Just West Of Happy, Part 1 free porn video

Warning: The following story contains graphic sex and sexualization. Future installments may contain even more unsavory subjects. Read at your own risk. If you are underage, do not read this please. Any resemblance to people living or dead is completely unintentional, blahblahblah, yadda yadda yadda. If you wish to reproduce this story, please contact me at [email protected] and I will likely allow it, so long as credit is given. Author's Note: I have been an avid follower of TG fiction for many, many years, but in the past few, it seems that finding the sort that I enjoy, namely magical, chemical, technological...any sort of transformation really, the sort that completely changes a man into a woman, are harder to come by. I have nothing against transsexuals, but that sort of thing just does nothing for me. I am not proud. I will readily admit that I use these sorts of stories for a sexual high. Do I prefer a good story and relatable characters, all the sorts of things I learned about in my writing courses in college? Of course. But that's not all I look for in TG fiction. So, instead of always waiting for someone else to write the story I've been looking for, I decided to take matters into my own hands. Of course, I've written stories before. I am a writer by trade. But usually I don't finish or simply don't share them. This one is different, however. I felt like sharing this one with the community. It'll likely be ongoing until I feel like stopping. There won't be any TG in this first installment but, rest assured, things will get crazy as I continue to write. Now, as I said, I use these stories for a sexual high, so don't expect it to be high literature. Don't expect a completely mindless fuckfest (I am still a writer, after all), but it will be extremely sexualized. You have been warned. This story is heavily inspired by the curious and rather engaging comic Shapeshifter by LemonFont. I found the premise behind that story to be interesting, but as the TG in that story revolved around futa, something I'm not particularly interested in, I felt like I would have liked to have added my own twist to it. I highly recommend you check out Shapeshifter but, in the meantime, enjoy my own twist on the tale. Again: THIS FIRST TALE DOES NOT CONTAIN TG, but future installments will contain all manner of perversions. Just West of Happy, Part 1 by Whimsy I had been waiting for this chance for months, the chance to meet the girl of my dreams in person. At least, I assumed she was the girl of my dreams. I actually hadn't met her yet. Let me explain. My name is Ian West. I'm a bit of a hopeless shutin, spending most of my time at my computer, alone. If it weren't for classes, I likely would never leave the safety of my dorm room. Of course, a guy needs to get his social stimulation from somewhere. While I try to avoid people whenever I can, I find myself occasionally frequenting the seedy underbelly of the internet: the wild and dangerous chatroom, sometimes even the dirty kind (I'm only human, after all, and it's not like I was actually getting some). It was in one of these rooms that I met Melinda. Of course, I didn't know her by that name at first...at first, the only name I knew her by was CirceWitch. Melinda and I hit it off at once. She had a penchance for, shall we say unusual scenarios, scenarios I often enjoyed, even if they took me out of my comfort zone. I'd never been with a woman in real life with the exception of one ill-fated date in high school where I forgot my wallet, had to bum a ride from her father--who then sat between us during the movie--and spent the whole date so petrified that I couldn't even look her in the eye. Needless to say, my attempt to kiss her at the end of the night didn't go over real well, especially with her father watching like a hawk. Perhaps it was this ultimate failure in the realm of life that made me so keen on such unreal, fantastic scenarios and roleplaying situations that Melinda introduced me to. I could pretend I was just playing a game with a friend. A sexy game, but a game nonetheless. Things were great...that is, until she offered to meet. CirceWitch: ill b in ur neck of teh woods next week She'd typed this to met one night after one of our "sessions." I was scarcely coherent enough to understand what she was saying due to a mix of weariness and sexual release, but I sobered up quickly when I realized what she was telling me. CirceWitch: i wuz hoping we culd meet I was reluctant to say the least. I'm not exactly a disgusting example of humanity, but my plain features, which have been described as long and almost horse-like, pallid skin, featureless, lanky physique, and general aura of loser-ish-ness make me something of an undesireable catch. Melinda had become one of my only friends aside from a few fellow geeks on my campus. I really didn't want to lose her. CrystalKnight: I'm not sure that's such a good idea I responded after as long of a pause as I