If you are under the age of 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to
read electronically transmitted erotic material, please do not
proceed any further.

Author: Julie Derecho

Title: The Gypsy Queen

Summary: Cory mistakenly selects a transgender prostitute.

Keywords: MM, CONS, TG, TV, BISEXUAL, ANAL SEX





   Glaring at Allan, Cory slammed his beer bottle down so hard
that several of the empties on the rickety garage table began to
wobble.  They both tried to grab and steady them in their drunken
stupor, but they toppled over anyway.

   "You're scared," Allen leaned close and told him again.

   "Am not," Cory shot back for the third time.

   The two of them had been inseparable, best friends since the
third grade, but he swore sometimes Allan just pushed him too
far.

   "Chick, chick, chicken, you're scared to fuck anything," Allan
continued.

   Cory tried to ignore him, but Allan nailed him again.

   "Am I the only one around here that can get any pussy?  Are
you going to stay a virgin forever boy?"

   Cory didn't respond.  There was only one way to settle
something like this.  Ever since that strange, small carnival had
shown up on the edge of town he'd been acting like this.  His
parents had told him in strict terms that he'd better stay away
from it, but Allan kept bragging that his uncle had taken him
there to get a woman.  Cory didn't believe him, although he
couldn't say for sure whether he was telling the truth or not. 
Allan had managed to get to get Cheryl to make out with him after
dark on the Koontz's backyard hill, but lots of other guys had
to.  She'd let virtually every boy in the neighborhood fondle her
big tits, except him.  It wasn't that Cheryl hadn't offered, she
was just too slutty and forward for him. Besides, he didn't like
girls telling him what to do.  His Father didn't let his Mother
boss him around, and he wasn't going to any girl or woman do it
either.

   "I've got half the fifty dollars," yelled Allan, waving the
money drunkenly around in the air above his head.

   "Saturday night!  Saturday night, I will do one of them," Cory
blurted out.  He couldn't believe he'd said it, or agreed to do
it, but he'd given his word.

   Allan got quiet for several seconds, before becoming loud
again, and screaming out "you're the man!  You da man!"

   That bit of silence bothered Cory.  Even more so now, he
didn't believe Allan had actually slept with any of the women. 
Realizing it was almost midnight and that he still had to work
tomorrow, he paused in the doorway, telling Allan, "you better
still have that money Saturday night."

   It was nearly 12:30 p.m. before Cory finished the last of his
morning customers.  He didn't like working at the tire shop.  It
was a job, nothing more.  And it was paying for his nighttime
college classes.  He just hoped he could make it through school
without getting hurt.  Overall, the work wasn't dangerous in
general, but the tire cage was a different story.  Like everyone
that worked there, Cory feared the split rim tires.  Old man
Johnson had lost his arm in that cage and Cory didn't plan on
losing his. Smearing the gooey hand cleaner up and down his arms,
he checked his face for grease in the mirror at the dirty
bathroom sink.  Although he planned on staying far enough away
that he wouldn't be seen, he didn't want to look like a scrub,
just in case.

   Cory stopped several-hundred feet below the carnival on the
side of the road and killed the engine.  They wouldn't officially
open until evening and he didn't want to attract any attention. 
Lunch was normally only 30 minutes, but he'd taken care of an
extra customer and his boss had given him an hour; plus he'd told
him to take the shop car to lunch.  The old, clunker burned oil,
smoked, needed a new exhaust, and was hard to start. Nobody cared
though, or bothered to fix it because it was only used for two
things: picking up food and auto parts.  His Grandfather had once
told him that mechanics always had the worst running, least
maintained cars and after working at the garage, he realized it
was probably true.

   Cory pumped the gas pedal a couple of times to flood the
engine on purpose and cranked it over.  As expected, the big car
didn't start and a small cloud of acrid, black smoke drifted
across the road.  Cory got out and opened the hood, then leaned
over the passenger-side fender, pretending to fiddle around
inside the engine compartment.

