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November 19, 2018

Samantha Chronicles: Fine art made from ‘handicap’

“That was incredible.” I say. “You’re right. You’re not like most men.”

“You have no idea,” he responds wryly.

Is this it? Is this when he exposes himself and shows me his two organs? I must say that at this point, I’m not bothered about it. I’m curious, yes, but not afraid. He truly is, incredible; I’m not just saying that to try to massage his ego.

I wonder if he has the Napoleon Complex. The term is used to describe people who are driven by a perceived handicap to over compensate in other aspects of their lives. Napoleon compensated for his lack of height by seeking power, war and conquest. Prince, also a very short man, played numerous different musical instruments as well as wrote and produced all his music. He has a vault full of thousands of unreleased tracks. Similar to these two, the VIP is very driven and accomplished in his public life. His handicap may not be height, but in many ways, this is probably worse. Therefore, he has honed in his bedroom skills to a fine art, which makes sense if he is indeed, a hermaphrodite. Which woman would not overlook that if you took her to paradise every time you made love?

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I am intersexual,” he responds. “Perhaps that is why I have such a good understanding of the female vulva and how to satisfy you.”

I don’t say anything. I wasn’t prepared for him to just come right out and say it.

“Are you disgusted?” he asks.

“No, dear me, no,” I say forcefully. “I’m just taken aback, that’s all.” 

He moves away from me and turns on the light. I’m not sure what I was expecting but it’s not bad at all.

“When I was born the doctors could not decide whether I was a boy or a girl. They wanted to have me go through surgery, to make me all female,” he says.

“My parents refused, preferring me to choose what sex I wanted to be when I was old enough. Thank God for that because I identify with being a male.”

“I’ve had surgery thrice to reposition my scrotum and extend the urethra to the right position. It’s not perfect but this is the end result.”

The doctors have done an amazing good job on him. I came in with preconceived notions about what he would look like but I feel had I known nothing, I would not have noticed anything out of the ordinary unless I went down on him.

“I would appreciate it if you would keep this to yourself,” he says.

I nod fully aware that this was the main reason Mr. N wanted me to seduce him. To confirm whatever rumours he had heard. I fall asleep in his arms. For the first time in a very long time I sleep soundly. I wake up to find he has ordered room service. He feeds me grapes and butters my toast. He really is a nice guy, this one.

“I’ll need to go to my room to change,” I say.

“You’re staying right here,” he responds and tosses me one of his T-Shirts.

We spend the whole day in bed. Last night was no fluke. If anything, my orgasms are more and more intense.

“You will have to let me up for air sometime,” I say laughing after his latest ravaging of my body.

“Yes. Just not today,” he responds.

All our meals are served indoors. We make love, read, watch TV, talk and make love some more in an endless spiral, until exhausted, we fall asleep. I wake up the next morning, languid and feeling like a million bucks. I haven’t turned on my phone since the night before. I reach for my bag. Time to deal with the world.

 

 

 

 

 

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