Karumba, Queensland, Australia – 1986

Steve was in a quandary having just fucked Crissy’s Aunt Greta. Crissy and Steve had not discussed what their relationship actually was but there was no doubt that they were more than just fuckbuddies. Also, Crissy had just agreed to prostitute herself so it wasn’t like she was going to be monogamous, so why should Steve feel guilty?

“Do I tell Crissy about this?” Steve asked.

Greta was sitting up, fussing with her brassiere, putting her big tits back into the cups then she smoothed out her dress.

“Look… whatever you and Crissy have going is up to you. She’s going to be fucking strange men on a regular basis so if you take a little pleasure elsewhere what has she got to be jealous about?” Greta stood up and went to the front section of her caravan and opened a locked compartment in the floor.

She handed Steve a package about the size of a house brick wrapped tightly in brown paper and covered with a layer of plastic wrap and then she handed him a wad of cash bundled together with a rubber band.

“You know where the hidey-hole is in the cab of the truck right?” Greta asked and Steve nodded.

Steve did know where the hidey-hole was in the cab of the old truck. Most truckers used amphetamines to keep alert and many also kept other illicit material in their hidey-holes. When he’d picked up the truck in Cairns his mate had showed him and Steve was impressed at how innocuous the hiding place was.

“When you get to Cairns take this package to the Frontier Hotel around seven and a guy named Brendon will approach you. He’s a big guy, long hair, beard, tattoos, he’ll identify himself, and ask if you have something for him from ‘Sally’,” Greta winked at Steve.

“And Brendon isn’t his real name either,” Steve returned the wink.

“The fisho doesn’t know what I do with do with the items he brings ashore for me. ‘Brendon’ doesn’t know where or how I get those packages or even who I am. Senior Constable Dave Dillon knows fuck all, nor does he want to. He just gets to fuck me for free while his missus is away. That’s how this works. Don’t tell Brendon your real name or who you work for; just refer to me as Sally if he asks. You're an intelligent guy Steve, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked you to work for me,” Greta nodded at the cash in Steve’s hand.

“So both Crissy and I work for you now?” Steve smiled knowingly.

“And is that a bad thing?” Greta leaned in and kissed him and squeezed his cock through his shorts.

“I’ll see you and Crissy when I get back from Sydney,” Steve snatched up the key to his caravan off the table where he had put it during their tryst.

He stopped and turned to face Greta.

“How often do I make these runs?” he asked.

Greta just smiled sweetly and shrugged her shoulders.

The next morning Crissy woke up and was pleased to find that she was lying in what was now her own bed. She recalled the events of the last week or so and was amazed how far she had come both figuratively and tangibly. She decided that she had made the right decision to come out as transgender and considered what the next steps would be as part of her transformation. She definitely wanted to get breasts. Not the giant oversize tits she had seen on some porn queens but size-appropriate cleavage.

She also reconsidered her spur of the moment decision to prostitute herself. In the cold light of day it seemed daunting but Aunt Greta was here to help her and the money would go a long way to help pay for her transition.

There was a tap at the door and Greta entered carrying two steaming cups of coffee.

“Get up sleepyhead we have things to discuss and things to do,” Greta settled her ample bottom into one of the two chairs set around the little dining table.

Crissy got up and went into the bathroom and took a piss and joined her aunt. Greta was dressed in another of her comfortable loose-fitting dresses. Crissy was still in the babydoll pyjamas she had purchased in Cairns.

“How many outfits like that do you have?” Greta nodded at Crissy’s pyjamas.

“A couple,” she replied.

“Anything else that is sexy but not expensive. Not dresses or skirts, you know… sleepwear, slinky stuff,” Greta asked.

“A couple of nylon and satin full-slips. Plenty of sexy panties, a couple of sussies and lots of pantyhose and stockings,” Crissy could guess where this going.

“When your boyfriend gets back from Sydney and starts his regular runs to Cairns, give him a shopping list of peignoirs, full slips, more panties, satin and nylon of course, and a couple of pairs of cheap fuck-me heels. Also get more makeup. These rough and tumble guys like their women dressed femme and sexy. Also get a shit-ton of hold-up stockings, they love stockings,” Greta paused to sip her coffee.

“Get him to buy you more lube and toiletries and some cheap perfume. These are all tools of the trade. Now let me get into specifics…” Greta went on to explain to Crissy how she ran her small stable of prostitutes.

The gist of it was that the girls charged a non-negotiable fee by the half-hour regardless of the services provided. The girls always had the final say: if they didn’t like the punter they didn’t have to service him, if the punter wanted something that girl was unwilling to provide, said service was declined and the girl could charge extra for anything beyond oral or vaginal sex. Fifty percent of what the girls made went to Greta, the girl kept the rest and any gratuities. A drink or two on the job was okay but no drugs were allowed on the premises. Greta ran an appointment book but she often got walk-ins and the girls were kept busy.

“See that red lamp in the window. You switch it on when you’re available. You turn it off while you are servicing a punter and then switch it back on again to signal your availability. I expect my girls to start at 6pm sharp and work at least until midnight and on weekends you start at noon and finish when you finish,” Greta explained.

“Between you girls, you can arrange one day off a week but I need at least three of you working. If for some reason two of you want the same day off and if I’m up for it, I’ll pick up the slack. Because you will be living here fulltime you will work three weeks on and have a week off. That was the arrangement I had with Lucy. The others are FIFO so I expect them to put in the hours while they are here,” Greta finished her blurb.

“Anything else?” Crissy asked.

“Yes, you should know that Steve is working for me as a bouncer when he’s in town and also in another capacity. You should also know that he won’t be jealous of you fucking other men. At least he shouldn’t be because he fucked me last night,” Greta looked Crissy in the eye to gauge her reaction.

“You know what… that’s actually a relief. While I really like Steve I don’t want him getting too hung up on me,” Crissy said pragmatically.

“One final thing. See that big red button behind the bedhead. That’s your panic button. If you feel threatened in any way or a punter is giving you any kind of grief, press that button and I’ll come running or Steve will, or whoever I have running security on the night. Don’t take any shit from the punters but don’t press the button willy-nilly, you know what happened to the girl who cried wolf,” Greta finished her coffee.

“Wasn’t that the ‘boy’?” Crissy asked and Greta just gave her wry smile.

“Down to business. You have already committed to seeing Wakka so he’ll be your first client. Never call them punters to their face by the way, they are clients. Remember, this is Far North Queensland. You aren’t going to find many Prince Charmings up here, mostly grisly older men, either too skinny or too fat who are tough as old boots. Word has got around that I have a pretty young tranny working for me and you have a full book tonight so rest up today and make sure you are ready to go at six,” Greta got up from the table.

