Secondary Education
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Added: 06/11/2007 |
Complete: yes | |
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Synopsis: | Tyla makes a plan and fulfills a fantasy, but not her dreams. |
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Misc Stories
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Keywords: |
Autobiographical
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Secondary Education
Tyla Flowers
TylaFlowers@gmail.com
Chapter 9, Seeing No Evol
Matt Frawley's arms are glistening in the slanting rays of August
sunshine. He dribbles behind his back, wrong footing his defender. Matt
deftly crosses the ball over, changing direction and bounce passes it to
Antoine, who is streaking down the court on the fast break and scores an
easy lay up. Matt whoops a victorious hurrah, and his blue eyes for a
moment meet mine until he is distracted by Antoine. They bang their
chests and hand slap, grunting a comradely cheer.
As they wait on defense for the inbound whistle, Antoine nudges Matt and
whispers something, and Matt looks at me with a curious look. I feel as
though his eyes are peering deep within me. What did Antoine tell him
about me? Now probably knows what I let Antoine do with me. His face is
bland and inscrutable. I wish I could read his mind, or even control it,
to make him want me. I blush and avert my eyes.
I clasp the chain link fence and watch as Matt falls back, harrying the
opposing player, then steals the ball, breaks away, and shoots a running
jump shot, which clanks off the back of the rim into Antoine's
outstretched arms, who slams it through the hoop. This time, Matt smiles
in my direction, sharing his triumph and joy with me. I jump up and down
and clap.
I wish that I were dressed like a cheerleader, and could pirouette and
high kick in response. But I am clad in my Fairfax High Sweats and
baseball cap. Suddenly, being in his gaze in boy's clothes makes me
remember what I am and why I will always be unworthy.
I hate Coach and Fairfax for making me masquerade in my sweats. I hate
Antoine for what I imagine he told Matt. I hate myself for being born a
boy, and for becoming a whore and a slut, someone whom Matt will always
disdain. I wish I could just disappear, or just die and be reborn as I
should be, a beautiful girl. But Buddhist reincarnation is just as much
a fairy tale as the omnipotent Christian God, or the Easter Bunny. I am
what I am. If I am to become what I want to be, I must remake myself,
with hormones, silicone, and surgery.
Suddenly I am hot, burning with angry self awareness and hatred. The
basketball court wavers and blurs. I grip the chain link fence as the
world cascades into a hallucination. I grope in my pocket for another
Diane, to subdue this hot flash in a bath of soothing chemicals. When I
look up, Matt is staring at me again, and the hot flash resumes. I
cannot remain in Matt's sight, in my present incarnation. I make a show
of checking the time, feign surprise, and hurry back across the
schoolyard to Coach's office.
In Coach's student files the papers are neatly aligned and chronological,
and the files are alphabetized by last name. Today's mail is arranged by
subject in neat piles with squared corners. His desk drawers now easily
open and close without the necessity of tamping down the overflowing
contents. His pencils are sharpened, and all of his pens work and are
arranged by color in separate cups. I have extracted the crumbs and dust
from the spaces of his computer keyboard and polished the monitor.
I have done my servitude to the Coach and I am getting my Incomplete
changed to a pass. As soon as I finish organizing Coach's lower left
hand drawer, an archeological dig of half eaten power bars and empty
yoghurt cups, I will be free to leave Fairfax behind forever. I should
be glad to leave behind the years of persecution and rejection that I
endured here, but instead I am on the verge of tears, filled with regret,
and desperate longing to be wrapped in Matt Frawley's glistening,
powerful arms. I know that after I leave this place, I will never get my
chance with him.
My cell rings. I'm not supposed to have it on while I work, but no one
is near, so I answer it. It's Hector. He thinks he's the most wanted
gangsta in LA, so every time he calls, he uses a different phone.
"Hey, T Chica, why you didn't call me?"
"I'm busy. I have to work or they kick me out of here."
