Carruthers Bride
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Bend Me Shape Me, The Ride Home. free porn video
Bend me, shape me, the ride home.
By Vonya Lee
All of a sudden I realize I haven't got a clue about what I should do
next ... I feel funny, kind of sheepish. I've never been in this
situation before. Do I climb back into bed? That could be a mistake.
Should I round up my things and go? I know I often appreciated girls
who would leave early. God I wish Todd were here. He'd know what to do,
proud slut that he is. Maybe I could get my cell phone ... I think it's
in my pants. He could talk me down. No, please, that's just silly. I
could see Daniel getting up to piss and hearing me from the other side
of the door as I gab with a girlfriend about last night. How queer would
that be? Forget ever seeing him again! Wow did I just think that?
This is my first time ever with a man. I have no idea what I'm supposed
to do the morning after. Was this just a one night stand? God I hope
not. But I can't say. I just better be ready for it if that's all it
was. All my past experiences are meaningless. I've never felt this way
before. My compass is spinning like a top. What if last night was last
night and he wants me gone? I've never woken up some place wanting to
stay but felt I should go. What if he's done with me? God I don't think
I could handle rejection like that right now. Should I expect something
more? Probably not. I seldom gave more. I'd love to climb back in the
bed but what if he's just pretending to be asleep. Maybe he's just
laying there hoping I'll leave. I've done the same thing on a few
mornings. Oh my God I can feel what they must have felt like. I feel
kind of whorish to be honest. I'll get dressed and go. I don't want to
seem to 'clingy'. I know guys hate 'clingy'. God will you listen to
yourself? You don't want to appear 'to clingy'? I'm talking about a guy
for Christ sake.
Quietly I crept through the darkened bedroom and gathered my things. I
washed the dried cum from my face leaving my spent eye make up alone. I
couldn't possibly remove it quietly. I dressed silently and left the
same way. I felt so obvious, so naked, so exposed, as I hit the street.
The bright morning sun followed me like a spotlight. Every single
person I pass knows in detail what I was up to. I can feel their stares.
I feel so exposed. I know I keep saying it but that's exactly it,
exposed. I feel so gay, so vulnerable, so alone. Suddenly I'm a stranger
in a strange land and I know everybody can tell.
Mercifully there's a convenience store across the way. I pick up a $14
dollar pair of 'bug eye' sunglass', a bottle of spring water, and a
little Listerine pocket spray, I tingle with embarrassment when I reach
for my wallet and notice my clear polished nails. What's this guy
thinking I wonder as I hand him a $20? I know what he's thinking. I can
read his face. He's thinking 'Here I am working the overnight shift, out
here like a target, to support my family and here's this scumbag,
American queer. Look at him, blue hair, make up. Make up! For the sake
of Allah! Looks like a common street whore. Mouth spray! I bet you need
mouth spray. Filth! These people are animals. Do his parents know? What
a disgrace.' The weirdest thing? I got turned on just thinking out that
little scenario. I kind of liked his scorn. Or maybe it was his shock
and discomfort. Maybe it was my own shock and discomfort.
Quickly down the stairs and into the subway. I see my reflection in the
token collectors glass. I look so gay. I'm fighting a panic attack as I
hurry down the platform to a far away bench. Sunday morning in the
subway, so it's slow, maybe six other people on the platform. I use a
brick edge to cut the stupid little plastic price tag on the sunglass'.
Sliding them on I feel better. Slowly I can breathe again.
So much has happened ... so, so, much. The stars fell from the skies.
Rivers rolled backwards. Changes happened on a molecular level. My cells
divided and a new organism was born. I didn't so much as 'experiment', I
converted. So much to think about, my head is swimming, but not now, I'm
just too tired. Sitting quietly not thinking when suddenly I begin
convulsing. I shake for nearly a minute until either by coincidence or
the train's approach the grip is snapped.
I fold myself into a front bench of the first car and hunker down. I
scan the subway map. I've got six stops before transferring to the
orange line. Noted. I'm seeing the dark side of what's ahead. I'm gay
now. I wasn't two days ago. I'm thinking about how hard this is going to
be. I'm not ashamed to say I'm terrified. I'm from a big Catholic
family. Brothers, sisters, cousins, I've got plenty. I'm the youngest of
six. I can't even comprehend how my family is going to deal with this.
Not well for the most part I'm sure. My sisters!? They've gotten so very
Catholic as they've gotten older. Cheryl for God's sake, has gone to at
least a few of those stupid anti gay marriage rallies. Donna is more
subtle she displays her displeasure with bumper stickers. 'Marriage is
One Man, One Woman' shares bumper space with 'Pro Life and I Vote' on
the back of the Land Cruiser. It's no secret how they feel about the
subject. The term 'mortal sin' has been heard more than thrice.. My
brothers and cousins? Well I'm not dealing with the Algonquin Club here.
I know some of them are going to want to spit on me, verbally, and in
some cases I'm sure, literally. I can't let this breakup my family. I
have no idea what to do. God my head is pounding.
'Downtown Crossing' comes over the speaker, my stop. I leave the train
and head for the tunnel to take me to the orange line. I luck out and
catch the next train just as it pulls in.
More people are out now so I share a bench with a girl with an Ipod and
a Hispanic mom and her son. I'm so thankful for the shades. I would be a
twitching mess of embarrassment if everyone could see my eyes.
