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All-American Transsexual!

12

I think everyone has three faces, the public one, the private one and the real one. My name is Candace "Candy" Monteiro, and I'm a young Colombian-American pre-op transsexual living in the City of Miami, Florida. Anyone looking at me would see a five-foot-eight, curvy gal with light bronze skin, long straight Black hair and light brown eyes. I'm busty, curvaceous and big-bottomed. My big round butt is always attracting attention from the lads and I don't mind at all. People say I look like the gal from Ugly Betty, only hotter. I was born in the region of Medellin, northern Colombia, and moved to Florida with my family back in 2000. A lot of people have stereotypes about us transsexuals. They think we're weird, and that we sleep around and do drugs. Me? I guess I'm the one who defies all those stereotypes.

A lot of transsexuals went through hell before, during and after their transition journey. While mine hasn't been a bed of roses, I'd like to think I turned out fine. I am very close to my family. My mother, Elena Monteiro, is very supportive of me. As are my sister Gabriella and my younger brother Ernesto. I have an openly gay uncle named Guillermo Monteiro who owns a restaurant with his partner Liam Kensington in south side Miami. We all live within a couple of miles of each other. Don't believe the stereotype about Hispanic people being homophobic. People are people, you know? I go to La Iglesia De Santa Maria every Sunday morning without fail. Even after all I've been through, I consider myself a proud Christian.

A lot of narrow-minded people think that we who are called LGBT aren't worthy of the love of God. My Bible tells me that Jesus Christ came to help the poor, the disenfranchised and the downtrodden. Even though many people consider me an oddity because of my gender and sexual identity, I know that Jesus Christ loves me. I live a clean, healthy life. I love my family. I go to church. I donate to the poor even though I don't have a lot. I volunteer to help cancer patients. I think I'm a fairly decent human being, thank you very much. And no one but God can judge me!

I study business administration at Miami-Dade College, and when I finish I want to get my MBA from the University of Central Florida. I've got a head for business, that's what my mom tells me. I work as a clerk for Antonio's Gym, and I see lots of sexy guys and gals all day. The job pays fifteen bucks an hour. It's not bad, for now. I'm focusing on school and work right now, trying to forget about Miguel, the handsome Afro-Dominican guy who broke my heart. The guy had trouble written all over him but I can't resist a sexy dark-skinned man. Tall, muscular and built like a linebacker, with tattoos all over, Miguel was something else. He played basketball for Broward College and was going out with a tall, blonde-haired white chick named Amber O'Connell. They have a daughter together, little Josephine. I should have stayed away from him but the stud came onto me, saying he wanted to explore his bisexuality. I helped him out, and we had fun. I got attached, he didn't, and my heart got broken. That's why I swore off bisexual guys, especially the ones of African descent. They're nothing but trouble.

I swore to myself that I would remain celibate until I found a man worth giving the booty to. If the idea of a transsexual lady like myself opting for celibacy surprises you, you're really close-minded. Like I said before, my faith in God matters to me and I know that by having sex before marriage I am sinning. It wasn't easy for me to remain celibate. Not to sound boastful but I am a very attractive person. Guys and sometimes girls are always hitting on me. Nine times out of ten, neither men nor women can tell that I am a transsexual unless I reveal it to them. I can easily pass for a genetic woman, to the point of being undetectable. I use the ladies washroom when out in public and no one's the wiser.

To forget Miguel and that sexy body of his, I focused on school, work and my church. The new pastor at La Iglesia De Santa Maria, the good reverend Carlos Mendoza, is Cuban. He's married to a Jamaican lady named Deirdre and they have two sons together, Antonio and Jorge. The first time I met him, I asked him what he thought of LGBT people. A lot of religious leaders have a die-hard hatred of all things LGBT so I wanted to know who I was dealing with, you know? The pastor smiled at me and told me that God made all of us, including gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transsexuals. That's part of the many reasons why I love my church so much.

A while ago, under some odd circumstances I met the man whom I consider to be the love of my life. Ali Hussein, a six-foot-tall, good-looking Black man originally from the City of Calgary, Alberta. Um, that's a town in western Canada in case you don't know. Ali is Somali-Canadian, and came to Florida to study at Florida A & M University. He was dating a young Egyptian woman named Aida Suleiman at Miami-Dade College at the time we met. She's a good friend of mine whom I met in one of my classes. Lately we've been getting a lot of Muslim immigrants in Florida. People from places like Somalia, Egypt, Gambia, Pakistan and so on. Originally we got a lot of Hispanic people, from the myriad nations of Latin America and the Caribbean and so on. How times have changed, eh? I don't know what's going on here but if all the brothers in Somalia look like Ali, I would seriously consider visiting the place someday. The tall, lean and athletic chocolate-skinned brother with the wavy hair and fearless smile was a vision of masculine booty. Aida should consider herself a lucky woman to land someone like him.