"Too busy for the Mara's business? I don't care about your other fucking
business. You work for me. And I want the mayate tonight."
"I can give him to you. I have it all set up. He's here, playing
basketball, and when they are done, I am going with him. He thinks I'm
going to let him fuck me after school today, but instead, he gets fucked
up. I'll text you when it's time."
"He's there? We'll kill him right now."
"Here at school?" I panic, not about my own safety, but for Matt's.
"Not now. Too many people, too many cops, and too many cameras. Get him
alone, make him beg for his life, and then kill him in his bedroom, with
his pants down."
"You sure you don't just want that black dick up your tail pipe?"
I have come to love being rammed by Antoine until my toes curl and my ear
drums pop, as much as I hate being the Mara's sex toy, but I remain in
character, the loyal Mara spy. "I hate it. After you kill him, I want
to take on the whole hit squad, starting with you, just to get his taste
out of me."
Hector laughs. "You got a great attitude, T Chica."
"It's my love of the Mara."
I have become a great liar. Being a whore is good practice for a life of
constant lying. I lie to live, and live to lie.
In the background, I hear Hector bragging about me to his companions.
But I hear approaching foot steps and hang up without saying goodbye. I
busy myself shuffling papers for the next few seconds. When I look up,
Coach is glaring at me.
"Look Coach, doesn't this place look great?" I pat a stack of
alphabetized student evaluation forms.
"Flowers, I don't want you mooning over my ballplayers any more. I don't
want any homos on my team and you're a bad influence."
"I was only watching them play."
"I am not making this as a suggestion. You stay away from those men or
I'll march you off campus and back onto the street."
I can't risk expulsion now. I need this credit, but even more so, I need
to leave school with Antoine if we are going to spring the Mara trap.
"I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
He hands me my hours credit slip. He's shorted me again, and probably
believes the understated records of my hours that I have left for him.
But Rojas's records, I have enough hours to satisfy my PE requirements.
"You can leave now."
"Isn't it perfect here?"
"It's fine. You don't need to come back until next week."
"OK. Thanks for letting me make up my missed classes here."
"It wasn't my choice. Rojas forced you on me to make a reasonable
accommodation of your unfortunate life style choices. I'd rather have
flunked you. So get lost now, OK?"
I pick up my back pack and leave. My face is burning, and I know I can't
argue with him without screwing myself. So I say "Sorry, Coach," and
leave him in his immaculate office.
Antoine catches up to me on the way to Rojas office and waits for me as I
turn in my paperwork. We walk to his Escalade, not too close, but like we
were just friends.
"This is it. The Mara's coming tonight."
"Let me call my niggas. We be ready for them."
Inside the Escalade I slip off my chinos to reveal tight, ripped cut-
offs. Under my sweatshirt I am wearing a baby blue lace camisole, and
beneath my sweatpants I have a short cotton skirt. I put my Keds in my
backpack and replace them with silver wedge sandals. I fold down the
mirror put on make up. Antoine is talking animated Ebonics to his crew.
Between calls he smiles and grabs my boob and says "Ladyboy, I got a
little surprise for you this afternoon."
"I don't like surprises."
"Your gonna like this one."
"Where are we going?"
"Used clothing store on Jefferson. There's a garage in the back. You
wait there till the Mara come. Then you do what you gotta do to get them
in the back parking lot. My crew will block the exit with a truck, and
then boom boom, they're toast. What's your plan to hook up with these
Mara?"
"I text the leader, Hector the address. Then I flag them down on the
street and take them to where you are supposed to be, in bed sleeping off
a hard fuck."
"You're coming in with them?"
"Hector wants me to see you die. I think he's planning to torture you
first. He hears about what the insurgents do in Iraq, and then he copies
them."
"I thought I was bad, but I'm practically a saint next to this
motherfucker."
We pull in down a bumpy, narrow drive way. The parking lot is boxed in
front and back by the abandoned in front, and six bay garage in the back,
and on either side by its neighbors, two towering abandoned warehouses.