dared. Oddly enough, the prospect of her not being a woman, of her being a creepy psychopathic mass murderer simply did not occur to me. She'd never sent me any pictures of herself nor told me anything about her besides her real name, but for some reason--call it my blatant naivety--I believed she was who she'd always said she was, a girl fresh out of high school (and therefore only a few years younger than myself) who enjoyed cyber sex. However, she got the wrong idea from my reluctance. Not that I blamed her. CirceWitch: oh ian i no ur prbly worried i culd send u a pic if u want There was no hesitance or delay in her response, which surprised me, particularly because from what I'd heard, women tended to be shyer than men on the internet. I agreed, if only to give me a few minutes to think. The jpg she sent me took just long enough for me to believe she had just taken it, and the general quality of the picture, as well as the background of a soemwhat messy dorm room, indicated that it was either carefully selected from online or the real thing. Melinda was cute. Based on the angle of the picture, I guessed she was quite short, probably no taller than 5'6". She also had something of a small, mousy frame, though I couldn't see much of her body from the 3/4 shot she sent me, just her shoulders, rounded baby's cheeks, glowing brown eyes behind a pair of large glasses, and messy brown hair obscuring part of her face. The whole picture made her look a good two or three years younger than the 19 she'd claimed to be, but it was within the realm of plausibility. She was cute. There was a long pause on both ends as I took the picture in and she, I assume, gave me as much time as was polite to take in the picture. She was the one who spoke first. CirceWitch: u cant say no now if u do ill think im ugly. :-PPPP Perhaps it was the fact that I worried about her self esteem, but I quickly assured her that she was not ugly. CirceWitch: than we can meet????? Once again, I hesitated, but, again owing to the fact that I worried for our friendship more if I turned her down than if I didn't. CrystalKnight: Ok, just tell me a time and a place. CirceWitch: YAYAYAYAY!!!!! ill contact u tamorrow u have skype rite?? Again, I hesitated. I'd only gotten Skype so I could speak with my parents. I'd never thought anyone else would call me on it. CrystalKnight: I do, why? CirceWitch: i want to call u silly so u now i didnt fake my pic we can decide on a place to meet I was already fading away from our roleplaying session earlier, so I quickly agreed to let her call me after classes the next day and bade her goodnight. This turned out to be a completely futile gesture, however. Like I was getting any sleep. That picture of Melinda haunted my mind and every hour or so, I got up so I could look at it again. By the time the sun rose, I had memorized that picture: her shy smile, as if she was afraid of putting herself on display like this, the way her hair was messy, but in such a way that it looked like it was done on purpose, the way her eyes were looking right into mine...she was a girl. A real girl. Not like those girls on the movie screen, or hidden behind the static on the high-number channels that don't come in real well. This was a real girl. And she wanted to meet me. In person. By the time I dragged myself out of bed in the morning, with less than an hour of real sleep, I had actually psyched myself up about this meeting. If nothing else, it was a chance to meet a new friend. But maybe, just maybe, I could finally go on a date that wouldn't end with the girl's father telling me that he "thinks it's time that you should go." *** Besides Melinda, my only two friends in the whole world were Rich and Phil. Like me, they were hopeless shut-ins, but unlike me, they were a bit more flamboyant about it. These were the kinds of Cheeto-stained, neck-bearded, shirt-too-small geeks you see hanging around the local bookstores talking about how The Super Squad or whatever was just never the same since such and such writer from before they were born left the creative team. These were the kinds of guys who went to class in strange costumes because they had a D&D session right after and didn't have time to change. These were the kinds of guys who had never so much as looked at a woman who wasn't drawn or animated. Well, ok, so maybe that was one thing we shared. The only other similarity between us was our fondness for fantasy stories. But while my friends enjoyed reading them, I enjoyed writing them. I was even something of an artist, though I never shared any of my work with anyone--not Rich and Phil and not even Melinda who, in many ways, I felt closer to than Rich and Phil. They were just something I did and I was never confident enough in my abilities to want anyone else to read them. Perhaps it was this grounding in the fantastic that made me enjoy Melinda's strange sexual scenarios. Rich and Phil and I had been friends since kindergarden and, in a way, I envied that they at