I’m not usually a big fan of beards, especially on guys who look like they haven’t even gotten their driver’s license yet. The beard often seems to be more of a statement than it really is on someone’s face. But this boy – or man, I estimated him to be in his late twenties, maybe thirties – had a beard that really complemented his face in a very nice way. Photo above from this FTM.

His beard was somewhere between a medium stubble of about three days and a long stubble of ten days, and it was beautifully black and full. He had a beautiful face and his beard added that extra touch of toughness. Without the beard, he would have had more of a sweet boy’s face, but with the beard, he was suddenly a man. The beard also complimented his very light skin and sparkling dark eyes.

My thoughts were interrupted when Kevin, the wearer of the beard in question, asked me from the other side of the dressing room curtain if the jeans fit a little tighter. He worked at the Levi’s store where I had just stopped by to buy some new pants. My old, well-worn ones were starting to show signs of wear in places and were in danger of becoming fashionable with holes here and there. Unfortunately, the holes were mostly in the crotch, so something had to be done.

It was – not coincidentally, I like to time my visits to clothing stores well – relatively quiet when I walked into the Levi’s store. Kevin had immediately sprung into action, happy to break the silence for a moment. He had grabbed a pair of 501s at my request, but had also added a few suggestions for other (in his eyes, I’m sure, less boring) styles. And I just stood there and tried them on. There was more shape in them, I could see that myself in the mirror. But mostly I went for the safe “boring” anyway, maybe a little too aware of the fact that I hadn’t been 18 for a long time.

“Let’s see,” came the voice from the other side of the curtain. Normally, I wouldn’t have responded – salespeople often tend to just say something looks good on you – but Kevin intrigued me. Not only did his plus or minus five to eight days of stubble look good on him, he was otherwise good-looking. Not very tall (from my point of view), I estimated about 1.75, with a nice slim, slightly muscular body. And his face – I happen to be a sucker for faces – intrigued me enormously. Friendly, nice smile, but also two eyes that made me suspect that this guy was no average salesman. His look had something of “still waters, deep bottom”.

I came out of the dressing room. He looked at me from head to toe for a moment. “No, I was wrong. This model doesn’t suit you.” He even had my attention now. A salesman not trying to sell you something? He sent me back to the fitting room and gave me another model. I put on the pants and showed him the result again. This time he was pleased. It “took five years off my age instead of giving me five more with a 501,” he said. I had to laugh at the way he put it and decided to take the pants for that reason alone. Even though there was a chance that the pants would never leave the closet and end up in a garbage bag or dumpster in a few years. Just to be on the safe side, I also took another 501, ignoring Kevin’s somewhat disappointed or even disapproving look. I paid for both jeans and promised better luck in the future. With barely a hint of pity in his eyes, Kevin handed me my paper bag with my new purchases. He obviously didn’t have much faith that things would work out for me.

A week later, I happened to be wearing the jeans Kevin had recommended when I went to the grocery store. I was bending over to grab something from a lower shelf when I heard a voice behind me. “See, that gives you courage after all.” I looked over and saw a grinning Kevin standing there. I replied something vague like, “Hi Kevin, you doing a little shopping too?” With an even bigger smile, he noticed that I remembered his name. “And I’m glad you actually took my advice and didn’t just throw those jeans in the closet. Now for the rest of your clothes!” And with that, he walked away, leaving me a bit confused. At the end of the aisle, however, he looked back and gave me one last, almost defiant smile. And he was gone.

As it turned out, he had another surprise in store for me. After paying for my groceries at the self-service checkout, when I bought another pack of cigarettes, the girl behind the counter laughingly asked me for my ID to determine my age. “New policy,” she said, “we ask everyone for ID now,” but she couldn’t stop laughing and revealed why she was asking for my ID. “Kevin wanted to know your name and your age. And I also had to give you this bill.” I took the bill from her, unfolded it, and saw that it had a number 06 with the letter ‘N’ on it. I quickly looked around to see if I could still see Kevin, but he seemed to have flown away. “He’s my brother,” the girl went on. “He must like you, because he’s been talking about you all week.” Then her attention went back to the next customer. Surprised and curious, I left the store.

Back at home, I unfolded the bill with the phone number again. There was only one way to find out how Kevin had managed to find me in the supermarket, and that was to call him. I grabbed my cell phone and dialed the number. He answered right away. “I was hoping you would call. And now I know your name from my sister.” I laughed at his succinctness, but also saw his beautiful eyes again. I really wanted to get to know this boy better. Unfortunately, I couldn’t make it that night, but Kevin immediately said yes when I asked if he wanted to go out for a drink somewhere the next day. We agreed to meet at six o’clock near the Grote Markt.