It's a perfect killing field. As we enter the Freeze flashes a sign with
his stubby fingers. He flashes a golden smile at me.
"Little boy grows up into a little girl. Aren't you cute?"
I smile demurely to Antoine and beckon him. He bends toward me and I
whisper "I hope that's not my surprise."
"Nope. I got someone who wants to meet you, and who you might just want
to meet."
He opens the door. The middle bay of the garage has been converted to an
apartment. Propped on the auto lift there's a king size box spring and
mattress. There's an ancient refrigerator next to the tool bench, and on
it there's a hot plate, a few dented old pots and a stained coffee maker.
The sink is cast concrete and has only cold water, and it's equipped with
a flexible shower hose which is hung over an open drain in the floor.
The only furniture that's not filthy and decrepit is a brand new plasma
TV, which is blaring Sports Center to an enraptured audience of one
sitting on the bed. It's Matt Frawley.
Antoine claps Matt on the back. "Lookee here, bro. I told you she
cleans up good."
Matt pivots and looks at me nonchalantly. "Don't even recognize the
Flowers I used to know. What happened to that poor little guy I used to
tease?"
"He's become a she. Turn around, baby, and show my man Matt all the
goodies."
I do a stripper style turn and touch my toes, hiking up my skirt to show
off my thong-clad butt. Then back around, and lean forward so my
camisole droops, and gives a peek at my titties.
"Whoa, Flowers, so you turned into one of those shemales?"
"Some people call us that, but I prefer T Girl or Ladyboy"
"So my man Antoine says you can suck and fuck better than any girl in the
world. Are you going to show me?"
I scowl at Antoine, who grins and leaves, saying "My job's done here."
I slip out of my camisole and slip down my skirt. My cock is pressed
flat by the tight satin front of my thong. I peek down, and make sure
it's invisible and cuddle up to Matt on the lumpy mattress.
I whisper in his ear. "Why don't you be the judge of that? I wouldn't
know, since I have never been with another girl."
He backs away, and looks at me with puzzled eyes. "That's so crazy. You
really think you're a girl, don't you?"
I nod, and look earnestly into his eyes. "I've always been a girl, even
in my dreams, and especially in the dreams I have about you."
"You dream about me?"
"Almost every night, almost all of the time. I have been waiting for you
forever."
I let out a great sigh and relax my head into his lap to breathe in the
aromas of his groin. He smells of saddle leather and fresh cut wood. I am
overwhelmed with hunger for him. My body sizzles with sexual electricity.
I lick from his belly to his neck and back, and nuzzle him through the
front of his sweat pants.
"I need to suck this right now." I pull at the drawstring of his
sweats.
He puts a protective hand over his cock, and then relaxes it and pats my
head. "Oh well, what the hell." Matt helps me slide off his Fairfax high
sweatpants and pulls his tee shirt over his head. When the sleeve
tangles on his broad shoulders, I loosen it.
He peeks shyly from beneath the fabric. "Thanks."
I study him, trying to memorize the sight of his nude body. His hair is a
streaky blond and spiky with sweat. His face is grizzled with a two day
growth of beard. From the triangular thicket of his dusty blond pubes a
limp, uncut penis hangs lazily along the bulging muscles of his inner
thigh. His stomach is girded with overlapping, rippling muscles. His
chest is forms another triangle, almost twice as wide at his shoulders as
at his abdomen. His skin is golden from hours at play in the sun, except
at the groin, where it is milky white.
I pull off my camisole and lean over him, dragging my little titties
along his chest, across his stomach, and down his thighs and legs. My
lips find his cock and I inhale again, and sigh out his aroma.
"I forgot to shower, so I'm a little rank."
In response, I slip my lips over his salty cock and rim the cockhead with
my tongue. "Then I'll just lick you clean."
"Yeah, lick me clean, like a little pussy cat."
