Transsexual Stories Novels & Stories

ROSCOE’S POV I sighed and sat on my swivel chair after Morgan has left my office. I know what we’re doing is wrong but I’m happy with it. I tried so many times to stay faithful on my wife, but everytime I see Morgan, I can’t help but fall in love with that man. I love him. I love him so much. And yes, I am bisexual. I caressed my forehead before standing up. I’ll now go back to our room with my wife. And act like I didn’t do any nasty thing with Morgan.

The new information shattered like glass. Lex raised his eyebrows and squinted his eyes. Then, he rubbed the temples of his forehead. In his entire existence as a member of their species, same-sex mating was unheard of. It was never mentioned in any of their ancient Lycan and werewolf histories, since the opposite genders were meant to procreate. But since the rogue is a victim of a science experiment, he has doubts about his true gender. “Have you enforced torture on the rogue?”

But it made her curious, is he bisexual or was he really gay like rumors would have it. "And in my defense, I was actually in a LGBTQA club in Russia, I was meeting with a very discreet client who wanted to create the biggest underground brothel and invited me to one of his clubs to sign the contract and celebrate our collaboration. Well, let's just say with Russian weed and their alcohol, I ended up having sex with a transgendered woman and I got pegged," Azariah thought back to the experience and he couldn't believe he was actually turned on by the experience. "So, are you like pansexual or something?" Amy asked, processing everything he was saying.

Jennifer: Shrug emoji. I decided to take a different tack. This time, rather than pick safe, general stories, I chose a bunch of different categories and sent my favorites from each. One was romantic, about a couple falling in love. The next was about a wife who sleeps with another man. Another had a husband bringing in his best friend for a threesome. I chose one that had some bondage (not my thing, but I picked a story that was highly rated). I sent a Lesbian story and a Gay male one (again, I relied on the ratings). I linked a story about watching two people have sex in the woods, and one about a girl riding a sybian for the first time. I skipped two categories: nonconsent and incest. As

And everyone in this century and the future ones. They deceived everyone. Caroline remained the innocent and honest mistress of Dane till he died in his last duel. "How can I change Katherine's story? How can I rewrite her story?" These two questions suddenly came into Amelia's thoughts. Dane nodded, his eyes brimming with gratitude for her forgiveness. "Thank you, Katherine, for being so understanding." Amelia smiled softly, her heart filled with love for this man who had finally come to his senses. "There's something I need to tell you, Dane," she began.

I stood in the centre of my room, my chest heaving. Then I began shape-shifting again; My bones cracked, my fur retracting. My skin stretched and smoothened. I exhaled sharply as the beast gave way to the man—tall, broad, bare-chested, with scars tracing the story of every battle I’d ever fought. I stepped toward the window, my golden eyes now dulled to their human hue. Who was that girl? And why is her scent lingering in my mind??

“I keep replaying it. I’m really sorry I kissed you like that with the windows down. I wasn’t thinking.” I swallow hard. He shouldn’t be sorry for kissing me. It’s okay for a couple to kiss at the red light. It happens all the time. “It’s not your fault, I’m lucky it was just coffee.” I say, but my voice is rough. “But… I’m scared it’ll happen again. What if next time it’s not just coffee?” The words tumble out faster. “I’ve seen the videos, Levi. I’ve seen the stories. Queer kids getting jumped outside bars. Beaten with baseball bats in parking lots. Someone getting their throat slit in a bathroom because they looked at a guy the wrong way. Trans people murdered and left in ditches. Hell, e

There’s no triumph in that cycle, only a sinking feeling in the gut, a recognition that this is one of the dark, ugly paths our nature can take when all the rules are gone. Then there’s your role. The chronicler. The tender of wounds. This is where your story gutted me most profoundly. You didn’t position yourself as the hero. You didn’t stop it. You participated, first by omission, then by forced action (that bathroom encounter with Cassie was not innocent, brother, it was the first step into the labyrinth), and finally by that terrible, intimate dare. Cleaning her. That scene… Christ.

What was a book like this doing in his mother's collection? Hesitantly, he read on. It was an erotica, but unlike any he’d skimmed before. This one was relentless, visceral. It followed two main characters: a cruel, hedonistic prince and a cunning commoner who clawed her way to power by becoming his fiancée. The narrative was a twisted dance, first painting her as the ambitious heroine, then pivoting to dissect the prince’s depravities with a clinical, almost sympathetic eye. Just as it dared you to understand him, it revealed the commoner’s ultimate betrayal, transforming her into the story's true villainess.

“Please, Vincenzo. Fuck me. Breed me. I can’t take the teasing anymore. I need you inside me.” He kept edging me for what felt like forever. The vibrating plug went in next, buzzing against my prostate while he sucked me slow, pulling off every time I got close. I was crying, begging, tears leaking from my eyes. “Vincenzo…please…let me cum. I’ll do anything. I’m yours. Just fuck me already.” He finally yanked the plug out, flipped me onto my hands and knees, and slammed his thick cock inside me raw. “Fuck yes…” I screamed, pushing back hard. He pounded me deep, hips slapping loud against my ass.