Just One Day Of Your Life free porn video

Chapter One:

I had been moved out of my mother's house for two weeks now, and I still
couldn't believe it. I had made it! I was Dale Simmons, college man! No
more high school, no more curfew, no more cleaning my room or Saturday
detentions...it was like I was living in a dream world.

I looked out my apartment window over to campus. It was so big, so
exciting. I began to fantasize about all the football games I would
attend, all the parties I would throw, all the lovely women I would
date. God, the next four years would be ecstasy.

True, college life wouldn't be all fun and games. Unlike a lot of
students, I wanted to graduate with honors. I had taken out a stiff
student loan and could not afford to flunk out or barely graduate. I had
dreams of becoming a lawyer, and I sure as hell wouldn't get into law
school with a 2.3 GPA.

"Hey Dale, say cheese!" I turned around to see the one major problem I
had with college life. When I first was accepted to this school, I had
decided I would rather not live in the crowded dorms and had answered an
ad in the 'roommates wanted' section of the paper. The apartment was
great: two bedrooms and within walking distance of campus. I should have
checked out the roommate more carefully, though.

His name was John, and well, he was weird. A tall guy with scraggly hair
and an unkempt beard, he certainly wasn't a traditional guy. He was a
bassist for an obscure local band and I was constantly subject to a loud
stream of 'power chords.' He would laugh insanely at times for no
apparent reason. To make things worse, he was a photo-journalism major
and was constantly snapping pictures of things around the apartment,
including me. Not exactly my dream roommate (that would be Elle
MacPhereson), but he was likeable in his own way and I guessed I could
tolerate him for a year or so.

Click. John snapped a picture of me. I really wasn't in the mood for
another photo shoot, so I went over to visit my sister, Jenni.

When I arrived at Jenni's dorm, I found her doing what she did most of
the time: chatting on the internet. It was a good thing the college
offered free internet service, I'd hate to see what her monthly bill
would have been otherwise.

Now I don't want to give the impression that Jenni was some kind of fat,
ugly computer geek who couldn't make friends otherwise. Far from it.
Jenni was a college sophomore, sophisticated, funny, and in my opinion,
pretty. She was slender, with long black hair, fair skin, and delicate
features. If the world was a fair place, she would have been constantly
bombarded by guys who wanted to ask her out. Unfortunately, the world is
not a fair place.

When Jenni was eleven years old, she was in a very bad car accident. She
survived, thank God, with no lasting health problems. Unfortunately, her
face was very badly burned in the wreck. Now the entire left side of her
face was a mass of scar tissue.

From that moment on, Jenni went from being a pretty young lady to an
introverted, scared young woman. She had never gone to prom, never gone
on a date, and never, to my knowledge, kissed a boy. It certainly wasn't
her fault; she tried to get dates. It was just that there were few men
who were willing to look past the scar tissue to see the wonderful girl
inside. Jenni still had a lovely body and, in my opinion, a great
personality, but what guy would notice that now?

To make matters worse, there was my mother. Back in her day, Mom had
been quite the beauty queen. She was won a lot of contests and been a
runner up to represent our state in the Miss America pageant. From the
moment Jenni was born, mother had began molding Jenni in her own image.
When Jenni was six-months-old she took first prize in a beautiful baby
contest. She kept right on winning c***d beauty contests until the
accident. That ended her career as a beauty queen. The worst of it was,
once Mom realized that the scars were permanent, she cruelly lost all
interest in Jenni. It was like she only cared about her when she was
pretty and had no interest in a non-perfect daughter. As for me, Mom was
never interested in my rough-and-tumble, boyish ways. Jenni and I grew
closer, but we both grew apart from Mom.

This was why Jenni talked on the computer so much. Through the magic of
the internet, Jenni was not the poor, scarred girl. She was a pretty,
fun lady who all the guys wanted to get to know. Her personality showed
through, it seemed every time I talked to her she was telling me about
some new guy who had asked her out. It was too bad that this only worked
through the internet; she could obviously never meet any of these guys
in person.

Jenni had once confided in me that she would have done anything,
anything, to meet a special guy. I told her the same tired things: she
was beautiful, she would meet someone, any guy would be lucky to have
her...but we both knew how empty comments like that seemed.

"Hey s*s," I called, "you wanna grab a cup of coffee or something?"

Jenni seemed embarrassed. "Well, I'm kinda chatting with Steve right
now."

Ah, Steve. While Jenni had dozens of cyber-admirrers, Steve was
apparently something special. She constantly gushed about him, Steve-
this, Steve-that. It made me a little sad. Steve lived on the coast,
he'd probably never come out this way. Even if he offered to, Jenni
would probably refuse.

I went off to try to meet some women, leaving Jenni to her romance with
Steve. I had no idea at the time how much Steve would end up changing
her life...and mine.

Two days later a received a frantic phone call from Jenni, asking me to
come over to her dorm right away. When I got there, she seemed both
excited and terrified. I asked her what was wrong.

"I just got this letter from Steve," she replied.

"An actual letter? I though you guys only sent e-mail."

"Just read it. C'mon!"

I took the letter from her and began to read:

Dearest Jenni,

It was so good to talk to you last night. It seems like my entire day
revolves around my conversations with you. You know we're always saying
how great it would be to get together? Well, I think I might have found
a way! My cousin is getting married on the west coast, and my flight
makes a stopover in your city! I've worked something out with the
airline so that I can stay there for a whole day for no extra charge.
What do you say? Can I come see you, honey?

Steve

P.S. I just got the pictures you sent me. Wow!

I looked back at Jenni. "Pictures?" I asked. "You mean, he knows?

Jenni looked away. "Not exactly." She handed me a couple of photos. "I
had your roommate, John, take these for me."

I looked at the pictures. They were glamour shots of Jenni. She looked
even lovelier than she did in her days as a beauty queen. The thing was,
all the pictures were shot from the right. From what I could see, it was
impossible to tell she was anything but a beautiful woman.

I looked at my sister. Before I could say anything, she was interrupted.
"Dale, I know what you're thinking. But listen, guys don't want to fly
across the country to see a human freak show. They want to see a girl
who looks like the one in this picture."

"Jenni, he's coming across the country to see you. What you look like
shouldn't matter."

"But it does matter, Dale. If I sent him a real picture I bet you his
flight would be mysteriously rerouted the moment he learned the truth."

"So..." how could I put this without sounding cruel? "you're just going
to let him find out when he gets here?"

"I can't do that either. He says he's in love with me, but I don't know
how serious he is. If he was coming three months from now I would know
if that love would be enough to love me as is. I just can't tell right
now. If he sees me now, that'll be the end of it."

