Today’s post is not a usual ladyboy sex story that we all got used to, but something more romantic, down-to-earth and non-porn. Thanks British Buy for sharing this story and being so brave in making your fantasies real and finding your true love.
I wasn’t looking when I found her. I wasn’t really looking for anything, except perhaps some relief from that late night restlessness when you’re too tired to sleep. Her chat name, like her real name, was Agatha. There was no reason to suspect that it hadn’t always been so. It was later on Yahoo Messenger that she told me; by which time her photos had failed to rouse my suspicions. She thought I’d run away. I didn’t.
This was June, and the summer rolled on. Daily Yahoo chats turned into daily Skype chats, which soon turned intimate. When we first let ourselves go on jerky cams, an age of frustration and low libido flowed out of me, and we both came together like 18-year-olds; urgent and fevered. This carried on almost nightly throughout July and August; she was 7,000 miles away, but I felt closer to her than I had to anyone in years. But it wasn’t just the sex; she was sweet and funny, and she had a quick mind, and she wasn’t bitter in spite of the knocks life had dealt her. Against all common sense, I was falling for her, and I knew that for once in my life I had to stop dreaming and make it real.
But time was running out. I was due to start a nine-month contract at the end of September, and I knew that without real, physical contact, our momentum would wane. One Tuesday morning I was idly searching online for flights to Manila, as I had done before, but I didn’t just check the prices this time. I edged closer to the check out page, and with my details entered, my credit card number entered, I closed my eyes and clicked ‘pay now’ with a shaking hand.
Three days later I was in the sky, and the flight was long. ON the first leg, between London and Dubai I drifted in an out of a half sleep; watching but not watching the in-flight films, and alternating between feelings of madness, euphoria, and the sense of having made the sanest decision of my life.
Dubai airport teemed with people. Twenty-four hours without sleep and my stinging eyes skinted in the sharp desert. Arabs in white robes milled around the transfer lounge, and it crossed my mind that I could be stoned to death there for what I was doing. Fatigue was making me paranoid. Could the guy who served me a weak cappucino in Costa read my thoughts? I tried to read Time magazine and put all thoughts of sex out of my head, just in case.
Three hours later, I boarded the Manila plane. The whole situation became more real when I looked around me to see that the whole economy cabin was packed with Filipinos. And here was I; a blue eyed white boy in a sea of weathered brown faces heading home to their families. I didn’t belong on their plane, let alone in their world.
It was pushing midnight when I dragged my suitcase through the dated arrivals hall in Manila airport, but it could have been any time of day. Stepping through the doors into a drizzly night, the sultry heat pressed on my face like a hot towel. Cities have a smell, and Manila’s was pungent and thick, rising up from the pavements and drains, and pervading everything. I looked around for that face I’d seen a hundred times on a webcam. Nothing. No one looked familiar. All I could see was movement; of taxis; of people; of security; of traffic. Where was she? I looked back through the arrival hall’s doors but I couldn’t see her, or anyone remotely like her. My head started to swim, and a wave of fatigue and nausea washed over me. She wasn’t there. A thousand quid on travel and hotels and she wasn’t there. I was a fool. I felt like crying; not through sadness but of anger; not at her, but at myself. But I still had some hope left – maybe she had got lost; maybe the taxi had broken down?
I pulled out my phone. Nothing. I scanned in vain for local networks, but my little Nokia couldn’t find them. Payphone, I thought. There must be a payphone inside! But I couldn’t get inside. “No entry!” the security guard said. I was out and had to stay out. Where the hell she? I sat on my case and lit the first cigarette in what seemed like days, and I saw the rest of my trip unfold with startling clarity.. a night or two alone in a Manila hotel, then a rebooked flight back to London.
I hauled myself to my feet and decided to give the security guard one more try. “Please,” I said slowly, willing him to find some human warmth. “I need to find my girlfriend. I need to use the payphone.”
“Pay phone in Arrivals.”
“Yes, in Arrivals. Exactly. Can I go back in?”
“No, you go in Arrivals.”
“But this IS Arrivals; I’ve just arrived.”