least fit in with some demographic, even if it was a bunch of outcasts. They had friends beside me. But I had always only had them. Oh, don't get me wrong. I'd tried to join in their pasttimes. I enjoy video games, but only in the most casual sense. I find it next to impossible to get angry and curse about them like these two do. I enjoy to "role play" with Melinda, but I could never dress up and do it in real life--even if it wasn't the overtly sexual sort of roleplay that Melinda and I enjoyed. To their credit, Rich and Phil never held my neophyte geekish ways against me--we'd always been tight as brothers. They just had a life without me. One that I rarely shared in. It was probably this bond of friendship that gave me the confidence to tell them about what had happened the previous night. That and the fact that I could barely see straight, let alone think straight. I'd never told them about Melinda (largely because I felt ashamed to admit that I had cyber sex with someone), so the news that I was meeting someone I'd met online came as a complete shock. "Oh come on, man," Phil said, his mouth full of soggy cafeteria french fries, "she's a dude. You know she's a dude." "Yeah," Rich agreed, stealing some fries from Phil's plate, "and probably a creepy psychopathic guy who'll skin you alive and wear your skull as a hat." Owing both to the fact that my stomach was a bit queasy from weariness and jitters and the fact that I always felt a bit nauseous when I watched my friends eat, I had not bought lunch, so I sat and watched them theorize about Melinda's identity "No way," I finally said, my brain catching up with the conversation as I realized I'd sat and stared at the criminal act against nature that was my friends' eating habits. "She sent me a picture. She's...kinda cute." They looked at each other with pitying expressions in their eyes. "Dude," Phil said with a patronizing tone and a shake of his head, "she just went online and found a picture of some chick. She was wearing a bikini right? Looked like she was out of Playboy?" I blinked. Did people actually do this? "No, it was just...she was just some girl." "She probably sent you a picture of her sister then," Phil continued, undisturbed by his theory being proven wrong. "Or a friend. Hell. She's probably forty years old." "This one time I went to a con to meet some chick I was friends with on the internet," Rich said as almost a nonsequitur, his mouth still full of food, hamburger this time, "I ended up babysitting his three kids while he competed in a cosplay contest. As Sailor Moon." "Ouch man," Phil nodded. "This is the oldest trick in the book, bro," he said as he looked back at me. "She's gonna have you meet her somewhere and probably not show. Or be some heinous old dude with a thing for younger guys. We'll never hear from you again." Rich reached over and patted my shoulder, "It was nice knowing you," he said, spraying me with food as he ate. My friends' words haunted me for the rest of the day. They were much more knowledgeable about this sort of thing than I was, to be sure. What if they were right? Despite my earlier elation, I found myself dragging with weariness and trepidation by the end of the day. It all made sense, after all. Nothing good ever happened to me. When I returned to my dorm room, I flopped face first on my bed. I had been so drowned in misery, disappointment, and weariness that I'd completely forgotten Melinda was going to call me. I had fallen into a light doze when an irritating sound threatened to wake me. At first, I didn't know what it was, just some pestering sing- songy sound like a video game tune or a cell phone ringer. I suddenly sat bolt upright, recognizing Skype's notification sound that someone was trying to contact me. "Shit!" I spat as I disentangled myself from my sheets, the incessant, irritating alert noise continuing to remind me of what seemed like Melinda's infinite patience. It took me at least a minute to get back to my computer and figure out how to accept the voice call. When I did, I was greeted by Melinda's voice. Melinda's female voice. Those guys were full of shit. "I was beginning to think you were avoiding me," she said with a nervous laugh. "Are you alright?" I could barely find my voice. It was like I'd never spoken before and had to re-teach myself from scratch. She was a girl. An actual, real- life girl. Talking to me. Suddenly, my desire, my expectations, matched my reality. Melinda was a girl. "I-uh--" I stammered, finding it difficult to voice just how surprised I was by this revelation, "H-hi!" "Hi yourself," she said, a light, airy tinkle accompanying her words. "Did I wake you or something? You sound half dead." "Kinda," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. "I just--I forgot you were going to call." There was a moment of silence and she quietly asked, "You forgot?" I suddenly was afraid I'd hurt her feelings, as if this wasn't the most important thing that had happened to me today. This year. Possibly