"Then you'll have to tell him not to come. Make up an excuse."

Jenni sighed. "That's not an option either. Everyday I tell him that
meeting him would be the thrill of a lifetime. Now, no matter what I
tell him, it will sound like I don't really love him."

Don't really love him? She loved him? "Jenni, I can't think of any other
options. Either tell him the truth and see if he's man enough to love
you for real, or postpone until you are sure of it."

Jenni looked nervous. "Actually, Dale, I thought of another way that
just might work out."

"Really? What's that?"

"Have you ever read 'Cyrano de Bergerac?'"

"Uh, I saw the movie."

"Well Cyrano is a wonderful, loving man. He's in love with Roxanne, but
doesn't dare tell her, since he's so ugly. Instead, he writes her
poetry, and has a good-looking guy, Christian, pass it off as his own.
In the end, Roxanne realizes that she is in love with the poet, not the
pretty face."

"Yeah, but don't both guys end up getting killed at the end?"

Jenni ignored that. "I was thinking, what if I got someone to go on the
date in my place? Someone pretty, that Steve would be proud to be seen
with. That way, he'll know I want to see him and I'll have a few more
months to build him up for this." Jenni pointed to her scars.

"I dunno. Seems pretty self-defeating to have another girl go in your
place. Who did you have in mind?"

Jenni looked my right in the eyes. "You, Dale."

"No, seriously."

"I am serious. No, listen. If I hadn't sent Steve those pictures then I
could have any girl play me. But now, he's expecting someone who could
pass as my twin sister."

"Jenni, this is ludicrous. I'm not listening."

"Dale, please. Give me five minutes to explain."

I looked at my watch. "The clock is ticking."

"OK. Now you and I look a lot alike. You are slim, you have pale skin,
and you'd have nice longish hair if you'd ever comb out those hippie
locks of yours. I think that if I dress you in some of my clothes, give
you a make over, add a lot of padding, and give you lessons in
femininity, you could pass for me for a day. I'll tell Steve that I'd
love to see him, but I never feel comfortable kissing on the first date.
That way you don't have to worry about that aspect. Steve flies home and
in a few months I tell him the truth about me and say that you were just
a friend of mine. We all live happily ever after and neither of us bring
it up again."

"Are you finished?"

"Yes."

"Then my answer is no. Dress like a woman? Date a guy? Have you lost
your frigging mind?"

I think I could have withstood almost anything from Jenni: threats,
appeals to logic, emotion, family, or whatever. But when she started
sobbing, my heart broke.

"Please Dale," she said between tears. "Just one day of your life. One
lousy, stinking day! You've been on dates. I haven't. You've been
kissed, I never have. You know what it's like to be special and I never
will. I'm not exaggerating here, Steve might be my one chance at
happiness. My one chance! I'm begging you Dale!"

I was struck dumb, I'd never seen her this upset. Steve was obviously
very special.

Jenni wiped away her tears. "Look Dale, I don't expect you to agree to
this right now. Tomorrow, why don't I try dressing you up like me in
private? If you don't think it will work, well, then I guess I'll just
have to face the music."

I numbly nodded.

Chapter Two:

The next day I sullenly sat on my couch. Jenni would be over soon to
'feminize me.' I didn't like the sound of that. John was off playing one
of his infrequent gigs so Jenni and I would have the apartment to
ourselves.

It saddened me how much Jenni was deluding herself. I had looked in the
mirror the previous night and came to the conclusion that my passing as
a girl was never going to happen. True, I did bear a striking
resemblance to my sister, but so what? I was a guy, plain and simple. I
hadn't been mistaken for a girl since I was two years old. The only
unmasculine thing I could see about myself was a general lack of facial
and body hair. Just a couple of sad strands on my chin and some fuzz on
my legs. But what of it? Lots of guys don't have facial hair. It would
take more than that to make me into Jenni.

Jenni knocked at the door and I let her in. She was carrying a huge
makeup case and a couple of garment bags. I helped her carry them in.

"Well Dale, are you ready? Jeez, you look like you're going to you own
execution."

"That would be a slightly more welcome experience," I grunted.

Jenni looked at me sternly. "Dale, this can be as miserable an
experience as you want to make it, but listen to me. This is nothing
more than a costume. You are doing your sister a favor, nothing more. I
didn't tell anyone, and I assume you didn't. Now you can either make
this the worst night of your life, or you can think what a great person
you are for helping out your s*s."

I grunted neutrally. Jenni directed me to go take a shower and shave my
legs and armpits.

"Shave my legs? No way!"

"C'mon Dale, who's going to notice? It's getting colder already, it's
not like you'll be wearing shorts soon."

I went into the bathroom and closed the door. I stepped under the
cascading shower and washed. When I could no longer put off the
inevitable, I took out my seldom used razor and began to run it along my
legs. Several nicks later I was done. My legs felt smoother, but not by
a whole lot. Jenni was right. I had so little hair there in the first
place no one would look twice.

The pits were a little more difficult. I had to have Jenni toss me some
scissors to trim most of the hair. I took the rest off with the razor,
ruining the blade in the process. The denuded armpits were more
noticeable. I would have no remember not to wear a tank top until the
hair grew back.

I stepped out of the shower. "OK, Dr. Frankenstein, what now?" I called
out.

"Put these on," called Jenni as she tossed something through a crack in
the bathroom door. I picked it up. It appeared to be the bottom of a
bikini, only it was made of sturdy rubber.

"Jenni, these are too small! Women don't wear things like this!"

"Yes," she replied through the door, "but men who want to look like
women do. You have extra parts that we can't have 'popping up,' while
you're dressed like me."

The thing was miserably tight. I felt my testicles migrate up into their
recesses and my penis turn inside out. Jenni was right though, all that
was visible of my manhood was a small bump.

Jenni then tossed a pair of cotton panties through the door. "Jenni, do
I have to wear panties? Who's going to know?"

"Dale, does it really matter at this point?"

I supposed not. I slipped them on. Jenni tossed me something else. I
laughed.

"Now Jenni, don't you think you're taking this woman thing a little too
far? Maxipads? What could I possibly need those for?"

"Not to use them, Dale. They're for padding. Slip 'em in your panties.
One down each hip vertically, and two around your butt, horizontally.
That should give you a more girlish rear end and hips."

"Now how could you possibly know that?" I asked.

"I read it on the internet."

"Of course."