Sometimes I envy straight people because, to me, it's so easy for them to find love. Hell, gays and lesbians seem to have an easier time at it than us transsexuals too. Take my friend Rebecca Jean-Renaud for example. Five-foot-ten, dark-skinned and tough-looking, with a buzz cut and tattoos, this Haitian-American chick is the definition of a butch lesbian. Rebecca studies Nursing at Miami-Dade College and she's been crushing on this supposedly straight chick named Juanita Calderon for ages. Even though I am strictly into guys, I get what Rebecca sees in Juanita.

The five-foot-eight, slim and fit, caramel-skinned gal is a cutie. She's half Black and half Puerto Rican, and all year she's been dating a tall white dude named Paul. I advised Rebecca to move on. LGBT people should avoid falling in love with straight folks, seriously. Imagine my surprise when I recently saw Rebecca and Juanita at the theater, making out during the movie RIPD. Damn, I didn't see that one coming. You never know unless you try, Rebecca told me as I quizzed her about her date in the bathroom. I thought Miss Thing was straight, I told Rebecca. The butch gal smirked and then we went back into the theater. Rebecca put her arm around Juanita, and they kissed again. Hot damn, she's got it like that? Wow.

After the movie, Rebecca invited me to grab a bite with her and Juanita but I declined. It's obvious these two were having fun and I didn't want to be the odd woman out. So I left with some lame excuse about needing to go to the bank. I decided to walk home, and cut through the yard of an abandoned warehouse not too far from my neighborhood. I heard someone talking, and it startled me. I walked in the direction of the voice, because I'm nosy like that. Even at night in the hood. Using my cell phone's flash, I walked into the warehouse, and guess who I saw sitting in the dark with a gun in his hand? None other than Ali Hussein, the Somali-Canadian stud. What the fuck?

Ali Hussein glared at me, and asked me what I was doing there. Hands on my hips, I asked him why he had a gun. I'm going to end it all, Ali told me, and I noticed that his handsome face was full of tears. Cautiously I approached him, and was relieved when he lowered the gun. Aida dumped me, he said. I looked nervously at his gun, and swallowed hard. It's her loss, I said, no need to kill yourself over her. Ali stared at me with a mixture of sadness and anger in his face. Aida left me because I swing both ways and that's not allowed in Islam, he said with a shrug. When those words left his lips, I was stunned. I consider myself a pretty good judge of character and I can analyze people pretty well. I had no idea that Ali Hussein was bisexual. Dude has zero vibe. My gaydar must be broken or something.

Don't throw your life away over someone who doesn't accept you for who you are, I told him, approaching him cautiously. Easy for a pretty Latina like you to talk like that, Ali grunted. You don't know me, I said a tad defensively. It's not easy being Black and male in North America and when you add bisexual to the mix it's pure hell, Ali countered. I noticed he was raising the gun again. I know how you feel, I told him. Ali looked at me, a mixture of suspicion and anger in his dark eyes. Don't mess with me because I'm dead serious, he said threateningly. He raised the gun toward his head. You're not the only one with secrets, I said. Spare me the fake sympathy, Ali snickered as he aimed the gun at his temple.

He's really going to do it, I thought. I've got way more problems than you and I refused to kill myself even when the shit hit the fan, I told him. What the fuck are you talking about? Ali growled. I'm...a tranny, I said. Ali's eyes widened. Don't make me laugh, he said, shaking his head. Taking a deep breath, I said a silent prayer to God just in case He might be watching this. Then I unzipped my pants, and out came my Johnson....for I seldom wore underwear in the blazing Florida heat. You're a chick with dick, Ali said, and he took a step back. His foot tripped against a rock, and he fell. I was on him in a second, tackling him like my brother Gabriel taught me and wrestling him to the ground. I clawed his arm with my long nails and as he yelped, I took the gun from him. Give me that, I said boldly.