But even as I said it, I realised something. Nobody was waiting or meeting here. It was just a noisy taxi rank and exit point. The security guard indicated a ramp across the road, which seemed to lead to a lower level. “Arrivals,” he said slowly, as if speaking to an idiot. “There.”
The doubt and despair disappeared, and with a renewed sense of urgency I darted across the road, my cases clattering across the tarmac. Who knew that Manila was the only airport in existance where Arrivals is not actually in Arrivals? I emerged into the sub level to a crowd of hundreds; entire families waiting for returning husbands and fathers. I glanced around but couldn’t see her. Was I too late? I’d told her eleven, and it was already gone midninght. Then I saw lettered signs: A B C; D E F; G H I. Jesus, it was so chaotic here that people had to wait in alphabetical order. Assuming these were the first letters of passengers’ surnames, I made for the latter end of the alphabet. With my eyes like the Terminator’s, I scanned the sea of faces, and I suddenly heard my name cut through the fog of humidity and fatigue. I turned and looked, and suddenly she was there. No make-up, just her bobbed black hair pushed back with a band, and in yellow t-shirt, blue jeans and flip flops. She was beautiful. Like a wave, the relief swept over me, and washed away all the fear, and I could see it in her face too.
The hour before arriving at the hotel is a series of images now: Her smile; her embrace; her soft cheek; her hushed and broken English; her hand in mine; her leg on mine; her head on my shoulder; the coconut scent of her hair.
Finally alone in a hotel room in Mandaluyong City, we made love. Many fantasies were fulfilled on that first night, and over the next ten days we did it all, and alll remaining doubts evapourated into the sutry Manila air. We fell in love, and leaving her filled me with a sorrow I’d never felt before. Not a day goes by now when we don’t chat on Skype, and we’re meeting up again at Christmas. I’m counting the days…
*****
I know that this story is sentimental, and lacking in saucy details, and I’m sorry about that. I guess I’m just too in love to share. But maybe, just maybe, my story might inspire one or two of you to go out on a limb and make your fantasies real. After all, I’m just a normal bloke who took a risk for once in my life.
It might also show you that t-girls aren’t just sex objects, but real, beautiful, lovely, sexy girls, and that if you get beyond society’s prejudice, you could find yourself an amazing partner; perhaps for life. The good news is that they’re looking for guys just like you!
And when all’s said and done, what are we here for?
Post tags: asian, kathoey, ladyboy, reality, sex, Shemale Stories, stories, tgirl
Lovely story. Can you post the photo of you and your girlfriend ?
love it,it was just dashing….
Well i am a Dutch boy who went 3 times to Asia to find his ladyboy.Therefore i took the Thai name for ladyboys-kathoey- because i was 2 times in Bangkok and 2 times on the Philippines in search for the right one.I won’t mention any names or saucy details but like the touching story above, i can endorse it totally.If chatting and skyping with a webcam, first you get to know each other and learn about each other’s life and needs,learn to love and apreciate each other by sharing in truefullness what you really are.Remember just that real ladyboys are looking for their mr.Right too.They long for love like any ‘normal’ person.What is normal anyway..?In my view they are girls born in a boys body,and they can be just as capable for love as any of us.Not just plain and ordinary sex, but the kind of walking hand in hand with you,introducing you to the family…being just as a ‘normal’ as you would expect from a real girl..Only with this slight and exciting difference..So merely what i want to say and underline is BEHAVE DECENTLY and get a world new and feel proud of your superspecial girl.Well i found mine and she is an amazing and funny and very pretty girl,totally capable of giving and receiving love in a way i never found with gendergirls..And evenso i don’t consider myself gay but sex with a ladyBoy is very fulfilling and all you can dream of!I will go back to the Philippines to my ladyBoy and this time very long>>almost 2 months :-),making plans to marry her..which is possible overhere.Then move to the Philippines and live happy ever after..Good luck to all of you and remember to behave like a gentleman..literally.
Lovely Story, glad to read I prefer my TS Girls sweet and sensual instead of sleazy as so many portray it as.(mind you I hold nothing against sleaze its just not my thing)
filipina shemales who live in the capital city are the classy ones IMO.
did you marry her and you both live happily together in the UK?