“Get dressed and come over to my van and I’ll take you for a drive around town. There’s a small supermarket in town but they charge like a wounded bull so anything you want that isn’t a necessity get Steve to pick up in Cairns. I’ll be giving him a shopping list every now and then too,” Greta left the cabin and Crissy took a deep breath and headed to the bathroom.

At exactly six that evening there was a polite tap on the door. Crissy was dressed in her babydoll pyjamas, translucent nylon full-cut panties, sheer fleshtone holdup stockings and high heels. She had teased out her hair, her makeup was heavy, her nails were painted and she was doused in perfume. As per Greta’s instructions she had made herself look as slutty as possible. A tube KY-Jelly sat on the nightstand in arm’s reach from the bed with a pack of moisturised wipes beside it.

Crissy took a deep breath and opened the door.

She couldn’t help smiling when she saw Wakka. He had taken her instructions to clean himself up a bit before he came to see her to the extreme. He was wearing clean work shorts and a nearly new singlet, his hair was slicked down, still wet from the shower, and she could smell the overpowering scent of Old Spice aftershave as soon as she opened the door. He had even brushed the few remaining teeth he had left because she smelled mouthwash on his breath when he opened his mouth to talk. He was holding a sixpack of Fourex.

“Hello Crissy,” he said rather bashfully.

He was a far cry from the smelly rough and tumble fishing boat skipper she had seen in the pub the night before but he was still very gnarly.

He kicked off his rubber thongs as he stepped inside and Crissy closed the door and remembered to turn off the red light. Wakka stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, holding onto his sixpack of beer, like he had never done this before even though Greta had told Crissy that Wakka was one of Lucy’s regular customers. The room was dimly lit by a single bed lamp and anything of value had been locked away. The room was scrupulously clean and the bedlinen fresh and a cheap absorbent short-time sheet laid on top as per Greta’s advice.

Crissy had drunk two gin and tonics while she was getting dressed, just to take the edge off and she felt quietly confident that she would be able to do what she had to do but her heart was thumping in her chest.

Wakka went over to the little table, put down the beers and laid out the required stipend for a one hour visit and once again seemed at a loss as to how to proceed.

“Greta tells me that you used to see Lucy, I hope I can provide you with the same satisfaction,” Crissy felt stupid as soon as she said the words but Wakka seemed relieved.

Feeling a little silly about what she had said she put the beers in her minifridge to distract herself.

“Well, you are a lot prettier and younger than Lucy and Lucy was a big girl and you are tiny and I’ve been dreaming of this all day,” Wakka breathed.

“I want an hour with you and I’d like a bit of oral before we… before we have sex. I’m not a poofter or anything so I don’t want you to root me or nuthin’ like that,” Wakka gave her his gap-toothed grin but he was blushing.

Greta had told Crissy that Lucy used to ‘top’ as well as ‘bottom’ and explained to her what those terms meant and Crissy said that she would definitely not be topping anyone and Greta replied that she would make that abundantly clear to potential clients.

Crissy almost felt sorry for Wakka because he was so nervous. The uncouth lout she had seen in the Animal Bar seemed more like a reticent schoolboy. She walked over to Wakka and smiled at him and leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

“Shall we go over to the bed?” she whispered in a sultry tone.

Wakka followed Crissy towards the bed all the time staring at her legs, sheathed in those gorgeous sheer stockings and he also checked out her bottom. It wasn't as plump and rounded as Lucy's but it was still magnificent and the sheer pink skirt of her babydoll pyjamas clung to her buttocks nicely.

Crissy sat on the edge of the bed and patted the space beside her and Wakka sat down next to her but not too close.

Wakka was nervous and that was unlike him. He was usually confident and controlling but the diminutive little girl sitting beside him seemed so fragile. He found her beguiling and so different to Lucy. Wakka noticed that her long fingernails were painted the same red as her lipstick.

Wakka took Crissy’s hand in his and gazed into her sparkling blue eyes.

"You are beautiful. I really haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since I saw you yesterday,” Wakka sighed

Crissy decided that she had better get things moving along and she leaned in and kissed him.

Wakka rested his hand on her knee and ran his fingers along her leg and returned the kiss. Crissy was uncomfortable with Wakka's mouth because of the missing teeth but he was a good kisser and he used his tongue expertly whilst his hand softly stroked her legs, his fingers tracing a line along her stockings, pausing when they came to the lacy band at the top. He fiddled with the welt for a while, kissing her, his breathing becoming laboured.

Then Wakka slid his hand under the loose chemise and continued on to her slinky nylon panties. Crissy smiled because Wakka's inhibitions had dissipated and it actually felt good being kissed and fondled by the old seadog. Her cock was uncomfortably hard, pressed along her perineum and she wriggled a little and let is spring free, all the time kissing Wakka passionately.

Wakka touched Crissy’s penis through the gauzy material of her panties and cautiously felt the outline of the appendage. Crissy could sense his hesitancy and she understood why. She was a lot younger and more delicate than the Rubenesque, buxom-breasted island girl she had replaced. There was an awkward moment while they broke apart and Wakka stripped down to his jockey shorts.

Wakka became more confident and he pulled Crissy into his embrace and they rolled around on the bed, kissing, fondling and canoodling. Wakka's tongue invaded her mouth and his hands were everywhere: stroking her legs, squeezing her buttocks and sometimes stroking her cock through her panties. Crissy responded accordingly and she stroked Wakka's cock, feeling the precum leaking from the eye in a continual dribble. She used the viscous fluid to lubricate his shaft and slowly stroked him as he gasped into her mouth.

He moved her hand out of the way and rubbed his cock on her stockings and rings of intense pleasure radiated from his cock. Their kisses were becoming frenetic and Wakka guided his cock to Crissy's panties and he rubbed it there, pressing it against Crissy's cock. Her panties soon became soaked in precum and Crissy decided it was time to move things along.

She broke out of Wakka’s embrace and pushed him down on the bed so that his head rested on the pillows and pulled off his jocks. Crissy looked down at Wakka and smiled seductively and he looked up at the beautiful young woman on her knees holding his cock inches away from her ruby-red lips and his heart skipped a beat. Crissy licked her lips seductively and gazed at Wakka's cock, the shaft was girded by blue veins, the skin translucent, the head bulbous and pink, a clear droplet of pre-ejaculate formed at the eye.

Crissy tentatively extended her tongue and licked the bubble of precum off the tip of Wakka's penis. It tasted clean and salty and then Crissy put Wakka's cock in her mouth and closed her mouth on the shaft and worked her tongue on the flange of Wakka's cock and lapped at his fraenulum she felt his cock judder in her mouth and heard him groan. His hands went to her head and he entwined his fingers in her hair but he wasn't rough. He gently guided her mouth up and down on his cock and Crissy enjoyed him doing so. She liked it when Steve did this but she was surprised that this grizzled old fisherman caused her have the same response.

