For guys and gals and those in between, we all need a little loving.

It was about eight o’clock Saturday evening when I got to the club called the “Rear Entrance.” I paid the cover charge and headed for the bar. The bartender is called Massy. And he is big. He stands a brawny six and a half feet tall, with powerful arms and a barrel chest.

I asked him once if Massy was his first or last name. “That’s my name,” he said. He’s Cajun, from somewhere in Louisiana or Mississippi. I like him. When things at the club are slow I sit at the bar and we’d visit. “Passing a good time,” he calls it. He looks out for the girls who come to the club. I ordered a glass of Chardonnay.

“Man, Candy,” he said, “you look hot tonight, girl!”

“Thanks,” I said.

It had been two or maybe three weeks since I’d been in, and I was needy. I hadn’t had any since the last time I was at the club. I needed a man’s arms around me. A man’s lips on mine. A man’s tongue on my nipples. I needed strong hands squeezing my hot, round butt cheeks. And I wanted a man’s fingers under my skirt, between my legs, stroking the crotch of my panties. Oh yeah, big-time!

I was wearing a denim skirt and a white top. My shoes were flats. I’m six feet tall and don’t usually wear heels unless I have a really tall date. I’d thought about fishnet stockings with a black garter belt and a saucy little beret, but decided against that getup. I had some gaff panties — which hide my dick — but a hard-on is murder in those things. The white sheer high-cut panties I had on would have to do the trick tonight.

Massy handed me my wine, and a man swooped onto the bar stool next to me. “I’m Hal,” he said and shook my hand.

“I’m Candy,” I said.

“And I’ll bet you’re really sweet,” he said, smirking. A real wit, I thought.

“Would you join me?” he said. He led the way to a small round table with two chairs. I soon learned that he was an engineer. “And what do you do?” he asked, having no idea the answer his question would get.

“I’m a professional too,” I began. “I’m a madam with a stable of tranny callgirls.”

He stared at me like I’d said something in Latin.

“Kidding,” I said after a slow sip of white wine. “I’m a paralegal.”

The waitress, in her cute little black-and-white French maid’s costume with starchy crinoline petticoats and fishnet stockings, showed up and took our next drink order. Hal had drained his scotch, and I was still working on my small glass of wine.

“Um,” he said, “is — is that a . . . um — ”

“Yes,” I said. “Her name is Brigitte.”

“But he’s so — ”

“Yes, she is very attractive,” I finished for him. “And I would caution you to be a gentleman with her. She used to be a Navy Seal.” Okay, that was a lie, but what the hell?

Hal’s knuckles were white on his scotch glass. The conversation stalled while he drained his drink. I finished my wine.

After we reordered, Hal said, “I have something that I would like for you to wear for me.”

I arched a plucked eyebrow. He fished in his coat pocket and presented a garter. “Put it on?”

It was a request. I took the garter and stood up. I put my foot on my chair and slid the elastic over my shoe and around my ankle. Hal’s nostrils flared. I slid it up my shaved bare leg until it stopped just under my skirt. I made sure that Hal got a quick glimpse of my panties in the process. This was starting to be fun.

He took a hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket and slid it up my leg and under my skirt, then tucked it under the garter.

“Are you a police officer?” I asked him.

They can’t lie to entrap you. It’s the law. So you always have to ask the question. You have to know their little game. It’s not an easy life, ladies.

Hal looked genuinely shocked. But prostitution is a serious charge. “Answer me!” I snapped.

“No!” he protested. “I’m not a cop. Jeez.”

After that there was another silence, while we both sipped our drinks.

I have known from the time I understood what gender was that I am living in the wrong body. I have two sisters, one younger and one older. They used to let me play dress-up with them. Mom even got me some panties of my very own. Some things even sisters won’t share.

Junior high and high school were pretty miserable for me. I wanted desperately to date, but I wanted to go out with boys. I’m not gay, I’m femme.

When I turned 18 I went away to college. The first year I started hormones and let my hair grow. By the end of that year the change was becoming obvious. My skin was smooth and my voice rising. And I was getting boobs.

The next fall I transferred to another university and went to live in the girls’ dorm, where I passed for a coed. I even dated.

I finished my degree and got a job as a paralegal. For the last two years I’ve gone to work wearing a bra and pantyhose. I have feminine hips, and I’m a B-plus cup size. No silicone enhancements for this girl.

Anyway, back at the ranch, my supposed opportunity for gratification was getting seriously plastered. What’s a girl to do? I sauntered up to the DJ and asked him to play something slow. He played the “Tennessee Waltz,” and I dragged Hal off his dead ass. We slow-danced cheek to cheek till the tune was over. I ground my body into his, hoping it would bring him back to life. It’s the best part of my memory of him.

Back at the table another Benjamin went up my leg and into my garter. I didn’t resist. And it wasn’t the last to make the trip up my leg that evening.

Eventually it was time for last call. After one more drink I led a wobbly Hal out into the parking lot to find his car. We got in the front seat. After a few kisses that were supposed to pass for foreplay, he unzipped his pants and extracted a small flaccid penis.