I inhale his leathery aromas, take one last look at the corona of golden
hair framing his penis, and then gobble and slurp hungrily at his cock,
and lick his balls. I visualize myself as a queen cat, licking at the
furry penis of a tomcat. I wriggle my butt, imagining it to be my tail,
flicking provocatively. I stop, look up at him, and meow, as though in
heat.
"That's a good little pussy." He strokes my hair over my ears.
His flaccid cock springs to attention and I pump on it. I gather my hair
into a top not and guide his hands to grip it. I want him to control and
possess me. He begins forcing my lips up and down his rod. I breathe
through my nose, and crane my head back, and find that his cock slips
easily past my epiglottis and down my esophagus.
"Yeah, suck it good, baby. Take it in all the way." I accelerate my
head bobs, bracing my hands under his thighs and yanking to force my head
down hard, so he can feel the parting of my throat when his dickhead
slides through my tonsils and into my esophagus.
"Yeah, baby, deep throat me. Oh, yeah, that's good."
I gaze up at Matt, hoping to exchange a glance, an acknowledgment of my
performance, but his eyes are fixed into the distance.
I squeeze my tongue, and pout my lips over the up-thrusting cock. My
entire body is at work. My back arches like the spine of an aroused
feline. My lips are still hungry, but my ass is starving for him,
vibrating with anticipation of the rush of exquisite pain that will come
when his cock invades me. My I rustle in my purse and find my tube of
lubricant and spread it over my ass. I dig further and find a condom. I
pause sucking and tear it open with my teeth.
Matt pulls it from my lips and flips it over his shoulder.
"You're clean, right?"
"I'm always safe, yes."
"Good, because I only ride bareback."
"I don't do that."
"Everyone does for me. And I heard you make exceptions."
My face burns with embarrassment and anger toward Antoine.
"I made a few mistakes, but I've learned my lesson."
"Well, I'm going to teach you one now. You do it my way, and I don't
wear raincoats inside."
I know I shouldn't, but I want him too much to say no.
"OK, but don't tell Antoine. This is only for you, Matt." I slather him
with lube. His cock, which had softened during our condom negotiations,
immediately hardens.
"And leave those panties on. I don't want to see that thing of yours on
the loose. Now get on your knees and let's see that third eye I've heard
so much about."
I kneel on the bed and point my butt up, pull the back string of my thong
to the side reveal my bootie.
"Oh, yeah, now do that winky thing."
I bite my lips to concentrate my energy on making concentric rings around
my rectum. I draw the flesh inward, and then open it from within.
"Oh, yeah, I can see half way to China. It's like a whole new world in
there."
"I wouldn't know. Does it look inviting?"
"Like the planet Mars through a telescope, all swirly and red. I got an
idea. I'll take a picture." I hear him rustle in his jeans, and then
click of a camera phone. I know he'll probably post these pictures to a
porno web site but I don't care, I just want to please him.
"Open wider." He clicks again. I feel his fingers slide into me. I
flinch as the rough skin of his fingers intrudes, and my ass reflexively
clamps around them. I stifle a cry.
"I'm stuck. Your butt snapped closed as hard as a clam shell." The
camera snicks a few more time, and then he thrusts the Razr in front of
me and scrolls through a quick slide show of my gaping butt, at first
open an inch, and then two, all glistening with lube and shimmery red
mucosa, followed by a shot of three of his fingers buried to the second
knuckle, and finally a shot of my grimacing face in profile. I squeeze
my well trained glutes around his fingers.
"You could at least have taken a prettier picture of me."
He raises the camera high above his head. I crane my neck toward him and
smile as the camera snicks again. He looks and says "Awesome" and shares
it with me. It's Tyla, bum up and finger fucked, smiling like a girl in
love.
"That's a keeper, huh?" I nod, but I wonder where he will post it, and
how many perverts will jerk-off to that shot. I clamp my ass around his
fingers and squeeze.