Wakka lay back and watched Crissy’s head bobbing up and down on his hard cock and he began to mewl and moan while Crissy used her soft lips to suckle his shaft and her wet silky tongue to slather his glans. He was going to come soon but that was ok. He wanted to fuck her after the refractory period.

Crissy felt Wakka's cock begin to throb and pulse in her mouth and she sensed that he was about to ejaculate so she sucked it harder and faster and lashed his glans with her tongue. Wakka stopped Crissy from bobbing her head up and down and held her head still and fucked her face as he unloaded stream after stream of hot, viscous semen into her pretty mouth and Crissy savoured the salty, musky issue before she swallowed it.

Crissy got off the bed and snatched the money off the table as she made her way to the bathroom. She put the money in the vanity for now, brushed her teeth, fixed her makeup and brushed her hair.

When she returned to the main room Wakka was sitting at the table dressed only in his jocks, sucking on a can of Fourex. He’d opened one for her and she sat down and sipped on it, a little nervous now that the sex was over with. Wakka however, seemed to have regained his confidence.

“That was pretty fucking awesome Crissy,” Wakka grinned at her.

His body was tanned almost black, his tattoos barely visible on his leathery skin. He was skinny with knotted muscles, his skin heavily scarred in places from wounds he’d received working at sea on a fishing trawler.

“Don’t worry, I never go overtime. I’ll be ready to go again as soon as I’ve finished this can and I really want to root you,” Wakka grinned at her as if this was some worldclass accomplishment.

Crissy smiled back at him. He was no adonis with his shaggy hair, missing teeth, broken nose and scruffy, wispy beard but he was goodhearted. Wakka drained his can, stood up and burped. True to his word, his penis was tenting his jocks.

Crissy led him back over to the bed where they kissed, caressed and canoodled. This time Wakka was more forceful and he smashed his mouth against hers and drove his tongue into her mouth. One hand went to her buttocks and squeezed them painfully while his other hand held her close. Crissy squirmed a little, indicating her discomfort and Wakka’s kisses became less fervent and more tender.

He relaxed his grip a little so that he was no longer crushing her but he held her tight and began to stroke and caress her buttocks rather than squeezing them. Wakka inhaled her perfume while he kissed her, his lips soft on hers, his tongue gently probing, his cock pressing against her and relished Crissy’s delicate femininity.

She pressed her soft body against his scrawny, muscled frame and felt the bulge of his cock on her belly. She wrapped her arms around him and Wakka rolled Crissy onto her back and mounted her. She wrapped her legs around Wakka's waist and pulled him in.

The feel of Crissy's gossamer silken hose on his flesh felt wonderful as she scissored her legs against his flesh. He put his hand inside the top of her garment and kissed Crissy’s shoulder and she gasped at the feel of his raspy face on her tender flesh. His lips and tongue followed the hollow of her neck and his other hand found her thighs and stroked her diaphanous-sheathed legs.

He pulled down the lacy top of her chemise and Crissy gasped as Wakka suckled her nipples, using his lips and his tongue to nurse her swollen teats whilst nipping at them gently with his lips. Crissy moaned and when Wakka began to stroke her legs and snake his hands under her chemise she shuddered with lust.

Crissy entwined her fingers in Wakka’s wispy chest hair; she kissed the top of his head as he tended to her meagre breasts. He expertly suckled her nipples whilst his hands moved further and further along her nyloned-thighs until they reached her panties where the fingers of one hand circled her satiny pubis. Pleasure radiated though her body and Crissy threw back her head and moaned.

She snaked her hand down his body and slipped a hand inside his briefs and extracted his thick meaty cock and bulging scrotum. Wakka growled as Crissy began to stoke him. His shank was long and sleek and she slowly worked her fingers along the veiny, steel-like shaft. Wakka kissed Crissy passionately, his tongue insistent. His fingers found her penis and squeezed it gently though her panties and Crissy shuddered with desire. Greta had warned Crissy not to orgasm with her first couple of customers because she had long night ahead of her. Unlike the other girls Crissy could not fake her orgasm but she relished being fondled, caressed and kissed by this rough diamond of a man.

She stroked Wakka's hard rod, using the dribbles of precum to lubricate it while Wakka caressed her engorged penis through her panties, feeling the slinky fabric become damper as she leaked pre-ejaculate. Crissy's cock radiated pleasure and her mouth was on fire from Wakka's kisses. She hooked her ankles around his legs trying to pulling him closer so that he would consummate their union before he invoked an unwanted orgasm from her.

Wakka desperately wanted to fuck this pretty young girl and he kicked off his underpants and reached out for the tube of K-Y Jelly on the nightstand. He squeezed the tube and generously slathered the viscous salve on his member. He pulled the crotch of her panties aside exposing her puckered bud and pressed the glans of his cock into the wrinkled aperture and began to push his rampant cock into Crissy’s anus.

Crissy concentrated on relaxing her anal muscles as Wakka kissed her and he pushed a little harder, sliding the last of his engorged manhood into Crissy's distended anus. Crissy felt his pubis slam into hers and his scrotum slap against her buttocks as his cock lay nestled deep inside her.

She put her arms around his neck and wrapped legs around his waist and hung onto Wakka, returning his kisses as he slowly began to fuck her. Wakka gripped her hips and drove his cock slowly in and out of her stretched anus. The feel of her tight tunnel clasping his bloated penis was unbelievable. He luxuriated in the feel of her tiny silken-shrouded body as she clung to him with her arms and legs, her nylon-sheathed legs caressing his flanks, her heels scratching his back..

Wakka's bloated cock was distending her sphincter and her anus, his glans pressing on her prostate, his lips crushing hers, his tongue slithering in her mouth as he began to fuck her harder. It hurt a little but not enough for her to stop him.

Wakka felt his climax approaching and he slipped his hands under Crissy’s buttocks and lifted her bottom off the coverlet and began to jackhammer his cock in out of her tight hole and she clung to him. Crissy felt Wakka’s cock suddenly begin to pulsate as he filled her back passage with his load. His scalding semen filled her and dribbled from her tight ring, running down the crack between her buttocks and her inner thighs.

She clung to Wakka and kissed him while he ravished her, he was no longer the meek and bashful man who had entered her cabin. He was a strong, eager fisherman who was using Crissy’s body to extract every ounce of pleasure he could from her. Crissy played her role and when Wakka rammed his cock all the in her as far as it would go, expelling the last of his issue, she moaned like the whore she had become. He stifled her moans with a passionate kiss and she scratched his flesh with her nails and drummed her heels on his back as his climax peaked and subsided.

When Wakka began to come down from his climactic high he reverted to his gentle self and they clung to each other like lovers and kissed in post-coital bliss until finally Wakka's penis plopped from her anus releasing a flood of semen. Crissy was glad that Greta had provided her with a stack of short-time sheets to protect her coverlet.

Wakka climbed off Crissy and looked at his watch.

