“Deeper,” I said. So Georgia sunk her cock deeper. “Deeper,” I said again. She went deeper again. “More,” I said, and then she laughed.
“You’re going to need a bigger girlfriend, darling,” she said. “This is all I’ve got.” I felt embarrassed. I don’t even think I actually wanted her to go any deeper—I was already struggling to handle what was in my rear end. I clenched and relaxed and took a series of deep breaths, and then she slowly started pumping me. It wasn’t long before euphoria overwhelmed me completely.
On the other side of the wall, my blowjob prostitute had my cock in a firm grip. She was pumping me hard and fast, trying to get me to come—and it was working. I knew I wasn’t far off, but I didn’t want the euphoria to end, so I clenched and tried to will my orgasm away. It was working for the time being. “Faster,” I said. Georgia started pumping my ass faster. I was pressed against that dirty bathroom wall, my chest against the cold drywall. I could feel my prostitute’s tongue slithering around my shaft, and I could feel Georgia’s veins pumping inside of me. The euphoria was becoming more intense.
“Let’s trade,” I said.
I could feel Georgia grinning behind me. “Okay,” she said. She pulled her cock out, leaving me feeling empty. I gently pulled my cock back and then Georgia stepped forward. I watched as she stuck her cock through the hole and then I watched as she perked up with a big smile. “Oh my,” she said. “She’s energetic.”
I didn’t waste any time. I got my cock pressed up to Georgia’s hole and then I started pressing in. She didn’t clench. She took my cock like a seasoned veteran, so I didn’t bother starting slow. I just started pumping her tush with everything I had. I could feel that impending orgasm coming back at a mile a minute, so I had to make the most of the time I had left. I held Georgia’s hips firmly and I thrust with everything I had. My pelvis slapped loudly against her ass. She was moaning, her hands exploring that cold, dirty wall. “Shit. You’re going to make me come,” she said. So I pumped her harder and she moaned louder. Then she screamed. “Fucking come in me,” she said, mid-orgasm.
And it was perfect timing. I couldn’t hold on any longer. I came, deep in her ass, with my pelvis pressed against her tush. I filled her up. I unloaded blast after blast. I couldn’t believe how much cum I’d had inside of me. I watched it billow out after I took a step back. It ran down her leg and splattered on the floor. She stepped back and turned to me with a smile on her face. “That was fun,” she said.
I nodded my head. I was too exhausted to reply properly—but she was right. It was fun. It was the most fun I’d ever had in a single night. I wished that night didn’t have to end, but we had school in the morning. I wanted to go to her house and sleep with her in her bed, but she wouldn’t let me. “You can never come to my house,” she said with the first frown I’d ever seen on her beautiful face.
“Maybe after graduation—we can get a place together,” I said.
“No—I’m sorry,” she said.
“I don’t understand.”
“I have to go,” she said. She forced a smile and then took off towards her house. My house was in the other direction. I wanted to chase after her and find out what she was talking about, but by the time my brain had processed her swift exit, she was already gone.
CHAPTER X
I was even less surprised when Mathew completely ignored me the next day. I even ended up passing him in the halls—I smiled and nodded, and he just looked away. I felt strangely hurt and disappointed.
He didn’t want me the way that I wanted him, and I knew I just needed to accept that—but it was hard. We had fun together, when we were actually together. When Mathew was Georgia, he was happy and excited and full of life. When he was Mathew, he seemed distant and uninterested in life.
I excused myself for the bathroom shortly after he did, during our final period. I managed to catch up to him as he was sneaking out the school’s back door. It wasn’t until he was halfway across the field that I called out to him. He looked back at me. He had a confused look on his face, as if he didn’t know who I was. “I think we should talk,” I said.
“About what?” he said, as if he legitimately didn’t know what we had to talk about.
“About us,” I said. “Let’s face it—you’re happier as Georgia. You should just drop… this. This isn’t you.”
“You don’t know me,” he said. He kept his hands buried in his hoodie pouch. “You don’t know what makes me happy.”
