Gender Issues

I lit my cigar at last and nursed it, but it was stale and didn't taste good at all and I was sorry I'd given her one. I dropped it in the same beer Sam had used and watched the two coronas bobbing in there, then turned to watch them dance. Sam had her right hand on the princess's ass and was really pushing it into her as she swiveled her thin hips around.

I don't know what it was that got me so hot about a girl dressed like a man and wearing a phony dick, but it just set me on fire. Maybe it was just that I was having such a hell of a time being a man myself these days, feeling like an endangered species beset by hunters on all sides, or maybe I'd already had enough and was ready to throw in the towel and let myself be pegged by a skinny blonde in a strap-on. Who needed masculinity anyhow? What had it ever done for me?

More likely I resented her. I resented the way she was playing at being male, as if all you had to do was put on men's clothes and buckle on a little stiffy and that was it. I knew she wasn't serious, but I also knew that she had no idea what she was doing. Sometimes she looked like Frank and sometimes she looked like Monica, and the result was a mixture of fascination and repulsion in me: anger and desire.

I made my way through the crowd and tapped Sam on the shoulder. These were theater people, romantics all, and they knew the gesture for cutting in. Sam stood back and the princess looked at me, shrugged with resignation, and put up her hands for me to dance with her, but I smiled and shook my head. "It's your buddy I want to dance with."

The princess looked confused. Sam did too for a moment until she understood what I meant, then the princess shrugged again and started to back away.

"Have fun you two," she said. "You make a lovely couple." She broke into laughter.

I looked at Sam. "You want to lead, or should I?"

She thought about it for a moment, but I'd automatically put my arms up to lead, and so she shrugged and took my hand.

"You sure you want to do this?" she asked. "You know what you're getting yourself into?"

"Yes I want to do this, and no, I have no idea. That's what I want to find out."

I really didn't want to dance. I just wanted to hold her and feel her against me, but Sam held herself at a distance as if the little cock wasn't so funny anymore and she didn't want me to feel it. I pulled her in tight, though, till I felt that hard little prick jab into my hip and I kept her like that so that she knew that I felt it.

"Wow." I smiled down at her. "You must really like me, huh?"

She laughed now and drew her head back so she could look at my face. She was like a doll in my arms, not much shorter than me, but I was much more massive.

"I don't believe in doing things half-way. Does it gross you out?"

"It should, shouldn't it? But no. In fact, just the opposite."

"Are you gay?" she asked.

"Unh-uh. Not that I know of."

"Bi?"

"No."

She looked at me. "You must be the only one in here who isn't."

I covered my smile by swirling her around in a dramatic dip. She followed beautifully. "Oh? And you?"

She smiled slyly. "You already tried that. I told you, a gentleman never tells."

It was my turn to laugh, and now that her secret was out, she seemed to relax. She pressed herself close. My hand slid around to the small of her back, just above the thrust of her buttocks, that terribly feminine curve where her bottom begins.

We were the only pair of men dancing, but no one seemed to care. People smiled at us, the people who noticed, I mean, and I smiled back, but the truth was, I was getting wildly excited. I didn't know if it was the feel of her body in my arms or that silly little dong pressing against my own, but I was getting very hard, and my cock started catching on hers as we moved against each other. Every time it happened, her body would stiffen, and I'd feel her fingers dig into my shoulder.

"Tell me about it," I said. "Is it just a strap on?"

She leaned back so she could look at me, and her eyes were hot now, and not so sharply focused. She was looking to see if she could trust me. I rolled my hips, catching her cock with mine and plucking it like a harpsichord string. She repressed a gasp.

"It's more than that," she said.

I don't know how, but I knew what she meant. I held her closer and plucked her again, and now she groaned and held me tighter.

"It goes inside you too, doesn't it? One end's inside you."

She didn't answer, just closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose.

I stopped moving. I slid my hand down to her tight little ass and pulled her against me so that she could feel my big cock pressing against her lower belly. Her phony cock touched me and bent upwards, and I slid my thigh between hers, pressing up. I could feel some hard little cable or wire running beneath her mound, curving up inside her like a reaching finger.

"God, you're fucking hot!" I whispered.

