GirlyBoy Pt. 01

Jacob was stood on the balcony smoking a cigarette and wondering where his fiancé was. Behind him was the muffled noises of the party she'd dragged him to only for her to slink off with her boss, Blayden Hamilton, to talk in private.

He was going to leave her he'd told himself for the hundredth time. You couldn't build trust when somebody was constantly smashing it apart. As the party raged on inside he thought over how simplistically easy it was now to pack up his things and go; she was too busy flirting it up with Mr Hamilton to notice anyway. It was always the same; apologies, defences, and excuse but that wasn't going to cut it.

A high-pitched sigh went off next to him as think cigarette smoke rose up from the other side of the balcony separated by thin, wooden fencing. He could make out that somebody was leaning over the railing on the other side.

"Not enjoying the party?" Her voice was light, with a slither of rasp to it.

He leaned on the railing and looked out at the city. "No."

"Sounds awful in there. All jazz, champagne, and art folks," replied the voice.

"I'm planning on leaving."

"Not your type of thing?"

"Not at all—girlfriend is in there flirting or doin' God knows what with her work-friends. I hate these gatherings. It's all snooty people sipping cognac and suckin' off the guy who owns the place, you know? What about you? They have these parties all the time. Must get pretty annoying."

"Live and let live. Doesn't bother me. Why stick with your girl if she's just going off with other people?"

"It's hard to explain but I think I'm nearing the end."

"Why not go find somebody to revenge fuck? Get back at her or just leave."

"Fuck one of these uptown stiffs? I'm not a looker. Pretty sure all these artsy people do not see me in any capacity except the quiet fiancé."

He went to look towards her but she'd pulled away from the railing, looking at him through the thin lines of the fence.

"You're not bad looking," she said.

"What about you?" he asked.

"I doubt you'd be interested."

He leaned over the side of the balcony and dipped his head around the edge of the panelling. He'd imagined somebody in a dressing gown, a married woman heading out for a smoke but when he saw her, his stomach went queasy.

She was leaning against the panelling with her legs crossed. On them were a pair of back knee-high socks that gave way to her pale, thick thighs leading up to the bottom of a black, baggy jumper that was the only thing she wore. Her hair was dark and boyishly short. He spied a pair of diamond ear piercings that glinted in the light.

Whatever words were supposed to flow caught in his throat. His eyes widened as she looked him up and down slowly, her cigarette still clasped between her fingers. Her fingernails were long, shiny, and painted black and imagined what it'd feel like to have them dig into his back. It took a moment for lucidity to settle in again.

"You're a pretty girl," was all he could muster.

She let out a laugh and flicked her cigarette over the railing where it flew down into the city below.

"Okay," she said with a sigh walked towards her door. He could see the bottom of her butt peeking from under the jumper couldn't help but stare.

"Wait, what did I say?"

As she made it to her door she looked back at him. She looked away from him and there was a moment of sadness as she said "I'm not a girl."

When she closed the door behind her he felt a wave of confusion wash over him. What was that supposed to mean? He watched her slump down onto her couch, illuminated by flicking white lights of her TV. Something stirred in him. Is he a guy? Jacob dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out before walking back inside, ignoring the tightness below.

The generic piano tune filled his ears against the rush of people talking in hushed tones, looking over each painting set up around the lounge. He'd grabbed his scotch off the small table by the couch and slumped down on it. Jessica was still missing and since the conversations in here drove him to contemplate blowing his brains out, he sat in silence, looking out towards the balcony again.

His mind thought of the girl's soft pale legs and tried to ignore that rising, fidgety feeling. She was toying with him, she was a girl. He couldn't get hard over a guy, could he? No. Impossible. She was just pulling a prank, it was a joke, clearly. If it was she'd pulled it off beautifully.

He shoved the thoughts deep down and gave smiles to the pretentious group of people who were discussing Hamilton's use of watercolour as an allegory for the chaotic beauty of the universe. He slid right out of listening to that bullshit and looked towards the lights of the city in the distance. A mixture of bright yellow, red, and green just like the eyes he couldn't stop imagining.

Fuck this, he thought as he chugged his drink, tasting the burn going down as he grabbed his coat. He stepped through the ocean of people and out the front door. To the right of the place was Apartment 14C. He took a moment, froze, and remembered Jessica most likely trying to get a raise. His hand gently tapped the door.

When the light of the hallway shone on her he made out how soft her skin was, how small she was. She leaned her head on the doorway and crossed her arms, lifting the jumper up a bit. It took all the energy he had to not look down. Holy fuck, she's cute. She stared at him with those eyes and seconds turned to hours.

"Hi," he said. "It's me from the uh—the thing next door."

"Yeah," she replied. "What's up?"

"What did you mean earlier, you know, when you said you weren't a girl?"

"Well what do you think it means?"

"Was it a joke? Goofin' on me or something? I don't know," he said with a shrug.

"Where's your girlfriend?" she asked as some of her hair, brown in the light, went against the door.

"I don't know—I don't really care. You're the only person who seems to hold a conversation that doesn't make me want to pull my hair out."

"You want a drink?"

"Sure," he said quietly.

She stepped back and opened the door wide. A smile spread across her face and he saw how soft and pink they were. When he walked by her a sweet, smell of perfume almost knocked him off balance.

"You want a drink?" She walked over to her kitchen, examining a row of bottles on the side. "Wine, whiskey, or water?"

"Whiskey sounds great," he said.