“I’ve still got ten minutes, can I have a tinnie and a smoke before I leave?” he asked as he reached for his underpants, work shorts and singlet.

“Sure. Pop me can and light me a smoke and I’ll be right out,” Crissy headed to the bathroom where she wiped away the excess semen that had puddled in her panties.

She didn’t bother with her hair or makeup, douching or changing her clothes. She had half an hour between each punter to do that. Instead she came out and joined Wakka for a smoke and a drink.

“That was even more awesome Crissy. You definitely have a repeat customer in me,” Wakka patted her hand chastely.

Crissy listened to Wakka tell her about his last fishing trip and he told her that he was sailing again tomorrow but would be back in a week and would require her services. All the time Crissy was looking at the clock on the wall. Time was money and Greta warned her against going overtime with clients. But she had nothing to worry about. Right on time Wakka stood up, collected his cigarettes and the last two tinnies from her fridge and kissed her goodbye.

Crissy went into the bathroom and recovered the cash and put it in the lockbox under her bed then she cleaned herself, fixed her hair and makeup and put on clean panties and stockings. The babydoll pyjamas were not badly stained and would do for her next customer and no sooner did she turn on the red lamp than there was a knock at the door.

One Year Later…

Crissy was a lot more comfortable in her skin now that she had been living as a woman for just over a year. Although she was able to legally change her name from Chistian to Cristina there was no legal avenue for her to change her gender but that had not been an issue. Queensland had recently introduced laminated driver’s licences and when Crissy sat for her photograph she presented femme even though the card listed her sex as ‘M’ but she didn’t overdo the makeup and there was no problem. When she obtained a passport she used a similar picture but of course she had no choice but to profess her gender as male.

Crissy no longer identified as male except for legal reasons but that was fine with her except that now that she was about to travel overseas she would have to present as male to pass through customs and immigration in Australia and Indonesia but that was only a slight embuggerance. She would wear her androgynous look but of course eschew the makeup and heels until she arrived in Bali where she would change into feminine attire and put on her makeup as soon as she arrived at the hotel.

She was travelling to Bali with Greta, ostensively on a holiday but Greta had business to attend to with her contact in the smuggling game. Crissy would also be attending an accredited clinic to have her breasts augmented. The procedure would cost her a fraction of the cost than it would in Australia but would require her to stay in Bali for a week after the surgery but that was ok by her. A week lazing around the pool drinking cocktails, even though she wouldn’t be able to swim, was a luxury after literally working her arse off for most of the year.

She was lying on her side in her bed and Steve Kessler was slowly sliding his cock in and out of her tight rectum whilst stroking her cock. It felt nice fucking like this. Steve hugging her tightly, nuzzling her neck, his big phallus filling her, lighting up the sensitive nerves circling her anus, her rectum tingling and her prostate emitting a continual pleasurable resonance. Steve had asked her to wear pantyhose as usual and her cock was sheathed in the diaphanous nylon mantle, Steve’s fingers circling her hard appendage.

Most of her clients preferred that she wear stockings but Steve still had this obsession with pantyhose which Crissy was more than happy to fulfill. She felt Steve’s cock begin to palpitate and sensed that he was ready to climax, he had been edging Crissy for over half an hour now and she was more that ready to orgasm.

Steve rolled Crissy on her back and jammed a pillow under the small of her back so that her buttocks were raised invitingly and she obligingly wrapped her legs around him as he plunged his distended penis inside her and began to pummel her tight, slick chamber. He kissed her and moaned into her mouth and she felt his cock pulsate as his climax approached. She returned his kisses and scissored her legs against his flanks, knowing that he adored the sensation of her silken-hosed limbs on his flesh. She kegelled and undulated her anal sheath, a trick she had learned on the job, and milked Steve of his warm creamy issue. She felt him deposit his seed deep in her rectum.

The phenomenon of Steve’s cock ejaculating inside her as it plunged in and out of her, his glans pressing on her prostate, the girth of it stimulating her sphincter, her pantyhose-swathed cock rubbing against Steve’s belly invoked her own orgasm and she kissed him fervently as she jettisoned her issue into her pantyhose. It burst through the diaphanous nylon and smeared Steve’s stomach.

Steve lay on top of her, supporting his not insignificant weight on his elbows as they basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking, neither of them in a hurry to break the embrace and leave the comfort of Crissy’s bed. This was their farewell fuck. Steve was driving Crissy and Greta to Cairns the next day so they could board their direct flight to Bali.

“When I come back, I’ll have tits,” Crissy smiled up at Steve.

“Oh, I will enjoy them for sure but as far as I am concerned you are perfect just as you are,” Steve kissed the tip of her nose affectionately.

Their relationship was as complicated as ever. There was no doubt that they had a deep affection for each other; a bond that was more than friendship but not quite love. Around Karumba, Crissy was known to be Steve’s girlfriend and they socialised together, made love often and shared each other’s hopes and dreams but that didn’t stop Crissy prostituting herself and occasionally allowing herself an orgasm with a client if he was nice and his technique was effective in eliciting the required response. Steve was fucking Greta occasionally and Crissy knew about it and didn’t mind. She had no idea what he got up to when he was in Cairns when he stayed overnight after delivering Greta’s ‘special cargo’ but she doubted that he was celibate.

They were far from exclusive but they cherished their time together.

Crissy didn’t know too much about Aunt Greta’s smuggling racket but she knew that, as promised, Steve was making a lot of money from it. As he so eloquently put it: ‘a shit-ton’. He had bought out his friend’s haulage business and acquired a nearly-new Kenworth prime mover, a refrigerated trailer and a flat-bed trailer and monopolised the Cairns-Karumba road transport route, hauling everything from fresh seafood off the trawlers, to heavy machinery, supermarket products and general cargo. And of course he smuggled whatever it was he was trafficking for Greta, which was how he had made his fortune. Steve had another driver working for him now and only drove the route when he was transporting Greta’s ‘special cargo’.

Having a transport baron as a boyfriend also had advantages for Crissy. She was able to acquire the requisites she needed directly from Cairns and every now and then she accompanied Steve on his run so that she could shop and get a well-earned break from the tiny fishing and mining community.

The next day they left for Cairns in Steve’s brand-new Ford Courier XL dual cab Ute. It had a 3.8 litre V6 supercharged engine and was Steve’s pride and it ate up the miles. Crissy dozed in the back for most of the trip while Greta sat up front with Steve so they could talk business.

Passing through immigration and customs in Cairns and at Ngurah Rai International Airport in Bali had been easy. The Garuda flight had been full of young surfers and tourists and Crissy fitted right in. Greta had splurged on Business Class seats and the four and half flight had been comfortable and Crissy was excited.