Jenni then passed me a bra. Only it wasn't really a bra. Each cup
contained a fluid-filled sack. "They're for women who've had
mastectomies," Jenni explained. "It's supposed to simulate a woman's
breasts. I got it from a friend who works at the hospital."

I put it on, untangled it, took it off, and finally put in on correctly.
It was a little like those body holsters some policeman wear. I looked
down at my body. I looked as silly as I felt. Well, maybe I had a new
Halloween costume, but I didn't see how this silly padding job would
change anything.

The last thing Jenni handed me was a girdle. It was an uncomfortable fit
and it pulled my sides in painfully close. I started to open my mouth to
complain, but then thought the better of it. It made me look so
ridiculous that I figured wearing it would actually help convince Jenni
not to ask me to dress like this.

"Anything else?" I asked Jenni.

"No, c'mon out."

"But I'm half naked!"

"Then throw on a robe or something. Nothing that pulls over your head
though, I'm doing your makeup next and I don't want it to get smeared."

I pulled on a pair of boxers and one of John's old button-down shirts I
found on the floor. As I was about to leave, I caught a glimpse of
myself in the mirror. All of a sudden, what I was wearing wasn't so
funny anymore.

Now that the padding was covered with clothes, I looked different. My
hips and rear stuck out like a girl's. My sides curved inward, giving me
an slight. hourglass figure. Worst of all, the mastectomy bra made it
look like I had breasts! Medium-sized, pert little feminine breasts!
Every part of my body that was covered with clothes could have easily
belonged to a woman.

Still, I wasn't that worried. Padding can change some things, but my
face was still mine. I still had that rugged, handsome face I looked at
in the mirror ever morning. So she slapped some paint on it, big deal.
No way could she make me look convincing.

I stepped out into the living room. Jenni had me sit in our big recliner
and tilted me back. She moved my reading lamp over to my side to get a
better look at my face. Then she began.

First, she combed and brushed out my hair. She berated me about what the
cheap shampoo I used was doing to my hair until I agreed to let her buy
me some she approved of. I refused her request to get a permanent or
anything like that, though I did allow her to trim off some split-ends.

She took out one of those cloth covered elastic things that women call a
'scrunchie' and tied my hair back into a pony-tail. Then she went to
work on my makeup. She smiled.

"This isn't going to be so hard," she said. "Your jaw isn't too
prominent, and you don't really have a beard. I'll give you a makeover
tonight, but you'll have to learn how to do this on your own."

"And people said I'd never learn anything in college."

"That's the spirit, keep up your sense of humor."

Jenni went to work. She slathered my face with a variety of eyeliners,
mascara, lipstick, rouge, and blush. Several times she would wipe my
face clean and start all over again. I began to see why women spend such
a long time in the bathroom. I even caught her plucking my eyebrows
until I realized what she was doing and made her stop. Finally she
decided I was presentable. I tried to get a glimpse of myself in her
makeup mirror, but she refused, saying she only wanted me to see the
finished product when I decided if I could pass for her.

"Jenni," I asked, "do you really think this makeup is going to do any
good?"

"Absolutely," she tittered. "By the time I'm done with you, you won't
even believe you're a man."

That made me mad. "I'm sorry Jenni, but there are just some things that
makeup cannot change!"

Jenni looked surprisingly hurt by the comment. Then I remembered. For
quite some time Jenni had tried to cover up her scars with makeup. She
had eventually realized how fruitless this was and abandoned her
attempts. I felt bad about accidentally striking a nerve, so I didn't
say anything else.

Jenni handed me some nylon stocking which I slid on with difficulty. She
was rummaging through her garment bag. "Ah, here it is. I think it will
be perfect for you. Very conservative and goes well with your
complexion."

It was a plain black dress. The sleeves were full to the wrist and it
looked like the bottom seam would reach the floor. The neckline, while
lower than a man's garment, wasn't too deep. I regarded it sourerly.

"What's the matter, Dale? What did you want, a prom dress?"

"Just remember why I'm even doing this, Jenni." Jenni took the hint and
shut up, though I was secretly relieved that the dress was so
conservative. I had half expected her to dress me up like a Las Vegas
showgirl.

Jenni helped me into the dress and zipped me up in back. She then
clipped two faux-pearl earrings on my ears and a pearl necklace around
my neck.

Then she did my nails. They were too short to paint, so she applied some
of those plastic, press-on kind. She told me I would have to stop
clipping my own until Steve got here so that she could paint them then.
Little did she know there that this was the last time I would dress like
this.

Last came the shoes. She said she had a hard time finding anything in my
size, but hand managed to get a nice look pair of flats that weren't too
small.

After she adjusted my makeup one more time, she led me to the mirror. I
was sad to see her deluding herself like this, thinking that I could
ever make a convincing girl. In a few moments I would have to bring her
down to earth. Still, I might as well have a look at the damage.

I expected to see a reflection of some ridiculous guy dressed like a
girl, kinda like Benny Hill in drag. I guess that's why I let out an
involuntary gasp when I saw the mirror.

Jenni was looking back at me from the glass! My God, I looked exactly
like her! Glossy, well combed hair, a delicately painted face. Small
hands with painted nails. A cute little dress. A curvy figure with a
woman's chest. The only major difference was that I had no scars. I
looked like the woman Jenni would have been, the woman she should have
been. The woman she almost was.

This was a catastrophe! All night I had assumed that I would look so
funny in a dress that Jenni would see her error and give up the plan.
Now what could I do?

"So what do you think?" asked Jenni, excitedly.

"I guess I look OK." Much as I wanted to say I looked horrible, I
couldn't. The resemblance to Jenni was too striking. I couldn't insult
my looks without insulting hers.

"You look great, Dale!"

"I do not. This is never going to work, Jenni."

Jenni was about to protest when I heard something that made all my
previous fears seem like nothing. There was a key turning in my lock! It
had to be John, he was home from his gig at least three hours early!

I panicked. John barely knew me. What if he thought I was gay, or that I
liked dressing like this for fun? What if he got his kicks beating the
crap out of guys who wore dresses? I wasn't in the mood for a fist-
fight, especially dressed like this. From the scared look on Jenni's
face, she had come to the same conclusion.

John staggered in, reeking of rum and smoking what I hoped was a hand-
rolled cigarette. "God damn sons of bitches shut down the frigging club.
f---in' board of health, not like anyone's never found a rat's head in
their beer before!" John turned in our direction. His eyes narrowed in
rage.

"What in the hell is going on here?" he bellowed.

"John, listen, I can explain..." I began.

"Explain, yeah, someone had better freaking explain!" John was literally
quaking with anger. He was even madder than I had feared.