my entire life, "No!" I said quickly, then realized I was contradicting my previous statement and was afraid she would think I was a liar, "I mean, I just had a long day. I'm sorry. I was excited to hear from you!" "It's ok," she said, her voice light and happy again. "I just started college this year too. I know how much of a pain it can be. I hope your day wasn't too awful." "Well, it got suddenly better." I facepalmed. That had to be the corniest thing I'd ever said, heard said, or imagined said. But her response, another airy laugh, put me at ease. "Listen, I have a meeting tonight, but I just wanted to touch base with you. I know you were a little reluctant to meet with me in person." I hadn't been until I talked to my idiot friends, I thought grimly, but kept it to myself. "But I thought maybe hearing my voice might put you at ease," she continued, not privy to my thoughts, of course. "Yes, I am actually a girl." I tried to force out a laugh, but it sounded strained, "I believed you," I said, my voice a bit tighter than I wanted. "It's just...my friends made me kinda wonder. They're a lot more savvy about the internet than I am." "Really?" she laughed again. I was becoming intoxicated by that laugh. Like her picture, it made her sound younger than she was. Elfin, almost pixieish. "Based on our chats, I'd have pegged you to be an expert. In fact, I was a little worried you were some kinda stalker guy." "How do you know I'm not?" I asked, attempting a joke, but immediately worried I was putting her out. "I-I'm not by the way." "I know you're not, Ian," she laughed again, my whole body feeling limp and relaxed at just hearing it, "And besides, I don't exactly want to meet in your bedroom. At first." My heart lurched. I could barely breathe. Was that a...come on? "I just want to have dinner," she went on as if she hadn't just reached into my chest and given my heart a playful squeeze. "But I'll be there for a week. Plenty of time for other things." I could barely breathe. I was back to being a basket case...she was clearly coming on to me, and I hardly knew how to act. I comforted myself by stammering pathetically and doing my best broken-down old car impression. I lied, it didn't comfort me at all. She didn't seem put out, just laughed a bit, "Look, I gotta go." she said, an air of playfulness in her voice. "I just wanted to let you know the time and place I would be coming. Send me an email and we'll set up and a time to meet, ok?" I managed out a feeble "ok" as she ended the call and left me slumped on the chair, as exhausted emotionally as I usually was physically after one of our nightly chat sessions. Had I imagined the flirtatious nature of that interaction? It hardly seemed possible. I realized I had never sent her a picture of myself and entertained, for a moment, the notion of sending one. I worried that it would scare her off. In my eyes, she far surpassed my own plain, forgettable looks. Had she painted me out to be some kind of hunky super model like most guys imagine the girls they interact with are? I always tried to tell myself that I wasn't hideous, just plain, but it never did me a whole lot of good. In the end, I decided to bite the bullet. Better to have her cancel meeting me now than to meet me and have to spend uncomfortable hours with me before leaving and never speaking with me again. This way, if she was disappointed, there was a good chance we could still be friends. Just...internet friends. I decided on a simple 3/4 shot, like she'd sent me. I set up my camera and took a quick shot, hoping the candid nature of it would show through. I didn't want her to think I'd put a lot of thought into this. My first attempt came off a bit too vacant. I looked like I didn't have a thought in my head, possibly due to a combination of shock and weariness. I snapped a second. Goofy grin. A third. No grin. A fourth. I'd completely missed my head with that one. Finally, after seven attempts, I got a picture that was reasonably bearable and emailed it to her along with the location of a little campus coffee shop in the area. I'd added a lot of caveats, like "if you don't like coffee, there's a retro burger joint down the road" and "I get out of classes at noon that day, but we don't have to meet right at noon, we can meet in the evening if you have other plans. Or on Saturday if you want to just rest after you get into town." After composing and sending the email, I took a moment to wonder where she was coming from. I'd never bothered to ask and was beginning to feel a bit guilty about it. I'd told her in one of our first meetings (before Phil and Rich told me I should be a bit more discerning telling people where I live) that I went to school in Hillsborough, Ohio, but in retrospect, I felt like I'd been a bit selfish in those meetings, telling her about me but not asking about her. I'd just never thought much about becoming her friend back then. She was just a nameless, faceless person on the internet. I contented myself