   He didn't know why people called it a carnival.  They weren't
any rides, at least not mechanical ones anyway.  The whole show
consisted of nothing more than a dilapidated, white station
wagon, four travel-trailers, and an animal hauler; each pulled by
a an old pickup truck.  Watching as a shapely, dark-haired,
dark-skinned woman threw open the door of one trailer, and tossed
what he guessed to be dirty water out of a bucket, Cory figured
the travel trailers doubled as living-quarters.  To the rear,
three of the trailer-rigs were arranged in a tight-knit, slight
arc, and the fourth was situated back beyond them.  Cory
suspected that had some sort of meaning, but he didn't know what.
 In the front, along the road, a pony ride setup inside of a
heavy, red fence; two small, makeshift booths and a red and white
tent flanked them.  The booths were empty - Cory figured they
were for games-of-chance - but the tent contained tables full of
carefully arranged merchandise, and had a man inside.

   When the unmistakable black-and-white sedan appeared from the
other direction and stopped in front of the carnival, Cory ducked
his head down even lower inside of the engine compartment. 
Everyone knew Sheriff Barber; at six foot six, and probably
two-hundred and seventy pounds, he was a huge fellow, rumored to
have a legendary temper.  The whole County was flat-out
scared-to-death of the man.  While most of it was fat, you didn't
need muscle when you had a gun.  And nobody can outrun Motorola.

   Barber had been the Sheriff since even before Cory had been
born Cory. He didn't know much about politics, but he'd heard his
Father tell the tale more than once of the city fellow that had
moved in and challenged Barber in an election years ago.  They
found his body across the County-line in a farm pond.  The murder
was never solved.

   Cory peered across the top of the radiator and watched as the
big lawman got out of his car and walked into the tent full of
sale-items.  A sense-of-relief that the he was there to shut them
down flooded through him, but when the Sheriff playfully slapped
the man on the shoulder, Cory realized the two men knew each. 
His nerves got the best of him and Cory began to shake when he
saw the man pull a big wad of bills out of his pocket and begin
to count them off to the Sheriff.  Cory kept his head down beside
the engine, but when he heard a car stop beside his, he already
knew who it was.

   "You broke down boy," the Sheriff bellowed.

   Cory looked up fast, assuring Sheriff Barber that he had it
fixed and didn't need any help.

   "Alright son," Barber told him, slowly cruised away.

   Despite his harrowing experience the day before with the
Sheriff, he found himself drawn to the carnival again Friday
night.  Concealed by darkness, and parked in a line of cars
alongside the road, he felt safer this time with the Carnival
open.  It didn't take Cory long to understand the inner-workings
once he accepted the concept that the carnival wasn't a carnival
at all - it was nothing more than an elaborate front for
gambling, drinking, and prostitution.  He was blown away by the
ingenious operation. Sure, there were young kids riding the
ponies and playing the games, but they were really the children
of the carnival operators.  As the steady-stream of men came and
went, these kids endlessly played their part to make it all look
innocent while their Mother's serviced men in their trailers. 
The Father's collected the money.  And the old man in the tent
that had paid off the Sheriff controlled it all, directing their
marks in all directions, depending on what they wanted.

   While the bulk of the trailers were for sex, one appeared to
be dedicated to gambling.  Cory figured that if one man entered
and left after 10-15 minutes, the trailer contained a hooker.  If
numerous men entered and didn't leave for long periods, then it
was for gambling.  Some people showed up just to buy moonshine,
which the old man kept hidden by a tablecloth in jars beneath the
tables.

   When Allan arrived Saturday night, Cory demanded to see his
half of the money before getting in the car.  Twenty-five bucks
wasn't a lot of money, but he hoped it was enough to cause him to
welsh and back out.  He felt the bottom drop out of his stomach
when Allan showed him the cash.  Cory looked silently looking out
the window as they roared towards the carnival.

   Allan managed to grab a parking spot directly in front.  Cory
pretended to have never been there, asking Allan "How does this
work?"

   "According to my uncle, you see the old-man in that tent,"
Allan responded, pointing across the road, and handing him the
twenty-five dollars.  Cory shoved the money into his pocket and
headed across the street to the tent.