She filled him as tumbler but poured herself a small red wine. As he watched her move so quietly he felt unsure of what to say or do. When she handed him his drink, she looked up at him and her eyes hung there for a moment before she smoothly walked back to grab her drink.

"Thanks," he said. "So was it a joke?"

"No," she said as she took a sip of her drink. "You called me a girl. I'm not."

"Don't tell me you're one of those gender-social warrior people," he said with a smile.

"No. I mean I'm a boy."

"I don't get what you mean," he said as he swallowed a gulp. "You're not—"

"Fine. I'll show you," she said.

She put down her drink and hands pulled up her jumper. It slid over her small frame. His eyes went down and his eyes widened. It was small, and flopped from under the fabric; followed by a smooth sack. She threw the jumper on the counter. Her stomach was flat, toned but looked so soft. Her chest was almost flat but her pink nipples looked hard in the light. He didn't realize he was grabbing onto his glass so tight his hand was shaking.

She wiggled and he watched her cock shake, growing a little in size. When he didn't move from where he stood she grabbed her drink and raised it to her mouth. "See? It wasn't a joke. Finish your drink or don't. You know where the door is," she said with a roll of her eyes before swallowing the drink down.

He wanted to leave but when he looked at her cute, round butt his cock twitched, and there was a sudden weakness lowering in his stomach. "I don't know," he said. "I've never done this. I don't even know what I'm thinking."

She stared at him as her hand went over his, sliding the drink out of his hand. With her other one she led him to the huge couch. She pushed him down onto it and he let out a gasp. I should leave. I shouldn't want this. But then she got down on her knees and began unbuckling his belt.

"Do you want to leave?" She looked at him as she slowly unzipped his pants.

She slid his cock out and he felt the sharp, enticing feel of her nails gently tracing his shaft up and down. He was throbbing, already dripping. In her soft, small hands it looked even bigger. She held onto it gently and slid her tongue up it; her soft lips spread into a smile as she stuck her tongue out, and gently flicked her tongue between his head and shaft.

"You want me to keep going?" she asked.

Deep down he knew this was wrong; but as he stared at her, her hands smoothly rubbing him up and down he nodded, letting out small, pleasurable gasps. Her mouth slid over his hard cock that she let slide all the way down her throat.

He tried to fight it, to stop. That it shouldn't be this enjoyable. He didn't like guys. This wasn't his scene. But through the tingle of tightness on his cock he'd already had his hands through her soft, feathery hair and was already shoving her mouth down harder, fucking her throat. Jessica never did this. Forget her.

She pulled away for air and gasped, climbing to her feet. He felt her soft, round ass push against his cock and it enveloped his cock. Holy fuck that's so tight. His hands lifted up the back of her knees and slowly began thrusting, sliding in and out. All reasoning left him, all lucidity was washed away by his need to be in her, to feel her take every inch.

"See," she whispered, moaning as her body leaned back on him. His mouth went to her neck, the taste her sweet scent made him thrust deeper. "You like it."

This felt so different; so charged. She turned her head to face him and their lips connected. Static buzzed between their tongues as she lapped at him, her tongue begging for more. He loved her taste, the tinge of wine against the high-pitched moans she let flow out of her. She shook and her

"I want you to breed me," she said to him as his hands went from her the back of her legs to her chest. He felt the hard, small bumps of her nipples and gently squeezed them as she found her footing and pushed down faster onto his cock.

"Okay," he said; enraptured, unable to stop.

The feel of her small cock flopping against his balls felt so natural; he fought to stop the sudden rush of climaxing right then and there but as he leaned back he held onto it, watching her eyes roll back in her head as he thrust harder into her. This feels better than pussy, he thought.

It felt so good. Why hadn't he done this before? It could become an obsession. He stared into those green eyes and felt his cock slide fully into her, feeling how tight her pussy was against his cock. "Fill me," she gasped.

"I love your cunt," he said as his eyes rolled back; the building tingle below rising hard and fast.

"You're gonna make me—I'm close—" She let out yelps as he felt her cunt twitch and grip him harder, and then finally he froze as she let out a final high-pitched squeal as he felt her tense up, and the warm feeling of cum dripping down between them both. Holy fuck, he thought.

"I want to fill your pussy up," he said, panting as his hand went to her cock, his hand warm and wet.

He continued to push deeper, feeling the warm cum drip down his hand drove him wild as the rush rose down below overtake him.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

She moved her head up and down and pushed out small yelps.

He felt the flow below. Pleasure flooded his brain and cock as he gasped in astonishment as his cum flowed deep inside, shooting from him so strongly he felt his legs go weak. Electricity buzzed in his head like as if he'd hit a drug high. When he felt the fire inside wither away to embers he realized he'd collapsed onto his side. Her arms were around him, and he was kissing her again, feeling her soft lips.

He saw her hair, ruffled as she stayed sat on his legs. With closed eyes she crawled towards him as he sucked in fresh air. Her soft skin pressed against him as she nestled into his neck, snuggling into him. Within seconds she was asleep. That was amazing. It felt so right.

There was no going back now. Whatever he was, he'd deal with it in the morning. He looked at the girly boy, gently rising and lowering against his chest. As his breathing returned to normal he watched her—him sleep and felt something like queasiness in his stomach. This was a woman—besides the obvious. He wasn't gay, right?

But the feeling in his stomach grew wilder as his hands wrapped around her small body, and within moments his eyes were closed, and he was asleep, smelling her scent and feeling just right; blissful.