Shemale at the airport

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Shemale at the airportThe first shemale story I ever read and still one of my favourites…Layovers are a pain at the best of times but the prospect of five hours at theairport was not a good one. My inbound flight had been delayed and I had missedmy connection, so there was nothing for it but to wait out the afternoon andcatch the next ‘plane home to the wife and k**s.The only saving grace was my business class ticket, meaning that at least Icould loaf around in the executive lounge and not in the main concourses.Something to read, plus snacks and a drink were the only silver lining to myparticular cloud that day.After a tour of the shops (all expensive things I didn’t need), I tracked downthe lounge and dumped my stuff. A coffee and a paper killed an hour but itwasn’t until I noticed the computer bays in the “Business Centre” that an ideaoccurred to me. Why not pick up my emails?The only booth free was at the end of a row of five and I was delighted todiscover that bahis firmaları the internet access was free – not the usual credit-card-paymentmachines. A chance to pick up some emails and drop in on my favourite chat-room.I settled in, checked the mail and started to chat. Although I am married andlove sex with women, I also love to fantasise about cocks and sex with men, somy favourite site is a gay one. Being stuck in an airport in the middle ofEurope, I was as frustrated as turned on, unable to do anything more than havedirty conversations with guys in foreign countries and become increasinglyhorny.Then I saw her.From the moment I caught sight of her tall figure, striding across the lounge,with her long blonde hair, long legs and short skirt, I was as drawn to her asevery other man in the lounge.Everyone looked. Even the women.Especially the women. Perhaps they spotted something about this newcomer, that Ipicked up on immediately. This exquisitely, yet sexily kaçak iddaa dressed, big-breasted,leggy blonde with the long flowing locks was clearly not all she appeared to thecasual observer.Perhaps it was her height – 6ft if she was an inch. Perhaps it was her well-defined legs, slim yet muscular. Perhaps it was her strong-looking hands withthe long fingers. Perhaps it was all these things.Whatever, of one thing I was sure. She had been born like me – a man!Of one more thing I was equally certain. I had to speak to her. Horny as I wasfrom my cyber-sex session, I became even more aroused at the thought of her, nowsitting at a terminal just a few yards from me, one of my favourite fantasiesbrought to wonderful flesh.After about ten minutes hidden behind in her booth, she rose and left. Ifollowed immediately, trying to appear casual as I followed her out of theBusiness Centre. I smiled to myself as I thought of the next fat Swissbusinessman to sit down at my terminal kaçak bahis and the shock he’d have at beingconfronted with a gay chatrom and some still-open gay porn pages!As we entered the main portion of the lounge, I looked around for her. She wasnot hard to spot, standing making herself a coffee at the snack bar. Desperateto strike up a conversation, I decided to move over there myself.She was making a small snack when I joined her. Nervous but incredibly turned onby her mere presence, I had to make a move quickly, I felt, before she sat down.That would make an approach far less casual.Sounding remarkably calmer than I was, I made some innocuous remark about thedelays and weather. She smiled and replied, bemoaning her own delay.Excellent! She spoke English, though her accent was Germanic or perhaps Swiss.Perhaps it was her disarming smile but I felt immediately at ease and we chattedfor a moment or two as we finished making coffees.”Would you like some company?” I asked, ready for a potential rebuff.”Sure,” she smiled, “that would break the boredom.”We moved to a quiet corner with our food and drinks.Her smile was infectious and drew me in easily. We chatted for a while abouteverything a

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