Outside the bustling airport Greta ignored the taxi touts and headed towards a private hire car where the driver was holding up a placard with her name on it. The driver loaded their baggage and hit the busy streets, skirting Denpasar and Kuta, where most of the tourists were headed and which were the hotbeds of nightlife, sex, booze and drugs and delivered them to the Hotel Bali Beach at Sanur. They had separate but adjoining rooms and as soon as Crissy was settled in her room she showered, put on her makeup and changed into a short skirt, sleeveless top and sandals. It felt right to be presenting femme again she thought to herself as she doused herself with perfume before she snatched up her bag and went to find Greta in the bar.

“You have most of the day to yourself tomorrow while I’m conducting business. Bali is easy to get around, taxis are cheap and if you use a Bluebird you only pay what’s on the meter, no haggling, or if you want, try a local bemo,” Greta said while the bartender mixed their cocktails.

“If you want to go to Kuta that’s fine but be careful Crissy. Don’t take any free lottery tickets from the touts, they’re just selling timeshares. Watch where you’re going, the streets are full of potholes and don’t get too drunk. That’s about the only advice I have for you except for this…” Greta took a deep breath.

“Do not buy or take any illegal substances. There’s going to be dealers and other Aussies telling you that ganga is cool in Bali and that everybody is doing it but I’m here on business and the last thing I need is to be trying to bail you out of Kerobokan Prison. If you end up there you’re fucked… literally. The Bali police are tough on drugs and love to lock up foreigners involved in drugs and you won’t last a day in there before you get gang-raped. Got it?” Greta gripped Crissy’s wrist.

This was the third time Greta had warned Crissy about staying away from drugs.

“I get it Greta! Just say no. You know I’m not that kinda girl anyway. Give me an ice-cold Bintang or a fucking frozen margarita any day,” Crissy leaned in and kissed Greta on the cheek.

Crissy had no idea what Greta was smuggling into Karumba nor did she want to. Even Steve wouldn’t discuss it and that was fine with her. She knew that Greta was here to meet with some sort of connection and Crissy knew that a drug bust would put her in the spotlight.

“I’m here to enjoy myself, get my tits done and maybe fuck a guy or two before I go in for surgery,” Crissy smiled at Greta and took a hit of her margarita and ordered Mai Tais for the next round.

They had dinner in the hotel, watched the Balinese dancers perform, had a few more drinks and went to bed. The next morning they had breakfast together and parted ways, Greta telling Crissy to enjoy herself but not too much. Tomorrow she would be having her surgery.

Crissy met her contact in a quiet bar at the southern end of Sanur beach. Most of the tourists were up the other end of the beach and they pretty much had the place to themselves.

“I want to double our shipments. Our supplier has an abundance of product and is willing to negotiate whilst the price for our product is climbing exponentially in your country,” even though they were nearly positive that they were not being watched, Fajar never actually stated what the ‘product’ actually was.

“This essentially means that we will more than double our profits,” Fajar sipped his Bintang.

“What about the risks?” Greta replied.

“The riskiest part of our business is the transfer of product at sea as you know. Your authorities divide our adjoining exclusive economic zones into lettered sectors. The so-called Tango Dip drops down into the Gulf of Carpentaria where our fishing fleet based out of Kupang congregates,” Fajar began to explain.

“Your navy patrol boats cannot cross the line into our EEZ and anyway they only have powers to enforce fishing laws on foreign fishing vessels inside the Australia EEZ and your Customs and Federal Police do not have their own vessels. Your Australian trawler comes north of the line and we transfer the product in a matter of minutes, then he heads south again,” Fajar paused to take a drink.

“Your stupid laws do not allow your navy to board Australian vessels. Your fisherman keeps fishing until he meets his quota so as not to draw suspicion and then he heads back to Karumba and hands the product over to you. It’s a lot of money for very little risk,” Fajar waved at the waitress to bring more beer.

Greta knew that Steve Kessler wouldn’t have a problem delivering the shipment to Cairns. It was easy to conceal and handing it over to ‘Brendon’ at The Frontier Hotel was easy. Greta didn’t know Brendon’s real name nor did she want to. She knew that he was a member of an outlaw motorcycle gang and that most likely the product made its way to Sydney and points beyond to be cut and sold but she was far removed from that side of the business. In essence she was just a middleman or middle-woman, if there was such a thing.

She and Fajar discussed the logistics a little longer and she agreed to the deal. Fajar told her that he would inform those who needed to know. Nothing had really changed for Greta except that she would make a lot more money as would Wakka and Steve.

Neither Steve nor Crissy knew that Wakka was her business partner. A middle aged, uneducated, skinny, toothless fishing boat captain who drank too much when he was ashore was hardly the type of man people would expect to be smuggling illicit substances across international borders. He’d told Greta that once he’d socked away enough money to set himself up nicely he was getting out of the fishing business but he was the type who loved the rough and tumble lifestyle and being a ‘pirate’ tickled his fancy. He wasn’t going anywhere soon.

Meanwhile Crissy had taken a Bluebird taxi into Kuta and had quickly found a bar where people her age congregated. A single young white woman sitting alone in the Pickled Parrot was highly unlikely to be left alone for long and Crissy had to shoo away a string of potential suiters, mostly backpackers from Australia, Europe and America. She was looking for something a little more spicy and it soon arrived in the form of a tall, lithesome woman who Crissy estimated to be in her late twenties or early thirties but it was hard to tell the age of Balinese women, this one especially because she wearing perfectly applied makeup.

Without invitation the woman sat down and almost immediately a waitress appeared and the women spoke to her in Bahasa and the waitress disappeared.

“I hope you don’t mind but I ordered us Arak Bali. It’s a potent traditional spirit made from fermented coconut palm,” the woman smiled and her face lit up.

Her face was beautiful with dark almond-shaped eyes enhanced by bold colourful eyeshadow, heavy black kohl and mascara. Her high cheekbones were contoured, her lips bright red. The visage framed by perfectly straight, lustrous black shoulder-length hair. She was wearing a red low-cut mini-dress, her long legs sheathed in shimmery hosiery and her feet shod in red high-heels sometimes referred to as ‘fuck-me-heels’. Her jewellery was big and clunky and she was shrouded in exotic perfume.

“Your first time in Bali?” the woman’s voice was syrupy, her accent almost lyrical.

“Yes,” Crissy replied, fascinated by the gorgeous Balinese woman who seemed to have blended her cultural makeup and adornments with western clothing seamlessly.

“I’m Putri, which means princess in Balinese, a name I chose for myself,” Putri extended her hand across the table.

Her fingers were long and elegant, her long nails were manicured and painted red to match her lipstick and Crissy took it and squeezed it gently.

“I’m Cristina but everyone calls me Crissy,” Crissy replied.

“Those idiot boys don’t know that you are Waria but I could tell,” Putri opened a her red bejewelled clutch and extracted a pack of Gudang Garam.

“Waria?” Crissy took the preferred cigarette.

