When I decided to return to college to get my master’s degree, I found an apartment in one of the older sections of the city, not far from the campus.

Being a female, I was a little worried about the neighborhood, but it seemed that a lot of students lived around there, and the people I met assured me that it was not as tacky as it looked. In fact, the general opinion was that I had been lucky to find a vacancy.

Shortly after moving in I met Amy, another resident of the building, in the laundry room. We introduced ourselves, and she told me she worked as an intern in an architectural office downtown. She was very good-looking, with a deep golden-bronze tan, short blonde hair and bright blue eyes, not to mention high firm breasts and long shapely legs. I’ll bet she drives guys right out of their fucking minds, I thought.

When our laundry was finished, Amy told me she often went up on the roof of the building to tan, and asked me if I’d like to join her. “It’s a free show for the college boys in the apartment next door,” she said, and we laughed. We then agreed to meet on the roof after putting our laundry away and changing our clothes.

When Amy showed up she was wearing a brief yellow bikini that didn’t leave much to the imagination. I had put on a halter and shorts which were relatively modest in comparison. We settled down on a couple of plastic chaise lounges, and she fished in her bag for some sunscreen. “Want me to rub some on your back?” she offered.

“Thanks.” I rolled onto my stomach and she massaged the lotion into my back and legs. She then asked me to do her in return, undoing her bikini top as she lay on her front and placing it beside the chaise. When I finished oiling her, she rolled onto her back without bothering to put her top back on. Her large firm breasts were almost as tan as the rest of her. She squeezed some sunscreen into her hand and slowly rubbed in on her chest, massaging each mound and pinching her nipples.

“One of the boys next door plays with his thing sometimes when I do this,” she said, smiling. “He thinks I don’t know, but I’ve seen him.”

“You are an awful tease,” I said. Then I unhooked my halter top and reached for the sunscreen. We both laughed at once.

Over the next two months Amy and I became good friends. We went to movies and concerts together, cruised the bars and rode our bikes together on weekends. Most nights we fixed dinner together. We were having such a good time with each other that I didn’t even really mind not having a boyfriend.

There were some things about Amy, though, that occasionally puzzled me. Like the time I was foraging in her medicine cabinet for an aspirin, and I noticed that she didn’t have any birth-control pills, a diaphragm or even a box of condoms in her bathroom. I couldn’t imagine a woman living on her own — especially someone as hot as Amy — who didn’t have some kind of protection handy. But then I thought she probably had it in her bedroom or something, and forgot about it.

Then one day when we were at her place, I suddenly realized that my period was starting. When I asked Amy if she could give me a Tampax or something, she told me she was out. This surprised me, for I always keep plenty of that stuff on hand, just in case. I told Amy that I would just go down to my place and get some, and be right back.

When I returned, Amy was in the bathroom. The door was half open, and when I looked that way I saw something that made me gasp. Instead of sitting on the toilet with her pants down, she was doing something that should have been impossible. She was standing in front of the toilet, with the seat up, and pissing into it like a man!

When she came out of the bathroom and saw the shocked look on my face, she must have realized what I’d seen. Her own face went pale in a moment.

“Did — what — did you — did you see?” she stammered out.

“I saw enough, yeah.” I was still kind of dazed, and didn’t know how to react.

Tears came to her eyes. Her hand went up to her face, as if she wanted to hide from me. “Now you’ll hate me,” she whispered. “Oh Jesus!”

“No,” I said. But I was still confused. “My God, Amy, what — How did you — I mean — you — you’re so pretty!”

She smiled a little, and blushed. “Let’s sit down,” she said then, and we moved to the couch and sat at opposite ends.

Amy then started to explain, telling me she had always known that she was really a girl, even back in grade school. She had started getting hormone shots during her first year in college. She’d had no silicone or implants; her boobs and all the rest of her body was real. She said when her body began to change she’d had to transfer to another college, and had changed her name, which was originally Tom. She told me that her family was unsympathetic, and her father had disowned her. As she said this, sudden tears streaked her cheeks, and she took out a tissue to blow her nose.

I moved closer to her and took her hand, trying to comfort her as she cried. “Hey, you’re my friend!” I told her. “I don’t care what’s between your legs.”

She didn’t stop crying, but she reached out to hug me hard. I hugged her back, and I guess I was crying a little myself. After a while we drew apart, drying our tears and blowing our noses.

But now I was curious as hell. “Amy,” I nervously asked her, “the bikini and the tight pants and so on — I mean, where do you put it? Your thing.”

She then told me about something she called a gaff, a small pouch she could fit her penis into, which was then tucked between her legs in a way that effectively made it unnoticeable. “Do you want to see?” she asked me.

I nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “Come into the bedroom.”

In the bedroom she opened a drawer of her dresser and took out something that looked like a thong. She unzipped her shorts and shucked them down her legs, along with her panties. I couldn’t help staring at her penis.

She then stepped into the gaff, tucked herself into the pouch and pulled it tight around her hips. Putting her panties back on, she did a graceful pirouette, so that I could admire her from all angles. Her penis didn’t show at all, and she certainly didn’t look like a man.

“Can I touch you?” I said then. I’m not sure what made me say it, but I did.

“Yes,” Amy said. “If you let me touch you.” Then she added, “But it’s murder when I get a hard-on in this thing.”