with the reminder that we would have some time to get to know each other a bit better on Friday. I was beginning to feel almost giddy again. I'd not imagined her delight in her voice at the idea of getting to meet me, nor had I imagined that it had, in fact, been a girl's voice. I tried not to believe that this was a stroke of good luck, that things were looking up for me, but it was hard not to with my head swimming with giddiness and weariness. *** Over the next few days, I was completely hopeless. I barely got any sleep, and what sleep I did get was split between dreams of steamy scenes between me and Melinda and dreams of Melinda rejecting me, saying I wasn't what she expected, that I lied to her. In my defense, during my waking hours, I was fairly upbeat, positive even. I was beginning to believe that this might not go horribly wrong at all. At worst, I felt like we would, at worst, have a somewhat awkward meal together and go our separate ways. At best...well, my brain didn't tend to think about the best, but I refer to my dreams. The former, not the latter. Phil and Rich hadn't forgotten our conversation, but whenever they brought Melinda up, I gave them a non-commital shrug and changed the subject. Whether they took my for a lost cause or simply accepted that I'm an adult and could make my own decisions was impossible to say, but eventually, they gave up trying to convince me to have what they called "good judgment." They even wished me luck at the end of their final class on Friday, though it was with an air of patronizing worry. I took a good deal of time getting ready Friday morning, more than usual to be sure. So much, in fact, that I was extremely late for my literature class. Melinda had finally responded to my email so late on Thursday night that, for the first time all week, I'd thought that maybe she would stand me up or that this had all been a joke or some kind of hallucination. She'd apologized in the email for her tardiness and said she'd simply been busy finishing up things on her end so she could make the trip. She agreed to meet me at the coffee shop and then suggested we see a movie, which surprised me. Not that I hadn't thought about what we'd do after the coffee shop grew tiresome, but I'd not suggested anything in case she'd wanted to have some sort of an excuse to get away. This gesture emboldened me even more. So much so that, by Friday morning (after I'd, thankfully, gotten several hours of sleep, though fitful and filled with dreams that I unfortunately couldn't remember), I was more upbeat than Rich and Phil had ever seen me. I tried to dress casually, but neatly, though I doubt I succeeded. My blue-plaid, flannel shirt and khakis looked a bit too uptight for my tastes, but I hoped she would overlook it. I was self aware enough to know there was going to be nothing for it, in any case. I would never be entirely happy with how I looked, so I decided it was as good as it was going to get. I did feel like my positive attitude showed a bit too when I looked in the mirror. I even spied a smile I hadn't seen for several years. Not since I got my acceptance letter to the same college as Phil and Rich. The coffee shop was beginning to fill up when I arrived shortly after the designated 12:30 meeting time. I was immediately worried that this was going to make it hard for Melinda to find me, which might dissuade her from staying altogether as she began to have second thoughts, but I tried to force these negative thoughts from my head. Taking a seat by the window, I waved off the waitress, saying I would order when my friend (I couldn't bring myself to say "date," though I wrestled with the word for a moment) arrived. I didn't have to wait long. She walked in the door not five minutes after me and I recognized her immediately, even given the disconnect between photo and reality. She was no different than her picture, an elfin thing with slender limbs hidden by the overly-baggy clothes of a typical college student. She definitely looked younger than the 19 she swore she was, but it was close enough that I had no real reason to doubt. Her hair was identical to her picture, that sort of purposefully messy mop that obscured parts of her face charmingly. And then, when she looked at me, I saw those huge, brown eyes. And we both smiled at each other. Although mine was a lot more nervous. "Ian!" she exclaimed, rolling her wheeled luggage towards my table as I stood up. I had barely found my feet when she practically tackled me. Being somewhat tall myself, she came up to my upper chest. It was a curious feeling, and I barely knew where to put my hands. She seemed to sense my hesitance as, with a grin and a giggle that set my heart aflutter, she took my arms and brought them around her. "This is called a hug," she said with a droll smile up at me. "It's what we do when we see someone we're fond of." I could barely think, let alone speak. Moving was completely out of the question. She seemed to find my discomfort charming for