I pulled her mask up so I could see her face, those dark eyes and long lashes. Even by the streaking lights of the disco ball she was gorgeous. Her lips were full and soft, made even more feminine by that ridiculous little pencil-thin moustache.

Her hand tightened behind my neck and she ground her hips against my cock. "I guess you like me too, huh?" She laughed unsteadily. "And you're sure you're not gay?"

"Does it even matter?"

She laughed again. "I have no idea. I haven't been with a straight guy in so long I can't even remember what they're like. For me, straight is kinky."

Without conscious thought, I reached down and took her buttock in my hand and held her like that. I could feel the muscle flex as she swayed, and feel the broad strap from the dildo harness where it cut into the bottom of her cheek. She put her head against my chest, and that sweet, feminine gesture of trust and surrender sent the blood surging through my veins.

"God," she murmured. "I can hear your heartbeat!"

She looked up at me in astonishment, and I wondered what they teach these kids these days. This little beauty, all tricked out like some gender-swapping sophisticate and she never even heard a man's heart beating for her?

I tilted her face up to me and she didn't resist. For a moment our eyes met and we looked at each other as man and woman, and then I closed my eyes and touched my lips to hers—just touched, a soft brush. I just had to see what she felt like. She wore no lipstick—she didn't need any—and her lips seemed to stick gently to mine as if reluctant to let go, as if stuck by magnetism. I felt this subtle change in her muscle tone, a sudden softening or languidness that was so devastatingly feminine that I groaned to feel it. Her body seemed to be glowing with sudden heat, and then she just melted against me, that silly little dick poking me like a finger.

She whispered something inaudible into my mouth and I felt her ass flex in my hand again as she instinctively pushed her hips against me. The dildo slid up against my shaft and then flopped out of the way as if it had lost a game of chicken with my cock. The thought that she could feel every vibration inside her pussy made me hold her tighter, as if I could feel it too.

She put her head against my shoulder again and hung on, and I slid my hand down lower, my fingers curling automatically around her buttock to press against her anus through the seam of her pants. It was an instinctive gesture, one I wouldn't have done if I'd stopped to think about it. I wasn't expecting her response. She closed her eyes and raised her face, opened her mouth like a baby bird waiting to be fed and pulled my lips down within range of her teeth, biting me and moaning in a way that left no doubt about her primary erotic zone. I pressed against her rectum and she turned into liquid flame.

"You want to be my punk, Mister?" I whispered into her hair. "You want to be my boy? I'll show you how a man makes love to a man."

She laughed unsteadily and murmured something against my chest as my finger continued to press up between her buttocks. It might have been "Oh, God!"

That's what it felt like: like I was some butch lover and she was my little boy, my nancy, my femme. The image thrilled me. It thrilled her too, I could tell. . I lifted her hand to my face, that beautiful, womanly hand. I turned it over so the palm was towards me and pressed it to my mouth. I stuck out my tongue and licked her palm, tasted the salt of her sweat and the sweet traces of her perfume, then opened my mouth and bit her, right at the fleshy pad at the base of her thumb, the part they call the Mount of Venus. I took it in my teeth and bit.

She clenched her teeth and wailed, and I could all but feel her nipples harden beneath her costume. She arched her back, pressing the lean muscles of her thighs against me, her cock rolling to the side as my own stabbed at her stomach. I felt her hand tremble in my teeth.

Now she said it out loud: "Oh God!"

I licked her palm again, sucked the base of her fingers, and then slid her middle finger into my mouth, sucking it like it was a little cock. I figured that if she were playing a man, her strength would be in her hands, and I knew what having my hands bitten does to me. She played the part. She whined, closed her eyes, let her head fall forward and tried to bite my chest. I could feel her hot breath through my shirt. Her ass was clenched tight under my hand, pumping her hips slowly against my cock.

"You want it, mister?" I whispered into her ear. "You want me to put my cock up your ass? Come on, buddy. I'll make you my punk. I'll suck you off and then make you take it up the ass. I'll show you what it's like to be a real man. You interested?"

She shuddered and looked at me, honestly confused.

I smiled at her. "Come on. Your first night as a man and I'm offering you gay sex. You're not going to pass that up."

I bit her hand again, reached behind her and pressed my finger up against her little rosebud and she flattened herself against me like she was pushed from behind. She didn't resist as I led her from the dance floor.