Get off me lady, Ali pleaded. I did, and readjusted my clothes while keeping an eye on him. I kept the pistol aimed in his general direction. You're a very stupid young man to want to throw your life away over some chick, I admonished him. In Islam if people find out you're gay or bisexual they have an obligation to ostracize you, Ali whined. He took a deep breath, then continued. Aida turned against me after I told her I was bisexual and she told my parents, Ali said pitifully. In spite of myself, I bristled. That bitch! One of the reasons why a lot of bisexual men stay in the closet is because of a lack of acceptance from the women in their lives.

Aida Suleiman has been my friend for a while. I can't believe she would do that to Ali, though I didn't know too much about their relationship. She wasn't the one, I told him. I spun the gun's chamber, took out the bullets and put them in my pocket. Glaring at Ali, I told him that if he wanted to kill himself he should go do it in someone else's neighborhood. Then I tossed him the empty gun and walked away. After about a hundred yards, I chanced a glance over my shoulder. He just stood there staring at me, like an idiot. Somali guys are cute but I sure hope they're not all like Ali in the brains department, I muttered to myself as I headed home.

When I went home, I found my mom in the kitchen, reading a Harlequin novel while my brother Ernesto played the Wii in the living room. My sister Gabriella was out, presumably on a date with her Haitian boyfriend Jerome Dorval. He's been coming around a lot lately. I swear all the Monteiro women love Black guys. We're like the Kardashian sisters or something. I sat at the kitchen table after kissing mama on the forehead and told her about my day. I told her about the incident with Ali Hussein, minus the part about me pulling down my zipper. My mom doesn't near to hear that shit. Madre de Dios, Mom exclaimed, it's a good thing you were able to save that loco. I smiled and shrugged. Just call me Wonder Woman with something extra, I said with a grin.

The next day, I went to school, intent on having a talk with Aida Suleiman. I approached her, and told her about the incident with Ali the night before. I normally would go to the police but I don't much care for Florida law enforcement types. They've been patting themselves on the back ever since their role model George "the murderer" Zimmerman got off. I'm Latin American and got no love for Zimmerman. I consider him to be a racist piece of shit. It's an all-white, all-female and redneck-style jury that let him get away with killing that poor lad Trayvon Martin. I hope the hood catches up with him someday.

Anyhow, my conversation with Aida didn't go too well. Ali is a piece of shit cocksucker, she spat, her pretty face contorted with rage. In Islam, we kill fags for fun, she said, a dangerous light in her eyes. I watched her and shook my head. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I'd been friends with this broad for more than a year and I never knew she harbored such hateful feelings inside. Bitch watch your mouth because you're in America not frigging Arabia, I told her, my anger rising. Aida scoffed, and told me we were done. This friendship's over, she said, rolling her eyes. Then she walked away in a huff. I can't believe I ever called that heifer a friend. What a bitch!

I didn't see anything about Ali in the news so I figured the dude was still alive. He's a grown-ass man so he can take care of himself. If he really wants to shoot himself over the crazy Egyptian broad, not much I can do about it. God gave us free will for a reason, you know? I went to class, then went to work. Three days later I went to church with the family and guess who I saw standing near the door. Ali Hussein, looking pretty conspicuous and nervous as hell. Hello there, I said cautiously. I just wanted to say thanks, he blurted. I nodded, smiled and raised my index finger to my lips. Thank you but we're in church so keep quiet, I said. Ali apologized profusely. Don't worry about it just join us, I said. Ali looked around, and hesitated, then nodded. I led him to the pew on the right aisle, all the way up front, where my family and I always sit. Hello everyone this is Ali, I said. Hi, Ali said weakly. Mom smiled, and motioned for Ali to go see at the end of the pew, next to my brother Ernesto.

A few moments later, Pastor Carlos Mendoza began the service. La Iglesia De Santa Maria is a small church, only about three hundred people. Most of the congregation is Hispanic, but we have a large number of Haitians, Trinidadians, Saint Lucians, Jamaicans and even a few white people. We're a diverse house of worship. First time in a church? I asked Ali, noticing that he was staring at the men and women of our congregation, at the images of Saints and Angels painted on the walls, and at the large crucifix at the center of the church. I've never been inside a church before, Ali admitted. He smiled wistfully at me. It's beautiful, he said simply.