she let out another one of those little giggles and slid into her chair, "You're right, this place is so typical. My college has one just like it." "WHERE ARE YOU FROM?" I asked suddenly and with a wooden sort of mechanical voice and I fell into the chair opposite her. She seemed surprised and blinked those big brown eyes at me. "I--s-sorry, I just--" I stammered, then blurted out, "I just realized I didn't know anything about you! I told you about me when we first met, but I never asked you about you. And after that, we...uh--" "Were busy with other things," she grinned slyly at me. "I know, it's fine. I'm not usually forthcoming with my own personal information with guys I meet on the internet. No there aren't many guys," she said with a sudden grin, causing me to look down, embarassed that she seemed to have read my mind. "I'm from Salem. Well, I live in a small college on the outskirts of the city now, but I've been there all my life." "Salem...Massachusetts?" I boggled at her. That was an extremely long trip. "What brings you to Ohio?" She gave me a wry, knowing smile, "You, silly." she said pleasantly enough as the over-busy waitress came over to take our orders. Melinda ordered for herself and, after another one of my stunning broken-down car impressions, ordered the same thing for me. After the waitress had left, she turned back to me with another bright smile, "That sounds a bit weird, right? That I drove from Massechusets to Ohio for someone I've never met before?" I couldn't speak, so I just nodded. "Don't I know it," she laughed, "but...well, we're friends, right Ian? We've been chatting together for, like, two years, right?" I nodded again. "I just thought we should meet," she went on, tugging at her hair. Suddenly, I could tell she felt a bit nervous herself, as if she'd had some grand plan but it was starting to feel like a big mistake. "Especially after--well, you know. Everything we do." We both blushed and examined the table with furious curiosity. Neither of us spoke for long moments. I hardly knew how to respond to that. No one had ever expressed that much interest in me, certainly no one I'd never met in person. And now here was this girl, this girl that barely knew me, driving hundreds upon hundreds of miles just to meet me. I was flabbergasted. "That's a long drive," I said vacantly, my shock clear in my voice. "Y-Yeah," she stammered somewhat lamely. "It's, like, twelve hours. Almost thirteen." "You left Thursday?" "No," she responded, still not looking up from the table. "I emailed you from my hotel in Cleveland last night." We continued to sit in silence long after the waitress brought us our coffee and we began to drink it. I hardly knew what to say, but I began to realize that I had to say something. I could tell by her body language and the growing silence, something I'd never known Melinda for, that she was getting uncomfortable. That she thought this was a mistake. "I--I'm really glad you came," I blurted out, looking at her finally. "I just...I don't think I'm worth it." This turned out inexplicably to be the exact right thing to say. It took her only a fraction of a second, but all that discomfort and nervousness fled her and she looked right back at me with a wide grin, "Oh Ian," she said, sounding almost relieved. "That is so...you. You know, it's because you say shit like that that made me want to come and meet you. You're so...uncertain. Even when we're roleplaying. You're a fantastic writer, you know that?" She'd told me this before, but hearing it from her own lips made me blush nervously. "Look," she said, pushing her cup aside and reaching over to take my hands, "I think I like you. A lot. But I wanted to be sure. That's why I'm here. I wanted to spend some time with you and get to know you better." Once again, I found myself stricken dumb by her confession, even though it was just repeating what she'd already said. I simply couldn't believe someone wanted to get to know me. Especially after I'd already told her that I wasn't worth the effort. She took my silence in stride, even giggling again in such a way that made talking even more unlikely, "You're exactly how I imagined you," she said, holding my hands. "Come on. Let's go see that movie." I had barely touched my coffee, but I feebly dug into my pocket, pulling out some money and putting it on the table despite her protests that she could pay for herself. I wasn't going to let this date be like my only other one. *** Melinda's scent was intoxicating. Is it weird that that was the first thing I noticed about her? I guess it must have been her shampoo or something, but as we left the coffee shop hand in hand, I caught a whiff of her on the late autumn breeze. I was already heady with the intoxicating feeling that someone actually liked me that her intoxicating scent only made me more inconsolable. Luckily, Melinda was a take-charge kind of girl, something I knew from our sessions all too well. We had many scenarios in our chats, most of which