The Library Building - Beckinsdale College Campus – Present Day

Danny Bishop carefully removed a book from between two others and placed it quietly on the shelf below. The college library was a quiet zone where hushed conversations were grudgingly tolerated but anyone speaking above a few decibels or creating a disturbance like dropping a book came under the stern gaze of Miz Taylor, the librarian.

Danny had removed the book from the stacks for the sole purpose of spying on Miz Taylor. He was practiced in his deceit. He would enter the library and take a couple of newspapers from the rack and read them sitting alone at a table well away from the other students. After a while he would saunter over to the section of the library adjacent to where Miz Taylor sat behind the counter and remove two slim volumes from the second-to-top shelf and bring them over to his table. He would peruse them for a while before moving between the long dark stacks to the space he now occupied.

Removing the tome from the opposite side from where he had taken the other two books gave him an unobstructed side-on view of Miz Taylor sitting behind the counter whilst he remained camouflaged.

Providing he remained undisturbed he could watch Miz Taylor for about half an hour, after which he figured his actions would be suspicious. He was occasionally disturbed by other students looking for reference materials and he would pretend to study the titles of the books in front him. If the disturber didn’t move on he would pick up the book he had removed, pretend it wasn’t what he was looking for, replace it and move on. This happened more frequently than Danny would like and it frustrated him.

Today however he remained undisturbed.

Miz Taylor was a shoe dangler. She always wore high heels: pumps in winter and sandals in summer. She also always wore nylons, whatever the season. The library had it’s own air conditioner which kept the air cool and dry. This amenity was provided in order to preserve the precious volumes but it also made the library the coolest building in the college. Danny was grateful because it meant that Miz Taylor could comfortably wear nylons all year round.

Danny peeped through the aperture he had created and was rewarded with the sight of Miz Taylor sitting on her stool with her legs crossed, dangling a red patent leather high heel from her toes. Safe behind the fortress of the counter Miz Taylor thought that she was only visible from the waist up. But from where Danny was standing he had an uninterrupted view of her whole body.

Her black pencil skirt had ridden high on her thigh and Danny could clearly see the dark welt of her control-top pantyhose on her luscious thighs. Her long leg rocked back and forth as she unconsciously swung her shoe back and forth, her sheer nylons reflecting the light from the fluorescents mounted in the ceiling. Danny caught a glimpse of the reinforced toe of her stocking as her heel dangled precariously from her delectable digits, the nails painted bright red to match her fingernails. His cock began to thicken as he stared at the woman of his dreams.

Miz Taylor was one of those women whose age was indeterminable. She wore a lot of makeup, her long dark straight hair hung to her shoulders, her bangs framing her face. In winter she favoured dark coloured skirt-suits and in summer block-coloured, formfitting dresses. Her face was not pretty in the conventional sense but she had sensuous lips and glacial green eyes, delineated with black mascara and eyeliner. She had broad shoulders, a slim waist, wide hips, buxom buttocks and hint of a potbelly. Miz Taylor could be anywhere from thirty to fifty years old in Danny’s opinion. She was a sophisticated, stern woman of few words, matronly but with some sass that exuded sexiness.

Danny checked the coast was clear and put his hand in his trouser pocket. He had carefully unstitched the lining at the bottom of the pocket and was able to grasp his semi-erect penis. He watched Miz Taylor as she absentmindedly sucked on her pen, engrossed in the book she was reading laid out on the countertop in front of her. He imagined her pen was his most intimate body part between those lipsticked lips and began to stroke his cock.

Miz Taylor extended her hand down her leg distractedly, smoothing out her pantyhose and Danny almost choked. Those elegant fingers tipped with long red fingernails tugged gently at her nylons and Danny could only imagine what it might be like to touch the diaphanous fabric that shrouded her flesh. He also imagined what it might be like to rub his cock there and as he began to stroke his cock a little faster. His gaze shifted from her legs, to her body, to her face and back down to her dangling heel. This woman infatuated him and he dreamed of her almost every night and she fuelled his masturbatory fantasies.

He was getting close and he slipped his free hand inside the other trouser pocket which had also had part of the lining unstitched. In the corner of that pocket was a handkerchief and he grasped it, ready to catch his spend when he ejaculated.

Just as he was about to climax a student approached the counter and Miz Taylor arose in her seat and leaned over the counter to talk to the student in whispered tones. Her foot slipped completely out of her high heel as she did so and her skirt rode even higher up her thigh, exposing the coffee-coloured welt of her control top pantyhose. Her ample bosom pressed against her satin blouse, her ass was stretching her skirt and Danny gave silent heartfelt thanks to the girl who had disturbed Mizz Taylor and caused her to lean so provocatively over the counter.

Danny had a perfect view of Miz Taylor posed in silhouette: her lovely face framed by her glossy bangs, her ruby-red lips slightly parted as she spoke in whispers, her full breasts heaving as she breathed, her slim waist, her wide hips stretching the material of her navy blue pencil skirt, the hem high on her thigh exposing acres of flawless flesh enshrouded in gossamer pantyhose, her long legs terminating at her glorious feet; one still inside her high heel and the other rocking gently back and forth.

The visage was overwhelming and Danny stifled a moan as he ejaculated into his handkerchief.

“Hey! What are you doing?” a voice called out.

Although the girl had spoken in a normal speaking voice her question reverberated around the silent library.

Danny was mortified. He had been caught in the act but he was quick to respond.

“Keep your voice down. I was just looking for my handkerchief,” Danny brought the screwed up hanky out of his pocket and dabbed at his nose.

He hoped his ruse worked. Danny did not want to bring attention to himself and more importantly he did not want their voices to carry to Miz Taylor.

“Well I’m sorry but it looked like you were up to something suspicious,” the girl hissed without a trace of sorry in her voice.

The girl was Wendy Farragut and she too was a sophomore at Beckinsdale College. She wore the same uniform as her peers: a navy blue skirt, white cotton blouse, black shoes and black tights. The school allowed girls to wear makeup but anything flamboyant was frowned upon. She was pretty and had ample breasts and nice legs but she wasn’t anything like as sexy as Miz Taylor. Wendy was one of a clique of girls who thought that they were better than the other students and in normal circumstances would never have addressed the likes of Danny Bishop.

“What’s going on here?” Miz Taylor appeared behind Danny as if she had materialised out of thin air.

His heart began to race and he broke out in a sweat.

“Danny had his head in the stacks and was playing pocket pool Miz Taylor,” Wendy Farragut gave Danny an insolent smirk.

“I was looking at a book and dust must have got up my nose and I thought I was going to sneeze so I put my hand in my pocket, trying to find my handkerchief,” Danny once more thought on his feet.

He held up the screwed up hanky and then stuffed it in his pocket.

“There is no dust in my library Mister Bishop. Now stop making a kerfuffle and go about your business Miss Farragut. Mister Bishop I’ll see you in my office after classes. Now put those books back and get back to classes, both of you,” Miz Taylor whispered in a dismissive tone.

Miz Taylor turned away and walked back to her station and Danny couldn’t help but follow her with his eyes, watching her buxom buttocks sway in that tight skirt and those long legs strut.

“Perv!” Wendy Farragut stuck out her tongue at Danny and skipped away, happy to have got him in trouble.

Danny watched Wendy walk away too; her blue skirt was right on the edge of regulation length and she was showing a lot of leg but her black tights were no match for Miz Taylor’s sheer, control top pantyhose. Wendy was pretty and had perky breasts but she lacked the sophistication of Miz Taylor. Danny was anxious about having to see the librarian in her office later in the day but he was also a little excited.

One Year Earlier – Downtown Beckinsdale

Only one other person at Beckinsdale College knew that Melanie Taylor was a transgender woman. When Melanie had applied for the position as college librarian, the Dean, Arnold Davenport, was at first just going to send a form letter telling Melanie that she had not been successful in her application but he decided to be prudent and interview Miz Taylor.

He was also a pragmatist and arranged to meet Miz Taylor at a downtown coffee shop. He wanted to meet her in a public place because he expected to be greeted by a militant trans advocate who was likely to become verbally aggressive when he told her that she couldn’t have the job.

Melanie Taylor arrived on time but Arnold Davenport nearly missed her. He was too busy watching the strangely attractive woman who had just entered the Downe Towne Coffee Shoppe (he hated the twee name). The woman was curvy and dressed in a knee-length beige skirtsuit and low heels. Her long dark hair was styled into a chignon updo with bangs. There was something about her that pressed his buttons and he resisted the urge to adjust his dick in his pants.

The woman kept coming his way, working her away around the haphazard layout of the furniture. He stood up when he realised that this sophisticated women of indeterminable age was the woman he was here to meet and he pulled out her chair for her. She exuded femininity and Arnold could detect not a scintilla of manliness; she was all woman and if he was honest, she was his type. Her voice had a somewhat smoky southern drawl and she exuded an alluring charm that set him on edge. The woman ignored the chair that Arnold had pulled out across from where he was sitting and sat down in the seat beside him instead.

Melanie had toned down her makeup, wore low heels and put her hair up for the interview. She knew better than to get the interview off to a bad start by turning up for the meeting dressed provocatively. They ordered coffee and introduced themselves and when the waitress left them alone with their drinks they began to talk in earnest.

Arnold pulled Melanie’s application form from his briefcase and laid it flat on the table.

“Let’s talk about the elephant in the room. On your application where it requests you state your gender you added the word trans in front of the word woman,” Arnold tapped the piece of paper in front of him.