“Waria carries a unique cultural significance in Indonesia. The Bule often refer to us as ladyboys but I dislike the term,” Putri leaned over and lit Crissy’s cigarette and she was taken aback by the crackling sound of burning cloves and rich, spicy aroma and smooth taste of the pungent tobacco.

“Bule?” Crissy asked.

“Farang. White men, usually tourists but we also use the term to describe the expats who live here. They don’t like it, but fuck them, expats own a lot of commercial property, especially the bars,” their drinks arrived and Crissy took a sip.

The Arak had been diluted with Coke but it was still very strong but sweet and unique. Crissy thought that you could get into a lot of trouble drinking Arak because it was so easy to drink.

“How did you know I was… different… what do you call it… Waria?” Crissy asked.

Putri smiled at Crissy and shook her head before she spoke.

“It takes one to know one. You're very feminine and carry yourself well but there are little tells. Tourist women typically do not wear pantyhose in Bali. You are a tourist?” Putri sipped her drink.

Crissy had debated what to wear to go bar hopping. Most of the women in the resort were wearing shorts or skirts with loose cotton tops and sandals but Crissy finally opted for a pink miniskirt, infinitesimally sheer-to-the-waist fleshtone pantyhose and a cerulean satin blouse with high-heeled sandals as she intended to make a night of it. She had thrown her essentials into a colourful shoulder bag that she had bought at one of the many markets.

“Not really a tourist I suppose. I’m here with my aunt who is here on business but I’m here to get my top surgery done,” Crissy admitted, somehow feeling comfortable with this exotic woman whom she had only just met.

“Really? Who is performing the procedure?” Putri asked, her interest was genuine.

“Doctor Wyan Dewar at the Kasih Ibu Hospital in Denpasar,” Crissy replied.

“He’s a good doctor and that is an excellent facility. Some of my friends have had their gender affirming surgery there,” Putri sounded like she knew what she was talking about.

“Well your breasts certainly look wonderful. If he does anything like the job you have had done I will be more than satisfied. If I may ask… have you had bottom surgery?” Crissy blushed because she had only just met Putri and it was a very personal question.

“No I haven’t and I’m not sure I will. It’s painful and expensive and I like being Waria. What about you?” Putri asked.

“I’m not considering it either. I like who and what I am. I just want breasts and if they're as good as yours I will be happy,” Crissy admitted.

“Would you like to see them properly,” Putri smiled around her straw as she sipped her drink and Crissy read her meaning.

Putri had a tiny one room apartment not far from the Pickled Parrot bar. It was stylishly furnished and thankfully air conditioned. Once inside Putri pulled Crissy into an embrace.

She kissed Crissy softly and she responded immediately.

The sweet taste of Putri’s mouth, the taste of their lipstick as they pressed their lips together, the scent of their perfume, the soft embrace of their bodies was delightful. Crissy became tumescent; the soft satin material of her panties caressed the sensitive flesh of her penis. To Crissy, the experience of being with another ‘special girl’ was an exploration of the decadent.

Their kisses became frenzied and Putri pulled Crissy’s body close to hers; Crissy’s little miniskirt and blouse rustled against Putri’s satin dress, the feel of the soft fabric against her skin was electrifying. Putri slid her tongue into Crissy’s mouth and Crissy gasped as Putri’s fingers slid up Crissy’s legs; the soft caress of her fingers on Crissy’s sheer nylon-clad thigh was delightfully thrilling.

Crissy respond and lifted the hem of Putri’s dress and stroked her thighs. Putri pulled Crissy closer and their tongues entwined and Putri guided Crissy towards the bed and they fell onto it with Putri on top. Putri kissed Crissy passionately while her hands explored Crissy’s body. Eventually her hand slid up Crissy’s thigh, across the gauzy nylon until her fingers rested on Crissy’s panty-clad member.

Putri traced the outline of Crissy’s erect penis through the layers of satin and nylon and Crissy groaned as Putri squeezed it.

Putri broke the kiss briefly and smiled at Crissy.

"This is your first time with another Waria I can tell. I knew you would like it," Putri sighed and she lowered her face to Crissy’s.

Crissy reciprocated and slid her hand under Putri’s dress and found her member sheathed in sheer nylon panties. Crissy traced the outline of her erection with her fingernail and Putri gasped in Crissy’s mouth.

"This might be your first time but you certainly know what you are doing," Putri gasped and pushed her pubis into Crissy’s hand, encouraging her to stroke it.

Crissy took hold of Putri’s shaft and caressed it through the gauzy nylon and felt it pulse and quiver in her fingers. Putri began to masturbate Crissy through her satin panties, feeling her cock strain against the diaphanous fabric of panty and hose. They mutually masturbated each other, slowly stoking each other through the silken fabric of their panties as they kissed and fondled each other.

After a while Putri abruptly broke the kiss. She was lying on top of Crissy, looking down on her; her hands on Crissy’s shoulders, their legs intertwined. She stared at Crissy, looking lovingly into her eyes.

"You are beautiful," she sighed.

"As are you," Crissy whispered.

Putri’s face fell to Crissy’s stomach and she kissed her there, then she proceeded to work her way down Crissy’s skirt kissing her body until she was kneeling between Crissy’s legs. Putri kissed Crissy’s knees and slowly worked her way up Crissy’s legs; softly kissing Crissy’s nylon-clad flesh. Her fingers stroked Crissy’s calves, then the backs of Crissy’s knees and then her fingers found Crissy’s thighs. Putri rucked up Crissy’s skirt and Crissy lifted her head to see Putri’s face hovering above her groin. Putri lowered her face and Crissy felt Putri’s soft lips nuzzle her cock through her silky satin panties and sheer pantyhose.

Putri eased aside the gusset of Crissy’s panties and nipped at the gossamer fabric of her hose ripping a little hole. She extricated Crissy’s penis through the hole, freeing it. It stood rampant, dripping precum.

"Oh God!" Crissy groaned as Putri kissed Crissy’s shaft and tickled the glans of Crissy’s penis with her tongue.

Putri took Crissy’s penis into her mouth and Crissy was overwhelmed with pleasure and placed her hands on Putri’s head as she slowly begins to fellate her.

Putri’s tongue found Crissy’s fraenulum and teased it as her lips locked around the base of Crissy’s penis. Then she lashed Crissy’s glans with her tongue as she moved her lips up and down Crissy’s shaft. Her fingers continued to caress Crissy’s silken-clad thighs and Crissy lay back in utter bliss. Putri stroked Crissy’s scrotum through her panties and gently caressed it while her mouth continued to suckle Crissy’s erect penis

The sensation of being fellated by this seductive transvestite was almost overwhelming, the pleasure indescribable and Crissy felt her climax approaching. Crissy moaned and writhed upon the bed.

