Memories - The Gay Male Prostitute's Homosexuality

In 1990, I was studying at a vocational arts school. After a performance at a city competition that year, a French man presented me with flowers! We got to know each other later. On stage, I was dressed as a woman, playing a maid, an unimportant role with few lines. Surprisingly, he mistook me for a woman. About two weeks after that performance, we entered our internship phase. Unable to find suitable work, I worked at a hotel. In the summer of 1990, after graduating from arts school, I still couldn't find suitable employment. That October, I went to the provincial capital and joined a nightclub's dance troupe as a backup dancer (basically, if there weren't enough songs, we'd dance. The singers would sing, and we dancers, both men and women, would perform). The dancers' income was incomparable to that of the singers. The pay was very low, and we male backup dancers were even paid less than the female backup dancers—it was very unequal.

Since room and board were provided, I spent all my salary on cigarettes and clothes. At the end of each month, there was hardly anything left. One evening, just before the performance, one of the female backup dancers, Xiaoping, couldn't make it due to other commitments. This left one less dancer than the original eight. The singer was performing "Seeing Flowers Through the Fog," and the choreography was entirely female. The team leader called me over and asked if I could cross-dress (perhaps because of my long hair, delicate features, and slender figure, which gave me a feminine look). Without hesitation, I said, "Sure." During the performance, they simply did my eyebrows and applied some lipstick. I changed into the same outfit as the other female dancers: a shiny short-sleeved shirt and white tight-fitting flared pants. Then I went on stage. Since I was the only one dressed as a woman among the women, the audience couldn't tell at all, and the performance was a success!

After the performance, backstage, I changed into my almost unchanging denim outfit (I like androgynous style; I can't find a single completely masculine outfit in my wardrobe—it's all denim). That night, near the end of the day, I received a bouquet of flowers! As I was wondering what was going on, the tour leader excitedly came over and teased me, saying, "A Frenchman has taken a liking to you... I don't even know how to explain it to him..."

For the next few days, I received flowers from the Frenchman every night. One day, there was a card tucked inside the flowers that read, "Ms. Luo, I'm a friend from France, working as a technical expert at a steel plant in your city... I really admire your dancing... Can we be friends?" Facing this Frenchman, I was both excited and shy, unsure what to do. The tour leader and my friends advised me, "Who cares? Let's be friends first." In the following days, the Frenchman picked me up from work every day in his car, even though it was less than 400 meters from the nightclub to my place. They say the French are romantic, and it was true. He tried every way to make me happy. At the time, a song called "Walking Through the Coffee Shop" was popular, and coffee shops of all sizes were everywhere. Almost every night, he invited me to a different coffee shop. Of course, back then I started wearing makeup every day, and my clothing changed from androgynous to feminine. For example, I wore tight jeans or the trendy stirrup pants (some people called them sexy pants) that covered my hips tightly. Since it was winter, I definitely wore boots. For a while, he really couldn't figure out my identity. Of course, it wasn't to deceive him; I've always had a cross-dressing fetish, a woman's heart. Now I could openly wear women's clothing in front of my colleagues, because everyone supported my relationship with the Frenchman.

Looking back on that time, I truly enjoyed the happiness of being a woman; it was so fulfilling. Before I knew it, it was Christmas 1990. Back then, we Chinese didn't celebrate Western holidays, unlike now where hotels and restaurants are plastered with Santa Claus pictures and Christmas trees. That evening, as usual, I got into his car after work. He took out a beautifully wrapped box and wished me a happy holiday… I opened the box and saw a little Santa Claus inside! It was so cute, I loved it so much, and kept thanking him. It was only then that I learned about this great Western holiday from him.

He said, "Yi (my full name is Luo Yi), today marks exactly 30 days since we met, a full month, right? It's a day worth celebrating. Let's go out and stay out a little late tonight before going home to sleep, okay? Come to my place; I've decorated it like a fairytale world. Come and experience the Christmas atmosphere."

I nodded and agreed. Once inside, I took off my coat, and he had me sit on the sofa, helping me take off my boots, very attentive. I couldn't resist taking out the Santa Claus figurine and playing with it. Then he dimmed the lights and sat down beside me. We chatted and laughed, talking about everything under the sun. He said I was mischievous, beautiful, sexy, and had a very Eastern womanly charm… My face was already burning with shyness. Then he gently put his arm around my shoulders, stroking my hair, my hands, and my waist. And his movements seemed to be deepening. While enjoying his caresses, I suddenly realized: I can't give myself to him! It wasn't that I didn't want to give it to him, but that I simply couldn't! I quickly said to him, "Let's dance..." While we danced, he continued, his hands gradually sliding from my waist to my hips... Before I knew it, his lips were already on my face... Afraid he would do something else, I quickly pushed him away, but he was very absorbed. He said, "Yi, is it not okay? I know you Eastern women are conservative, but I'm sincere..."

I lowered my head, speechless, unable to think of anything to say to him. Suddenly, an idea struck me, and I said coquettishly, "No, I've only known you for such a short time. If you respect me, don't make things difficult for me. Anyway, not today..." Sure enough, he stopped.

After a while, he pleaded again, "I'll just kiss you, hug you, nothing else, okay?"