“There were only two choices man or woman. I could have just ticked woman but I decided to be completely honest,” Melanie replied dryly.

“And there is the problem Miz Taylor. Beckinsdale College is a faith-based institution that prides itself on providing academic excellence and commitment to Christian values,” Arnold spread his hands and leaned back in his chair.

“Okay, cards on the table. As you can see from my resumé, I am highly qualified, in fact I’m overqualified, for the position at Beckinsale. I have an exceptional academic and behavioural record. I am not a member of any radical groups, I have no social media profile and am consummately professional,” Melanie counted off her achievements on her fingers.

“Your girls soccer coach is so butch that she looks like a 1970s female Russian shot-putter and she might as well wear a t-shirt that says ‘Bull Dyke’ but she is tolerated because your team are State champions and she keeps her sexuality in the closet,” Melanie held up her hand when Arnold attempted to respond.

“Unlike your previous football coach who was fired for getting too friendly with the cheerleaders and who is not only suing the college for wrongful dismissal but is also being sued himself by one of your students in a paternity suit. That’s some publicity you could do without,” Melanie continued.

“Now, I’m not a litigious person but if my application was to be denied on the grounds of my gender I might also be tempted to sue,” Melanie took a deep breath and put up her hand again to stop Arnold from replying.

“I came out as a transgender woman when I was a student in California and there was barely a peep. It was a progressive school and I was accepted with no fuss; in fact when I graduated I joined the faculty as an English tutor,” Melanie explained.

“But… I’m willing to take the librarian job and keep my gender a secret, keep myself to myself and just run your library for you. Most of the faculty won’t even see me because the library is in a standalone building. I won’t even use the staff common room. My interaction with the students will be limited to my library duties and I’ll work hard,” Melanie said.

“Also… I’m a chaste person with no current boyfriend and I’ll steer clear of the town’s bars and honkytonks,” Melanie paused to let Arnold reply.

“But you will litigate if you don’t get the job?” Arnold crossed his arms across his chest.

“I said I might litigate. But… Consider my proposal. My gender would be our secret and there may be some other benefits that you haven’t thought of,” Melanie crossed her legs and the swish of her nylons drew Arnold Davenport’s eyes to her long limbs.

“Why do you want the job so bad? There are other institutions that would probably welcome you?” Arnold asked.

“My mother is not well and she’s in a nursing home here in Beckinsdale. I want to move closer to her. The position of librarian is perfect for me because of the regular hours and there is no extra-curricula or afterhours work. I have a degree in English, which I used to teach, but I also have my teacher librarian services credential,” Meline gave Arnold a smile and showed off her brilliant white teeth and her green eyes sparkled.

She uncrossed and recrossed her legs and her skirt rose a little higher up her thigh and Arnold wondered if she had deliberately taken the chair beside him rather than across from him so he could see all of her body.

“Like I said, my gender would be our secret. On all of my legal documents my gender is female. Also, as I said, there may be other benefits for you. I saw the way you looked at me when I was walking over,” Melanie tugged at her skirt, modestly pulling it down to just above her knee.

Arnold swallowed hard and wondered if he’d heard Melanie correctly. Arnold’s wife was going through ‘the change’ and had all but lost interest in sex. About once a month she hiked up her cotton nightgown and lay still like a sack of oats while Arnold rutted away at her. He was surrounded by nubile teenage girls all day and a few of the women on the faculty were attractive enough to catch his eye but he knew that a dalliance with any of students or staff would not only be career suicide, he’d lose his marriage and likely end up in court.

Someone like Melanie Taylor, whose job would be far removed from the main campus, single and unattached was a different prospect. It was still dangerous but he’d have the upper hand. She needed the job and that meant she needed Arnold to keep her secret. There was no way the faculty board would accept a transgender of any description and half of the student body would be dragged out of the college by their tight-assed, bigoted, devout, radical right-wing parents if they knew one of the faculty was transgender.

Melanie would be shunned by the same pious parents who drank bourbon by the gallon, partied hard and were not averse to a little weed or coke now and then and whose husbands had their floosies on the side or visited whorehouses in the city while their wives fucked their pool boys, masseuses or tennis coaches. Provided they went to church every Sunday their sins were forgiven. The parents of the students suffered the school being integrated and the four black ‘token-hire’ teachers but there was no way they would allow some bedevilled ‘faggot-in-a-skirt’ near their children.

“These benefits?” Arnold raised his brows enquiringly.

“Give me your phone,” Melanie said abruptly.

It caught Arnold off guard but he handed over his unlocked iPhone and Melanie handed over her Samsung. She scrolled through the apps on Arnold’s phone and put it on the table. He scrolled through hers but had no idea what he was looking for.

“I’m just making sure that you are not recording this conversation and as you can see I’m not either,” Melanie smiled at him and played with her skirt again, this time sliding the hem up her thighs a little.

“I’m a pragmatic person Dean. During my journey of transition I’ve been both figuratively and literally fucked in the ass by people who don’t accept me for what I am or try to exploit it. I’m willing to put my morals aside if the ends justify the means,” this time Melanie uncrossed her legs and opened them just wide enough to give the Dean a quick panty peek before she recrossed them.

“We can both keep a secret. I’ll give you my application with the little box that says woman ticked and you recommend me to the board; then as the Brits are want to say, Robert’s Your Mother’s Brother,” Melanie slid her hand across the table to pick up her application form and allowed her fingers to lightly caress Arnold’s.

Arnold looked her quizzically.

“Bob’s Your Uncle. Or in this case, I’m your girl,” Melanie took the application and put it in her handbag and produced a second completed application form that had not been defaced.

She laid it out in front of the Dean and leaned in close and Arnold inhaled her exotic perfume.

“See here… I’ve ticked the little box correctly,” she said in that sultry voice that sent shivers down his spine and he almost jumped when her other hand slipped under the table and squeezed his cock.

She nipped his ear quickly and let go of his cock and leaned back in her seat.

“You can let me know either way this afternoon after you’ve had some time to think about my proposal,” Melanie stood up and pulled down the hem of her skirt and sauntered away, taking the same zigzag route through the scattered tables.

Arnold couldn’t take his eyes off her ass.

The Library Building – One Week Later

Arnold Davenport rang his wife explaining that he would be home late. This was not an unusual occurrence because the Dean was always busy. He looked up at the wall clock in his office and saw that it was time to go. He was nervous and his hands were shaking when he closed his laptop and put it in his briefcase. It was his personal laptop and he was using his personal phone as a Wi-Fi hotspot. He knew that every keystroke on every device linked to the campus network could be traced if necessary so he was prudent. He had been watching videos on a well known porn site and he was very excited.

Arnold had never been with a transgender woman but like most straight men his age he occasionally watched tranny porn and had always wondered what it might be like to fuck one. He was not turned on by the immature, overly-effeminate sissies who labelled themselves as femboys. He was attracted to crossdressers and transgender women who exhibited a stylish, mature, sophisticated look. Miz Melanie Taylor fitted that bill to perfection.

Walking over to the campus library Arnold nodded or said polite hellos to the few students he met along the way, feeling guilty but excited and was glad to be wearing a topcoat over his suit so that his erection did not show. It helped that it was fully dark.

When he arrived at the Library it was closed but there was a faint glow coming from the rear of the building. He entered the code into the keypad to unlock the door and entered the library and locked the door behind him. He quickly made his way through the expansive reading area, taking off his topcoat as he went. He came to a door with a wooden plaque with the word Librarian stencilled on it in gold leaf. The blinds on the window that faced the library and the glass plate set into the door were closed. He entered Melanie Taylor’s office and found her standing in front of her desk. He closed the door behind him and double checked that it was securely locked.

Melanie had removed her jacket and was dressed in a black A-line skirt, pink satin blouse, tan nylons and black high heels. Her makeup was on the heavier side and if she was teaching staff she might have been reprimanded for this by his deputy, Mrs Hilda Swindon, but the library was Melanie Taylor’s sanctum where other faculty members seldom strayed. Her long dark hair was worn straight and her bangs framed her face. Gone was the updo, subdued makeup and low heels she had worn to the interview. Her green eyes were enhanced by black eyeliner and mascara and smoky eyeshadow. She exuded a kind of exaggerated femininity in equal parts coquette and ingénue.

Had he not had access to her personal details Arnold would not have been able to correctly guess her age. Juts looking at her she could be anywhere from thirty to fifty. Melanie Taylor was thirty eight according to her credentials.

Arnold strode boldly across the room and attempted to take Melanie in his arms, his lips puckered ready to kiss. Melanie put her hands on his chest and stopped him.

“Let’s not pretended that this anything other than what it is Dean. I can keep a secret if you can keep a secret. Let’s get on with it shall we?” Melanie said bluntly and dropped to her knees.

Arnold shucked out of his suit jacket, excited by what he knew was about to happen.

Melanie unbuckled the Dean’s belt and unzipped him, yanking his pants down to his knees along with his boxers. He had hairy legs and his dark pubic patch was sparsely strewn with wiry grey hairs. He was semi-erect and a globule of precum had formed at the eye of his penis. Melanie took a deep breath and took him into her mouth.

Arnold gasped as Melanie worked his cock with her mouth, her luscious red lips sliding along the shaft and her tongue fluttering his frenulum and glans. His wife Mary had never been any good at fellatio and she didn’t like to do it. Mary ceased performing the act once she had a wedding band on her finger.

