LandingPad Buenos Aires

There I was speed walking in the rain. I had left my friends in the cold rain because they were walking too damn slow, jumping from roof overhang to roof overhang. Palermo Hollywood at 5:45 in the morning in the ice cold rain. Several boozy drinks swashing around in my gullet concentrating on nothing at all. 15 more blocks to go and there were no cabs in sight. The ones that were around were passing by, already jammed full of rain-fearing Argie girls.

Block 9: I was in full walk, brain dead mode. Out of the shadows of a doorway popped a figure. A woman with full, exposed double-D bosoms bursting out above her pulled down shirt. “Vamos papi. Quiero chuparla. Ponmela, ya! ” (Lets go daddy. I want to suck it. Put it in me now!). She began grabbing my ass, rubbing my cock, pressing her boobs against me. I was stunned and I began to conclude that she was a prostitute. Damn this sluggish state I was in. I check out the goods and moved upward only to see an Adam’s apple, heavily caked make up and a very light stubble on the chin and upper lip.

Jumping back I stuttered, “No, gracias, pero no,” and moved out into the street light, back into the rain. I was a little shaken, but not disturbed. It wasn’t the first tranny I’d seen there and definitely not the last. I regained my pace, my focus and reentered the cold rain. Then it hit me. My pocket, it felt different, something was missing. My 15-year-old habit of “the pocket brush” confirmed it. She fleeced me! Errr, he fleeced me! Damnit! Wait until the guys hear about this one!