What could I say then? I couldn't keep refusing. I silently agreed. He pulled me into a tight embrace, his hands reaching behind me to hold my buttocks. His lips pressed tightly against mine, and he slowly pried them open with his tongue, slipping it into my mouth… I felt dizzy and let him do as he pleased, only trying to protect my chest with my hands so he wouldn't notice it was flat. After about ten minutes, he started rubbing his crotch against me. Because I was wearing tight, thick jeans, and it was winter, I was wearing many layers underneath, and he was also wearing pants, so he didn't notice anything unusual about my genitals. He held me so tightly I almost suffocated. When I couldn't take it anymore, I turned around, my back to him, my hands tightly covering my chest. I could feel his hard penis against my buttocks. He pushed me against the wall, pressing hard against my buttocks, occasionally squeezing and kneading them. I don't know how long it lasted, but I felt very tired and pleaded with him to rest for a while. We sat on the sofa, drank some beverages, and then his hands started touching my buttocks and tried to reach inside my pants. I tried to stop him several times, and he begged me, saying he'd only touch my butt and wouldn't do anything else, that he'd respect my wishes… So I unbuttoned the only button on my jeans, pulled the zipper down halfway, revealing a small portion of my buttocks. His hand slipped inside my pants and touched my buttocks, his hairy hands kneading them… Honestly, I felt a strange pleasure. Suddenly, he gently pushed me, causing me to half-fall onto the sofa. He then made me kneel on the sofa, and from behind, he grabbed my waist with both hands and thrust his hips back and forth forcefully. After a while, he finally stopped. He stopped with satisfaction, and after I buttoned my pants back up, he even smiled and knelt behind me to kiss my buttocks. That night, after he took me back to my place, I started thinking about how to face him. Following advice, I went to a certain embroidery park in the provincial capital (a small park where gay people often meet) to ask for advice from people in the community. Someone told me that as long as two people like each other, sex isn't an issue at all.

Anal sex, hand sex, oral sex—the Frenchman's advances, or rather, his sexual advances, were relentless. He also frequently gave me gifts and money. But I couldn't satisfy him sexually; I always turned him down… I didn't know if his sexual orientation was different, or if he could accept anal sex, hand sex, etc. Finally, one day, I told him the truth, shocking the Frenchman. I thought it was over between us! But a few days later, the Frenchman invited me to his home and said very seriously, "Whether you're a man or a woman, I'm determined to love you… You're more feminine than a woman, I want you to be my woman…" At that moment, we both cried. To this day, I don't regret giving him my body; he was the first man to conquer my genitals.

That night, we had anal sex. We took a shower together, and he admired my body, saying my skin was smooth and supple, my waist was slim, and my buttocks were round—a perfect woman's figure… Before anal sex, I made sure to empty my bowels. After everything was ready, he tore open a condom and put it on his penis, opened a bottle, poured out some liquid, and told me it was paraffin oil, which was essential. Then he started applying the oil to his penis. I knelt on the sofa with my buttocks raised, and he began to caress my anus. He gently stroked me, and under his caresses, I became somewhat intoxicated, letting him carry me to the bed in the bedroom. He picked up a shampoo bottle, diluted it with some water, shook it, and squeezed all the liquid into my anus. Although I was mentally prepared, the burning sensation caused by so much liquid inside me still made me shiver for a while. He inserted his fingers into my tightly closed anus and started digging. A wave of shame washed over me, my face flushed red, and a warm, damp sensation surged through my body. I clenched my anus, trying to suppress the burning sensation in my back door, while his fingers slowly probed inside. This feeling, a mixture of pleasure and shame, was incomprehensible to those who hadn't experienced it. Soon, my anus was so soft from his fingers that it could accommodate two of them. I lay down, raising my buttocks high. There was absolutely no pain; a strange sense of fullness enveloped me, making me groan involuntarily. I relaxed my anal muscles, welcoming his further penetration with a mixture of resistance and resistance.

After a while of finger stimulation, he slowly inserted his penis into my anus, repeatedly saying, "Don't be nervous, relax."

I tried to relax, and he inserted about 1 cm. It wasn't the first time in my life that someone had penetrated my anus, and I couldn't help but cry out. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

"Does it hurt? Don't be afraid!" he comforted me. He continued to penetrate, about 4-5 cm. By this time, due to excitement, his penis was very large and hard. I groaned, "It's so big and hard, I'm scared!"

After a while, he asked to sit on him. So I turned my back to him, held his penis with my hands, and slowly sat down. His penis became even harder. At this point, I began to move up and down repeatedly, controlling the entire rhythm.

His excitement grew, and he lifted me off him, making me kneel with my buttocks sticking out. He thrust into me forcefully from behind. The speed was so intense that tears welled up in my eyes again. He began to thrust in and out. With the penis thrusting in and out slowly and gradually faster, from gentle to powerful, my body trembled, and my mind gradually became blurred; I only felt the huge rod thrusting into my buttocks, so deep, so deep, almost penetrating my entire body, about to burst out of my throat and mouth; and when it pulled out of my intestines, it felt like it was pulling my soul out! At that moment, I suddenly understood the sexual physiological basis for male homosexuality. The pleasure was incredibly intense; people say anal sex is a kind of prostate massage. I was in a state of ecstasy, unconsciousness, and intoxication. When his hands rubbed my buttocks, caressed and kneaded my flat breasts and nipples, I screamed like a madman. My buttocks arched back to meet his increasingly vigorous thrusts; and when his huge penis withdrew, it twisted and turned in circles, as if begging him to go in again. He roared loudly, his howl like a wild beast reverberating in my ears, driving me even more mad; I braced myself on the bed with my elbows, raised my buttocks higher, and twisted them even more fiercely.

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