Melanie however was an expert fellatrix and soon had the Dean fully erect and close to extremis. Arnold looked down on Melanie’s strangely attractive face as she moved her mouth up and down on his cock, her lipsticked lips pursed around his flange. He could feel her doing things with her tongue that were unimaginable. She looked up at him, her glacial green eyes locked on his. He knew that it was impossible to tell but it looked like she was grinning.

Melanie extended a hand, her long fingernails painted the same red as her lipstick, and cupped Arnold’s scrotal sac and gently caressed it and she heard him moan. She slavered at his cock while she stroked his scrotum, feeling his testes retract in anticipation of ejaculation.

“Good god!” Arnold whimpered and entwined his fingers in Melanie’s hair.

He fucked her mouth earnestly as his orgasm began to manifest itself. It began as a roiling sensation in his scrotum as Melanie caressed the furrowed the sac, eliciting little flickers of delectability that travelled along his perineum to the base of his penis. His shaft began to pulsate and judder as Melanie’s lips exuded an intense pleasurable sensation that ran along his turgid rod and ignited the most sensitive nerve endings in his fraenulum and glans which were being lashed by Melanie’s tongue.

His whole cock was a hair-triggered pleasure-stick being suckled by this gorgeous woman’s warm, wet mouth.

Melaine did not protest when Arnold tugged at her hair and began to face-fuck her. She let him use her mouth as a surrogate pussy, feeling his cock begin to judder and aware of the increased flow of precum, a precursor to ejaculation and a signal that he was about to climax.

She swallowed every drop of Arnold’s salty-sweet ejaculate when he erupted, his cock quivering in her mouth. She worked his scrotum with her fingers and sucked enthusiastically on his juddering rod. Arnold might be the sort of unprincipled, manipulative, exploiter she despised but she was just as culpable as he was and she kind of liked the seediness of the encounter. Besides, the crude sex was exciting her and her cock was becoming tumescent trapped inside her satin panties.

Arnold nearly fainted with the intensity of his orgasm and he had to hold onto Melanie’s desk for support. She held him in her mouth until the last of his spend dribbled from the eye of his cock. He might have just blown his load but he was still erect. Mary had never been able to illicit this kind of lasciviousness in him, even in her prime when she still enjoyed sex.

Melanie spat out Arnold’s penis and got to her feet. She took a box of Kleenex off the desk and handed it to Arnold, whose cock still jutted out from under his soft belly, hard, ripe and eager. Arnold waved away the Kleenex.

“I took a little blue pill half an hour ago and I still want the other,” Arnold nodded in the general direction of her lower body

Melanie knew what he meant and she was pragmatic about it. The fellatio had ignited a fire in her and had Arnold not indicated his intent she would have masturbated as soon as he left the office anyway.

“Okay then, there’s lube in my purse, try not to get any on my skirt,” Melanie said pragmatically and turned on her heels and bent over the desk.

The sight of her big rounded ass stretching her skirt across her buttocks and those long legs clad in shimmering nylon inflamed Arnold’s already smouldering libido and he snatched up her purse and found the tube of lubricant.

Melanie stood motionless, bent over the desk, her legs spread slightly, the crotch of her panties bulging with the outline of her erect penis trapped between her ass cheeks. She waggled her buttocks invitingly at Arnold. He stepped in behind her and lifted her skirt and bunched it around her waist. She was wearing thigh-high holdup stockings, the lacy elastic welts high on her thighs, a slim band of alabaster skin on display above her stockings. Her buttocks were clad in black satin, lace-trimmed panties. His cock was fully erect in anticipation of what he was about to do.

He pressed his cock against her panty-clad ass and ground his cock against her buttocks and reached around and cupped her breasts through the silky blouse.

“Can I touch it?” Arnold could not believe that he was asking the question.

When he made the decision to hire Melanie with the tacit agreement that she would provide him with sexual favours he was firm in his resolve that he would never touch her penis. That would be gay and Arnold Davenport was not gay. All that was forgotten when he saw her bent over the desk offering him her ass, her perfume invading his nostrils, her buttocks wriggling, inviting him to sodomise her.

"Sure, just be gentle with it; it’s not a joystick," Melanie was still playing the disinterested participant as if what they were doing was something mechanical.

Arnold slipped a hand between Melanie’s legs and found her penis pressed against her perineum kept in place by her tight panties. Arnold smiled because her penis was semi-erect and he felt her nipples harden through her brassiere and blouse as he rubbed his cock against her ass and tweaked her nipples. He stroked her cock through her panties and felt it harden and Melanie grunted a little in appreciation. She might be pretending that she was just a passive participant but her intimate parts indicated otherwise.

"Stop fucking about and get this over with Dean. I have places to be and things to do," Melanie’s bitchiness was actually a turn-on and seeing her bent over the desk presenting her ass to him fired his ardour.

Arnold hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her panties and pulled them down to the top of her thighs, exposing her perky, white, unblemished, buttocks. Melanie's cock sprang free and Arnold began to stroke it. It didn’t feel ‘gay’ at all. He was quite proud of the fact that he had caused this transwoman to become concupiscent.

He rubbed his cock between her buttocks searching for Melanie’s hole, poking and prodding but unable to find the entrance to her anus. It was a combination of overexcitement and inexperience and Melanie was becoming impatient. She reached behind and positioned his cock against her sphincter, pleased to find that he had lubricated his penis. Melanie pushed back and guided Arnold’s glans inside her tight puckered bud and she smiled wickedly when she heard Arnold gasp. He might have just ejaculated in her mouth but she doubted he would last long. She was almost certain that it was the Dean’s first anal experience.

Arnold gripped Melanie’s hips and pushed his cock inside her all the way, taking his time. He felt her anus dilate but the warm, spongy channel was still tight, however it accommodated his pre-lubricated phallus easily. When he was fully inside Melanie, his scrotum pressing against her soft buttocks, his cock snug and ringed by the girth of her anal sheath, he slipped a hand inside her blouse and freed her breasts, finding her nipples bloated like ripe berries. He massaged her breasts with one hand and stroked her cock with the other.

"Ok big-boy; let’s move this along," Melanie grunted as Arnold began to fuck her with long slow strokes.

Melanie hadn’t had sex since arriving in town except for using the eight-inch vibrator she kept in her bedside table. She’d lived up to her agreement to stay away from the bars and honkytonks and had been too busy settling into her new townhouse anyway. Despite the fact that she didn’t much like the Dean, he had a nice long, thick cock and it was hitting all the right places. The shaft was lighting up the myriad of nerve endings lining her rectum and his glans pressed against her prostate causing her to leak a continual flow of precum.

Melanie wriggled her buttocks and Kegelled her anus and pushed back as he slid his cock in and out of her and Arnold gasped and stroked her cock harder and squeezed her nipples.

"Come on; fuck me Arnold. Let me feel your spunk fill me up," Melanie knew that dirty talk often induced a climax and she was rewarded accordingly as Arnold began to fuck her harder and faster, his breathing becoming laboured and erratic.

Arnold's cock lit up the sensitive nerves in her sphincter and anus and a deep throbbing resonance began to radiate from Melanie's prostate. She felt his cock begin to judder and his scrotum slapped against her buttocks as Arnold approached extremis.

Melanie was close too and she involuntarily whimpered as Arnold’s cock lit up the pleasure centres in her back passage and her nipples began radiate concentric circlets of delight as Arnold stroked and squeezed them.

Arnold felt Melanie's cock began to quiver in his grasp and he smiled to himself. She might be a haughty bitch but Arnold had invoked her climax and it was obvious that she was enjoying his attentions. He jackhammered his cock in and out of her slick passage, feeling her anus palpitate and Arnold became lightheaded as Melanie’s anus undulated and milked him of his seed. Her cock erupted in his hand, her semen spattering on the linoleum floor.

Arnold fucked Melanie hard and fast as his cock released a torrent of scalding semen deep inside her, his scrotum churning and contracting as he emptied his issue deep in her anus. Melanie remained bent over the desk, letting Arnold finish as the last of her own jism dribbled from her cock. She batted his hand away from her cock when it became too sensitive after her climax.

“Don’t move,” Melanie commanded when Arnold finally stopped thrusting, his cock still buried in her asshole.

She snatched the previously declined Kleenex off the desk and handed Arnold a fistful of tissues and took a handful for herself.

“Catch your cum when you pull out. I don’t want any on my nylons and panties,” she said matter-of-factly is if she was giving instructions to a student rather than the Dean of the college.

Arnold did as he was told and caught the gloop of creamy spunk and lubricant that dribbled from Melanie’s puckered cleft as he slowly withdrew his cock. He dropped the screwed up Kleenex on Melanie’s desk. A little act of defiance on his behalf.

What followed was best described as awkward as Melainie wiped herself dry, slipped her cock back inside her panties as she pulled them up, yanked down her skirt and buttoned her blouse while Arnold hiked up his boxers and trousers and zipped his fly and buckled his belt, tucking in his shirt as he did so. He adjusted his tie and put on his jacket.

“I’m willing to do this at the same time every Wednesday. No texts, no email, just call me on the landline in the afternoon and say you will be dropping by for our weekly progress meeting. Does that work for you?” Melanie had put on her own jacket and was reaching for her purse.

“That should work just fine. No electronic records of our trysts, just an innocent phone call between the Dean and one of the faculty,” Arnold picked up his topcoat.

Melanie picked up the lubricant and dropped it in her purse and extracted a packet of menthol slims and a lighter.

“The whole campus is a non-smoking facility,” Arnold sniffed, nodding at her cigarettes.

