Isaac Laraz

Isaac Laraz

Winigan, MA, United States

About Isaac Laraz

I frowned as I surveyed my life objectively. Like most people's in this era, it, quite frankly, sucked. I was lucky enough that my now-deceased boomer parents had bought a small - one-bedroom, 2 bathroom - house to live in after the nest was empty. That had passed to me, so at least I was sure I had a roof over my head, as opposed to most of the people in my early-30's age group who were struggling to pay rent. My work situation was lousy. I was working for minimum wage for a local company. The money I made from that went to insurance on my 150,000-miles-on-it 10 year old car, gas and maintenance on the car, food, clothing, and my communications package. I was using the Internet to try and find a better job. But in this era of collapsing late-stage capitalism, better jobs didn't seem to exist. I growled at having to spend Saturday job-hunting, but I worked Monday through Friday. So I couldn't really do it then. When I got home from work I had to cook dinner, keep the house clean, squeeze in food shopping, etc. I kind of wished I had someone around to help me out with that, the way it used to be when my parents had grown up. Dad could support him, Mom, and the kid (me) comfortably on one income. Mom was able to spend the whole day doing housewife stuff (while I was in school) and raising me (after I got home.) That was a full-time job in itself. No wonder no one was having kids these days - the kid would have to be self reliant from about age three while both parents worked two retail jobs to try and bring in enough money to live, and there would be no time for things like cleaning and cooking. My computer made a "ding" sound. E-mail alert. It was from Stacy, one of my friends in my age group. She had been living in the same apartment for four years, and the building had just been sold. Her monthly rent was going to be jacked from $900 to $1,300 - which she couldn't afford. She wanted to know if she could crash at my place until she could find a new apartment, one she could afford. She didn't have much stuff - everything she owned fit in the back seat of her car. I told her she was welcome to. "But you need to pay somehow. You going to pay with ass, pay with grass or pay with cash?" I was half joking, of course. The saying had been around since before I was born - Dad had first seen it on a bumper sticker in 1978. And I wasn't a greedy MF: I would charge Stacy a token amount of rent, but not anywhere near $1,300 or even $900 a month. After all, she wouldn't have an entire apartment, just a couch (convertible to a bed) in the living room and access to the kitchen and the hall bathroom. I also didn't accept payment in grass: I had tried it once 10 years ago and didn't like it. "Paying with ass is an option, huh? You think I'm pretty?" I hadn't expected that response. But, being objective, Stacy actually wasn't bad-looking. She was about my height (five-foot-seven), had a decent chest, a nice figure, a round ass that wasn't ridiculously large, and her shoulder-length brown hair framed a pretty darn cute face. She could easily pass for being in her early 20's even though she was a decade older than that. Technically, she was older than me, even (though only by 57 days.) "Being completely honest now, and no longer joking around, yes, you're very pretty." "Thanks, Mark. You still live at 312 B Street?" "Yep." "I'll see you tomorrow morning." Stacy did arrive the next morning. It only took about an hour to move her belongings into the living room. I pulled the couch out into a bed and helped get sheets and a blanket on it. "I figure it'll cost about 300 a month in extra expenses, mostly food, to put you up. So your rent will be $100 a week, and you can stay as long as you need to. I don't mind having another person around. It kind of gets lonely living by oneself." "Tell me about it. And thanks for doing this for me, Mark." "You're quite welcome, Stacy." It took about another 20-30 minutes to get all her toiletries unpacked and set up in the hall bathroom. There was a small black bag that remained zippered shut. "Is that your doctoring kit for emergencies? You planning on becoming a nurse?" Stacy giggled. "Nope. I ain't that skilled. As for what it is, you should know by now that women have secrets. Especially when dealing with staying beautiful." I decided to drop the subject. As one of the characters from a movie I'd seen years ago and liked had pointed out, "water is wet, the sky is blue, and women have secrets." "Anything else you need for now, Stacy?" "Nope. Again, thanks for doing this. Without you I'd be on the street in a week." I gave her a quick hug. "Glad I could help. I'll be in the bedroom chilling." I watched one game and one movie, then came out to make some food. Stacy helped with the cooking. We had a pleasant meal and chatted like the friends we were. We settled in over the next week, both of us leaving in the morning to go to work and returning in the late afternoon from it. Twice, we lay on the couch bed and watched a movie together in the evening. I spent Saturday online, job-hunting. Stacy cooked a nice meal and brought some of it in on a plate around 3 p.m. when she noticed I hadn't made an appearance. I gave her a smile. "They do say that the way to a man's heart is through his stomach." "Or by tearing a hole through his rib cage," Stacy riposted. We both laughed, and she walked over to me and kissed my cheek. "You planning to grind away all day?" "I have to if I want a better job," I replied. Stacy gave me a fast one-arm hug. "I'll be relaxing in bed with my thoughts." "Do you use your left or your right hand for that?" "I use a sex toy. Unless you'd like to volunteer your dick." She lightly slapped my face and gave me a smirk. "Pervert. Relaxing with my thoughts does not mean relieving sexual tension." "Thanks for the cooking. It smells delicious. I'd better eat it while it's still warm." "You're welcome." We spent the next couple of months in a routine. After a while, I got discouraged and slowed my pace of looking for new jobs. I would spend a couple of hours on Saturdays instead of the whole day. I returned the favor and sometimes cooked on Saturdays for the two of us. Stacy's cooking was better than mine, but as long as I stuck to recipes off Food Network mine was good enough. I had come out at around noon on this particular Saturday and was cooking when I heard Stacy's