“You do that?”

“Sometimes. When I’m with you,” she said.

I didn’t know what to say. But I did want to touch her. My fingers skimmed the soft skin of her cheek. She had such fine, delicate, feminine features. I toyed with her pixie-like blonde hair, touched her pierced ears and traced her neck. “You are so pretty,” I murmured.

By now her hands were exploring me too. They slid over my neck and shoulders, and hesitated at my red halter top. Her eyes looked into mine, asking me a question. I nodded. She smiled, and a minute later the halter was on the floor. I wasn’t wearing a bra.

I stood and unzipped my shorts, let them cascade down my legs and kicked them away. Now we were both naked except for our panties.

We moved together to the bed. Her lips were hard against mine, and our breasts squeezed together. My fingers slid down her back, and I rubbed the swell of her rounded bottom under the nylon underwear. On impulse I squeezed her ass hard, and she drew a surprised breath.

“My dick is killing me!” she hissed.

“Then let it out,” I said.

Amy lay on her back, lifted her hips and shucked off her panties and the gaff in one fluid motion. I was looking at a naked woman with a dick, which was hardening into a respectable erection. A drop of pearly precome oozed from the slit. I licked it off and sucked her into my mouth.

“Oh my God!” she gasped out. Then she spread her legs and arched her back with a guttural moan. Her hands clutched at my head as she pushed her crotch against my face. I fucked her with my mouth, and in less than a minute her hips bucked and she wailed as her come erupted into my throat. I swallowed the thick, yeasty load with one large gulp.

“Oh Jesus, Sally — ” she panted. “You sweet thing!”

Slowly we caught our breath. I lay down next to her and nestled close, my lips grazing her ear. For the first time I touched her breasts. They were firm and soft, with high, excited brown nipples. “Touch me,” I whispered.

“Tell me what to do,” she said.

“Have you ever made love to a girl?”

“I’ve never made love with anyone,” she told me. “I’m a virgin.”

This surprised me again. I kissed her tenderly on the lips. She kissed me back, and I opened my mouth in invitation. Her tongue explored tentatively at first, then with more urgency. I guided her hand to my boobs and gently caressed hers. My nipples were supersensitive, and hers were hard as erasers. They seemed to swell to fill my palm. While I toyed with her chest I kissed her again. She eagerly took my tongue in her warm mouth, and I sighed with pleasure.

As we turned on our sides to get closer, I could feel her getting hard against my thigh. Then she was on top of me, between my legs, pulling at my panties. I lifted my hips for her. When my panties were off she kissed my stomach, then my inner thighs, first one, then the other. She paused over my mound.

“You don’t have to,” I said. “It’s almost the beginning of my period.”

“I don’t care,” she breathed. “I want to. Your scent excites me.”

I drew in my breath sharply as she found my hard little clit with her tongue. I hugged her with my legs, then spread them wide and arched myself against her face. Her tongue and lips explored further, and in just a few minutes my orgasm burst over me like strobing fireworks, seeming to go on forever.

We lay in each other’s arms in the afterglow. Amy played with my hair and I caressed her arm.

“Sally?” she whispered after a while.

“Yes?”

“I want — I mean, I’d like to — ” She nibbled her lower lip. “I want to put it inside you, but — but I want you on top. Like — ”

“Like a guy,” I finished for her. She nodded shyly. I smiled and kissed her.

Amy lay on her back and I climbed on top of her, positioning my hips above hers. Then I reached between my legs and guided her into me. We slid together with a simultaneous moan of pleasure. I brought my legs together between hers, trapping her deep inside me. This was going to be something I’d never experienced before — pretending to be a man making love to a man who really wanted to be a girl.

I began to move my hips, thrusting gently. Amy lay still at first, but then her hips began rocking against mine, and I thrust harder. Her eyes closed and she began making panting, whimpering noises. I cupped her boobs with my hands and tweaked her nipples between my thumb and finger. She squirmed under me as I pumped. I could really learn to like being a guy, I thought.

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “Oh yeah! Fuck me!”

“Come for me, baby,” I said, feeling an erotic surge at the masculine part I was acting. “I want you to come. I’m going to make you come! I’m fucking your tight little pussy, and I’m gonna squirt my stuff in your cunt, and you love it, don’t you, you hot little thing. You love getting fucked with my big cock! You’re going to come for me, aren’t you baby? Aren’t you?”

“Yes!” she shrieked. “Oh God, I’m — I’m gonna — ” Then her arms tightened convulsively around me, and she grabbed my buns and shoved her hips hard against mine. I could feel her inside me, pulsing with release as she wailed and held me tight between her legs.

Slowly we relaxed. “So how was your first time?” I whispered after a minute.

“Oh God! I think you may have turned me into a sex fiend,” she giggled, and we both dissolved in laughter.

We spent the night in Amy’s bed, and in the morning we made love again. It seemed strange at first — not like lesbian love, and not like straight sex either. But we learned to love one another as people. We lived together for the next two years, until I got my masters’ degree, and Amy fell in love with a man and married him, after having the final surgery.

My love for Amy is something I could never fully explain, because I don’t really understand it myself. I guess what it really comes down to is that it’s not how you love the person, it’s the person you love.