"It's not what it looks like," Jenni said meekly.

"It better not be!" John continued to rant. "I mean all I ask is for you
to tape the Giant's game while I'm out, and I can see the VCR isn't even
on!"

It took Jenni and I a couple of seconds to realize that John wasn't
looking at me, but at the television.

"Oh," I stammered. "The game was rained out. They're playing tomorrow."

"Oh, OK," said John, chucking his pungent smoking material into the
waste basket; his anger almost instantly dissolving. He looked at me.
"So what's with the whacky get-up?"

"Well, Jenni met this guy on the internet..."

John had already wandered into the kitchen. "No k**ding," he said, not
paying attention. "Hey, are these your Sugar-krispies? Can I have some?"

When John had finally stumbled into bed, Jenni looked at me and smiled.
"There, you see, John saw you and didn't think there was anything
strange going on."

"Jenni, if a herd of elephants in tutus paraded through here, John
wouldn't think anything strange was going on. I'm sorry, but this
costume doesn't convince me."

"Well it convinces me. Maybe both of us are seeing what we want to see.
We need someone else to decide."

"Great," I said sarcastically. "Why don't we invite some sorority chicks
to come in here and judge?"

"Not like that. Listen, I know this little bar in a town about twenty
miles from here. Why don't we go there and have a drink. If anyone
realizes that you are not a girl, then I'll never ask you to do this
again."

"Great. And I'll become the laughing stock on campus. This guy who likes
to dress like a woman."

"Dale, do you know anyone on this campus besides me and John?"

"Well, no." What with all the chaos of moving, I had only managed to
make a couple of casual acquaintances.

"There you go," replied Jenni. "No one knows you, and even if someone
realized you weren't a guy, which I doubt, they'd never recognize you as
Dale Simmons. We'll be miles from campus anyway."

"Sorry Jenni. This is my social life on the line, not yours. No way."

Jenni looked sad. "Dale, I could sit here all night and tell you what
Steve means to me. I could beg you, or threaten you, or cry, but I'm
not. I'm just going to say one thing: please."

I looked at Jenni, my nineteen-year-old sister who had never been loved
by anyone but me. I thought of how happy a boyfriend would make her. Two
words kept running through my mind. One was 'Jenni.' The other was
'please.'

A few minutes later I had put my wallet in a purse Jenni had brought,
and we were off. Jenni was driving and kept insisting that I sit up
straight. For some reason I found it more comfortable to ride slouched
down near the floorboards where no one could see me. Finally, we arrived
at the small bar. It was a secluded little place, I'd have to remember
it for the next time I wanted to take a girl somewhere quiet.

"OK," I said. "Here's the plan. We go in, drink something, and get the
hell out. We should be in and out in under five minutes."

"Dale, we're going out for a drink, not pulling a bank job. You know,
it's possible for you to have a good time tonight."

"Yes, but since I'm not at home watching football, I really don't see
how that will be possible."

Jenni smiled, shook her head, and we walked inside.

The place was crowded, most tables were occupied. Several couples danced
to the pop music that poured out of the jukebox. I was frightened to see
several people wearing shirts with my college's name on them.

We sat down in the back and ordered sodas, since we were u******e. I
guess I was anxious to leave, I had chugged mine and was asking to go
before Jenni had even taken a sip or hers.

I froze in horror when a big frat guy from my school started coming our
way. I prayed that he only wanted to use the men's room, but he made a
beeline for our table. I had been spotted! He recognized me! I was a
dead man. I hoped that he didn't have any v******e on his mind. Maybe he
would just be content with humiliating me and wouldn't want to fight or
to spread my dress habits all over campus.

"Hi!" he said when he reached us. "I'm Chris, a Kappa Alpha man!" Big
deal, I thought. "So," he said, looking at me, "would you care to
dance?"

I was very nearly sick. He didn't want to hit me, he wanted to hit on
me! To say I was embarrassed would be an understatement. And in front of
Jenni! Now I could never tell her the costume wouldn't work.

I managed to stammer out a negative answer. He turned to Jenni. "Well
then, how about y..." he then saw Jenni's face, full on. "Uh, I gotta
go," he stammered and practically ran off.

"What an asshole," I said to Jenni. Then I saw the horribly hurt look on
her face. I was sure pissed, that guy practically told her he wouldn't
dance with her because of her scars. It wouldn't have killed him to
dance one number with her and would have made Jenni's night. I wanted to
ask him to step outside, but I really wasn't dressed for heroics.

"Jenni, don't let that jerk get you down. He's not worth it."

Jenni smiled a fake smile. "Don't worry. It' s not like that's never
happened to me before. Let's just get out of here."

All the way home I kept trying to think of ways to cheer her up. There
was only one thing I knew that would accomplish that.

We pulled into my driveway. "Night, Dale. See you round," she said
flatly.

"Jenni, listen." Her eyes brightened, almost imperceptively. "Would it
mean a lot to you if I went on this..." I couldn't say date, not with a
man. "If I met Steve in your place?"

"Dale," she replied with no exaggeration, "it would mean the world to
me."

"All right. No kissing, nothing stupid, but I'll do it. For you."

Jenni gave me a huge hug. "I'll never forget this, little brother. I'll
make this up to you for the rest of my life. And I want you to know that
Steve and I will always welcome you in our home."

I thought she was rushing things a bit, but it was good to see her so
happy. I told her good night and went inside.

I took of the silly women's clothes, washed off my makeup, and climbed
into bed. 'My God,' I thought. 'What have I agreed to?'

Chapter Three:

We had exactly one week until Steve arrived and Jenni seemed bound and
determined to replace eighteen years of male programming in seven days.
It was rough. My only consolation was that once Steve was gone this
whole business would be over, and hopefully Jenni would be a lot happier
for my efforts.

The first day of my 'training' was spent reading and rereading letters
and e-mail that Jenni and Steve had exchanged. I was forced to listen to
pointless lectures about Steve: his family, he likes and dislikes, his
school, etc. It was all hideously dull for me, but Jenni wanted me to be
prepared. She didn't want Steve to bring up some past conversation of
theirs and for me to not know what he was talking about.

It also kind of irked me when I found out how much she had shared with
Steve, how she had told him many private, intimate thoughts that she had
not even shared with me. I knew it was natural for a girl her age to
open up to a boyfriend more than a family member, but it was all new to
me. Most guys come to grips with their sisters' dates during middle
school, not college.