There were couples making out against the walls and sitting on the stairs, and I led her past them, up past the second floor and up to the third, where the bedrooms were.

There were two bedrooms up here, an office, a master bath and an upstairs laundry. There were people smoking dope in Farley's bedroom, probably Bruce himself with some friends. I could hear them giggling. The other bedroom was locked, and someone growled drunkenly when I tried the handle. I pulled Sam into the dark laundry room, the only light coming from a fluorescent over the sink. I slammed the door, and pushed her up against it, pulled her hat off and threw it aside. I grabbed hold of her black jacket and stripped it down her arms and dropped that too. My hands went around her and grabbed onto her ass and crushed her against me, almost lifting her off the floor.

God, could she kiss! All hunger now and wild, biting teeth, on fire with excitement. She tried to get hold of herself and calm us down by putting her shaking hands against my face, but I just bit her hands and that set her off again. I pushed my leg between hers and lifted up, pushing that little thing into her as her hands fumbled frantically trying to get her tie off.

"Hurry up, punk!" I whispered. "Get it off!"

She tried, but she was too excited and she couldn't untie the knot. I did it for her and pulled it through her collar and threw it aside. Her fingers went to the buttons of her shirt but she didn't seem to have much more success there than she did with the tie. She was torn between getting her clothes off and giving me her hands to kiss and bite. She seemed to feed off my own excitement, and when my kisses started to flag she left the buttons and grabbed my hair and bit and sucked my lips till I was on fire again and bit her back. I knocked her hands away from the shirt and started opening it myself, but lost patience and pulled it out of her pants and ripped it open, sending the buttons flying like buckshot.

"Please!" she breathed. "Be careful. I've got to return this. It's from Les Miz."

"Fuck Les Miz," I growled.

I yanked her shirt partway down her shoulders, those beautiful, soft, feminine shoulders.

She'd really dressed the part. Beneath her shirt she wore a white cotton two-strapper tee-shirt with cheap religious medals festooned around her neck, just like the boys in the hood when I was a kid. She might have been one of those skinny Italian kids I played stickball with back then, but she was smoother and pinker and maddeningly feminine.

Her tits were small, almost invisible. Only the nipples stuck out through the tee, and they seemed to be quivering with excitement. Her breasts just made her seem more of a boy and made me even hotter, my lust all mixed up with these weird, shadowy homosexual feelings—anger and desire, lust and contempt. Was she man, woman, boy, girl? I was almost enraged.

I reached down and found her phony cock through her pants and squeezed it. I began to beat her off right through her trousers, grabbing that little stalk and pumping it.

"Oh!" she cried, her fingers digging into my shoulders. "Easy!"

I'd forgotten for a moment that her cock wasn't real, or that it wasn't attached. I wasn't really thinking clearly at all anymore. The feel of that little boner in my hand did something to me, and I turned my hand around so I held her piece like the handle of a tennis racket and began to pump her, pulling her hips this way and that.

"Oh God!" she moaned. "Easy! Easy!"

Her shoulders were leaning against the wall, her hips thrust forward to ease the force of my masturbation. That little piece must have been rocking back and forth inside her, almost as if I was fucking her with it.

I was frantic. I pulled her away from the hollow-core door and pushed her back up against the blank wall to keep her from making a racket. I'd never thought about cocks, never thought about being gay, but this little minx with the phony prick was driving me insane, touching me in places I'd never even looked before, making me want to do things I could hardly even imagine.

I let go of her cock and started working on her pants, trying to get them open.

"You ever been sucked, buddy?" I hissed against her face. "Not by a woman, but by a man, someone who knows how to do it? You ever have someone go down on you, punk?"

She was breathing hard, her eyes closed, putting up no resistance as I got her pants open and yanked them roughly down her smooth thighs. The little tease had gone all out, all right. She was wearing boxer shorts—brown silk boxer shorts with a fly, and there was her little black cock standing straight out, about four inches long.

She looked down at it in astonishment, as if she'd never seen it before, as if she were shocked. The sight inflamed me.

"Looks like he's trying to get out, doesn't it?" I asked her. "Little nancy-boy can't even keep his dick in his pants!"

I turned her around by the wall and slapped her ass—once, twice—startling her and making her cry out and cover her little tits protectively with her arms.