"I'm never letting go." I giggle.
"OK, let me out now, or I'll slide my whole fist in you." I open my ass
and release his fingers, and gape as wide as I can. The camera snicks
again.
"Wow, that's some amazing muscle control. Let's see what you can do with
my cock up your hole."
I hold myself open for him. "Sprinkle some more of that lube inside me."
I feel a spattering of Astroglide against the walls of my rectum.
"How do you want me?"
He is stroking more lube on his bare dick. The cock head pokes through
the foreskin like the head of a lurking moray.
"Just like this." He slips his big hand under my pelvis hoists my ass
high. "Do I fuck this the same way as a pussy?"
"Just like a burger, In and Out."
"Boop, that's my favorite burger, and you're my favorite sexburger with
sesame seed buns." He laughs and slaps my buns, and kneels behind me. I
suck my thumb to calm and stifle myself, arch my back to expose my hole,
open it as wide as I am able, and gird my frail muscles for the imminent
lunge. He presses my face into the mattress, which is pungent with the
residues of countless past trysts and rapes by its Crip owners.
His thighs press mine apart, and he rears back and then thrusts forward
like a blitzing linebacker. His cock slithers through my gaping, well-
lubed sphincters and tunnels deep inside my colon. His thighs bang
against me, and I collapse to the mattress. He is deep in my belly
before his first lunge finishes.
Pain obliterates all my other senses. His cock pierces me like a
thrusting saber slashing from my belly to my heart. My breath explodes
from my lungs in a cry of anguish. He pulls back, and I inhale with a
shriek, and then he spears me again. I am blinded by tears and the rush
of blood to my head. I hear him grunting as he pulls back and stabs
still deeper in me. I feel his balls slap against my buttocks.
I open my eyes and through bleary eyes look at my thumb. It is indented
with my tooth marks. I peer up at him kneeling astride me. He glistens
with sweat, his muscles are bulging, and his face is chiseled with fierce
determination. Looming above me, he looks like a mounted Greek god, and
I am his chariot.
He rocks in and out as though in a trance. The pain has dissipated into
a warm glow of pressure and pleasure. My ass muscles now respond to each
thrust by opening my rectum wide, and suction back to restrain each
withdrawal. He notices my technique, opens his eyes and meets my gaze.
He fucks me slowly, regaining his breath.
"Ah, that's a tight ass. I like it."
"I'm sorry if I screamed to loud at first."
"I liked that too, and the look on your face."
"So I look pretty in pain?"
"Yeah, and even prettier now. You're a good little fuck, Flowers."
"You can call me Tyla."
"It's too much like Tyler. I'll call you Boop, like your tatt." He
slaps my butt. I am a little offended by his choice, but I am happy that
he gave me a pet name. I imagine him as a real boyfriend.
"Do you like it, my tatt?"
"So cute I don't want to forget it." He snaps another picture with his
Razr. He displays a picture of an anonymous cock poking into my butt.
My face is visible, the tatt is not. My face burns with embarrassment.
I imagine that picture proliferating over the internet.
"I can't see the tatt. Just me getting fucked. What are you going to do
with those pix?"
He takes another pic. "I'll just add them to my collection of fuck pix.
I love butt tattoos. Gives me something to look at while I'm doing
doggy. What's with those letters, M and S?"
He's way too far removed from the street life to know anything about the
Mara, but I don't want to scare him off. "Oh, nothing really. It's just
some initials."
"Like some boyfriend?"
"Something like that. Something I'd like to forget."
"Here's something to help you forget old MS." He spanks my butt and
jams himself deep.
I gasp and moan a little, and then wriggle my ass against him. "I like
that. I'm really ready now. You can ride me hard."