I spent the rest of the evening regretting that I had not simply changed my plans and agreed to meet him immediately. My thoughts were only with Kevin anyway. It seemed like an eternity until I met him the next day at the Grote Markt. I was a little early, but apparently he was even earlier, because he was already waiting for me. I wanted to give him a hand, but he used it to pull me towards him and give me a kiss. “Glad you’re here!” Of course I didn’t want to be known and gave him a kiss back – something I don’t do very quickly in public. I smelled that he was wearing a very subtle scent. Like everything about Kevin, this scent had something enchanting about it.

Actually, I would have liked to kiss him very deeply right then and there. But I held myself back and decided to satisfy my curiosity about how he had actually found me first. “Oh, I showed my sister a picture of you that I took with my cell phone from our video surveillance. I thought I would never see you again, but my sister happened to recognize you as a customer at the supermarket where she works. So I just hung out there for a few days around your usual time, hoping to see you there.” I asked him how he knew I was gay. “Oh, I didn’t know that either. Not for sure, anyway. But when you looked at me in the supermarket, and especially the way you looked at me, I was sure. And you remembered my name!”

We ordered drinks, which turned out to be no easy task. The Grote Markt was crowded due to the summer weather and the lack of staff was obvious. Luckily, Kevin knew one of the waiters, otherwise we might still be sitting there waiting for our drinks. We got to know each other a bit over our beers. He turned out to be a quarter Indian, which explained his light complexion. It also turned out that he was already 32, which made me think he was a little too young. Due to a major upheaval in his life – he didn’t say exactly what he was referring to – he hadn’t finished his college education and had ended up at the Levi’s store a few years ago, where he had become an assistant manager in addition to being a salesman.

In return, I answered his questions. He also told me what had attracted him to me from the first moment I entered the store. Anyway, he was attracted to being tall and older, but it was also the combination of being seemingly one hundred percent straight and yet having some kind of intuitive feeling that I was probably gay. I asked him what exactly he was basing that on. “Hard to say. Sometimes you can see it in someone’s eyes.” I burst out laughing, “I wasn’t drooling when I looked at you!” He burst out laughing too. That wasn’t what he meant. “If you were a real straight man, you would have looked at me with a lot less interest. You looked at me with interest. And a straight man often feels more uncomfortable when a young salesman like me helps him try on clothes. Little things like that.” He also told me that he found my rather deep voice attractive.

I found his analysis amusing. I couldn’t quite judge his story about the average straight man, but at least he had judged me correctly. Still, I couldn’t resist testing him some more. “But what if I’m just bi?” He replied without hesitation that I was not bi. “I could tell right away, of course, that you’re not wearing a wedding ring to begin with. Also, you are clearly the kind of man who hates shopping, especially when it comes to clothes. But I don’t see any feminine influences at all in your clothes, so there’s no woman in your life you occasionally drag along to go clothes shopping.”

“By the way, you don’t have a man sitting at home either, I’m 99 percent sure of that. And that’s where I come in, if only as your personal shopper, because you don’t know much about fashion.” He said the last part with a wink, although of course he was right. I could see in his face that he knew I knew he was right. In fact, from that moment on, I was sold. Not because of the idea of a personal shopper, although that would be quite handy, but because Kevin fascinated me enormously, more than any other man had done in the last ten or fifteen years. And while he seemed to be more attracted to older, taller men like me, I was often more attracted to boys and men like him. And he also passed the all-important (external) test with flying colors: a cute, sweet face that I’d always hoped was a harbinger of someone’s character.

After we finished our beers, Kevin suggested we go to a gay bar in one of the side streets of the Grote Markt. It would probably be less crowded there, he said. We stood up and Kevin greeted from a distance the boy he knew from the waitress, who raised his thumb with a grin, as if he already knew exactly what Kevin had in mind. It was funny how he always took the initiative and was always one step ahead of me. He also did it in an almost disarming way when he briefly laid his head on my upper arm and shoulder as we walked the few hundred yards to the nearest pub.

When we arrived at the pub, it turned out that Kevin knew all the necessary people there as well. I suddenly felt very old. The days when I knew half the people in the pub were long gone. When I went into town now, it was hardly ever to a gay bar. By the way, I was by no means the oldest person there and was greeted friendly by the 25 year old bartender, although that was probably more because he knew Kevin well and I apparently ‘belonged’ to Kevin. We ordered two more beers and sat down on the bench in the back of the place. Kevin laid his head against me again and I returned the favor by running my hand through his hair. He obviously liked that because he crawled a little closer to me.