Steve's letters disturbed me a little, as well. He was always going on
and on about how he 'desired' Jenni, how he 'longed for her,' and how he
'wanted to hold her in his arms.' He sounded pretty turned on to me.
Jenni assured me they had a relationship based on much more than
physical encounters, but I wasn't so sure. Steve was flying half way
across the country to see Jenni. I wasn't sure if he would be content
with 'no kissing.' I would have to watch myself constantly.

Jenni was a tough teacher. I just figured that she'd show me how to put
on lipstick and eyeliner and that would be enough. Not so. Jenni claimed
I looked the part, but she wanted to make sure that I acted the part.

First came the posturing and walking lessons. Back and forth across the
my living room, wearing a dress and wobbly high heels, every day for
what seemed like hours. John had mysteriously vanished several nights
ago. I had no idea where he was, but I figured he would be back by the
time classes started. At any rate, we had the privacy we needed for
Jenni to teach me how to walk again.

"No Dale, stop slouching! Chest out, head high! I swear, you walk like a
caveman! One hip forward at a time, atta boy, or should I say girl?
Don't worry, you'll get the hang of those heels. It took me a while,
too."

Then the makeup and hair lessons started. While Jenni was going to help
prepare me for the date, she wanted to make sure I could adjust my hair
and makeup on my own. While my nails wouldn't be long enough in time,
she kept them manicured and clipped nicer than they had ever been under
my care. Soon I understood the basics of making myself up.

My voice presented a problem. While I didn't exactly talk like James
Earl Jones, I didn't have a falsetto voice, either. Jenni worked and
worked with me. She told me to talk like I was yawning and whispering at
the same time. While I thought I sounded silly, at least I could manage
a passable woman's voice for a while.

What I had the most trouble with were her lesson on deportment. It was
so easy to forget that now I couldn't pick my teeth, sit with my legs
spread, or go into the men's room. She reminded me over and over again
not to be aggressive, to let the guy make all the decisions, to be
submissive. It galled me. I hated this. At least now I had a slightly
better understanding of what women have to put up with. I made a vow
that next time I took a girl out on a date, I would be damn sure to
compliment her on her clothes, dress, hair, and anything else she might
have worked hard on for me.

Finally, it was the night before Steve was scheduled to arrive. Jenni
nervously dressed me in outfit after outfit, trying to find one that she
thought that Steve would like. She was so nervous, you would have
thought it was her going on the date instead of me. In a way it was her,
I certainly wasn't going for my own personal enjoyment.

As she laid out my outfit, she spoke to me. "Dale, you know how I told
Steve I, well you, wouldn't kiss him, right?"

"Right. And I hope you said it like you meant it."

"Well, Dale, I've been thinking. Steve is going to be flying hundreds of
miles to see me. I've been telling him for months how much I like him,
and I worry that he's going to think that I don't if I don't give him a
couple of kisses."

"No!"

"Just one little kiss goodbye. Just touch his lips with yours, no
tongue. How hard could that be?"

"We had a deal Jenni. Not in a million years."

"Well, could you at least hold his hand?"

I was getting pissed. "Why don't I just stay home tomorrow? That's what
I want to do."

"Dale, you're not being fair."

"No, you're not being fair," I snapped back. "Do you know how many guys
would do something like this for their sisters? None! I don't even know
why I'm doing it, but I said I would and I am. But don't push me or
you'll have to do this on your own."

Jenni dressed me in silence. First I slipped on some nylons. When I had
first tried to do this I had torn them in three places. Now, thanks to
Jenni's training, I could easily slide on nylons and hose, even while
wearing the fake nails. Next, I stepped into a little black skirt that
she had picked out. The weather was unseasonably warm, therefore, in my
opinion, the skirt was unreasonably short. It only came down to my
knees! It was pleated, and buttoned on the side. This took a while to
adjust to, I was used to having a zipper in the front.

Next, I put on a blouse. It was poofy and white and dipped down too far
in the front. It was tight and you could see the mounds of my 'breasts'
quite clearly. Finally, there came a black silk vest. It was sleeveless
and left my arms bare to the shoulders. It buttoned in the front, the
'wrong' way (buttons on the left).

I stepped into some little black pumps that I still felt unsteady on.
Some silvery jewelry on my wrist, neck and ears and a black leather
handbag completed the picture.

"So," I asked grimly "how do I look?"

"See for yourself," replied Jenni, with a sad smile.

I looked in the mirror she indicated. Thanks to the week of training and
makeup practice, I looked even more like Jenni than before. I could have
been her identical twin. God, why couldn't I have been born extremely
tall? Why couldn't I have been tough and muscular? Why couldn't I have
been super hairy? But no, I was skinny and short and there was no
denying how much I looked like my sister.

"Dale," asked Jenni "what do you think Mom would do if she saw you?"

"I know exactly what she'd do. She'd probably fuss with my makeup and
enter me in the Miss Teen USA pageant." I laughed at my attempt at
humor. Jenni didn't. She looked at me with a strangely intense look on
her face.

"Dale, promise me something. I don't expect you to kiss Steve, I guess
that is too much to ask. But don't act miserable. He'll be able to tell.
Please act happy. Act like you're in love. Act like Steve is the man
you're going to marry. Dale, that's how I feel. Please Dale, do this for
me. I can't. For one day of your life, be pretty and charming and in
love. It's only an act for you, but not for me. Please."

I nodded, not knowing what else to do.

The next day I drove Jenni's car to the airport. "Relax," I told myself.
"Be happy. Have a good time. This is for Jenni. You are going to make
her happy. Steve will be gone in exactly 23 and a half hours."

I recognized Steve before he saw me. He looked just like his picture:
brown beard and hair, blue eyes, tall, and I guess you would call him
good looking. I took a deep breath and called out his name.

"Jenni!" he shouted across the terminal. He rushed to me and, before I
could prevent it, gave me a huge hug. I had to restrain myself from
wiggling free. A guy flies all this way to meet a girl, a hug's not a
lot to ask. I would just keep having to tell myself that Steve thought I
was Jenni and was reacting in a normal way. I would also have to remind
myself to react how Jenni would.

I told Steve how happy I was that he had come, trying to sound sincere.
Steve gave me a small bouquet of roses. I smiled, thinking how happy
Jenni would be when I gave them to her. "Thank you," I told him.

"No problem," he said. "So what do you want to do?"

I suggested that we grab something to eat. We drove to a nice little
restaurant near the airport. Fancy, but not too pricey. We sat in a
corner booth and talked. Well, Steve talked. I hated to think anything
bad about Steve this early on, but he sure seemed vain. All the
conversation pretty much revolved around him. This made things a little
easier for me, since I didn't have to talk about myself too much or
worry about making my voice sound feminine. Still, I was bored. I timed
Steve on the clock behind him. He once talked for 23 minutes without
requiring me to say anything.