“I’ll smoke it out back near the dumpster. That’s where the groundmen smoke. It’ll give you time so we can leave separately,” Melanie ignored the jibe about her smoking and offered a practical alternative to them leaving the library together.

“See you next Wednesday then,” Arnold left the librarian’s office with a self-satisfied smile on his face.

Melanie snatched a few Kleenex and wiped up her semen off the linoleum floor and kicked the rug back in place in front of her desk with her shoe and picked up the soggy Kleenex that the Dean had left on her desk. All of the used The Kleenex would go in the dumpster while she smoked.

She went to the bookshelf facing her desk and took the little mini camera hidden between two books and put it in her purse before she left her office.

The Library Building - Beckinsdale College Campus – Present Day

“You want to fuck me don’t you Danny? I know the effect I have on men although you're really still a boy, moving books around in my library so can look at me and jerk off. Do you know I sometimes give you a panty peek just to amuse myself,” Melanie smiled at the shocked expression on Danny Bishop’s face.

He was sitting in the chair facing her desk and Miz Taylor stood in front of him, her ass resting against the edge of the desk. When he came into her office she had told him to sit and he had done so, expecting to lectured about breaking Miz Taylor’s strict library regulations.

“You want to see what’s under my skirt don’t you? Here let me show you,” Melanie inched her tight pencil skirt up her thighs.

Danny swallowed hard when the dark bands of her control top pantyhose came into view and then he gasped when her skirt rode high enough to show off her pink satin panties. He liked that Miz Taylor wore her panties over her pantyhose. It looked so sexy. He knew that girls usually wore their pantyhose over their underwear because even though Beckinsdale College was a strict religion based university some of the girls liked to tease, especially young men like Danny who had absolutely no hope of ever getting near them. He’d seen the waistband of their black tights over the top of their pristine white panties, if only for a second or two when they teased him.

Melanie let her skirt fall back into place and smoothed it out, all the while smiling at Danny who looked shocked but the lump in trousers also imparted his lust for her.

“Did you like what you saw Danny? Did you want to reach out and touch me there? What about if I told that I’d let you? I’d let you touch me, fondle me, maybe even kiss me. What if I told that I might even let you fuck me?” Melanie took a step towards Danny, narrowing the gap between them; her perfume invading his nostrils, her skirt right there in his face.

“I, I, I, don’t know what to say Miz Taylor,” Danny whispered.

“Okay, you can leave then,” Melanie said dismissively knowing full well that Danny was going nowhere.

“Yes! Yes, I’d like to touch you there,” Danny almost choked on the words.

“There’s a god boy,” Melanie smiled at him wickedly.

“You're… what are you now Danny? Twenty? And you're still sneaking around looking up women’s skirts. Is it because I’m older? Is it because I’m forbidden? Is it because you are still really the geek who graduated Beckinsdale High School two years ago and haven’t caught up with your peers?” Melanie’s tone was quite biting.

Danny blushed.

“The women in this college are still girls, stunted by their adherence to the stupid code of conduct and their chastity rings. I know some of them have sex; there’s an unwritten rule that if a girl and a boy don’t actually have intercourse they are not breaking their vows of chastity before marriage,” Danny said angrily.

“Oh, I know all about those rules and how the students interpret them Danny. I know far more about them than you think,” Melanie’s voice was almost soothing as she seemed to recall a memory long past.

“Yes it’s because you are older, more mature. But it’s also how you dress and present yourself. You're stylishly sexy. Some of the other ladies on the faculty are hot but nothing like you are. I find you fascinating, the way you dress, the way you talk, the way you walk, the way you carry yourself,” Danny admitted.

“So you do want to fuck me then?” Melanie smiled at him, sucking on a red fingernail salaciously.

Danny swallowed hard.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Be back here at seven PM promptly, the code to the front door is one, seven, nine, three. I’ll be back here in my office working but don’t be late and don’t be early. Also, if you tell anyone Danny, I’ll haul you in front of the Dean and the student council and have Wendy Farragut tell them what she saw. It will be your word against mine and Wendy’s and I’ll tell them that you are making everything up to fuel your fantasies about me. You know who they will believe,” Melanie said sternly.

“Of course I won’t tell anyone but I do have a question,” Danny summoned his resolve.

“Why me?” he asked.

“Because of who you are Danny. I know that you are a loner and I know that you are at the bottom of the student pecking order. Your family has little influence in this town and they only just manage to pay your tuition fees. I’ve watched you become fascinated with me ever since I started working here,” Melanie paused to take a breath.

“But also because you are you, Danny. You're young and virile and underneath that poorly-fitting school uniform you have a decent body and a big cock if the bulge in your pants is any indication. I want a young handsome man who can fuck me for more than five minutes and who can keep a secret. I’m lonely and I have my needs,” Melanie took a step away from Danny and retreated behind her desk.

“You can go now Danny. See you tonight,” Melanie said dismissively.

Danny got out of his seat not sure if he was dreaming or not. When he walked to the door he felt like he was walking on a cloud.

“One more thing Danny. I have another secret but I’ll reveal it tonight. I’m sure you will be surprised,” she waved her hand at him summarily dismissing him.

Danny watched the clock all afternoon and evening, his expectations and fantasies fuelling his desire. He came to the library exactly at seven and was so excited that he had to punch the door code in three times before he got it right. He saw the light on in Miz Talyor’s office at the back of the library and hurriedly made his way there. Miz Taylor was waiting for him. Her makeup was heavy and she’d put bright red lipstick on her luscious lips. Her satin blouse was unbuttoned down to the bottom of her brassiere exposing her ample cleavage cupped in the lacy cups. Her skirt was tight and her legs were long and he could smell her perfume.

“Well get undressed Danny, let’s get started,” Melanie smiled at him and took a sip of whisky that she had decanted into a crystal glass.

Drinking on the campus was expressly forbidden but so was fucking the faculty so Danny paid no notice as he clumsily disrobed all the way down to his underpants.

“Come here!” Melanie demanded.

“Yes Miz Taylor,” Danny whispered and stepped into the woman of his dreams and took her in his arms.

He kissed her and she let him. He was unpractised and impatient but Melanie took charge and broke the kiss and began all over again and Danny let her take the lead, as she kissed him gently and softly and then the opened her mouth a little. She introduced just a little tongue and then she kissed him with full-on passion and he drove his tongue into her mouth and rubbed his body against hers. Melanie found his cock, achingly hard and close to extremis as she expected it would be given it was his first experience with a real woman.

“And now here is my secret,” she took his hand and put it under her skirt and placed it on the front of her panties.

Melanie was untucked and her hard cock was tenting her panties and she felt Danny’s fingers glide over the silken-shrouded protuberance and she opened her eyes to watch his face.

She saw the shock and realisation in his face and she wondered how he would react. She saw the confusion turn to lust and Danny smiled.

“Hot damn Miz Taylor, I never would have guessed,” Danny squeezed her cock through her panties, not at all repulsed by it.

To be honest, it was the reaction she had half-expected. Danny had lusted over for so long that it made no difference to him that she was a transwoman. If anything it gilded the lily; a little something exotically different.

They kissed passionately and Danny strove not to be too awkward as he fumbled with her blouse and unclasped her brassiere. He’d gotten to second base with a few girls before in his hometown and third base with two so it wasn’t his first time engaging in foreplay but the girls were as inexperienced as he was and Miz Taylor was a sophisticated, mature woman, not some adolescent bimbo experimenting with heavy petting. The taboo that Miz Taylor was a transwoman only fuelled his ardour.

It had been a while since Melanie had been with someone as young and virile as Danny and the fact that they were about to have sex on the college campus inflamed Melaine’s desire. Memories of her first sexual encounter returned but she suppressed them and she kept herself focussed on the here and now. Danny was fondling her ample cleavage and although he was a novice he was doing quite well. He was kissing her passionately whilst he stroked her creamy globes and tweaked her nipples which had become as hard as ripe berries.

The sensations radiating from her breasts and the feel of his young mouth on hers excited Melanie as much as Danny himself was exited and she softly stroked his hard phallus through his underpants, careful not to overload his senses and trigger a premature orgasm. Her own cock was rock hard, tenting her panties and she wanted Danny’s first orgasm with her to be inside her. She wanted that magnificent specimen of manhood deep inside her anus when it erupted so that she could orgasm right along with him.

Danny broke the kiss and put his mouth to her breasts and she guided him from teat to teat as he slobbered, licked, sucked and nibbled her sensitive nipples. His hand was under her skirt, stroking her thighs, running his fingers along her nylon-sheathed flesh. His breathing was becoming erratic and his cock was trembling in her hand. She was sure that if she released it from his underpants it would explode right there in her hand. It was time to move things along otherwise Danny was going to prematurely ejaculate. She knew that he had more than one climax in him with his youth and vigour but she wanted him inside her now.

Danny seemed disappointed when Melanie lifted his face from her bosom and slapped his hand from under skirt. For one terrifying moment he imagined that Miz Taylor was going to leave him blue-balled as some form of punishment.

But when she pulled up her skirt and planted her bottom on the desk and opened her legs invitingly and beckoned to him her Danny was delighted. He stepped between her legs and she closed them around him and pulled him in tight. She locked her lips on his and thrust her tongue into his mouth as her fingers found his hard rod between her legs and freed it from his underpants.

She was doing something down there and he sensed her impatience but he didn’t know what, just that whatever she was doing was going to further their sexual bliss.