He sat there silently against me for a while, until suddenly three boys in their late twenties joined us at our table, curious to see who Kevin had hooked up with. I could tell by their curious looks and questions that it was clear to them that Kevin had hooked me and not the other way around. Kevin briefly answered some of their questions, but clearly had no desire to discuss me at length. The boys took the hint and left us alone.

“Can I go home with you?” asked Kevin suddenly. “I never do that on a first date, but I really want to be alone with you right now.” I hesitated. I, too, was not in the habit of jumping into bed with someone on a first date. But for Kevin, I was willing to make an exception. I explained that I lived about a 10-15 minute walk from the pub. “We could go to my place,” he said. “I live a little closer.” He didn’t really wait for my answer and got up. “Are you coming?”

Kevin did indeed live just a five-minute walk from the pub, in a small but beautiful apartment in a century-old Hague mansion. It consisted of two rooms: a small living room with an attached open kitchen, and a separate bedroom. He gestured for me to sit on the couch while he went to the refrigerator to get something to drink. He returned with a bottle of rosé and two glasses. “I’m out of beer, so I hope the rosé is good. I also have white wine, but it’s not really cool yet.” I said rosé was fine. Besides, I was more of a wine drinker than a beer drinker anyway.

He poured two glasses and put them on the table in front of us. Then he sat down beside me. We looked at each other and for the first time he seemed to hesitate for a moment. The ball was now briefly in my court. I gently placed a hand on his neck and pulled him slightly toward me, bringing him within kissing distance. This was obviously the signal he had hoped for, because the last bit of distance between our lips was now bridged by him. Very gently he kissed my mouth in a kiss that became more and more intense. Soon I felt his tongue enter my mouth. I did not let go either. I returned his kiss passionately, gently stroking his hairy cheek with one hand. My other hand was on his back, pulling him closer to me.

By now we were both really horny. The initial feelings of being attracted to each other turned more and more into pure, horny lust. Kevin was again the first to take the next step. He undid a few buttons on my shirt and gently stroked my breasts and nipples. He interrupted his caressing for a moment to immediately remove his shirt completely himself. The body that was revealed to me was breathtakingly beautiful. A fine six-pack with a seductive streak of hair that ran from his navel to the edge of his boxer shorts just above his jeans, and his chest was adorned by two beautiful nipples in a bed of short black hair. It matched his seven-day stubble face perfectly. I couldn’t resist exploring his nipples with my tongue, which immediately became quite hard.

After my shirt had landed on the floor somewhere, he pulled me onto his bed. He took off my shoes and jeans, but left my boxers on. He also took off his sneakers, but then stopped. He was suddenly very shy and insecure, the complete opposite of Kevin. “You’re the first man I’ve wanted to have sex with since I turned my life around. But I’m afraid something will change after we have sex.” I held out my arm, signaling that it would be okay if he just lay down next to me. Still wearing his jeans, he came over and laid his head on my chest. It seemed like he suddenly didn’t dare look at me anymore. I stroked his hair and neck, wondering what had made him so insecure. But I didn’t want to force him. I liked him far too much to throw him out of my window just because I happened to be in a horny mood.

“I’m afraid you’ll get mad at me,” he said suddenly, still without looking at me. I said I’m sure that would be fine as I gently pushed his head up so I could give him a kiss. His eyes found mine. I asked him if he would like to go back to the couch. We didn’t have to sleep together. I saw some relief in his eyes, but he decided to go anyway. Slowly he took off his pants so that he too was wearing only boxers. He came back to me and took my hand. “Sooner or later I’ll have to tell you.” He put my hand on the strand of hair below his navel as he began to kiss me again.

It was special, I thought, he seemed so experienced and confident in so many things. But apparently he had never been in bed with a man before. I couldn’t think of any other explanation. He pushed my hand down a little further until my fingers were under the edge of his boxers. I could feel that he was clearly not of the bald-headed brigade: my fingers felt a bush, kept neatly short, but still clearly present in his crotch. He now let his hand slip into my boxer, and immediately slid to my cock, which he cupped gently. My own hand in his boxer he held back for a moment so that I could not grab his cock as well. Then he gently pushed my hand further into his boxer.

I couldn’t find a dick in his boxer.

Suddenly a light went on in my head. I couldn’t find a dick in his boxer. Instead, my fingers were sliding over unfamiliar mounds that also seemed to be quite wet. I had no experience with women, but these had to be labia. By now I could hear Kevin holding his breath. Maybe out of lust, but probably even more out of fear of my reaction. “Are you angry?” he asked quietly. No, I wasn’t angry at all. In the short time I had known Kevin, I had grown to like him far too much to be angry with him. But I was a little surprised, or rather taken aback. Relieved, he breathed again.

