Cum Taste My Monster T-Girl Cock

Martin always had a soft spot for trans girls, but every fling left him wanting. The dick game was never stacked in his favor, so he did what any horny dreamer would—he bought ad space. 'Big Dick T-Girl Wanted.' Simple, straight to the point. Two days later Fernanda called. She swore she packed heat and gave the bar she drank at. Martin dressed like he had standards but hoped they were about to snap. When the door opened she unzipped with a crooked grin and proved every inch. Martin fell to his knees out of what he called scientific verification. Her cock stood proud, heavy enough to land on his tongue before it ever got hard. He slurped, coughed, laughed about it, and went back in hungrier. They bent every wall in the apartment. Martin slid his own fat pole between her cheeks while she pushed into him from behind in perfect counter-stroke, two engines running full throttle. Sweat dripped, bedsheets snapped loose, and half the neighbors probably timed their moans. Fernanda flipped him, rode like she owned the mortgage, and only slowed when Martin begged he needed to taste both ends at once. Martin laughed through come-smeared kisses and a bellyful of hers, finally untangling long enough to smoke on the balcony. Somewhere outside a dog barked and somebody slammed a door too loud. Neither of them flinched. Dreams—big, fat, sticky ones—had already come true.