I finally suggested that we leave and go somewhere else. "I couldn't
agree more," said Steve. Before I realized what he was doing, he had
grabbed my hand. It took a lot of willpower for me not to yank it away.
He looked into my eyes. "Why don't we get away from here and go
somewhere dark and quiet, where we can be close."

Yikes! I knew what that meant. "I couldn't agree more," I replied,
trying to sound flighty. "Let's go see a movie!"

Steve was obviously disappointed, but tough for him. Jenni had said no
kissing and he'd just have to deal with it. But there was something on
my mind. The nagging, unpleasant sensation that I had forgotten to do
something. Something important. As we got into my car, I realized what
it was.

"My God Steve, I forgot to register for classes!" It was true. In all
the hubbub of getting ready for this farce of a date, I had forgotten
that it was also registration week! Today, being Friday, was the last
day to sign up. If I didn't go in today I wouldn't be registered at all.
Then I couldn't join a class until someone else dropped it, which might
not be for weeks. It would be academic suicide, to say the least. I
explained the situation to Steve, sweetly saying that it was due to my
excitement of his arrival that I had forgotten to sign up.

Much to my surprise, Steve seemed rather put out. It would only take me
a half an hour, but he acted like it was the world's biggest imposition.
Well, he could handle it.

I walked into the registration building, nervous as hell. Could I even
register dressed like this? There was no time to go home and change,
besides, I couldn't just ask Steve to hang out on campus alone for an
hour or so. Well, I thought, Dale can be a woman's name. I'll just sign
up as is, and a few days later I'll come back and tell them that they
accidentally marked me as 'female.' Shouldn't be a problem.

The chain-smoking registrar put my name down on the class lists without
giving me a second glance. He'd probably had a rough day and wasn't
thinking about anything other than going home. I felt a moment of panic
when I realized that I would also be having my photo taken for my
student ID as well. Then I remembered that John had told me you could
have an ID replaced for five dollars. I'd just say that I'd lost mine
and have a real picture taken.

I left the building, all signed up for school and ready to go. Steve
greeted me with friendly "So are you finished yet?" Jeez, what did Jenni
see in this guy? He must have been more charming on computer. Or, maybe
I was just judging him harshly. I probably wouldn't think any man was
good enough for my sister.

We bought tickets at a theater near campus. I had wanted to see "Revenge
of the Kung Fu Robot," but I figured that that would have been a most
un-Jenni like selection. Instead I insisted on seeing some foreign film
that seemed more in character. Steve didn't seem to be happy with the
choice, but at least now I wasn't the only one going to see something I
didn't care for.

We sat next to each other in the darkened theater. The film was
surprisingly good. It was about a World War I soldier whose wife leaves
him the day before he ships out to the front. I guess I got a little to
into it; I didn't notice Steve reaching to put his arm around me until
he had already succeeded.

It was a tense situation for me. He had really overstepped himself now,
with his arm d****d casually over my shoulder, his hand resting on my
bare forearm. But what could I do? If I were to shrug him off, then he'd
think I, or really Jenni, didn't like him. It didn't make much sense for
me to go to all this trouble to help Jenni, only to ruin her chances
with Steve. Besides, it was just a friendly half-embrace. I had done
that to any number of my dates. That was a disgusting thought: how many
of my dates had wished I wouldn't touch them?

I tried to get back into the plot of the movie while ignoring the large
male forearm wrapped around me. It was not easy for me to relax knowing
that its owner was probably now thinking about how he could get me in
bed. I just kept telling myself to persevere, that this would all be
over before I knew it.

Then it happened. During the scene where the wounded hero kisses a nurse
in a field hospital, I saw Steve's head coming at me. I jumped up just
before his lips met mine.

"Where are you going?" asked Steve, shocked.

"To the bath...to the ladies' room," I mumbled and was off like a shot.

Remembering to use the correct restroom, I rushed into the women's
bathroom. It was the only place I could be rid of him and think. I was
surprised at how clean it was compared to the men's room. No graffiti,
no trash on the floor, it was an interesting sight.

Just then a movie let out somewhere and the washroom was filled with
women using the facilities, checking their makeup, and gossiping. Not to
draw attention to myself, I touched up my lipstick.

My thoughts were racing. Steve had broken his 'no kissing' promise. That
bastard! I ought to just leave him stranded here. I hated him. But, soon
I began to calm down. It's not like he whipped out his dick or anything,
he just ventured a kiss. If Jenni really were here, he'd probably have
gotten one. And how often had I tried to kiss a girl I didn't know that
well? I shuddered when I remembered how embarrassing it was to try to
kiss a girl and be denied. Now I was experiencing a date from the
woman's point of view. It was so humiliating! Is that how I appeared to
women? I certainly hoped not.

The problem at hand, though, was Steve. What should I do? I obviously
couldn't kiss him. But what would he think? I didn't want him to think
that Jenni didn't like him.

I came up with a plan. I would go for a walk with him. I would lay it on
thick and heavy about how much I liked him. I would tell him softly and
sincerely that I couldn't kiss him on the first date, but the next time
I saw him I wouldn't be so shy. That way he'd know that Jenni liked him
and he would be willing to come back. At the same time it would save me
from kissing him.

When I stepped out of the theater, I realized that the movie had ended.
Steve stood in the lobby looking perplexed. He seemed to cheer up when I
suggested taking a walk.

I lead him to a park behind the geology building. It was dark and
secluded. We sat on a bench. "Steve," I began "I really, really like
you..." that was as far as I got.

"I like you too," he said. Then he grabbed me and kissed me. I tried to
struggle, but he was too powerful. I remember all the sensations: his
scratchy beard, his painful grip, the slobbering pressure of his lips.
He would not let go! I couldn't get away! If I opened my mouth to yell I
knew he'd just jab his tongue in. I was trapped!

Then the solution hit me. I stopped struggling and sucked my lips into
my mouth. I stood stock still, without moving or responding. I had
guessed correctly, Steve soon lost interest.

As soon as my mouth was out of danger's way, I lit into Steve. "You
promised me no kissing!" I hollered.

"Give me a break Jenni! Do you think I flew all this way for 'no
kissing?' Or for just kissing? Now stop acting so coy!"

I stood up and jumped away. "Steve," I began, barely able to keep my
voice feminine "I'm going to drive you to your hotel now. You'll forgive
me if I ask you to take a cab to the airport tomorrow."

Steve glared at me. "Forget it, slut. I'm walking."

