Sheila and I met through a trans support group online. We were both about the same in our transition; we had makeup down, and hormone therapy had worked it's magic so that we both had softer skin, most slightly softer features and breasts. Of course, the breasts are important and we're both proud of them.
But even with as close as we both have become at passing there's still a lot of danger in presenting to strangers. So during the week we both still wore our tedious baggy clothes at work and shopping but counted the minutes until the weekend. We spent our Friday and Saturday nights at "the Cocoon" -a specifically trans dance club where we could walk in wearing the most revealing clothes we could find and still feel safe.
Normally I keep my hair long, but recently I had to buzz it short after a bad session with a stylist in training. So tonight I was wearing a wig styled like a pink bob -like Natalie Portman in "closer" -I picked it out exactly for that reason. I was wearing a pink short top that barely covered my breasts, a dark pink mini skirt and moderately high heels. Sheila was wearing a black mini with a sheer black lace top with spaghetti straps her long blond hair teased and hanging over her shoulders.
It was crowded when we got there and taking off my tan overcoat as we walked in I felt the outside world slip away. The two of us found a corner booth and ordered drinks and as usual people watched.
Both of us too scared to mingle, to be honest. But we enjoyed the music, the drinks and just a kind of unspoken comraderie with the women who were in the same situation we are -who could only be themselves safely here, at this place.
After a couple hours we had a nice buzz going on and this guy joined us. "Hey, I'm Marcus" he said, reaching out a tanned hand first to me because I was closer, and then Sheila. He had short, dark curly hair and a friendly face. I have to admit I can't remember the word for word of what was said but it was mostly light. Why did we come here, why did he come here, what do we all do for a living. The vibe was light, fun and we both took turns dancing with him.
I was the first and he was a bit I don't know -handsy? Grindy? You feel conflicted because the attention is nice, and even just the feel of a guy's hands on your ass is nice but he went further, pressing his fingers between my asscheeks, over my panties and holding me a little too close. I kinda shifted as you do and he whispered in my ear "you can't tell me you don't like it, I know why you're here, everyone who can see your dress can see why"
I politely pulled away and he followed me to my table -took my hand and squeezed it "Hey. sorry -I got carried away -forgive me, please?" he asked and I smiled and shrugged -the feel of hand and the grinding had turned me on slightly too, and between that and the drinks I thought I could see how it would happen. "Yeah, don't sweat it, it happens" I said softly with a shrug.
He took Sheila on the floor and I watched as they danced. Son of a bitch...he did the same to her. But she didn't break away, instead she looked miserable, awkward and scared. I sipped my beer and my breathing quickened watching her, watching him -feeling like I ought to do something. But then he took a step back, said somethign I couldn't hear and looked apologetic -she replied looking relieved.
We gave up on dancing and instead talked for a bit and I don't remember how but we wound up in one of the back half-rooms together. They weren't really rooms, more like booths that were kind of partitioned off -you couldn't see them from the dance floor or the bar. The conversation moved from him apologzing for being out of line to his relationships to our relationships and finally all three of us bitching about relationships in general.
A couple more hours passed -and I had to excuse myself to pee a few times.
To get to the bathroom I had to turn a corner and then go down a long hall, and as you walk back you can look at the booth and not be seen. I was making my way back when I heard weird noises coming from their direction. I slowed and looked over. They were sitting on the same side of the booth and he had her pushed to the wall. Her eyes were wide with terror and he had pulled down one of her shoulder straps -exposing her breast which he moved his hand from to between her legs, going back and forth roughly mauling her.
I thought I should do something but then he smacked her and I felt a jolt. A jolt of fear, and something else. I moved closer to the wall and I want to say I was just scared. I was scared but also -fuck. My hand was under my skirt, and I was rubbing the front of my panties. My hormone limp cock rolled under my fingers and palms as I rubbed myself watching him. He smacked her again and I bit my lip as I caught a glimpse of his face, and the arousal on it.
She fumbled with his pants a moment and then pulled out his cock. It was thick, long and he kind of pushed her face onto it and I watched her head bob up and down on it.
The endorphins and the drink raced through me as I rubbed myself off "he's raping her, he's raping the fuck out Sheila" I thought to myself "good for him" some weird fucked up part of me thought and I came in my panties -almost clear cum leaking from my cock as the orgasm pushed everything out.
I leaned against the wall as my head cleared -pulling my hand out from between my legs and licking the goo from my fingers and palm -my head turned to the side I watched him hold her head against his crotch and she kind of jerked trying to pull away; obviously he was cumming in her mouth.
I took a deep breath and walked back to the girls room, washed my hands and did a brief triage on my panties with wet paper towels until I was sure I got most of the goo out. By the time I finished and walked back to the booth Sheila was alone. "Where did he go?" I asked and she shrugged with a distant look on her face "I think I'd like to go" she said and I nodded with a smile "sure thing -but did you at least get his number before he left?"