In fact Melanie was trying desperately to open a hole in the gusset of her pantyhose. If she was wearing sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose or holdup stockings like she normally did it wouldn’t be a problem but she had deliberately worn the control-tops to tease Danny in the library, knowing the glossy coffee-coloured bands of the heavier denier nylon would fascinate him and fuel his desire.

She was finally able to snag a fingernail in the heavy nylon gusset and she tore open the crotch of her hose. Easing aside the gusset of her panties she guided Danny’s substantial organ to her puckered pink entrance.

Melanie had prelubricated herself before Danny had arrived and it was just as well. He was overly excited and impatient and as soon as he felt his glans nestled in Miz Taylor’s tight sphincter he thrust with all his might.

His cock slid inside her tight slick channel smoothly and effortlessly and they both gasped into each others mouths. Danny felt Miz Taylors anus envelop his rampant member and it felt like it was inside a silken glove being gently squeezed as Melanie Kegelled her anal muscles. Melanie felt the sensitive nerves in her sphincter ignite along with the pleasure receptors along her anal passage. A deep resonance radiated from her prostate as Danny began to fuck her.

Neither of them could control their desire and Melanie locked her legs around Danny’s waist, shimmying her nylon-clad thighs on his sensitive flanks, her fingernails raked his shoulders, her mouth sucked on his like a succubus as she felt her orgasm approaching like a cyclonic rush of overpowering lust.

Danny felt Miz Taylor’s silken-shrouded legs scissoring against his skin, his scrotum pressed against the silken gusset of her pantyhose, her mouth was like a hot, wet, delicious maw, their tongues intertwined, her nails ravaged his flesh urging him on. His cock had never felt so big and so sensitive as it slid in and out of Miz Taylors tight, slick anus.

He cried out into her mouth and slammed his engorged penis deep inside this luscious slattern and his body began to shake as his cock erupted. He broke the kiss just long enough to look down because we wanted to see his penis buried in Miz Taylor’s rectum. She looked so whorelike with her legs open, her panty gusset pulled aside and her pantyhose ripped open to accommodate his member. He could see Miz Taylor’s not unsubstantial cock straining her panties then he witnessed the bloom of creamy white splooge burst through the tight satin and he realised that Miz Taylor was climaxing right along with him.

Melanie shuddered as Danny’s cock drove deep inside her and she felt it shudder and tremble as his hot seed filled her void. Her orgasm blossomed in her prostate as Danny’s cock pressed against the tender gland, then it spread along her anus which had stretched to accommodate the huge juddering phallus erupting inside her. Her sphincter tingled and her scrotum contracted and finally an achingly delectable reverberation ran along the shaft of her penis as she creamed her panties. Fountains of scalding semen erupted from her cock.

The two lovers sucked on each others mouths and ground their pelvises together as they extracted every scintilla of pleasure from their orgasms. Melanie’s sensitive breasts pressed against Danny’s chest and he could feel her hard nipples, like little fat spurs digging into him. He held onto her luscious nylon-shrouded thighs and jackhammered his cock in and out of her slick channel until he was exhausted.

Danny stood between Melaine’s legs, bent over her, kissing her, their orgasms slowly subsiding until Danny stopped thrusting but he left his cock buried inside the beautiful librarian. Their kisses became softer and Melanie stroked his shoulders affectionately. The kid had been everything she dreamed he would be. The months of teasing and tantalising him had been worth it.

Danny finally broke the silence.

“How can a transwoman be employed at Beckinsdale College?” he asked, his cock still inside her showing no signs of softening.

“Do you want to keep fucking me Danny?” Melanie asked.

Danny nodded enthusiastically.

“Then don’t ask questions,” Melanie said stoically.

Danny knew to shut up and he lowered his face to Miz Taylor’s and kissed her.

“It feels like you’re ready to go again. Are you ready to go again Danny?” Melanie Kegelled her anus, squeezing his cock with the walls of her anus.

Danny smiled down at her and began to fuck her.

“Take your time Danny. There’s no rush now. Later on I’ll show a few other things but for now just keep doing what you are doing, nice and slow, in and out… oh god yes! Just like that!” Melanie squealed as Danny drove his cock all the way inside her.

Melanie Taylor was true to her word and she did show Danny many other things but not that night. That night Danny fucked her three times on the desk and that was enough. Meline’s ass was numb by the time they had finished but it had been worth it.

Dean Davenport came to her office every Wednesday night and she saw Danny on Mondays and Fridays. The debauchery that took place in the librarian’s office at Beckinsdale College was as well choreographed as any pornographic production and Melanie had it all on video.

She had as much fun as Arnold and Danny and enjoyed every second of it but the time had come for her to do what she had really come to Beckinsdale College to do.

On graduation night Melanie Taylor crossed the Georgia state line, everything she had brought to Beckinsdale was packed in the trunk of her SUV. She had no regrets. She was not leaving behind a mother in a nursing home. Her mother had died three years ago. Melanie was currently homeless and unemployed but she had a very nice nest egg and with her credentials she would eventually find work, somewhere overseas where no one would have heard of her.

She felt smug and she finally allowed herself to recall the incidents from the past that had brough her back to Beckinsdale College.

Beckinsdale College Campus – Twenty Years Earlier

Mitchell Taylor enrolled in Beckinsdale College with a GPA of 3.5 which qualified him for a scholarship. Beckinsdale was a satellite town within driving distance of Atlanta. The town was populated by affluent families who could trace their histories back to when the town was first settled. They were mainly primary producers and manufacturing barons but many had put their money into technology companies in Atlanta and they lived comfortable lives in the affluent suburban town and commuted to the city. The population was mainly white protestant conservatives; at least outwardly.

Beckinsdale College was not Ivy League but most of the families sent their children there because it was a private university with conservative Christian values and was known for academic excellence, selective admissions and influential alumni. As well as graduates of Beckinsdale High, the college also attracted students from outside of the catchment area and accepted boarders.

The college advertised itself as being inclusive but the WASPs heavily outnumbered the minorities and the Christian ethos precluded students whose sexual orientation and gender identity or expression was not gender normative and heterosexual. These restrictions were buried deep in the language of the college’s government-mandated anti-discrimination policies. Students were required to adhere to a very strict code of conduct and although the college had become coeducational in the fifties, the college insisted students practice no sex before marriage and the students even had to wear 'sexual abstinence rings'.

Of course with the student body being in their late teens and early twenties many students chose to interpret the no sex before marriage rule as preclusive only to penetrative sex and many of students engaged in oral and masturbatory sex, keeping this behaviour a secret from the faculty but of course most of the faculty were aware of these practices and adopted a ‘don’t ask – don’t tell’ approach. The same went for the rules regarding abstinence from drugs and alcohol. What happened off campus, stayed off campus and usually a drink driving or drug bust involving a student was dealt with discreetly by local law enforcement and disappeared from the police and campus records. A generous donation to the police benevolent society and the college improvements fund was usually all it took.

Mitchell knew that he was lucky to get a placement at Beckinsdale College but there was one problem for him and it was a big one.

The students, like most at the time, tended to form cliques where they fit in. There were the devout Christians who followed the college’s moral code to the letter, there were the jocks and cheerleaders, the art students and the science nerds. The racial minorities tended to stay within their ethnic groups and of course there were the popular students: handsome boys and pretty girls from very affluent and influential families. Unlike most campuses at the time there were no goths, stoners, or gays. Disturbingly, there was also a clique of wealthy popular students who outwardly appeared to abide by the code of conduct but played fast and loose with the rules and were clandestinely bigoted and homophobic.

Mitchell’s big problem was that he was dealing with gender dysphoria, although the term was not used commonly at the time. He’d begun crossdressing at an early age and showed no inclination to participate in male dominated activities and was often outwardly effeminate. His father had left the family home leaving him to be raised by a doting mother who tolerated Mitchell’s ‘quirks’, as she called them. When Mitchell graduated high school his mother’s new partner had insisted that sending Mitchell to Beckinsdale would ‘make a man of him’ and when Mitchell was awarded the scholarship he was whisked away to the college as a boarding student.

The strict uniform code, the code of conduct and absence of any progressive coteries would ‘fix’ Mitchell’s ‘problem’ his mother and the new man in her life insisted. Instead Mitchell became a loner and practiced his feminine foibles in secret, alone in his dorm room. He had chosen the name Melanie for his feminine alter ego, resisting the obvious alias ‘Michelle’ because he wanted a name that was different to his male namesake but not too far removed.

Over the years he had become proficient at presenting femme and had a large wardrobe, cosmetics collection, several good quality wigs and a small collection of high quality shoes. He had mastered the voice, mannerisms and deportment of the woman he wanted to be and at nineteen years of age could pass easily as a young woman… if only Melanie was allowed to express herself in public. Melanie lived in fantasy world, securely locked away in her dorm room, existing only after lectures and lessons had finished for the day and disappearing at sunrise.

Melanie was determined to graduate with honours and then move to a more progressive city where she could live her life to her full potential and undertake the medical procedures and tackle the bureaucratic and legal formalities required to live out the remainder of her life as a woman.

Unfortunately for Melanie her secret was discovered by Zacharia Bluntstone. Zack was one of the most popular students in the college and his family, who traced their roots back to the foundation of the town of Beckinsdale, were exceedingly wealthy and influential. They held sway over the municipality and for all intents and purposes ran the town.