angry voice. "Cuntfuck! Goddamn piece of shit! Motherfucking thing!" I strode over. Stacy was in the bathroom, trying to open the black bag. "Problem?" "The fucking zipper is jammed or something!" I took the bag from her and tried to open it. Sure enough, the zipper wouldn't budge. With a mighty, Kamina-esque tug, it finally came loose abruptly, destroying the integrity of the zipper. I hastily grabbed the two items in the bag before they could fly out. Spiro and estrogen. "Please don't tell anyone." "Okay, I promise to keep my lip zipped." "Thanks a lot, Mark. I haven't come out to anybody out here. When I told my family back East, they kicked me out of the house - I suspected they might, which is why I waited until the morning I was leaving for college." "So you've been on these for..." "15 years. That's why I look so feminine." "Stacy, if you say you're a woman, then you are a woman. I don't care what chromosomes you were born with. You're a very kind, sweet woman and I like having you around." "That... oh my god. That's far nicer a reaction than I was expecting." Some tears were forming in Stacy's eyes. "Now I definitely want to stay here forever. Other landlords might not be so accepting." "You can stay here for as long as we're both alive," I assured her. Stacy burst into tears. I quickly turned off the burners in the kitchen, then guided her to the couch-bed. We sat on the edge of it and she buried her face in my chest. After a while, she popped her head back up. "I feel...unburdened. And safe, for the first time since I started." "I'n glad to hear that." I hugged her tightly. "I'm sorry your family were jerks about it." "They're dead to me. I'm over that. Let's eat." The next Friday, Stacy asked to speak to me in the evening. "Mark... it's been three months since I had sex. And now that I have someone who cares about me, it'll be much better than the loveless stuff I was doing before." "You're assuming I'm interested in having sex with you," I said teasingly. Her face sagged into a frown. "Please?" "I'd love it. Tomorrow morning I'll skip the job hunting and come on down. Truth be told, I was going to bring it up myself, I just didn't want to pressure you." Her smile returned. "Sounds terrific. I'll make sure I sleep naked tonight." I pulled her in for a kiss. It was supposed to be a short and tender one, but I think we were both feeling lonely. I hadn't had sex in about as long, if not longer, than Stacy. We ended up parting our lips and twining tongues. "On second thought, why wait until tomorrow morning?" She gave me a grin. "I like how you think." Five minutes later, we were both naked, had both made a pit stop, and were lying on top of the couch-bed. I was admiring Stacy's curves. "My chest is a C cup, Mark." "Your ass is perfect, too. There's enough there to look good and it's not the size of a house either." Stacy blushed. "I'm glad you like it - and like me. How do you want to start?" "How about if I kiss your tits?" "Good idea. Get to it." I gave her another kiss on the lips first, then proceeded down towards her cleavage. She made appreciative noises. I slowly trailed my tongue in between her breasts, and her arm secured my head in place. I kissed the base of her breast, then moved my way upwards in a helix, proceeding towards her nipple. Her breathing deepened. I repeated the process with her other breast, then took her nipple in my mouth. "Ahhhhhh. Keep doing that." I suckled gently, while lightly rolling her other nipple between my fingertips. Every half-minute or so I switched, giving both breasts equal attention. Stacy sighed happily and held me more firmly in place. I put my free hand on Stacy's fine ass and gave it a squeeze as I suckled. Stacy moaned with greater intensity. "Mark, I can't wait any longer. Normally I do like foreplay, but it's been three freaking months since I've had a release." "So, what would you like?" I popped my mouth off her breast and looked into her eyes. "Like most trans women, I'm into receiving. If I had the money I'd have had bottom surgery already, but money is tight." "Okay. What's your favorite position?" "I like being controlled, so either missionary or doggystyle." "Missionary it is. That way I get to see your face. And ogle your tits." Stacy helped me rub some lube into her butt crack, then lay down and spread her legs. I got in between them and slowly worked my rod into her rear. "Mmmm. Just having you inside me feels wonderful. Fuck me slowly, please, I want to savor this. Of course, I'll probably cum within 3 strokes." I eased in and out, building to a slow rhythm. Stacy was right about her being on the verge. It took 33 strokes before she let out a scream of pure lust and cum spurted out of her cock, coating her belly. "Okay, Mark. Now that the edge is off, take your time and fuck me. And I want you to fill me up." I continued my slow, gentle rhythm. Stacy moaned softly as I pumped my pole into her back channel. I reached down, put my arms around her and groped her butt cheeks, making her grin and giggle. "Keep going." I sped up just slightly as I started to get more excited. My balls were filling with my own backed-up cum. Stacy's eyes locked with mine. Hers twinkled with excitement,. "You're so tight..." "I know, dear. Here, this will feel even better." She began squeezing my cock with her butt muscles every time I slid inwards, trying to milk the cum out of it. I leaned down and kissed her breasts, then started suckling. Her body shivered and her arms came up around me, holding me against her. I felt the caring in her grip and erupted, painting her intestines white. "Ooooh. That's what I've been missing." I popped my mouth off her tits. "You may have it as often as you like. That felt really good." "Do me a favor. Sleep down here tonight with me." "Okay, Stacy." We cleaned up in the shower, dried off, relaxed with a movie, and I did indeed fall asleep next to her on the couch-bed. Sometime during the night, I woke briefly to find her sucking my cock. After she got a load out of me, she swallowed it and went back to sleep, as did I. Within two months, we were sleeping in the same bed every night (sometimes her bed, sometimes mine.) I eventually got a better job and three years after she moved in, she got her bottom surgery. After she recovered from that, we got engaged and soon thereafter, married by a justice of the peace. Stacy didn't want a big wedding. And so far, we've lived happily ever after.