Steve stormed off, turning only to shout at me. "Bitch!"

I drove home well in excess of the speed limit. I had known that this
day was going to be horrible, but I didn't think it would be this bad.
Jesus, I could still taste that jerk's slobber in my mouth. I'd have to
drink some scalding hot coffee when I got home.

The worst part was I didn't know what to say to Jenni. I didn't think
she'd blame me, once I told her how he had assumed she wanted to sleep
with him and cursed me when he realized otherwise. But it would break
her heart. She was probably already picking out baby names, she was so
sure that things were going to work out for her and Steve. How would I
tell my own sister the man of her dreams was a total prick? She would be
by in the morning to pick up her car. I would have to think of something
by then.

I walked into my apartment, counting the remaining seconds until I could
get into some decent male clothes. Much to my surprise, I realized that
John was back. He was passed out under the coffee table, cradling an
empty bottle of vodka like it was a teddy bear.

"sleep tight, amigo," I muttered to him as I walked towards my room.
Suddenly, a voice from behind me made me turn. It was Jenni.

"Dale!" she yelped excitedly from front door. "I couldn't wait. Tell me
every detail!" Jenni looked as excited as a c***d on Christmas morning.
I wished that I could tell her of the wonderful, romantic evening that
'she' had just experienced. But she deserved the truth.

I asked her to sit down. I told her everything, not leaving anything
out, but not trying to make any moral judgments, either. He joy quickly
faded. By the time my story was done, she was sitting morosely with her
head in her hands.

"So he was just like all the others. Just wanted to screw a pretty face.
Just wanted to get laid. I never meant a thing to him. He's probably got
a bunch of cyber-girlfriends."

I wanted to be comforting, but I wasn't sure what to say. "Sorry Jenni,"
I said, lamely.

Jenni looked at me. Much to my relief, she didn't look angry, at least
not at me. "Dale, you did more than anyone would have expected you to.
I'm surprised you put up with so much before you told him off. Thanks,
little brother."

"Jenni, it wasn't a big deal."

"Of course it was a big deal! I guess it was a stupid idea for me to
have you go in my place."

I looked at my sister. "Yes, it was stupid. It was stupid that you
thought you had to have this elaborate ruse to get some guy to like you.
Promise me you'll never do that again. When you meet someone special,
and I know you will, then you can proudly look him in the face."

Jenni was about to sob, but she was smiling. "You really think so?"

"I know so." We hugged. Jenni cried, and I shed a few tears myself.

Finally we calmed down. "So," said Jenni, "what was being a woman like?
Was it that bad?"

"Jenni it was horrible! Now I know what I look like to my dates! Yuck!"

Jenni laughed. "I doubt you're as bad as Steve. Well, now that it's
over, you can forget it ever happened."

"Almost over. Remember, I had to register as a female. I still have to
get that straightened out."

There was a loud, painful 'whack!' as John sat bolt-upright and cracked
his head on the bottom of the coffee table. He staggered around the
living room, clutching his head and howling like a cat in a blender.

Finally he managed to find words. "Regist...regist...classes? No! No! Ya
can't...ya...no!" He was still quite drunk.

"John, what in the hell are you babbling about?"

John tried to answer me, but then stopped. He clutched his stomach and
ran to the bathroom. For the next few minutes Jenni and I were treated
to the lovely music of John vomiting into (I hoped) the toilet.

"I don't remember eating that," mumbled John as he staggered out of the
bathroom and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He seemed a little more
sober now.

"John," I said, with extreme patience, "what were you talking about back
there? About classes?"

As John brewed a pot of coffee, he explained. I was a freshman, Jenni
was a sophomore. John, a junior (well, actually a third-year sophomore)
knew something we didn't.

Three years ago, the school ran rampant with cheating. Grad students
would openly take tests and write papers for wealthy undergrads. People
would have friends attend classes for them and take their tests. It got
to be so bad that you could literally graduate with honors, never having
taken a test or attended a class.

Academic papers had listen our college as 'a joke of a school.' TV news
shows gleefully exposed 'Party U.' No one who wanted a real education
would enroll. The state was about a hair's breadth from revoking our
accreditation, and therefore any state funding.

The school had done the only thing it could possibly do. It went on the
offensive. Academic dishonesty became a suspendable offense. Anyone who
took a test or wrote a paper for anyone else would be kicked out of
school. In order to enforce this, students had to present their student
ID to the professor on the first day of class and at every test. If you
tried to use someone else's ID, or if you showed up at a class that you
weren't registered in, you could face suspension for a full term. There
would be no chance to make up the credit and no reimbursement of
tuition.

The school never made an exception when it came to the rule. Two years
ago some star football players had paid some cheerleaders to take their
finals. Everyone involved was suspended. It cost the school its first
bowl game in ten years, but at least the state was satisfied. They kept
their accreditation and funding.

The horror of my situation began to dawn on me. I had registered as a
female. Could they actually think I had done that so I could have some
woman stand in for my classes?

"John," I asked, "do you really think that just because my file says
'FEMALE,' they'll kick me out?"

John mulled this over. "Maybe no one would care. Maybe. Your problem is
that picture on your ID."

I was getting mad. "You told me it was easy to get an ID replaced!"

"Replaced, sure. But your picture's on file in the computers. They'll
just use the same photo. They never change photos, too expensive."

"So now I'm stuck with a woman's ID! How can I go to classes? How can I
take tests? No one will ever believe this picture is of me!" I was
waving around my woman's ID, furious. I turned to John and got right in
his face. "Why the hell didn't you warn me?"

"Don't blame me. How was I supposed to know you'd register dressed like
this?" He grinned at my costume. I was embarrassed to realized that I
was still dolled up like Jenni, and to make matters worse, my phoney
breasts were pressed right into John's chest. I backed up.

"Did you go to your freshman orientation?" continued John. "They explain
about IDs there." I hadn't. I tried to think of a way to blame Jenni,
but what was the use? It was my job to register and I hadn't.

"So what do I do now?" I asked, desperately. The three of us discussed
it and came to the following conclusions.

1. I couldn't risk trying to change my ID or just using the one I had.
If I got caught I could get kicked out. That would ruin my college
career. I doubted that any school authority would believe I had
'accidentally' registered in a skirt.

2. I couldn't put off going to college until next year and then
reregistering as myself. I had no where to go, I had paid two months
rent on this apartment, and I didn't want to work some minimum wage job
while I waited for next year. To make matters worse, I would still owe
student loans, whether I was in school or not.