He pulls me up to my hands and knees scoops my boobs in his big hands and
holds them like handles. He rattles me with a series of swift, powerful
thrusts. I gape and contract, pulling him deep inside and prolonging
each release. He releases one breast from his crushing grip and entwines
it in my hair, which he grasps into a crude top knot. Using my head and
boob as handles, he levers my body against his thrusts, hammering deep
into my colon. His body seems to get more powerful with every stroke.
Thousands of hours in the weight room, on the track, and on the playing
fields have made him mighty and relentless. The dozens of cheerleaders,
soces and skanks he has bedded have emboldened and hardened his sexual
athleticism. He is a monster in bed. His strength, endurance and energy
overwhelm me. After a hundred cycles of contraction and gaping, I'm
exhausted. I surrender, and become a limp, lifeless object in his
encircling arms, my anus a receptacle for his battering penis. Gradually,
his frenetic assault on me attenuates. He twists my limp head to face
him.
"Oh, Boop, it's better your ass grabs back at me. Now your just lying
there like a rag doll."
"You're too much. I'm tired. Maybe I could fuck back better if I got on
top."
"I'm not a fag. Being on bottom is not for me."
"I mean I'd like to ride cowgirl."
He slides out. My ass contracts with a pop.
"Ouch. That stings. Can you hand me some of that paper towel?"
He wafts a piece and I take a careful exploratory swipe. There's no
blood or stray poop, just a pale mustard, translucent film of lube and
colon mucous.
Matt looks at it disdainfully. "Don't you clean up inside before you get
fucked?"
"I did. I'm sorry. There's always a little color. That's why I want a
new pussy."
"Fuggit about it, I'm not waiting around for that. Besides, this dick's
been in dirtier holes than yours."
I've had bigger cocks than his, and been fucked harder, but I decide not
to brag. He's already deflating, and I don't want him to lose interest
in me.
"Let me clean you up." I rise to my knees and lick his cock and balls.
My ass juice is sweet and salty. I take his cock deep in my throat and
inhale his pubes, which are scented with my inner essence. I grapple for
my lube, and smear more of it on my rectum.
He gives my cheek a playful slap. "OK, that's clean enough for now.
Show me how you ride." He flops face up on the mattress. His cock rises
like the mast of a great ship. I scramble atop him. His chest is so
broad my little legs can barely straddle him. I aim his cock at my anus
and settle down upon it. I can't open my ass in this position so his
cock pops through my constricted sphincters. I squeeze my eyes and bite
my lip in pain.
"You're gorgeous when you do that." He's drawing little circles around
my areole. A tiny drop of milk has formed on the left nipple. He dabs at
it and offers it to me. I lick it from his outstretched finger.
"Mmm, that's something new for me."
He tugs at my right breast, and another pearly droplet forms there. This
one he licks himself.
"I was bottle fed, so that's my first taste of tit milk."
"Do you like my milk?"
"Not bad, but I'd rather have a Bud."
"Aren't you enjoying my bud right now?"
He laughs, and grabs my ass. "Yeah, this bud's for me. But this bud's
too light. I need the full body." He scoops his hands under my buttocks
and takes control, lifting me up and pulling me down by my ass cheeks.
The grip of his strong hands on my ass sends shivers of pleasure through
me, and I feel my cock hardening in satin front of my thong. My hair is
flying, my breasts are jiggling, and body is shuddering with his mighty
up-thrusts and the powerful pistoning of my butt against his heaving
body. I start to feel faint, I want to surrender, to close my and just
let him fuck me.
But I want to please him, so I reciprocate each of his thrusts and
withdrawals by bouncing down and up against them. He is grunting and
breathing hard, and filmed with sweat. I lick my upper lip, and taste
the salt of my own perspiration. Our bodies slap together in drum roll
percussion. I slip into a dream.
