The smile that grew across his face couldn't be dislodged by her kisses. The tears that flowed were tears of joy, and he could feel his mingling with hers and streaming down her cheeks.

He collapsed on top of her slim body. Her breasts rose and fell underneath him, and she panted, sighed and hugged him close. The darkness didn't scare him, and from what he knew of Pearl, she'd illuminated many an unlit path.

"They all knew who I was, of course," Pearl said. George hadn't the faintest idea what she meant until she continued, "The men. The other men. The ones I didn't love."

"Ah." He didn't want to think about other men as he held Pearl close and kissed her hair.

After a long restful while spent swimming in a sea of bliss, Pearl released a heavy sigh. "I used to ask them all, all the men, if I felt like other women...down there...but I won't ask you that question. Not just yet."

It was just as well she didn't. How could he respond to that question when he had no point of comparison? Pearl, the beautiful girl who'd fought beside him as a soldier on the beaches at Normandy, was George Kensington's first.