I stroked it gently a few times. No change. I got a flavored condom out of my purse and rolled it onto the little cock. I took it in my mouth and tried to work a miracle. Not tonight. After sucking for what seemed an eternity, I discovered that Hal was snoring. I left him asleep on his front seat, with his pants undone and his dick hanging out, and went back into the club.

“Massy’s big hands moved down and squeezed my buns. This must be what heaven is like, I thought. Between my legs I was rampaging.”

“I thought you had a date,” Massy asked. I rolled my eyes.

“Stick around after I lock up,” he said. “We can have a drink and talk.”

I excused myself and went to the ladies’ room. In my little clutch purse I had the evening’s essentials: lip gloss, makeup, condoms, a maxi-thin, and K-Y with applicator. I went into a stall and got prepared, then touched up my makeup and repaired my lip gloss. I also counted out six benjamins I had collected from Hal.

“You still drinking wine?” Massy said when I returned.

“Why don’t we have a scotch?” I said. Massy got out the Chivas. Cheers.

“Let’s go in my office,” he said, “I’ve been on my feet all night and I’m bushed.”

I followed him. He closed the door behind us. Then his big arms were around me. This is what I’d been wanting all evening. My knees felt like rubber and my heart was pounding. He held me close and kissed me. He was gentle at first, but soon was more urgent.

Massy’s big hands made their way down my back and squeezed my buns. This must be what heaven is like, I thought. Between my legs I was rampaging. The bulge in his pants felt like a three-cell flashlight pressing against me.

The size of Massy’s dick was legendary. I dropped to my knees and unzipped his fly. He opened his belt and the button at the waist of his pants. I slid his pants and boxer shorts down to his knees. Ohmygod! The thing in my face had to be a foot long, and thick as my wrist. It pulsed with a life of its own. A drop of precome oozed from the head. With only a moment’s hesitation, I licked it off. Massy sighed with satisfaction.

I usually make my partners use protection. A girl can’t be too careful. But I knew tonight’s stud, and decided to ride bareback for a change. Besides, I wasn’t sure the rubbers in my purse would fit over his monumental thing.

I licked along the length of his shaft while I stroked it slowly and fondled his big balls. Then the big purple head was in my mouth. I closed my eyes, and it was my turn to sigh in complete satisfaction.

Massy pushed my bra aside and played with my boobs, pinching the nipples softly and squeezing the soft flesh with his big hands. My hands were busy between my legs, rubbing the crotch of my white panties. I could have let this go on all night.

Massy was fully erect now and filling my mouth. I could finish him like this, I thought, and maybe I’ll have to, but I wanted to at least try to do the other things women do for men.

I got back on my feet and kissed him on the mouth. His tongue was inside my mouth, and it felt like electricity everywhere in my body. I lifted my skirt and tucked my thumbs in the waistband of my panties. Turning to face his desk, I eased the panties down my legs and bent over the desk in lascivious invitation.

He stood behind me and flopped his big cock on my ass a few times. With trembling fingers, I opened my purse and handed him the K-Y. He applied a liberal coating to his masculinity. Thus prepared, he positioned himself at my tiny ­entrance and pushed. Nothing. He nudged, harder this time, and I pushed back. The head penetrated me, giving me a wild rush of pleasure.

“While I watched, fascinated, he slid in, this time with no resistance. How could something so big fit into someplace so small?”

We paused while I adjusted to the welcome invader. Then we began the slow, delicious dance of fornication. Inch by inch he plundered me, to my everlasting delight. I was in complete submission.

“Fuck me with it,” I whispered. “Fuck me with your big thing.”

And he did.

God, I never felt more feminine. It was like giving birth in reverse. It’s hard to imagine the power of total submission. I knew that the only thing that might surpass it would be his coming inside me.

“I want to be on my back,” I said. “I want you on top of me.”

He pulled out, and I kicked my panties off. I turned over, lying back on his desk, and he took my ankles in his powerful hands and put them on his shoulders. He positioned himself back at my entrance, and while I watched, fascinated, he slid in, this time with no resistance. How could something so big fit into someplace so small?

His pace soon began to quicken, and I knew I would have to catch up. I started playing with my “clitoris.” I don’t know if it’s all the ­estrogen I take or what, but now I climax like a woman. It builds like rolling thunder, and when it erupts, it goes on and on! And like a woman, I have pelvic contractions strong enough for my partner to feel.

“I’m gonna come,” I chanted. “Oh God, I’m gonna come!” Then I howled and came. Through closed eyes I felt the universe explode, and a few big sticky drops of jism landed on my tummy.

Massy kept up the pace, and in less than a minute he roared as he pushed himself into me all the way. I felt him swell and twitch once, twice, four times as he erupted in me. It was bliss!

Slowly our pulses and breathing slowed to normal.

“Oh shit, that was good!” Massy heaved. He kissed me tenderly, and I kissed him right back. This was what I’d been jonesing for.

He slid out, and I felt the sticky tide flowing between the cheeks of my derriere. I retrieved my panties and scrambled for the ladies’ room. I cleaned up as best I could and stuck the maxi in my panties to soak up the additional ooze. I felt triumphant, solvent and satisfied, all at the same time.