I am riding behind Matt on his motorcycle. I massage my breasts against
his trapeziums, and he squeezes my thigh. We dismount and walk hand in
and through the scrub to the trail head. The climb is steep and
treacherous, so he hoists me on his back like a fireman. I kiss his
sweaty neck, and he squeezes my hand. We hike to our favorite spot, a
smooth flat rock sheltered beneath the oaks. I flutter a quilt to make a
rustic bed. We undress, I lube my new pussy, and behold him looming over
me, backlit in the leaf dappled rays of the setting sun. He kisses me
and says "I love you," and I say "I love you too." He enters me slowly
and carefully, a millimeter at a time, and with each stroke, he kisses my
new C-cups and lips. I am a beautiful, complete woman, and he has become
my perfect lover.
From afar, I hear the chirp of my cell phone. But I realize that it's
ringing back in the real world. My dream dissipates, but I am still
happy, for the real world has never been better for me. The mattress
stinks, the air is hot and stale, but Matt is really on top of me, making
love to me, and getting ready to finish. In a dirty, tawdry way, my dream
has come true.
I feel his pace quicken, and hear his voice break into inanimate grunts.
I am oozing inside, my inner flows have become a torrent that fuels him
to new paroxysms of pleasure. Waves of anal orgasm gush through me, and
my ass is sucking involuntarily at his cock, milking the sperm from it.
He groans and smashes his thighs against me, shuddering violently. His
cock bursts forth a hot spatter of semen into my quivering colon, and
sparks another wave of orgasm from my depths. Two, three, four, five,
six and seven, the pyroclastic eruptions of Matt's cock sluice a fiery
path from my belly to my soul. He cum mixes with my orgasmic juices and
the lubricity inside me is exquisite, warm and wonderful. I wail with
pleasure and release. My body and soul are fused in ecstatic release,
and the female soul has imprinted itself forever on my mortal being. My
body is utterly fulfilled and pleasured, but it is in my soul that I
experience the greatest pleasure of all. For the first time in my life,
I feel I have been loved. I collapse onto Matt's chest. I bite my lips,
to keep myself from telling him that I love him.
He whispers "That was incredible. It felt like you were sucking the cum
out of me."
I am disappointed. I experienced nirvana, and he is talking about me
like a really great sex toy. But he's a guy, and guys are all about the
physical experience, and not the emotional aspect of sex. "You are
incredible too. I had the biggest, longest orgasm ever."
"You came on me?" He looks a little disgusted.
"Not there. I can't do that anymore. I came inside, like a woman."
"Good. That's great."
I wonder whether he was glad that I had an orgasm, or whether he was
relieved that my cock hadn't cum. He probably doesn't care at all,
except as it enhanced his own experience.
"Get off of me now, OK? I want to nap." His softening cock is sliding
out from its burrow, and so I rise and scamper to the shower. I turn
away and slide off the thong. It's a bit damp inside the satin, I must
have cum in there but not noticed during the frenzy inside me.
A slurry of Matt's semen, my ass cum and lube drizzles down my leg as I
turn the tap. Rusty water spurts fitfully from the nozzle. It's
freezing, and my cock shrivels to a nub. I soap and rinse my ass, and
squirt a frigid spray into my crack. I finger it my anus. It's puffy
and swollen. I put on my thong, rustle in my purse, spread some
Neosporin on my rectum, and then return to bed. Matt's asleep. He is
hogging the blanket, and turned away from me. I lie next to him, and
stare up at the mottled beams of this dank garage. The threadbare
mattress is sticking to my skin. The smell of sex is fading, and now the
air is suffused with the rank petroleum stench of the oil stained floor.
The refrigerator clanks noisily to life. A fly buzzes by and lights on
Matt's shoulder. He stirs and snores, but does not awaken.
I cannot sleep. I try hard to recapture my motorcycle fantasy, but it
keeps slipping away. I am still in the ghetto, and I am still a trannie
whore, a sex toy to be played with and discarded. I will be made love to
by many, but I will never be loved. On the table, my phone chirps a
voice mail alert. But I am too lonely and tired to get it.
Whether you love it or hate it, please send me email or post reviews of
my story. I will respond to all. xoxox, TF
TBC