“I’ve seen you as Georgia and I’ve seen you as Mathew, and I know that you’re happier as Georgia. It’s just obvious.”
“No—you’ve seen me at school and you’ve seen me outside of school. It’s just a coincidence that you’ve only seen me outside of school as Georgia. Now if you don’t mind, I really don’t want to be talking about this here.”
“Why? Why do you want to keep your identity such a secret?” I asked.
“I don’t care if it’s a secret,” he said. “I just don’t care about what these people think. It’s high school, Dave. High school kids just don’t get it. And I thought you got it, but clearly you don’t get it either.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
He shook his head—and maybe I really didn’t get it, because as I stood there staring at him, I was terribly confused. Was I not right? Was he not happier as Georgia? Was he not more comfortable as Georgia? He started walking away, towards the woods.
“Are you going to get dolled up?” I asked before he was too far away.
“Not today. Maybe tomorrow—we’ll see if I’m in the mood,” he said. And then he was gone. My confusion only became more intense as I tried to process everything. The school bell rang and kids started pouring out from all the doors. They headed off in every direction. And I found myself heading back into the school. I knew Mathew was likely headed home. I didn’t know where he lived, but I knew where I could find his address.
I snuck into our last period class, which was empty. On our teacher’s desk was the stack of envelopes from our letter-writing assignment. I dug through the pile until I found Mathew’s. Then I snapped a picture of his return address and I punched that address into my phone.
It took half an hour to walk to Mathew’s house. His house backed onto a small wooded area. I slipped around into those woods and found myself staring up at his bedroom window. I knew it was his bedroom from the pictures he’d sent me on his phone. I could see him moving around up there. I wondered if he was getting dolled up. And then he stood right at the window and I saw that he was just dressed normally, in his male clothes. Then I saw another figure moving up there: a man. I was feeling strangely jealous until I saw a third person: another man. I kept watching. They disappeared for a moment, and then they all emerged from the back door. One of the guys lit up a smoke.
I sunk back, hiding behind a bush, out of sight. I kept watching.
Mathew was chatting with one of the guys. They started laughing. Mathew put on some music and they all cracked fresh beers before pulling up chairs. They looked like they were having a good time.
I didn’t recognize the guys—they weren’t from our school. They looked to be a few years older—maybe in college. But the Mathew I was seeing wasn’t the Mathew from school. He wasn’t the shy, quiet kid who sat in the back corner. He looked comfortable—he seemed in his element. And that’s when it clicked—he wasn’t unhappy as Mathew. He really was just not interested in being at school, and uninterested in being friends with high school kids. Because high school kids are mean and judging and cruel. But once high school is over, people tend to grow up, and people stop caring about gossip.
I snuck closer to the little gathering, so I could hear what they were saying. Mathew was talking about Georgia—and he was talking about me. He told them about how we went bowling, and how embarrassed he was after throwing the ball into the gutter five times in a row. His buddies laughed, but they weren’t laughing at him. They were just enjoying the conversation. They didn’t
seem to care one way or the other that Mathew lived a second life as a girl.
And it wasn’t really a second life—it was just the other part of his life. Sometimes he liked being a guy and sometimes he liked being a girl. And as far as he was concerned, there was nothing wrong with that, as long as he didn’t surround himself with people who thought there might be something wrong with that—people like me.
He went out with me because he thought I didn’t care. He thought I wasn’t worried that people would see us together. He was wrong—I was worried. I wasn’t terrified that people would see us together, but I was terrified that people would see us and know that he wasn’t actually a woman. But maybe I had nothing to be terrified of. If people had an issue with it, maybe I could just distance myself from those people, the way Mathew did.
He looked happy. He was happy. And if I was going to be with Georgia, then I needed to remove myself from anyone who had an issue with that.
I snuck around the woods and around the block, until I was at his front door. I rang the bell and I waited. I wasn’t sure if he would be able to hear the bell outside. But I still waited a minute before ringing it a second time. Finally, the door opened, and there stood Mathew. He stared at me in silence for a moment before saying, “What are you doing here?”
“I just wanted to say sorry, for being weird at school. I think I get it now,” I said.