Zack was a jock, sat on the student council and made no attempt to hide his privileged status. He was also the leader of a small group of young men who had similar advantages and entitlements who outwardly presented as model students who abided by the code of conduct but actually did whatever they pleased. They drank, drugged and fornicated to their hearts content and had little time for others outside of their clique. They despised those less fortunate than themselves, detested minorities and were fanatically homophobic. They made a game of tormenting those they believed were beneath them.

Zack was suspicious of Mitchell Taylor. There was nothing outwardly different about the English major but he was a loner and there was something about the way he carried himself. Zack and his cronies suspected that he might be gay and that piqued their interest. They saw it as their duty to terrorise those who didn’t fit in with their ideology. A number of students who may or may not of been gay had left the college after being harangued by Zack’s cabal.

Zack had bribed the boarding house manager into providing him with a copy of the master key to all of the dormitories. Students were responsible for their own rooms and were promised privacy except for weekly ‘welfare inspections’ which was really just an excuse to ensure students were keeping their accommodation clean and tidy and of course maintenance staff had access to repair any defects lodged by the occupants.

Whilst Mitchell was at a lecture, and with two of his cronies keeping lookout, Zacharia Bluntstone broke into Mitchell Taylor’s dormitory using the master key and snooped around. It didn’t take him long to find the large suitcase stored at the back of the closet. He was immediately suspicious because he could tell by the weight of it that it was full. Why hadn't Mitchell unpacked this particular piece of luggage? The reason became obvious when Zack opened the suitcase.

At first Zack was confused when he found the feminine requisites packed neatly in the trunk. Did the sneaky fuck have a girlfriend who stayed over? This was unlikely because not much happened on the campus that Zack didn’t know about. Then he found the envelope full of glossy Polaroids. Zack sat on the bed and studied the pictures of the attractive young woman in the photographs. She was alluring and had great legs and a pretty face and in some of the pictures she was downright sexy, posing on the bed dressed in lingerie. He thought Mitchell was very lucky indeed if he was fucking this vivacious young woman but he soon realised that the pictures were not of Mitchell Taylor’s girlfriend. They were pictures of Mitchell Taylor himself, only dressed as a girl.

He opened the velvet drawstring bag at the bottom of the suitcase and peeked inside and then dropped it when he saw what was inside. It was a seven inch pliable dildo and a tube of lubricant.

“Got you; you fucker!” Zack whispered intently.

He kept a few of the pictures and put everything back how it was and locked the room and left the dormitory.

“What did you find?” Alex Biddle, one of Zack’s closest friends, asked.

Zack gave Alex a dismissive sneer and said nothing. Alex knew better than to question Zack any further on the matter and Zack bided his time waiting for an opportunity to confront Mitchell Taylor.

There is misnomer that it’s not non-consensual if the woman enjoys the sex. This what Melanie Taylor told herself after what happened that fateful afternoon.

Melanie was alone in her room and the dormitory was deserted. The Beckinsale Coyotes were playing their archrivals and almost all the faculty and students were at the game. Zack Bluntstone had called in sick and told the coach he was sorry but he couldn’t play. As he’d made the call to the coach the duplicate master key to the student dormitory was burning a hole in his pocket.

He had become fixated on the pictures he had stolen from Mitchell Taylor’s room, although he never thought of the young vixen in the pictures as Mitchell. He still wasn’t sure what he was going to do when he confronted the woman in the pictures. Zack studied Mitchell Taylor closely over the next few days and was aware that he seldom left his room after dinner and spent most of the weekend alone in his room. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Mitchell was crossdressing behind closed doors.

Zack was popular not only with his male cronies, he was also popular with the girls. There were plenty of young women at the college who would put out for him, some of them even willing to go all the way despite the chastity rings they wore on their fingers but for some reason Zack became infatuated with the young woman in the pictures he had stolen. He loathed himself for being so besotted. He knew that he wasn’t gay but the woman was so alluring. She was a far cry from the primly dressed college coeds. Although Zack knew that the girl in the pictures was nineteen she presented as very mature.

It was classic love-hate. Zack’s feelings alternated between intense desire and intense anger and resentment which created an emotional instability and recurring cycles of conflict and reconciliation.

Usually when Zack and his cronies suspected an individual of being gay or they just didn’t like a person they would haze and harangue them and sometimes resorted to physical intervention. If their bullying didn’t drive the person off the campus they would spread rumours and curry favour with the student council to have the person hounded out on the college on the pretext of breaking the school’s code of conduct.

Right up until he put the key into the lock of the dormitory room Zack was unsure if he was going to confront Mitchell Taylor with threats of expulsion or beat him up or maybe even try to defile the young woman with whom he had become infatuated.

Melanie froze when her door burst open and Zack Blunstone stepped inside her room and slammed the door closed behind him. He glared at her. Studied her. He examined her from tip to toe.

She saw the mixed emotions cross his face: anger, contempt, aversion, curiosity and something else… was it desire?

Zack took a step closer and her first thoughts were that Zack was going to attack her and beat her but underlying that was the terror of being discovered. She knew that her time here at Beckinsdale College was over now and deep inside herself she was a little grateful. She could leave this closeknit draconian institution and pursue her education at a college that was more liberal.

Zack scrutinised the young woman who had stood up so fast that she had knocked over her chair. She stood with her back to the desk, a look of abject terror on her face. He saw the dildo on the desk next to the tube of lubricant and he guessed what it was used for. He should have been disgusted but it piqued his curiosity.

“Who are you?” Zack whispered.

The question had a double meaning. Zack wanted to know her name but he also wanted to know exactly who this person was. She certainly held very little resemblance to Mitchell Taylor unless you intentionally looked for it. She was cowed in fear but even so she looked like a very attractive woman who still exuded feminine charm and an almost vixen like quality. He was close enough to smell her perfume.

Melanie was wearing a black micro-mini cocktail dress and black high heels. Her eye makeup was heavy, her emerald green eyes framed by the fringe of her shoulder-length brunette bob. Underneath she was wearing nude Wolford sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose, black satin lace-trim panties. She had accessorised with silver drop earrings, a necklace and bangles. Other than being flat-chested she could have been one of Zack’s mother’s boozy friends because she looked a lot older than her nineteen years.

“I’m Melanie,” her voice was barely a whisper.

Zack took another step closer, still uncertain of his intent. Melanie was tall and broad shouldered and wide-hipped but she was slim; almost delicate. Zack could easily beat her in a fight but he doubted that she would offer any resistance. His hands were clenched into fists as he took one final step and was standing face to face with Melanie. He raised his fist and Melanie prepared herself for the beating to come.

Zack unclenched his fist and softly stroked Melanie's cheek and Melanie whimpered with relief. He lifted her chin so that he could study her face. She was even prettier in real life than she was in the photographs. She exuded femininity but not in a girlish context. Melanie was womanly and mature beyond her years. The fear in her eyes excited him but he also disliked himself for causing her trepidation. His mind was in turmoil. Should he beat her or should he kiss her? Melanie was tall but Zack was taller and he loomed over her menacingly.

He lowered his face to hers and she didn't resist. His lips closed on hers and he sighed. Zack realised that he had wanted to do this for so long; to kiss the woman in the pictures. He pressed his lips to Melanie's for what seemed like an eternity, tasting her lipstick, inhaling her sweet breath, enraptured by the feel of her soft lips on his and her lithe body pressing gently against his.

Melanie froze. She stood stock still and silent and Zack was aware that she was not reacting at all. She hadn’t tried to fight him or push him away but she was unresponsive. He pulled her into his embrace and kissed her again, not caring about her lack of response. She had ignited a need in him. He wanted her and he would deal with consequences later. Right now all he could think about was how much he wanted to possess this exotic beguiling temptress.

Melanie was not technically a virgin, depending on how you interpreted the word. Her femininity was not only tied to her gender identity, it was tied to her sexuality. Back home she’d had fumbling encounters with girls which confused her but she had also experimented with a boy. She had come out to her closest friend Gerald and the first time he saw her presenting as Melanie he was astounded. They had canoodled and engaged in foreplay and heavy petting. There was nothing skin to skin but their passion sometimes resulted in climax and afterwards Gerald always felt guilty and even ashamed. Gerald wasn’t gay and thought that what they were doing was unnatural. He kept Melanie’s secret but their friendship dissolved.

Now here she was in the arms of the man that almost every girl in the college desired. He was the kind of man that Melanie despised: entitled, arrogant and a bully but there was no doubt that he was handsome and masculine. She could feel his hard body through his tee-shirt. His lips were soft and inviting. At first she was terrified that he was going to beat her but now she was even more terrified that he was going to ravish her. But deep inside herself hadn’t she always fantasised about being taken by some handsome stranger?

Zack removed his lips from hers. He studied her face but it was emotionless.

"I shouldn't have..." Zack stammered; suddenly ashamed of his actions.

Melanie cut off his sentence.

She reached up and pulled his face to hers and opened her lips slightly as their lips met. At first they kissed chastely, their lips barely touching. Melanie had never felt so womanly as she did at this very moment. A handsome young man was kissing her, showing her the affection she hadn’t experienced since those fumbling failed experiments with Gerald. She tentatively extended her tongue and Zack reciprocated. She could taste the liquor on his breath and she realised that Zack had needed Dutch courage to confront her.

The kiss gradually increased in intensity until they were exploring each other's mouths with their tongues. Zack caressed Melanie's cheek as he kissed her and she clung to him, holding on tight.

Zack was fully tumescent and Melanie could feel him pressing his erection against her body through his jeans. Melanie was also inflamed, her penis lay along her perineum, held in place by her pantyhose. Their kiss became more impassioned but then Zack broke the kiss and took a step back.