The girl I notice is very pretty. Looks like an art school girl, funky,
probably heading back to JP. She has a very interesting look, a heart
shaped face framed well by an overgrown bob. A small scar on the bridge
of her pierced nose looks cute. I mention this simply as an observation.
I feel nothing for her. No movement. All I feel is some strange sense of
kinship. I hope the hipster she might be going home to appreciates her.
What I'm really hoping for is she's on her way home to her girlfriend.
I'm not sure why. Two days ago I'd be trying to talk her up, probably
ask her a question about a stop, then maybe ask her what she's listening
to. Two days later I look at her to study her make up techniques. She's
just my type and my cock doesn't even blink.
My cock does do an old school double take glancing diagonally across the
train at the young Eminem wannabe. Baggy jeans hanging over
Timberline's, a white sleeveless T shirt tucked into his jeans and a
black headband crowning his buzzed, round head. The t shirt is tight and
shows off his well-toned body. Oh he definitely works out! What's
happening! Suddenly I want to grab his rock hard ass and squeeze. A
chain of some kind ( I hope it's religious) hangs around his tight and
muscled neck. He has one of those tightly trimmed narrow jaw line beards
popular in a hip hop. He's sitting with his legs extended and spread
wide, his back arched straight. It's a cool urban slouch pose I guess.
That's the thing though, it's the position he's in that's turning me on
as much as he is, and God is he ever! He seemed to be in the perfect
position for a man awaiting a blow job in a train. What turned me on was
thinking myself kneeling between his legs, giving him that blow job. I
think I finally understand porn! That's gotten my little cocks full
attention.
'Slow down' I think to myself. The last thing I need this morning is
getting caught staring at some young homophobe's crotch. I look down and
then away. I need a distraction. I see the young attractive Hispanic
mom. She loves her son there's no doubt. You can just see her devotion.
My heart tingles. I see her going home to her apartment that she keeps
spotless. She'll start cooking dinner, filling her small home with
warmth and love. She awaits her adoring husband. I'm swooning inside. I
hope that's her life anyway. I can't believe how good that sounds to me.
'That is so gay' doesn't sound like a put down today. God I am so
screwed.
Fortunately Mr. Hot Bod gets off at the next stop so temptation's over.
I move to a vacated end bench. See that's opens up an even bigger
problem. What kind of gay person am I going to be? I already know, Mr.
Hot Bod proves it. I never would have noticed him two days ago. He would
have been virtually inconsequential, just part of the background. Today
I can't stop imagining his tight ass cheeks strolling away down the
platform. I'm imagining his confident macho strut. The way the
sleeveless t shirt, a 'wife beater', allows his strong back to express
itself. Following the Y form of his body, the white t first disappears
under the waistband of his extended baggy boxers, then the boxers
disappear under denim. Following the line to his back pockets, I'm
mentally drooling at the thought of his pulsing, churning ass muscles.
Brrrr! Chills! That's what's making the impossible exponentially
tougher. What set me free last night was being dominated. He took me,
lead me, controlled me, drove me, changed me for evermore. He pounded
all the man out of me. Made me a bitch. I need a man to control me and
keep me as his bitch. I want it to be as obvious as this blue hair. I
want to wear my status for all the world to see. I see no limits.
The chills return and I scrunch up in my seat as my body surrenders to
the tremors. I use a meditation technique to calm down. The tremors
subside. I feel no more a man today than the Hispanic mom does. I feel
closer to her for some odd reason than I do the three white kids down
the other end of the train. I feel even better. I feel proud. I'm a
faggot! I know why I was put on earth now! I need to push this as far as
it can go. I need to become the absolute best faggot I can possibly
become. I need to pursue the depths with a monks dedication. There are
no brakes anymore, just consequences. Its going to be tough and its
going to suck but I know its right and absolute, honestly, that's all I
ever asked out of life.
I have no desire in being in a man on man, hiking buddies, sweaters and
antiquing kind of thing. I have no interest whatsoever in subtle. I need
to scream! I want it all! I want to be Tammy Wynette! I want to Stand by
my Man! I want to be Donna Reed! Fuck equal rights, I don't want equal
rights, I want to serve him in every which way! How gay is that. Last
night left me with no doubt about how I need to live. I'm a man's
faggoty bitch! Hopefully someday, a wife. I have no interest in subtlety
anymore. I can't help it. I'm sorry. Consequences be damned.
Looking out the window I'm wondering how long I can put off the
inevitable. While pondering, the train enters a dark section of tunnel.
My window becomes a mirror and I see myself up close. I'm not going to
be able to keep this quiet! Just look at me! Just look at my hair, my
nails! I know what's behind those big shades. Do I just shave my head
bald? I'll grab some polish remover at the bodega on the corner, just in
case. Oh man. I'm not sure, I don't want to give it all up, but if it
was a one night stand...I'd look like a fool. Todd can always buzz my
hair. Thank God my eyebrows weren't touched.
My stop. Lining up for the escalator, I realize I switched sides. As odd
as it sounds, I feel like one of the women. My walk, my manner, my
continence, even my patience, all feel feminine to me. I'm not feeling
I'm a woman. I feel like an effeminate male, and I'm sure that's what
I'm meant to be!
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