I asked him if that had been the big turning point in his life, that he had undergone a sex change and had his dick removed. “Almost right,” he said. “I was born in a woman’s body, but I always felt like a man. And I didn’t have my penis removed, I had my breasts removed.” I still looked at him in disbelief. He looked so masculine with his chest hair and beard. He probably saw my look. “Hormones work wonders,” he said briefly. He took my hand again and let me feel two thin scars a few centimeters below his nipples, still silent witnesses to the fact that Kevin had once been born with two breasts.

“Do you think it turned out nice?” he asked quietly. “Very nice,” I replied. “You really have a fantastic body! And I can guarantee you one hundred percent that I really only fall for men!” I asked him to stand up so I could get a good look at him. Already a little more confident, he stood up and twisted his body a little. Except for the surprise of his boxer shorts, he looked manly in every way. I got up as well and stood behind him. Slowly I ran my hands over his delicious body. He turned his head and kissed me again. “I’m sorry I don’t have a cock for you too, but I also decided not to have the operation. I have not always been convinced by the results in others. So you get a man with a real cunt. If you still want me…”

“Hmmm…” I said with a broad grin. “Then I’ll have to do some more research anyway.” I let my hand glide slowly over his pussy. I saw that Kevin stiffened for a moment. “May I?” I asked as I gently ran my finger over his labia. He relaxed again and moaned softly as I slowly pushed my finger into his wet pussy. He turned his head back to me and began to tongue me fiercely. I felt his body shake as I pushed a second finger into his pussy. I pulled him over to the bed and slowly lowered him backwards onto the bed.

Then I did something that was also a completely new experience for me. After first licking both of his nipples, I slowly moved my tongue over his belly, through his navel, to his pubic area to explore his pussy more closely with my tongue. At the top I came across a small bulge which, if I remembered my biology class correctly, was probably his clitoris. Judging by the fact that Kevin started moaning loudly when I played with it with my tongue, that seemed to be the case. (Later, Kevin told me that his clitoris had grown slightly due to male hormones and now formed a small mini-penis). I then moved my tongue further down and licked his labia. Kevin opened his legs a little more, obviously hoping that my tongue would go a little deeper.

I pushed my tongue into his love tunnel, something I had never done before. If someone had told me a day before that I would ever use my tongue to pamper a pussy again, I would have declared that person to be one hundred percent crazy. But now… now it actually made me horny. Not because it was a pussy, but because it was Kevin’s pussy. And for Kevin I had fallen like a block. Like a whole bunch of blocks. I saw how horny it made him and wanted nothing more than to please him. On the other hand, Kevin seemed to have fallen for me as well. And he was obviously relieved that I wasn’t angry or disappointed about the lack of the last bastion of masculinity.

“Do you want to fuck me?” he whispered. “I want to feel you inside me.” He grabbed my cock with his hand, which immediately became rock hard from his touch. Now it was my turn to become momentarily insecure. This was terra incognita for me, and anyway I had always been the bottom in bed. Fucking myself had never really turned me on. But with Kevin, it suddenly seemed very logical for me to take the active role. A little uncomfortably, I positioned myself between his legs while he guided my cock to his vagina with his hand. As I slid into him, I felt the wet warmth of his pussy, very different from the close feeling I vaguely knew from the days when I was a little more the other way around and had occasionally filled a butt.

Before I pushed my cock all the way into his pussy, I asked him if we shouldn’t use a condom. He said it wasn’t necessary. He had had his tubes removed. “No chance for little Maikjes or Kevin then,” he said laughing, only to let out a big moan of pleasure almost immediately as I slowly pushed my cock into his pussy up to my balls. I started to fuck him very carefully until I realized that there was no reason to be so careful. After all, his cunt had not been surgically altered, so it could take a beating just like any other cunt. I started to fuck him a little less cautiously and felt that both he and I were close to orgasm. We came almost simultaneously and I can’t say anything else: it was delicious!

Soaked in sweat, we lay in bed and enjoyed it afterwards, Kevin with his head on my chest so that I could feel his beard gently rubbing against my nipple every time my chest would rise slightly due to my own breathing. I thought about what a wonderfully beautiful body he had, masculine in everything but his pussy. But that actually fit the picture one hundred percent. A beautiful man with a special surprise for even greater intimacy. I found myself thinking that Kevin had made the right choice by not getting a phalloplasty, a surgically shaped penis. Also because he obviously enjoyed being fucked himself. I looked at Kevin. His eyes were closed and he had a big smile on his face. I think he was blissfully asleep….