He stared at me for a moment longer. “I don’t know if you do—I feel like you’re just saying that.”
“Then let me prove it,” I said.
“Prove it how?”
“Let me hang out with you.”
“I’m with some friends right now,” he said.
“You don’t think they’ll like me?” I said.
“They’re going to wonder who you are,” he said.
“Just tell them I’m dating Georgia,” I said.
And then I watched a big smile cross his face—and that smile was exactly what I was looking for. I got it—I really got it, and that smile was the validation. He went around back and Mathew introduced me to his friends. When they asked how I knew Mathew, Mathew looked at me, as if to test me, to see if I really did understand what he meant. “I’m Georgia’s boyfriend,” I said.
The guys all shook my hand and they accepted me as if I was an old friend. One of the guys handed me a beer. I still wasn’t sure what Mathew was—if he was gay or trans or bisexual or what—but I had a feeling that Mathew didn’t even know. He was just himself, and he was what he wanted to be whenever he wanted to be it. Some days he wanted to be Mathew, some days he wanted to be Georgia. That was a Mathew day—but once the guys all left for the evening, it became a Georgia night. He slipped upstairs and got himself quickly dolled up. When she came out from her room, she was wearing her white and pink slip.
She invited me into her room with a big smile. “Do you want to start on the top or the bottom?” she asked.
“I wish I could say both,” I said. And then we kissed. Her tongue penetrated my lips and her hands explored my body—and I realized I was the happiest I would ever be in my entire life.
THE END
THE FRIEND
Andy hasn’t seen his friend, Samuel, since elementary school. They were best friends twenty years ago, and then Sam moved away to another city. Andy never heard from Sam in those twenty years—until one day, when Sam reached out via e-mail, asking if he could stay for a few weeks while visiting his old hometown.
Andy is excited for the visit—unlike his roommate Grant, who gets stuck preparing the guest room and running errands for Andy’s incoming guest. Grant wouldn’t be so grouchy had he been asked before Andy told his friend he could stay for three weeks. But that grouchiness fades away quickly when a beautiful woman shows up on the doorstep, ready for her three-week visit.
CHAPTER I
Grant wasn’t looking forward to the arrival of his roommate’s friend, who was apparently going to be staying in the spare room for the next three weeks. It didn’t help that Andy, Grant’s roommate, had somehow convinced Grant to go out and run errands for the soon-to-arrive visitor.
“How did I get roped into this?” Grant asked himself as he pulled up to the specialty grocery store on the other end of town. But Grant knew how he’d gotten roped into it: he was always offering his help to everyone. He got it from his mother, who got it from her mother. When Andy said, “Man, I really wish I had orange blossom syrup for the muffins,” Grant was quick to offer the use of his truck and himself—though he didn’t realize the only store that sold orange blossom syrup was forty-five minutes away.
And it really didn’t help that Grant had just gotten finished making up the spare room as a guest suite—he’d gone to the store to buy new sheets, he’d spent a few hours fixing the old wooden bed frame, and he’d hung curtains. Just before Grant left for the specialty grocery store, Andy had said, “Wouldn’t it be nice if the ceiling got a fresh coat of paint? The last tenant’s shoddy paint job has always bugged me.” So Grant had stopped at the hardware store on his way to the specialty grocery store to get a can of white ceiling paint—he didn’t even know that ceilings needed special paint, and he really didn’t know that special ceiling paint was almost twice as expensive as regular paint.
And why was Grant doing all of this? He didn’t even know Sam, Andy’s old friend from elementary school. By the sounds of it, Andy hardly knew him either. Apparently they hadn’t spoken since the sixth grade—which was two decades ago. They only started talking recently via e-mail. “What’s he doing in Calgary for three weeks?” Grant asked, and Andy didn’t even know the answer.
Grant wandered the very large specialty grocery store for nearly twenty minutes before he caved and asked an employee where they kept the orange blossom syrup. The employee’s eyes glazed over and he said, “What’s that for?”