Melanie could see the uncertainty and confusion on his face and although up until that moment she had despised him, she felt sorry for him.

“I’m sorry. I won’t tell anyone that you did that. Just don’t beat me up and I’ll resign from the college. No one needs to know,” Melanie whispered.

Her words wormed into Zack’s brain. No one needs to know. Zack ruminated on what Melanie had said and then he made his decision.

He pulled Melanie into his arms. In this moment in time there was no Beckinsdale College, no code of conduct, no chastity rings, no Mitchell Taylor. There was only Zack and Melanie in this small room, the window shades closed, only a small bedlamp providing light and in that light Melanie was beautiful and seductive and he wanted her. He knew that she was different. He knew that she was taboo. He knew what he was doing was wrong but he did it anyway.

He crushed his lips against hers and pulled her tight against him and he felt her surrender. She wrapped her arms around him and opened her mouth and her tongue found his. She didn’t even flinch when his hands found her ass and squeezed it. Her cock began to become tumescent again and she could feel Zack’s cock thickening.

Melanie was battling her demons too. She knew what she was doing was wrong and that her life at Beckinsdale College was probably over but in this moment she just submitted to the passion. Melanie had a deep yearning inside her. She had for some time felt fully feminine and cognisant that Melanie was who she really was. Every day she put on Mitchell’s clothes and became him so she could attend classes and attend to the day to day minutiae of survival but even then, deep inside, she was always Melanie. The missing part of her and the cause her discomfit was the need to be loved or at least desired. This was the unfulfilled yearning she felt, and now, if she was willing to be ignorant of the circumstances and the contempt that she felt for Zack, she could fulfill that yearning and endure the consequences later.

Zack squeezed Melanie’s buttocks feeling her dress slide up her satin panties as he groped her. His fingertips grazed across the lace trim of her panties and Melanie gasped as his hand slid under her dress and cupped her panty-clad globes. His kisses became more impassioned as his hands found her thighs, his fingers delighting in the feel of the silky sheer pantyhose cladding her legs.

Melanie whimpered and let her hand slip between their bodies so that she could squeeze the girth of Zack’s penis through his jeans. This was as far as she had ever got with Gerald but she was determined not to stop here and she fumbled with his fly and the button on the waistband of his jeans. She found him hot, hard and leaking precum into his jockeys. She freed his cock and for the first time she took a man’s penis in her hand.

It was Zack’s turn to whimper as he felt Melanie’s fingers softly caress his engorged manhood. His fingers stroked her thighs and her buttocks, the texture of the satin and nylon felt delightfully decadent to his touch. His need was becoming intense and he eased her backwards until the back of her legs rested against the edge of the bed. This was Melanie’s last chance to put an end to this madness. She chose not to and allowed Zack to lower her onto the bed.

He looked down at her splayed on the bed, her lipstick smeared from their kisses. He began to undress and Melanie watched him pull his tee-shirt over his head exposing his tanned muscled torso. He kicked off his sneakers and yanked down his jeans, his jockey shorts came down with them. His cock was long and thick and stood out proud from his groin.

They both knew that this the point of no return. If they consummated their desires there was no going back. Zack was Melanie’s Rubicon and she was his.

Melanie reached out and touched Zack’s member and felt it tremble in her hand. She wanted to put it in her mouth and taste the sweet nectar of his precum but she could tell that he was close and when Zack snatched the lubricant off the desk she knew what he intended and she wanted that more. On most days she used the dildo on herself, usually propped up on the bed watching tranny porn on her laptop. Now she was about to experience the real thing.

Zack fell on Melanie, his passion and his desire metamorphosed into an overwhelming need to posses her. Their kisses were frenetic, lips crushed together, tongues intertwined, their teeth sometimes clashing as they clung to each other in frenzied lust. Melanie’s dress had hiked up and Zack’s cock was pressed into her belly, rubbing on the waist of her pantyhose that projected above her panties. She reached for his member and moved it between her legs and Zack jammed his steely rod between her buttocks impatiently, pushing the fabric of her panties and pantyhose into her sphincter.

The feel of Melanie’s soft body against him, the taste of her breath, the softness of her lips, the flittering of her tongue, the smell of her perfume, the delectation of feeling her nylon-shrouded limbs on his flesh and her silken undergarments pressing on his flesh as he humped her panty-clad buttocks was almost overwhelming. He could feel the lump in her panties pressing on his body and he knew what it was but it was inconsequential to his need to totally possess Melanie.

Melanie snatched the lubricant from Zack’s hand and fumbled with the cap, squeezing a generous amount of the slick emollient onto her fingers. Her other hand was between her legs clawing at the gusset of her pantyhose, ripping a hole in them adjacent to her sphincter. She was careful when she lathered Zack’s cock with the lubricant, half expecting him to ejaculate in her hand. His face was still pressed to hers, kissing her feverously. He was making little whimpering noises.

Melanie was able to ease aside the gusset of her panties and guide Zack’s cock to her tender puckered bud. She lifted her legs up higher, wrapping them around Zack’s torso, elevating her buttocks for him.

Zack’s cock slid into her like a greased pole into a tight shaft. He cried out into her mouth as his cock quivered and ejaculated, unable to suppress his orgasm any longer. Meline clung to him and returned his kisses feeling his rampant member quivering inside her as Zack filled her with his essences. Her own cock was tenting her panties, pressed against Jack’s belly and was a hair-trigger away from eruption.

Zack was young and virile and his cock remained fully tumescent. Now that he had sated his immediate needs he intended to enjoy ravishing this beautiful and willing woman who lay beneath him. He fucked her with long slow strokes, breaking the kiss now and then to look into her beautiful face, her eyes wide with wonder, the look of surprise that repeatedly crossed her face when his cock slammed into her prostate. Melanie was clinging to him, her pantyhose-shrouded legs cycling against his flanks, her heels urging him on, her long red fingernails scratching his back, rising up off the bed to meet his thrusts.

Melanie pulled Zack’s face to hers and kissed him with a soul sapping energy that drove him once again to extremis. Melanie writhed beneath him, crying out into his mouth, her fingers entwined in his hair, her legs locked around his waist as her whole body convulsed and Zack felt her hot secretions burst through her panties and smear his belly.

He drove her into the bed and jackhammered his cock in and out of her tight, slick hole and inseminated her a second time.

They didn’t move from the bed for the remainder of the day as they found new ways to delight each other, exploring every position possible for coitus and engaging in languid intervals of fellatio and foreplay.

The noise coming from the corridor as the revellers returned late that evening from the big football match brought them back to reality. Some of the more raucous types banged on the door as they passed, just teenagers being teenagers, but both of them realised the significance of it.

By now they were sated, almost exhausted, Zack dressed only his jockeys and Melanie wrapped in a satin robe, her dress discarded in the corner and her shredded pantyhose and sodden panties clinging to her flesh. Her makeup was ruined and her hair was a birds nest but Zack found the look sexy, like a sultry Helena Bonham Carter.

They were both sitting on the desk sharing a cigarette, blowing smoke out the open window, the room darkened so no one could see in. A pint bottle of illicit Jack Daniel’s whisky was open; Melanie’s lipstick visible on the mouth of the bottle. Zack had asked her to fix her lipstick between trysts because he loved her ruby-red lips.

“What now Zack? Do you out me to the Dean? You know I can’t tell him about what we have been doing all afternoon and even if I did he wouldn’t believe me,” Melanie blew a plume of smoke out the window.

Zack was still amazed how Melaine’s voice resonated, almost like Kathleen Turner but with a smoky southern lilt. She not only looked older than her years she sounded it too.

During their tryst they had spoke little, other than to suggest something different or during the heat of passion when they cried out in joyful yelps and squeals. There was no discussion about what they would do after.

“We have to keep this a secret,” Zack picked up Melanie’s phone and entered his number in her contacts using the name ‘Jack Daniels’.

“You're not going to out me? Are you going to tell your posse about us?” Melanie knew that she had taken a step too far when she had used the word posse.

She saw the storm clouds gather in Zack’s eyes and he became the bully she knew from around the campus.

“Nobody is saying anything to anyone! I’ll text you when I want you. I’ll prepay for a room at the Beckinsdale Motor Inn and you will go there and be ready for me. I don’t want to see or talk to Mitchell, just Melanie. If I see Mitchell around the campus I’ll ignore him and he will stay away from me,” Zacks breathed.

Melanie could tell that Zack had given some thought to this during the day. He wanted to keep her as a concubine but he needed complete secrecy. He was being utterly self-centred as usual with no regard to Melanie’s thoughts on the matter.

“Is this blackmail?” Melanie asked.

“Only if you want it to be. You figure it out,” Zack gathered his clothes and began to dress.

Zack opened the door a crack to check that the coast was clear.

“Come here,” he whispered.

Melanie padded over to him and Zack pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

“See you soon Melanie,” Zack breathed and slipped outside into the corridor.

Melanie was stunned. Zack was an enigma but he was an intriguing enigma. Would she do as she was told or would she simply resign from the college and move to somewhere more tolerant? She knew that there were colleges that did not discriminate against gender or sexuality identity. It was something to consider carefully.

The Beckinsdale Motor Inn – Eight Months Later

The Beckinsdale Motor Inn was a hotsheet no-tell motel in the seedier district of the town. ‘Jack Daniels’ texted Melanie whenever he wanted to meet, which was often. She knew that Zack was playing a dangerous game sneaking away from his cronies to meet with her but she never asked him what excuses he was using.