   Inside the tent, he immediately recognized the old Gypsy as
the man that he'd seen paying-off the Sheriff.  "I've got
fifty-dollars and I want a woman," Cory told him nervously.

   The old man eyed him curiously, asking "do you want just any
woman, or do you want the Gypsy Queen?"

   Cory didn't know what the Gypsy Queen was, but she sounded hot
and he told him that he wanted her.

   The old man looked him over for several moments before
responding, then in a strange accent, he asked Cory: "How old are
you boy?"

   Cory told him that he was nineteen.

   The man then asked him, "Are you sure you really want the
Gypsy Queen?"

   Cory assured him that he did, the old Gypsy smiled, revealing
a gold front tooth, and pointed to the last trailer on the left,
telling him "pay the man sitting in the chair outside the door."

   After Cory gave the man in the chair fifty-dollars, he stood
up, opened the door, and motioned for him to enter the trailer;
firmly shutting the door shut behind him.  He found himself in
complete darkness, but soon the brilliant flash of match went-off
as a slim, shadowy figure bent to light a candle.  Cory didn't
move as the woman went from candle to candle along shelves that
dotted the walls.

   Each new flame disclosed more and more of her features.  He
was surprised that she was roughly his height.  Dressed in a red,
see-through, lace top that exposed a black bra beneath, and a
matching full-length red skirt, she had long black hair with a
flat, taut stomach.  The candlelight made her skin looked like
copper.

   The trailer had obviously been stripped because it contained
nothing more than a simple, wooden chair in the middle of the
floor, the shelves, and a bed along the back wall.

   Speaking with the same accent as the man in the tent, Cory
almost jumped when she asked him "are you here to serve the
Queen?" Her voice was not as soft or feminine as he had expected.
 Before he could respond, she said again, this time more sternly
"are you here to serve the Queen?"

   "Yes, yes I am" he responded.  Cory found himself at conflict
with his upbringing.  His Father had always taught him that women
didn't tell men what to do, but yet he found it exciting to have
this woman doing just that. He realized that he would easily do
whatever she told him.

   "Come sit in my chair," the Queen told Cory.

   As he took a seat, the woman pressed the button of a music
player, filling the room with an adventurous type of music that
he had never heard before.  The beats were gentle, but yet
seductive, and had a rhythm that you could either just enjoy or
dance to.

   Moving behind him, she gently squeezed his shoulders, and
asked him "is this your first time?"

   Cory responded that it was.

   "Then it should be special," she told him.  "But we must get
you to relax, you are so tense" she added.

   When she lit a small cigarette across the room, Cory instantly
recognized the pungent fragrance of marijuana.  He knew the smell
from some of the high-school parties he had attended.  At his
rural school you were either a drinker or a stoner.  The two
groups seldom mixed.  Cory had always been a drinker, but when
she held the joint to his lips and told him to inhale, he didn't
resist.

   "Hold it in until I tell you," she told him.

   Cory's chest was burning by time she allowed him blow the
harsh smoke out.  Hardly any sooner than he did, she pressed the
tiny cigarette back against his lips.

   "Again," she told him.

   Cory lost track of how many puffs she had him take, because he
was no longer able to count them; he just did as she told him.

   Dazed, he now understood what the stoner's meant by having a
buzz.  The pot produced a much different feeling than alcohol. 
He found it enjoyable. He was no longer nervous.

   As the Queen finished smoking the joint, emboldened by his
high, Cory reached out to touch her, but she easily slipped
beyond his reach, laughing at his slow motion gesture.

   "Much better," she told him.

   In quick, fluid movements, she would dart back and forth in
front of him, and when the tempo of the music increased she would
dance, shaking her ass and crotch in his face.  If Cory tried to
touch her, she would slip away; teasing, taunting, and leave him
frustrated.  But eventually she did allow him to stroke her
thighs and stomach without pulling away.

   As she removed the black bra and dropped it into Cory's lap,
he caught a brief glimpse of her dark, black nipples and small,
but firm breasts before she danced away again.  When she
returned, she stopped, bent close, and told him "suck my
nipples."