It was Jenni who came up with the solution I eventually adopted. "Dale,"
she asked "How important is going to this particular school to you? I
mean, would you be willing to go somewhere else?"

"Sure," I said, "but that's not an option. If I drop out of here I don't
get all of my tuition back. I won't have enough money to register at
another school."

"Yes, but what if you transferred to another school next year? Since
you're only taking basic freshman classes this year you won't have to
worry about them accepting your transcript. Since I know you plan to
study hard, you won't have to worry about not having a good enough GPA
to be accepted somewhere else."

"Sure, I could transfer. But that doesn't get me out of the woods this
year. I'm stuck with this female ID!"

"Well, supposing you were a female."

"But I'm n..." Then I realized what she was implying. "Oh, no! I'll be
damned if I'm going to go to school as a girl! No way!"

"Dale, can you think of another way?" I tried to but failed.

"But Jenni, I can't just attend classes as a girl and then go home and
be a guy again! Someone would catch on! I'd be caught."

"Well, you could dress full time."

"Well you could dress full time," I mimicked. "Yeah, great. Live as a
woman for a damn year. I'm really going to do that."

"Dale, I think it's the only way."

I didn't feel like having this conversation anymore. I ran to my room
and slammed the door.

Chapter Four:

It was the first day of classes. As I sat in my desk in my freshman
English class, I wondered why I was so nervous. Maybe it was because it
was the first day or classes, or that I was worried about doing good in
school. Or maybe it was because I was dressed like a freaking woman!
Here it was, my first day of school, and I'm wearing a dress and high
heels. I had begged Jenni to help me find something that would make me
look frumpy and ugly, but she had insisted on making me look like a cute
little coed. My hair was tied back in a pony tail, my face was made up,
and my nails were painted (my real nails now).

Jenni had laid down several rules for my new life. No more working out
at the gym, women don't have big muscles. No dating, women don't date
other women. No belching, or drinking beer, or bashing heads in the mosh
pit, too unladylike.

The worst thing was how I was treated by guys. They flirted with me!
They went out of their way to talk to me or ask me if I needed help. I
wondered if they knew how obvious their intentions were. Probably not.
Every time a guy hit on me I my manhood would be questioned. It was
being questioned almost every day now.

I looked around the room. There were at least four women whose telephone
number I would have loved to have had. I sighed as a guy who was no
better looking than me sat down next to one of them and easily started a
conversation.

"Hi, how you doing?" I heard a voice next to me. Some big jocktype was
sitting next to me. He was smiling intently. Christ, not again. I wasn't
in the mood to fend off his flirtations, so I mumbled "Fine," and turned
away. Maybe his feelings would be hurt, but what of it? He could get a
date later, I couldn't. I adjusted my dress again. It was such a pain,
constantly having to make sure I wasn't sitting with my legs spread
apart.

The professor came in. The first thing he did was collect IDs and check
them. Some schmuck who had forgotten his was forced to go home and get
it, thus missing the entire class. I guess John had been right, I never
would have gotten away dressing like a man and having a woman's ID.

The class was interesting, but I didn't care. I never volunteered
anything and only answered questions when I was called upon. I had gone
from being the high school class clown to a shy college girl. I didn't
like it, not one bit.

After class, a pretty girl in a sorority sweater came up and started
talking to me. "Hi," she said with a cute Boston accent "I'm Stephanie."

"I'm Dale," I replied.

"That's an original name. I like it. You seemed nervous back there, was
something wrong?"

Stephanie had short dark hair, big brown eyes, and a nice figure. I was
enraptured. "Oh, nothing," I answered. "I'm just new in this area and
the campus is a little overwhelming."

Stephanie smiled. "Oh, you just need to make some friends. My sorority
is having a mixer tonight. Why don't I pick you up and we'll go
together?"

My soul soared, then crashed back to earth. She wasn't asking me out,
she was just being nice to what she thought was another girl. If she had
seen me as a guy she might not have given me the time of day. I gave he
my address.

That night, I got ready for the party. Jenni insisted that I wear one of
her skirts, but conceded that if I wore a sweater it wouldn't look out
of place. She cautioned me to be careful around any drunk frat guys.

Stephanie rang the bell a few minutes later. She seemed surprised to
find that John was my roommate. As we were driving away, I told her that
John and I were only friends.

"Maybe so," she said "but be careful. Guys only have on thing on their
minds. Don't be surprised if he comes on to you one day."

I thanked her, though I figured that John would probably be able to
control himself around me.

When we pulled up in front of the sweltering Greek house, the party was
going on in full swing. Music was blasting, people were dancing,
everyone was having a good time. As soon as we got inside, I knew I
wasn't going to be able to enjoy myself. If I had been dressed as I guy
I would have already been off hitting on some girl. Now I stood quietly
at Stephanie's side, wishing I hadn't come. It didn't help that the big
frat guy who was watching the door made a pass at me.

Stephanie introduced me around. I met several pretty girls who I would
never be able to ask out and several guys who you would have thought
were being introduced to my chest, from where their eyes were fixed.

"Hey, Steph, baby!" someone called out. We turned around to see some guy
who made John look like a spokesman for a temperance society.
Moronically drunk did not even begin to describe him. He stumbled over
to Stephanie and leered at her.

"Back off, Howie," she yelled at him above the music. "I told you it's
over. We're through."

She pointedly turned her back on him. He tried to say something, but
only managed to puke all over her back. "Oh, gross!" she screamed, and
ran for the bathroom. Without thinking, I followed.

We were alone in the bathroom. I shut and locked the door. When I turned
around, I was shocked to see that she had removed her shirt and was
soaking it in the sink. I nearly fell over when her bra followed.

After senior prom last year I had made love to my date. That had been my
one sexual experience. The sight of the female body still was new and
very exciting to me. Here Stephanie stood, not three feet from me, her
naked chest fully visible.

She tried in vain to look over her shoulder. "Did that jerk get any barf
on my back?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied. There was some, but only a spot the size of a pencil
lead.

"Would you mind?" she asked, hanging me a wet washcloth.

I ran the warm, wet cloth down her bare back, shoulders, and neck. I
felt my penis strain against the sex hiding panties as it tried to get
erect. I wanted to grab her, kiss her, tell her she was gorgeous.
Instead I simply handed her back the cloth and told her that she was
clean.

Stephanie hung her shirt over the shower curtain and began telling me
about her relationship with Howie. I turned my head so I wouldn't be
caught starting at her perfect breasts. I stared at them in the mirror
instead.

I felt bad. Stephanie was telling me all her life's troubles, not
realizing that I was just some guy who was paying more attention to her
erect nipples th