Romance Sample

            Ambrosia stepped gently out of the shower and slipped her damp body into her red satin robe. She’d just gotten home from the gym, a much needed daily therapy, where she worked up a good emotional and physical sweat dawning her normal high wasted black yoga pants and  hot pink matching crop top. As usual, she garnered more than her fair share of stares from the guys lifting weights in the back, but none of them stood out to her. Just a bunch of meatheads who thought they could show her a good time, turned on by the fact that every inch of her was on display in those pants.

            She knew better, of course.

            At 36 years old, she had been with quite a few men. Some of them had been wonderful lovers, leaving her thighs shaking as she screamed out their name in pure ecstasy. But the majority of them had been below average, at best. Whether they weren’t well-endowed or just didn’t know what to do with what they had, it was almost a waste of time in her book. She ultimately ended up saving her sex-capades for real men and of course her barrage of toys. But lately, she was yearning for something new.

            Something different.

            So, with caution, she signed up for a mobile dating site that was strictly for hookups. She knew that it was geared towards a younger audience, a group of men that could be hit or miss, but she figured why the hell not? It was worth the risk to have a little fun, spice things up, and put some excitement back into her sex life. Some 20-year-olds appreciated an older woman, while others ended up displaying serious mommy issues. Those were the ones she cringed at the thought of.

            Walking gently across her immaculately decorated bedroom, bigger than most people’s combined bedrooms, she laid down on her pillow top bed, pulling her phone up over her. She opened up the app, finally ready to start perusing. After swiping left on several young guys, she came across the profile of a 55-year-old man, who’s well-structured strong features and strong tanned body gave the impression of a man in his early 40’s. The only “aging” she could see was a few wisps of grey in his dark clipped hair. Nothing about him screamed creep, which was good since she wanted to get laid that night.

            Name: Terri Jean

            Age: 55

            Occupation: Welder

            On here for: Sex, but am open to a relationship

            He was less than 10 miles away, too.

            She flipped through his pictures, taking a good look at him from every angle. Luckily his pictures weren’t all posed like so many others on the app. There were candid shots, shots in motion, and shots that normally would show a person’s less appealing side. All of them were sexy as hell, so she swiped right before getting to the last shot, smiling as she ran her hand over her cool satin comforter.

As she waited for a response from him, Ambrosia went back through the photos, already beginning to imagine him in motion on top of her. He looked like a normal guy… until the very last one, where he was dressed up like a woman.

            “Oh my,” she whispered, sitting up on the bed. “I missed that one.”

            The last picture would turn off most women, but not Ambrosia. She found sex freeing and open, even with the quirky little fetishes. After all, Ambrosia had her own set of secret thoughts tucked deep in the back of her mind. The older she got, the more she realized that she probably should have been born a man. Her clit was above average in size, not monstrous or noticeable, but larger. Her personality had become more Alpha with every passing year and in the secret confines of her own mind, in her own erotic thoughts, she often fantasized about her clit growing so large that it actually turned into a cock, the same kind of cock she enjoyed on a regular basis.

            Ambrosia wasn’t ashamed of these thoughts, desires, or whatever she could classify them as, but she often felt alone with them. It wasn’t something she could really open up to her best friend about over wine on Thursday nights. It was the kind of lustful want she had to share only with her own inner psyche. As she stared at the picture of Terri Jean in a black lace bra, matching G-string, thigh-high fishnet stockings, silver stilettos, a cropped black wig, and a face full of very nicely applied makeup, she wondered if he ever thought about his penis shrinking down to the size of a clit.

            She shook her head and closed her phone, laughing to herself. When she was younger, she chocked it up to her hyper sexuality, never being afraid of anything, and always curious as to what it would feel like to have a dick. But as she grew older, she realized it wasn’t a fantasy that could be satiated by a quick buzz of her vibrator and her wild imagination. It was something stronger than a fantasy, something that had almost hindered her satisfaction during sex.

Gender reassignment sugary wasn’t something that she wanted to go through with. It would be permanent, painful, and took a lot of time and money. She wasn’t unhappy the way she was, but she knew she would be happier if she could have her body the way she envisioned, much like the way she bet Terri envisioned himself in that black lace bra and g-string. He could dress up until the cows came home, but he would never see the woman he imagined in his head, staring back at him in the mirror. For some that was too much and surgery was the only option, but for others close was good enough. Ambrosia teetered somewhere in the middle.

 If only something like that could just happen on its own.