   Cory did as he told, pulling one of them deeply into his
mouth.

   "Gently bite it." she purred seductively.

   Cory massaged the dark flesh with his teeth.

   "Umm, good, now flick your tongue across it while you suck
it," she continued.

   As Cory batted and sucked her nipple, she pressed her hand
against his crotch, giving his cock a hard squeeze, and asking
"do you want the Queen?"

   When Cory told her that he did, she arched her shoulders back,
allowing the lace top to slide off.  Then she lowered her skirt
down, letting it also fall to the floor.

   "Pull my panties slowly down," she told Cory.

   Slipping his fingers into the band on the sides, he lowered
them; revealing a dense, black mat of pubic hair.

   Cory recoiled backwards in the chair when she reached down and
freed a chocolate colored cock from between her legs.

   "Silly boy," she laughed loudly.  "This is why they call me
The Queen."

   "You're not a woman," Cory croaked hoarsely, feeling as if the
room was now out of focus and beginning to spin.  Gripping the
side of the chair seat, he tried to steady himself until the
feeling passed.

   "I am a woman.  I am a man.  I am whatever I choose to be,"
the Queen shrieked, laughing loudly back at him.

   "Suck my cock," she told Cory after stroking it several times
in his face.

   "Suck it," she hissed, pressing it against his lips.

   "Suck it like you did my nipple," she told him.

   Cory did as he was told, letting her slip the large shaft into
his mouth, and then sucking and flicking the big head with his
tongue the same way as he had done to her nipples.

   "Do it until I tell you to stop." she told him.

   "That's enough," the Queen told Cory after several minutes of
him fumbling and trying to please her.

   "Get on your knees across my chair," she said.

   Half laying across the chair with his head pressed into the
seat, Cory remained motionless as his belt was undone, his pants
were pulled down, and something wet and slippery was smeared into
the crack of his ass.

   The Queen let out another booming laugh when Cory jerked from
her fingers being inserted and worked around in his anus. 
Despite knowing what coming, he didn't resist.  And when she told
him to spread himself open for her, he obediently reached back to
do so.

   "Push like you're taking a shit," she told him after a couple
of failed attempts to get her cock into his virgin hole.

   By following her instructions, Cory found that it allowed her
to begin to enter him.  Getting his Iasshole stretched open still
burned, painfully, but she had at least managed to get inside. 
Several times he felt like screaming out as she began to fuck
him, but he didn't want to trigger her her insane laugh again -
at least she was going slow.

   After awhile the pain receded and Cory began to feel a bit of
pleasure. He didn't know how to describe the feeling of her cock
sliding in and out of him but it felt good.  As her hips began to
slap against his ass cheeks, he realized that he had managed to
take her whole cock.  Eventually she began to make little
grunting noises and her breathing became heavy.  Cory gripped the
chair even tighter as her thrusts intensified.  Then all of the
sudden, he felt her legs begin to quiver, and several warm spurts
of hot cum being deposited deep inside of his bowel.

   Despite his own massive erection and an overwhelming desire to
get-off, Cory started to get up.

   "Stay still," she told him.

   The Queen returned with a small bucket of water and a cloth,
using it to gently clean the slimy mixture of body fluid and sex
lube that was leaking from his ass.  The water was cold, but Cory
didn't mind.

   While pulling up and fastening his pants, Cory watched as she
cleaned herself.  Still fully erect, her cock glistening with
wetness.

   "Go now," she told him.

   Stumbling towards the car, Cory fumbled to think up a story to
tell Allan.





   Copyright Notice: This material is copyright, 2012, by the
author at J21742@gmail.com.  All rights reserved.  I specifically
grant the right of downloading and keeping one electronic copy
for your personal reading so long as this notice is included. 
Reposting requires previous permission. You may not post this
story on any website for financial gain, or otherwise use it for
financial gain.

   All persons here depicted, except public figures depicted as
public figures in the background, are figments of my imagination
and any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly
coincidental.

   If you enjoyed this story you can email me at
J21742@gmail.com.

   Nice comments are always welcome.