Crissy grasped Putri's head and pushed it into her groin as she ejaculated. Putri sucked and slathered Crissy’s member as her issue ejaculated into her warm moist mouth. Puri flickered tongue over Crissy’s throbbing glans while her lips sucked Crissy’s pulsing shaft as she milked Crissy of her essences, her fingers gently caressing Crissy’s scrotum to encourage the last of Crissy’s semen from her scrotal sac.

Crissy’s feet drummed on the bed. Her high-heels clattered together as her body writhed with passion as her orgasm raged through her body. Putri lapped up last of Crissy’s issue as it dribbled from the eye of her cock and kissed Crissy’s slowly deflating penis and then Crissy’s tender thighs. Putri slid Crissy’s lipstick-stained penis back inside her panties and pulled down and straightened Crissy’s skirt, almost primly.

Putri lay down beside Crissy and kissed her tenderly.

"Nice?" Putri smiled salaciously and Crissy nodded her assent.

"Now it's your turn," Puti’s smile widened.

Crissy felt Putri’s erection through the layers of lingerie and her dress. Putri’s cock felt long, hard and thick. Crissy reached down and slid her hand under Putri’s dress and fondled the bare flesh on her thighs. She was wearing sheer holdup stockings. Crissy’s hand continued its journey and found Putri’s penis enveloped in a layer of tight nylon panty. It throbbed in Crissy’s hand and Putri smiled and pulled Crissy’s face to hers.

Their legs intertwined and their nylons rasped, the feel of their gossamer garments brushing one and other was magnificently titillating. Putri pulled Crissy close and rolled her over so that Crissy was on top of her. Crissy kissed her and pushed her groin into Putri’s, feeling Putri’s hard cock pressing against her. Crissy lifted Putri’s dress and bunched it around her waist. Crissy’s skirt has ridden up and she lowered her body onto Putri’s and their panty-clad members touched, both fully erect and sensitive. Crissy slid her nylon-clad legs along Putri’s stocking sheathed limbs and ground her pubis into Putri’s and sucked on her tongue. Both of the beautiful young transvestites moaned as their satin-clad flesh rubbed together and their nyloned legs entwined.

They caressed, fondled and groped each other for what seemed like an eternity and when Crissy’s hand found Putri’s member it was indeed long, thick, hot and heavy. Putri’s cock was so large that the glans was poking above the waistband of her panties. Crissy stroked the nylon-sheathed shaft and the pulsing purple glans; the eye sticky with pre-seminal fluid.

Crissy broke their embrace and began a journey down Putri’s body, kissing and caressing every inch of her until she arrived at Putri’s feet. Crissy kissed her ankles, enjoying the sensation and taste of her stocking-clad legs. Crissy slid off Putri’s high-heel and took her foot into mouth, suckling the nylon-sheathed toes. Putri gasped as Crissy tasted her perfume and a scintilla of sweat. Crissy ran her tongue under Putri’s foot and Putri writhed on the bed as Crissy traced her calves up to her knees, where Crissy explored the small wrinkles in her stockings at the back of her knees.

Crissy continued her journey up Putri’s legs, pausing to lick her taunt thighs above the tops of her stockings then she continued on and found Putri’s hard cock poking out the top of her panties. Crissy engulfed it, pulling Putri’s panties out of the way so that she could get of much of Putri’s phallus as possible into her mouth.

Crissy smiled around the appendage in her mouth. She could hear Putri whimpering, her fingers entwined in Crissy’s blonde locks, trying to fuck Crissy’s mouth. Crissy slowly sucked and slathered Putri's member, teasing her as she writhed and moaned on the bed. Crissy sensed that Putri wanted to climax but she teased her, slowing down the tempo.

"Oh you bitch! Let me come. Make me come Crissy," Putri begged.

Crissy locked her lips around the long thick shaft of Putri's penis and lashed her tongue around the corona of Putri’s glans and began to suckle her, increasing the tempo until she felt Putri’s cock begin to pulsate in her mouth. Crissy’s mouth filled with warm musky viscous semen as Putri ejaculated in her mouth. Crissy sucked and licked Putri’s quivering pole, encouraging her to empty her seed into Crissy’s willing mouth. Crissy greedily swallowed the creamy glutinous issue that erupted from Putri’s cock.

Afterwards they lay in each others arms, basking in the sweet afterglow.

"How was it Crissy? Your first encounter with another Waria?" Putri lovingly stroked Crissy’s hair.

“Indescribably wonderful,” Crissy sighed.

“Well don’t go anywhere, I haven’t finished with you yet,” Puti smiled at Crissy.

She got off the bed and returned with ice-cold Bintangs and her Gudang Garam cigarettes. They drank the beer quite quickly as they were both thirsty and shared a cigarette before they began to caress each other, unable to keep their hands off each other.

They lay on the coverlet side by side still fully clothed. They kissed softly, their lips just touching. Putri's fingers gently slid along Crissy's thigh, her nails rasping on the nylon. When her fingers slid under Crissy's skirt, she gasped and pressed her lips hard against Putri's. Putri's fingers slipped lightly across Crissy's panties, eliciting a growl from deep within Crissy's throat.

Crissy slid her tongue into Putri's mouth and explored. Putri smiled and continued to tease Crissy through the silky layers of her pantyhose and panties. She rolled over so that she was astride her lover.

Crissy smiled up at Putri, guessing what was coming next and eager to be fucked by this exotic trans woman. Putri pinned Crissy to the bed and Putri removed her hand from under Crissy's dress. She teased Crissy with her tongue, slipping it along her lips and darting it in and out of her mouth.

Crissy was writhing on the bed, pushing up with her groin, begging for Putri to find her sex. When Putri had Crissy totally in her control she lifted herself off Crissy and hiked up her own dress and then scrunched up Crissy's skirt. Putri pushed her hand inside Crissy's pantyhose and panties and freed her erect penis through the hole she had torn earlier and then she freed her own penis.

They rubbed their cocks together igniting sparks of pleasure, both of them fully tumescent.

“Are you ready lover?” Putri asked, reaching for a small bottle of baby oil on the nightstand beside the bed.

Crissy nodded and looked lovingly up into Putri’s smoky eyes.

Putri reached down and ripped out the crotch of Crissy's pantyhose and smeared her erect penis with baby oil and Crissy opened her legs wide and Putri lay between them and kissed Crissy as she positioned the head of her penis in Crissy’s puckered bud.

She slid her tongue into Crissy’s mouth at the same time that she slid her cock into Crissy's anus.

Crissy squealed and writhed on the bed; impaled on Putri's long thick cock. It was amazing being fucked by another trans woman. Their sleek nyloned legs interlocked, the taste of their makeup, the smell of their perfume, the rustle of their clothing as they clung to each other was an expression of femininity that Crissy had never experienced before and it was exhilarating.

Crissy was used to being fucked by beer-gutted Steve Kessler, or whiskery-faced, bony-framed Wakka or a succession of hard-bodied, brawny, brutish fishermen and miners. This was so different and so wonderful.