The first time they met at the motel Melanie was nervous and for the thousandth time she wondered why she had agreed to Zack’s demands but deep inside herself she knew why. Zack had no time for Mitchell Taylor and neither did she. Mitchell was a necessary hinderance. He was the person who Melanie wore like a matryoshka, a Russian doll. He was the outer shell that allowed Malanie to exist inside.

Part of her attraction to Zack was that he refused to acknowledge the existence of Mitchell. To him Melanie was a completely separate entity. He treated her like a mature woman. He didn’t treat her the way the way he treated the bimbo cheerleaders and the popular coeds; silly girls willing to surrender their vows of chastity just to be with a prosperous, popular jock.

After their first meet Zack began to ask Melanie to dress in certain ways for him. He particularly liked the sassy secretary and the naughty nurse look. He was open about his preference for her to wear stockings and suspenders and vintage lingerie which Melanie purchased with money that he gave her. In a way she felt like a whore for taking his money but didn’t that just add to the titillation? Mitchell would proceed to the Beckinsdale Motor Inn via the convenience store where he would purchase alcohol and cigarettes, well ahead of the appointed rendezvous. Safley inside the motel room he would surrender his psyche to Melanie who would douche, shave where necessary, although she had little body and facial hair, and transform herself into whatever Zack’s fantasy was that day.

Melanie would wait anxiously for Zack who had prepaid for the room under a pseudonym, as did most of the guests at the ‘Hotsheet Manor’ as the Beckinsdale Motor Inn was known colloquially. She would smoke a cigarette and take a couple of shots to soothe her nerves and when Zack arrived she would fall into his arms.

After they had depleted their libidos Zack would leave to join his friends leaving Melanie alone in the room overnight, another reason she often felt like a whore. Rarely at first, but then more frequently, he began to stay later, leaving in the early hours of the morning. Something was happening between them that was more than sex although neither of them would admit it and neither of them would talk about it. The reality was that Melanie had become besotted with Zack Bluntsone and he with her.

‘Jack Daniels’ would send her texts telling her how much he was looking forward to their next meeting and asking her to dress a certain way to accommodate his latest desire. They lay in each other’s arms after lovemaking, kissing and canoodling, just talking about everyday things.

Melanie thought that Zack would be repulsed by her penis and at first he would never touch her there, allowing her to climax but only into her panties which he insisted she leave on during sex. But a few weeks into their relationship he began to touch her down there and it was as if the last taboo had been lifted. They were young and sexually potent and they petted, sucked and fornicated for hours at a time, lost in their own world. A world that would soon come crashing down around them.

When the end came it was sudden and devastating.

Alex Biddle had noticed Zack’s Raptor parked in the carpark outside a room at the Beckinsdale Inn. He’d smiled to himself thinking that Zack was tomcatting with one of the coeds or maybe one of the loose women from town. Alex parked his Beamer in one of the visitor spots and peeked through the window of the room next to where Zack’s truck was parked.

Zack had become complacent. Not only had he parked outside the room he was using to meet Melanie, he hadn’t drawn the blinds properly. At first Alex thought that Zack was banging some cheerleader but when he looked through the window he saw Zack kissing an attractive mature looking woman and he smiled to himself. Zack and his friends often talked about how hot it would be to bang one of the moms. Some of the moms looked hot in their little tennis outfits or yoga pants when they used the courts and the gym at the country club.

Alex continued to watch, at first getting excited as he watched his best friend kissing and feeling up the woman who was stylishly dressed in a skirtsuit, nylons and heels. She had to be one of the moms to be dressed like that. Alex Biddle’s excitement turned to disbelief, then confusion and then horror when Zack helped the woman out of her skirt. The woman wasn’t a woman at all.

Alex slipped away and got back into his BMW, unable to process and comprehend what he had witnessed but when he was finally able to, he called the rest of Zack’s clique to a meeting. The others didn’t believe him until Alex produced his phone and showed them the video he had taken through the motel window. Their outrage and anger towards the leader of their elite clique was unfathomable and a couple of them proposed violence but sane heads prevailed and Alex Biddle went to see the Dean.

Melanie too had become complacent. She should have become suspicions as soon as she received the text from ‘Jack Daniels’ telling her to meet him at the usual place on Wednesday afternoon. Their trysts always took place over the weekend or on a holiday. But neither of them had classes Wednesday afternoons so she assumed that Zack was midweek-horny and she was quite concupiscent herself.

She followed the usual routine, arriving well ahead of Zack and changed into the same skirtsuit that Alex Biddle had seen her dressed in through the window only a few days earlier. Zack really liked it when she dressed sophisticated.

When the door burst open and two members of the Campus Police stomped into the room and took Melanie into custody and manhandled her into the back of their cruiser she was too stunned to question their jurisdiction outside of the college grounds but it didn’t matter because they whisked her away to the college and brought her into the main administration building via the rear entrance.

Melanie found herself standing in front of the Dean, the faculty disciplinary committee and the student council. She was given no chance to speak and was too stunned to say anything even if she could.

The Dean read out a list of offences that Melanie had supposedly committed against the school’s code of conduct and bylaws. The chairman of the committee, an elder in the church, derided her for being a blasphemous blemish on the soul of all mankind. He called Melanie an abomination and a vile seductress. The Dean then went on to call her a stain on the college’s pristine reputation and proposed that she not only be expelled but that all of Mitchell Taylor’s credentials and academic achievements be expunged from the college records.

Melanie could stand the looks of hatred and derision and the harsh words and accusations that were flung at her by the disciplinary committee and the student council but what broke her heart was that Zack Bluntstone sat in his place as a member of the council and refused to even look at her.

When the video footage that Alex Biddle had taken through the motel window was projected onto the screen set up before the assembled proctors, Zack’s face had been obscured. His sins were never articulated. She realised that he had been given a free pass. He had been manipulated and brainwashed by the loathsome, unholy, vile seductress and would atone for his sins in other ways.

Of course the truth was that Zacharia Bluntstone’s family’s money, power and influence were so formidable that he was untouchable. He stared down at the table throughout the whole ordeal, never once looking at Melanie.

When her humiliation and desecration was complete the same two campus cops led Melanie away. All her belongings had been packed into three suitcases that were stowed in the trunk of the prowler. Still dressed as she was she was driven to a railway station two counties over from Beckinsdale and unceremoniously bundled out of the car, her belongings dropped on the curb beside her.

Melanie boarded the first train that arrived at the station, buying a ticket from the conductor using the cash in her purse. She sat there seething, almost unable to comprehend what had just happened to her. She couldn’t really blame Zack, he had simply taken the coward’s way out and saved his own skin but her hatred for the institution that was Beckinsdale College burned like a flame. One day she would seek revenge. She wouldn’t be able to seek vengeance against the current Dean, faculty and student body but if she bided her time she might be able to bring calamity to the hypocritical institution that was Beckinsdale College.

After a while Melanie realised that no one was staring at her brazenly or accusingly. She was just another young woman travelling on the train. In fact she noticed a few furtive glances from some of the men in the carriage and one of them even smiled and winked at her. Melanie was out and about in public and the heavens hadn’t opened up and struck her down. From now on she would refuse to hide her femininity, in fact she would embrace it. She took out her phone and began looking for colleges in California that had a liberal attitude to gender identity and sexual orientation.

Beckinsdale College Campus – Present Day – The Graduation Ball

The auditorium at Beckinsdale College was filled with students and faculty, friends and family, here to celebrate those students who had received their degrees earlier in the day. Dean Arnold Davenport had given a short speech and then the band started playing and everyone got up to dance. Arnold was dancing with Mary when something happened to the huge Jumbotron screen which was showing visages of college life.

The screen went blank and then suddenly came to life again. The band stopped playing and crowd fell silent as they stared horrified at the screen.

Dean Davenport was buggering the college librarian over her desk and to make matter worse it was obvious that the librarian, Miz Melanie Taylor, had a cock. The video shifted to Danny Bishop fucking her on her back on the sofa in her office. Someone screamed out to shut down the vile atrocities being shown on the screen as the video montage alternated between Danny Bishop, a twenty year old sophomore, and Arnold Davenport, the fifty year old Dean of the college, engaging in sexual congress with the college librarian whom no one had suspected was a transwoman.

At the same time the video was posted online on most of the popular porn sites and carefully edited clips were uploaded on YouTube.

The scandal rocked the town of Beckinsdale and within weeks nearly half of the students had transferred to other colleges and most of the applications from potential new students were withdrawn. It would take years for Beckinsdale College to recover from the scandal which is exactly what Melanie Taylor wanted. She couldn’t get back at the people who had nearly ruined her life twenty years earlier but she could take her revenge on the institution that purported the hypocrisy, intolerance and prejudice.

The story went viral and was picked up by the mainstream media, although the video footage was clinically edited.

The Dean was dismissed and disgraced and would never work in the profession again.

Danny Bishop became a cult hero. Of course he had to leave Beckinsdale College but he eventually found a more liberal institution that welcomed him and he enjoyed a kind cult worship for a while.

No one knows what became of Melanie Bishop and when it was discovered that she had planted the Jumbotron video and released the pornographic imagery on the web a concerted effort was made to find her but she had planned her escape perfectly.

She currently resides in a small English village and lives a quiet existence working in the town’s small library and except for the small contingent of trusted local men who visit her in the evenings at her cottage no one suspects that she is a transwoman and that’s how she likes it.

The End