She looked so fragile, so frail and girlish, and that little prick was just so wickedly perverse.

I spun her back, pushed her back against the wall and tore my jacket off. I got down on my knees, yanked her pants down as she stood there like a helpless child, then her boxers. I could see the harness now, the black plastic straps around her boyish hips and going beneath her buttocks like a man's athletic supporter. Her thighs were long and smooth, and the little dick stood out from a black plastic base that was pressed against her hairless mound. It was gloriously obscene.

I pulled her boxers down lower till they were around her ankles. I could see the little plastic tongue that extended back beneath the dildo and plugged up into her pussy, like a black snake burrowing into a rose garden. She smelled exquisite—perfume and powder and female heat, and something else: the little punk had even dabbed some aftershave on her pussy. I wanted to eat her alive. With a surge of overpowering hunger I opened my mouth and sucked her cock inside.

The cock was rubber. I could taste its tarry bitterness on my tongue, but I sucked it like a slave anyhow. The feel of that bumpy thickness sliding between my lips was strangely familiar, like something I must have imagined in a dream—what a cock would feel like in my mouth. It felt right, and kneeling before this skinny little girl in the laundry room, I felt powerful and degraded at the same time, victor and vanquished. It was infuriating and sexy as hell.

I spread my knees and opened my pants and clumsily fished out my own aching prick—the real thing this time. I'd always wanted to be King Dick in some pissing contest, and hearing Sam's sudden gasp as she compared my tool to hers made me shamefully proud. I felt a big drop of lube run down the tip and over my knuckles as I took hold of it and started to beat off.

She was leaning her shoulders back against the wall, her hips thrust out for me. She ran one hand through my hair and said, "I don't believe this! Oh fuck, is that hot! You're insane!"

I sucked her like I was a cock-crazed whore, moaning and growling and letting that phony dick squoosh and squish in my mouth, wanting the saliva to drip over my lips. I wanted it. I wanted her to shove that thing down my throat and make me take it. I wanted her to fuck my mouth with a man's violence and need.

"Suck it!" she cried. "Suck my big dick!"

In the midst of my sucking I almost smiled. Everyone's dick is big when it's aroused and being sucked, even this little slip of a girl's. Even on my knees I overshadowed her. I was bigger than her and broader, and I could have thrown her down with one hand and fucked her just like that, but she was in charge now, and I smiled again as I felt her get into and start thrusting those tight hips into my face, gently at first, but I could tell the feelings of power and mannish lust were getting to her.

I pulled my mouth off her and licked the underside of her cock as I continued to stroke my meat. "Come on, Sam, fuck my mouth. Make me take it! It's payback time for all the guys who've done it to you, so show me what a stud you are, Sam! Make me take it! Give it to me!"

She got into it now. She buried both hands in my hair and bent her knees and began to fuck my mouth with hard little jabs, trying to force it down my throat as I knelt there and reveled in sheer masochistic cocksucking joy. Her mouth was open and she wore a look of contained fury as she worked that little piece around inside her and rammed her black rubber dick into my willing mouth.

I backed off and fisted her cock. I licked and bit her smooth thighs, got my face right up under her shaft and reached for her pink cunt with my tongue. I could see where that plastic stalk reached inside her and it made me crazy.

"Do you like it?" I asked. "Do you like me sucking your big cock, stud? Does it make you feel like a man?"

"I can feel it inside. I can feel it when you suck me."

"What am I?" I asked her, slapping her ass. "Tell me what I am, what I'm doing."

"You're a cock-sucker. You're sucking my dick. You're my punk now. My trick."

Her words inflamed me, humiliated me with a rush of heat so intense that I thought I might lose it right there. I bit down on that cock and shook my head like a terrier with a rat, making her twist her hips and shaking that little bulb that was inside her so that she had to gasp and grab onto my hair to keep from falling.

"Oh fuck!" she whimpered. "I think I'm going to come! You're crazy! You're going to make me come!"

I wasn't going to allow that. I let go of her prick and stood up, took her in my arms and kissed her. She melted against me like one flame into another. Both of us were pure fire, insane with lust, eating each other's mouths, not even understanding the things we were feeling. Her hand went to my cock and I pushed it away. Then she reached for the snaps on her harness but I stopped that as well. She looked up at me in confusion.