I Had Sex Thanks To A Transexual

The operative words in this post’s title are “thanks to”, not “with”. Don’t get confused! I did not have sex with a transexual. Living in London, you see a lot of these freakshows around and they’re pretty easy to spot so as not to get duped by them.

Tell tale signs of transexuals are massive hands, masculine physiques, a masculine jawline, thin hair, devil horns and a reptilian tongue.

When I was living in London last year, I had the misfortune of living above a couple of transexuals and a gay couple. It was a fucking nightmare at times. In fairness, the two gay dudes were sound, but the fucking trannies were a proper headache.

Honestly, if you are born as a male and have the intention to chop your dick off, there is something wrong in your brain. You are mentally not all there. I don’t care what society says, but if you “identify with another gender”, then you’re a head case and I want you to keep well away from me.

If I woke up one day and said I identified myself as the Prime Minister of the country, and was adamant and cried “prejudice” or “discrimination” to anyone that disagreed with me, would I be taken seriously? Would I be granted access to Number 10 Downing Street because I said with absolute conviction that I identified myself as the Prime Minister? Would I be seen as a sane person?

No, I’d be carted away and locked up and put on medication.

But a male who has a penis, that calls himself a girl and dresses like a girl, and wants to chop his penis off is sane? No chance. We’re supposed to conform to these insane people’s mental processes? Not me, I’m afraid. It goes without saying that I wasn’t liked very much downstairs, and when they heard me cursing “those fucking trannies” one summer day when the window was open and they were on their roof terrace below us, it didn’t go down too well.

"Hey baby, my name is Steve...anie"

“Hey baby, my name is Steve…anie”

These transexuals living below us would just cause mayhem. Parties on a weekday night with glaring music and the bass on its loudest setting so it was vibrating in our walls – and our building was pretty well insulated. Other trannies and gay guys would all be congregating on the roof terrace shouting and breaking shit at 3-4am on a Tuesday night regularly and sometimes I thought it was out of spite. You should’ve seen the scene. It was like a more messed up version of one of Lady Gaga’s music videos.

I’ve got no problem with gay dudes. I mean, I still think they’re fucked in the head too to not like women, but they can be quite amusing company sometimes. At least, the ones I know are anyway.

So, one Sunday evening late in the summer, I’m trying to do some work at about 6pm and I hear the bass going off downstairs. I remain cool headed and it’s 6pm so I haven’t got much of a leg to stand on in terms of getting angry.

I head downstairs and knock on the door. They don’t hear me. I knock again. They don’t hear me again. So, this time, I start thumping the door down and rattling the handle so they definitely hear me. About 3 seconds later a girl answers wearing a black cocktail dress to my bemusement.

I don’t mean one of those fucking trannies “identifying as a female”, I mean one of those genuine 100% born-with-a-vagina and feminine features girls. Facially, she’s a 6, but she’s got a killer ballerina’s body. Nice toned legs, wide hips, slim waist. Just what I like. Take that bird out of the Prometheus film and knock her down a point or two in the face.

I’m a bit annoyed with the music, and I’m a bit annoyed that they didn’t hear me knocking as it’s not the first time it’s happened. In a bit of a worked up state, but still level headed, I say to the girl “can you turn the bass down please? I’m trying to work and all I can hear is the bass”.

She just looks at me all taken back and doesn’t say anything.

“Err…is that alright, love?”

She sighs out a breathy “yeah” and keeps looking at me all dreamy eyed and speechless. I know what’s going on in her mind, and I ask again for her to turn the bass down. She nods her head and is stumbling over her words to say “yeah that’s fine”. Honestly, it was like a scene from a film. It was really fucking funny for me.

Fast forward about an hour, and I hear the bass going off again. So, I head downstairs again all pissed off and knock on the door a few times to no avail. I head back upstairs and lean my head out of the window to shout down to the roof terrace where two of the trannies are and the girl in the black cocktail dress.

I ask for them to turn the bass down, and the three of them look up at me. One of the trannies says to me that if I come downstairs for a minute, then they’ll turn the bass down.

In my head, I’m thinking “fuck, they’re going to have a go at me for calling them ‘fucking trannies'”, but then I’m also thinking that maybe they’re trying to get me down for the girl. It turned out out to be the latter.

Downstairs, they all ambush me and surround me like I’m a celebrity. It was really, really bizarre. They’re trying to get me to kiss their hands like they’re princesses but I told them that I don’t kiss dudes. They did that thing that girls do when you take the piss out of them – feign shock and offence. I’m thinking “alright, at least they’re not gonna attack me”. At 6’2, I’m a tall guy, but both the transexuals are a few inches taller than me at least. Bearing in mind they’re headcases too that want to chop their dicks off, I didn’t want to set them off into a frenzy of anger.

They ask me to have a beer with them, and I decline saying I’ve gotta do some work upstairs. They tell me they won’t turn the bass down unless I have a beer. Feeling I have no choice, I agree and head outside onto the terrace with them and the girl. I plant myself next to the girl on the sofa, and the two trannies on the opposite sofa.

Over the next hour, the conversation went from about literally 3 minutes of formalities to sex, what I think about trannies and all this shit. The real girl, not the pretend girls, is interested in me big time and we both start drinking more together while the trannies leave us to it.

I’m thinking to myself that this girl is alright, but her body is winning me over. It’s just my type and the more I’m drinking, the more I’m beginning to fancy her.

A little while later the trannies come out and start berating us. “Oooh I feel loads of sexual chemistry here”, “are you guys gonna have sex?”, “you guys are so gonna have sex aren’t you?”, “you guys should just get it over with and have sex already” and so on.

One thing I’ll give trannies and gay dudes is that they don’t pussy foot around situations regarding sex. They’re not “beta” when it comes to sex, and it’s often why I think girls will want to sleep with their gay friends because the gay dudes aren’t scared to speak their mind and talk sexually in front of girls – something betas are extremely afraid to do.

So, I invite the girl back up to my apartment and she stays the night. I fuck her without a condom on the pretext that we head to the pharmacy in the morning for the pill to which she agrees. I asked her what was up with her at the door when I asked them to turn the music down, and she said that she “went weak at knees because of your confidence and arrogance”. Ha!

Nice, one, tranny.

Matt

Matt is the youngest Bromigo and an avid supporter/gobshite of Liverpool FC. Spanish girls apply within.

More Posts - Website