"Oh Putri this is so wonderful," Crissy sighed when Putri’s cock was fully inside her.

"Yes darling, it is," Putri lowered her face to Crissy's and kissed her tenderly.

She kept her penis buried in Crissy's anus but didn't move it. She stroked Crissy's face and kissed her softly. She kept kissing Crissy, not moving at all until she felt Crissy begin to rouse.

At first it was almost imperceptible but Putri sensed Crissy push back against her. Putri smiled and began to slowly fuck Crissy. Crissy smiled up at Putri and nodded.

"Yes honey, do it," Crissy whispered.

Putri complied and moved her cock slowly in out of Crissy, drawing it all the way out and then driving it all the way in, ensuring she pushed her glans against Crissy's prostate so she was appropriately stimulated. The two gorgeous trans women fucked each other, Putri's hands under Crissy's shoulders so she could drive her erect penis deep and hard into Crissy and Crissy wrapped her legs around Putri, pulling her lover close as they kissed passionately.

Putri felt her climax approaching and she drove her cock in and out Crissy’s tight back passage faster and harder. The room filled with the slapping sound of flesh against flesh as the two lovers extricated every scintilla of pleasure from each other’s bodies. Putri could feel Crissy’s penis pressing against her belly and suddenly a warm wet petechia appeared in the front of Crissy’s panties and grew into a puddle of glutinous splooge.

Crissy had ejaculated and was creaming her panties and her climax triggered Putri’s own orgasm.

She gripped Crissy's ankles and lifted her legs up over her shoulders so she gained maximum penetration and jackhammered her cock in and out Crissy’s tight hole, looking down on Crissy’s face which was screwed up in the throes of extremis. Crissy assisted by lifting her bottom up off the bed and wrapping her arms around her lover.

They kissed and writhed and wriggled against each other, Crissy’s spunk a puddle of glutinous white plashet staining her black satin panties.

Putri moaned and ground her groin into Crissy's buttocks and ejaculated. Her phallus erupted deep in Crissy's anus, her semen surged from her cock, flooding Crissy's back passage. Crissy sighed as she felt her rectum fill with her lover's seed, Putri's cock pushing against her prostate and her belly pressing against Crissy's penis, prolonging Crissy’s climax until Putri was done fucking her.

The two lovers kissed and caressed as their climaxes slowly subsided. Putri unlocked Crissy's calves from around her neck but kept her semi-tumescent penis inside her. Crissy smiled up at her lover.

A while later they sat across from each other drinking Arak and Coke and smoking Putri’s pungent clove cigarettes. Putri had undressed and changed into a silk gown and fresh panties. She had gifted Crissy a pair of her panties; Crissy’s cum-soaked undergarment was in a plastic bag inside her shoulder bag. She had thrown her pantyhose in the bin and as the evening monsoon settled in she was glad to be barelegged.

“I have to go. I can’t eat and I should stop drinking because I’m having my surgery tomorrow morning,” Crissy studied the end of her cigarette.

“And I have to get ready to go to work. Roy, the guy who owns the Pickled Parrot, gets shitty if the hostesses are late,” Putri sprang to her feet.

“You’re a hostess?” Crissy asked.

“You know what I am. I do the same work as you only I do it a little differently,” Putri leaned down and kissed Crissy’s cheek.

Crissy had told Putri her story, leaving out the part about her aunt being a smuggler as well as a madame.

“Can I write to you?” Crissy asked.

“Don’t do that but if you ever come back to Bali look me up. If I’m not at the Pickled Parrot I’ll be here,” Putri gave Crissy a pragmatic smile.

The last thought that crossed through Crissy’s mind as she drifted away on the anaesthetic the next day was of Putri.

Two Years Later…

When Crissy came back to Karumba with her new breasts she was more popular than ever. Some of the potential clients who were reluctant about fucking what they referred to as a ‘boy dressed like a girl’ reconsidered their stance and Crissy picked up even more of Lucy’s former clients.

Greta was making a handsome profit from her smuggling racket and as a consequence so was Steve Kessler who moved in with Greta and consequently, very reluctantly, gave up fucking Crissy. It just didn’t seem right to be fucking his lover’s niece but he and Crissy still remained close friends and Crissy still felt indebted to Steve for getting her out of Sydney and settling her in Karumba.

Greta handed over the day to day running of her brothel to Crissy while she concentrated on reinvigorating the Paradise Caravan Park and Lodgings turning it into a much more upmarket establishment to attract the growing herd of grey nomads travelling through northern Australia whilst offering better facilities for the permanent residents. This was all funded by the continual flow of funds she received from the smuggling racket but she still found herself with too much cash on hand and she needed to diversify.

Crissy made regular trips to Bali, sometimes to have more gender reaffirming surgery; nothing drastic just a tracheal shave, some facial feminisation surgery and laser hair removal. Mostly she went because she liked the laidback lifestyle that made it a prefect place to holiday and of course so she could catch up with Putri who had become a close friend as well as her ‘Bali lover’.

It soon became apparent to Greta that Crissy was growing bored with life in the small fishing and mining town of Karumba and that she craved a life where there was more infrastructure, entertainment and diversity. She put a proposition to Crissy and Crissy snapped it up.

Using her excess cash, Greta purchased a motel on Sheridan Street in Cairns that was going to seed and brought Crissy in as an investor. Between them they overhauled the place and advertised it as Hotel/Motel that catered to adult couples and singles with no children. It was also expressed that it was a gay and lesbian friendly establishment and also a ‘no-tell’ enterprise where couples could meet for a tryst with complete anonymity and discretion.

Crissy lived in the hotel and managed the establishment and kept four of the rooms nearest reception for her bevy of prostitutes including Lucy who’s defacto husband agreed to let her go back to work because they needed the money. Crissy treated her girls fairly and paid them well and ensured that they had regular medical checkups. Crissy had a very short list of clientele who she serviced herself but she was mostly busy running the motel and her brothel.

Unable to get Putri a work visa so she could live in Australia, Crissy was negotiating with her aunt Greta with the view to getting Putri smuggled into Karumba via Wakka’s fishing boat. At first Greta was dead against it but Crissy was wearing her aunt down and was confident that Putri would soon be joining her in Cairns.

One day on whim Crissy called her father in Matraville New South Wales.

“Is this Billy Doyle?” Crissy asked although she immediately recognised the grizzled voice on the other end of the phone.

“Is that you Christian?” Billy sounded both surprised and angry.

“I haven’t heard from you in years. Did you ever make a go of it up in Karumba son?” Billy asked the girl he still believed to be his son.

“Oh yes daddy I did and my name is Cristina not Christian. I was just calling to tell you to stick your inheritance up your arse!” Crissy slammed the phone down into the cradle and smirked to herself.

The End