After the service, I stopped to chat with the Pastor, and introduced him to Ali. It's customary for the preacher to personally welcome all first-time visitors to the church. Come back to us anytime young man, Pastor Carlos said as he clapped Ali on the shoulder. Ali smiled nervously. Um sure, he said hesitantly. Join us for dinner, Mom said. Ali looked at my mother, then at me. Hesitantly he nodded. Thus we went back to the house, and had some delicious rice and beans, with goat meat and macaroni. After dinner, Ali and I had a talk. I'd like us to be friends, he told me sincerely. If you promise to stop doing crazy shit then sure, I said with a smile. He nodded, and gave me a simple hug, before leaving. He's not bad-looking, my sister Gabriella noted. He's Somali not Haitian, I pointed out. You guys are the new Kardashians, my brother Ernesto pointed out before grabbing his Spiderman comic and heading to his room. Whatever, I said, smiling.

The next day, I met with Ali and we grabbed a bite inside the school café. We had a couple of cokes and pizza, then made plans to catch a movie that Tuesday. As Ali and I began getting to know each other, I found a lot of things about him I liked. The guy wasn't just tall, handsome and smart, he was also pretty damn cool. Ali told me about his life back in Calgary, which he described as Canada's most exciting locale. You should see how we all come together around the Calgary Stampede, he said with a reminiscent smile. We've got carnivals out here in Miami that will blow you away, I countered. I wasn't about to drag my tropical butt to cold-ass Canada no way no how. Still, if I ever visited, I'd definitely need someone to keep me warm. A certain Somali stud comes to mind...

Anyhow, that's how it all began between Ali and myself. We began hanging out, just two friends. We came from very different worlds so things were awkward at first. Ali considers himself a lapsed Muslim, but he's still very much attached to his religion. Never mind that thanks to his ex-girlfriend Aida Suleiman revealing his bisexuality to his relatives, he can't return to Canada under penalty of death. In the Somali community, gays and lesbians are persecuted. They're hunted down and killed because they're considered haram. Most Muslims have a strong dislike of all things LGBT. Once my family found out I was bisexual I was dead to them, Ali told me. Fuck them then, I said with a shrug. Looking at him, I told him that the God I prayed to was a God of love. Killing innocent people simply for being different isn't the way, I said confidently. Ali nodded. I don't make the rules, he said with a shrug.

I learned a lot from Ali, he was so open with me. I'm open with family and close friends, but not the men who come into my life since my relationships come with hasty expiration dates. Why open up to someone who not only isn't going to be around for long but in all likelihood will hurt you before he leaves? One night in my basement, during one of our heart-to-hearts I told Ali about Miguel, and my lousy luck with men. He was a damn fool to leave a hottie like you, Ali told me. Looking me in the eyes, he suddenly leaned closer, and our faces were inches apart. You think I'm hot Mister Somalia? I said with a grin. Ali nodded, then he kissed me.

Ali kissed me full and deep, and tenderly wrapped his strong arms around me. There we were, alone in the house, sharing a tender moment in the basement which had been my lair since my younger days. Ali I like you, I confessed. I like you too, my favorite Somali stud said with a grin. How we went from saying those words to what happened next, I'll never know. Off came our clothes, and next thing I knew we were going at it. Not a thought was given to safety, or whether we were going too fast or how this might affect our friendship. Nope, we just got to the fucking. I swear sometimes I amaze myself.

As I stripped naked, Ali sat on the couch, stroking that big ole dick of his and gazing at me with wonder in his eyes. Off came my tank top, followed by my skirt. Like I said before, I don't wear underwear. I'm proud of every damn inch of my body. From my thirty-six D-cup breasts to my twenty-eight inch waist and my forty inches of thick Latin booty. And last but not least, my eight and a half inches of thick tranny cock. Get over here, Ali commanded. He waved his dick at me and I smiled. For I knew just what to do. I knelt before Ali and sucked his dick while massaging his balls. The sexy Somali stud groaned and urged me to continue. I hadn't gone down on anyone since Miguel, three months ago. I was horny as hell and wanted to make up for lost time.

I sucked Ali's dick with gusto until he came, then guzzled up every last drop of his cum. While going down on him, I fingered his ass. Dude seemed to like it. A lot. Ali looked at my hard dick, and stroked it. Let's fuck, he told me. I was definitely down with that! That's why I laid Ali on the couch, with his legs in the air, and rubbed my hard dick against his butt hole as he spread his cheeks for me. Want me inside of you? I teased him by flicking my fingers over his dick head. Fuck me, Ali grunted. I pushed my dick into his asshole. Ali smiled as I penetrated him and reached for my big breasts. I like your boobs Miss Colombia, he said. I smiled and leaned over, smothering his face with my tits as I thrust my dick into his warm, tight hole. I hadn't fucked anyone in ages. It felt oh so good to have my dick inside another sexy man again.

12
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