“I don’t know—muffins I think,” Grant said. Grant wasn’t too upset about the errand. Whenever Andy baked, Grant at least got to eat the baked goods—so he couldn’t really complain. If the errand made the food better, then perhaps it was worth it.
The employee was no help, so Grant continued his search on his own. He ended up finding a small bottle of the syrup hidden in an obscure isle—though to be fair, there were only obscure isles in that store (mostly filled with fake meats for vegetarians). The small bottle cost him almost twenty dollars, and he bought it even though he knew Andy wouldn’t be paying him back—he never paid him back. And later, Grant would feel resentment towards Andy, even though he volunteered himself to go out and buy the obscure ingredient.
When Grant returned home, Andy hadn’t gotten much done. The floors still needed mopped and the carpets still needed vacuumed. The sink was still filled with dirty dishes and somehow the guest bed had become ruffled, as if Andy had taken a quick nap in it. Grant called out for Andy. “I’m up here!” Andy shouted back. Grant went up to Andy’s bedroom and found him playing video games.
“How long have you been playing?” Grant asked.
“Since you left,” Andy said casually. Grant found himself curling his fingers into a fist, trying not to shout at his roommate. But all he could really do was hope that Andy’s old friend wasn’t nearly as useless as Andy—hopefully this Sam character would clean up after himself, and maybe even help out with some of the chores. He wasn’t going to be paying rent, after all.
“So what time is your friend coming?” Grant asked.
“Tonight—I think he said around seven.”
Grant checked his watch. It was already five and there were still plenty of chores that needed done around the house. Had Grant had more of a backbone, he would have ripped the cable of Andy’s PlayStation out from the wall and demanded Andy finish the remaining chores. But instead, Grant slipped out from Andy’s bedroom and he swept, vacuumed, mopped, remade the guest bed, wiped the counters, cleaned the dishes, and then he even answered the door when the doorbell rang, because Andy was apparently in the middle of a game that couldn’t be pa
used.
“You don’t think it would be a good idea to answer the door for your old friend?” Grant shouted up the stairs.
“Sorry—it’s just bad timing. I’ll be down in five minutes—ten at the most,” Andy said. Grant squirmed at the thought of having to entertain a complete stranger for ten minutes, which actually meant fifteen minutes in Andy time.
Grant opened the door and was ready to step aside for Andy’s friend—but it wasn’t Andy’s friend at the door. It was a short, slender woman with long brown hair and a nice perky bust. She was wearing a cute skirt, which hardly covered much of her long, smooth legs. Her lips were pink with gloss and her eyes were dark with eyeliner. She smiled at the sight of Grant. “Andy?” she said, and it looked like she was ready to thrust herself forward for a hug.
Grant was ready to jump back, in case the girl really did lunge at him. He held the doorknob firmly and took a whole step backwards. “No,” he said. “I’m Grant. Andy’s, uh, busy at the moment. Can I help you?” Grant did his best not to look down at the young woman’s body, worried he would accidentally make her feel uncomfortable. Her blouse was buttoned down, showing off her perky cleavage (and it looked like she wasn’t wearing a bra), and her skirt was so short, Grant could nearly see her panties. She was too pretty to be a prostitute, but she was dressed down like one.
“I’m here to see Andy. You must be his roommate,” she said. And then Grant found himself wondering if Sam was actually a girl. Had Andy mentioned Sam’s gender? Had Grant just assumed Sam was a boy because it was Andy’s friend, and Andy didn’t have any female friends?
“Are you Sam?” Grant asked hesitantly.
She smiled. “Sarah,” she said.
“Oh, sorry,” Grant said. And then Grant realized Andy had probably invited other people over—maybe other old friends from elementary school—to see Sam when he arrived. That would have been nice to know… Had Grant known there was going to be a little party, he would have put more effort into getting everything tidy and ready. He would have gone out and bought some snacks so that people would have some nibbles to eat. Was it too late to order some food to the house? “Well you can come in. Andy’s just finishing something upstairs,” Grant said, stepping aside. Then the girl turned around and grabbed a suitcase that had been hidden behind her. She pulled it up the stairs with a grunt and rolled it into the house.
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