involved her taking command. I assumed many different roles, occasionally the man, but often I actually played the woman. I found these to be somewhat facinating experiences, mostly because Melinda did such a good job explaining just what it felt like to be a woman. But if there was a common thread in most every one of our chats, it was control. I'd never thought I'd like to be dominated, but when Melinda did so in our chats, I found it to be intoxicating, arousing even. And it was a role she took to well, naturally even. I'd always told myself that it was just the roles she played in our little games, but here, now, meeting her in person, I was beginning to see that she had that air about her. She was not domineering, and there was nothing forceful about her, but she seemed to naturally and comfortably take control of a situation. For my part, I was happy to follow her lead. I could barely think. As Melinda suggested, we went to see a movie in lieu of nothing much else to do in Hillsborough, Ohio. I couldn't have even told you what the movie was about. I believe talking animals were involved. I paid, but once again, Melinda protested. "It's just...can I pay?" I asked after she tried to force my hands back into my pockets. "It's something I really want to do, ok?" She seemed to sense my earnestness and reluctantly agreed, though made me promise to let her buy the popcorn, which I did with equal reluctance. The movie theater wasn't particularly packed. Most couples on dates, what few there were in the small town of Hillsborough, even with its college campus, wouldn't be out seeing movies so early. Melinda found a secluded place in the back of the theater and took her seat, smiling broadly at me as she pulled me into mine. As the movie started and the few chattering individuals in the seats hushed, Melinda leaned into me, seemingly on a pretense to get a better view of the screen, but as her head rested on my shoulder, her hand fell into mine and squeezed it. I couldn't have told you anything about the previews before the movie because before I knew it, the silly talking rabbit was already neck deep in the climax of the plot. I could barely keep focused. Her scent, her closeness, was intoxicating. "Ian," she whispered. "Kiss me." I stiffened, looking down at her with wide eyes. I was surprised to see her staring back up at me, a small, mischevious smile on her features. "Kiss me," she said again, with more earnestness in her tone. "You don't have to worry about being a gentleman. I drove thirteen hours to be here with you." My hand felt like it was made of sweat. My mouth felt sticky and warm. I immediately worried about what she would taste if I were foolish enough to heed her request--her command. I was worried she would storm out of the theater, protesting about how horrible the kiss was, raving about how awful of a person I was. But something in her smile soothed me, if only slightly. She certainly didn't look ready to storm out of the theater, no matter how inexperienced of a kisser I was--and I was inexperienced. Twenty years old and this was to be my first kiss. "Kiss me," she said again, a bit more forcefully. I closed my eyes, steeling myself. And in a moment, it was over. My rough lips brushed over hers, barely even touching. I could feel the softness of her lips, the puffiness of them. It was a brushing kiss, barely a kiss at all...but after a moment, I went back for a second. And then a third. Our lips lingered together longer and longer each time until, after the third kiss, I felt her lips part. Instinctively, mine parted as well and, my head spinning, I felt her tongue tickle at mine, running up and down its length playfully. We remained locked there for what felt like the length of a hundred movies about silly talking rabbits. That kiss, my first kiss (well, third technically, but I wasn't much of one for semantics just then) dominated the entire universe in a way that only such a tender act could. I have never been what you would call a happy man. But just then, I was happy. Several years later, I found myself looking at her big, brown eyes again. She wasn't storming out. She didn't even look disappointed. In fact, if anything, her smile was broader, her cheeks redder. "You're a very good kisser," she said with nervous frankness, tugging on a lock of her hair. "I'm not surprised." "I am?" I breathed, so far into foreign territory that I felt almost...serene, so far past uncomfortable that I couldn't even bring myself to feel uncomfortable at that moment. "I've never kissed a girl before." She actually looked surprised, but had the good grace to not laugh, "You're kidding," she asked, a bit louder than was polite in a theater, her expression shocked. "I never would have guessed it. But that means-- " her voice trailed off and she looked at me with a different sort of expression. "...this is my first date?" I asked nervously, wondering if that was what she was getting at. She shook her head, "No. I mean, yes, it might be, but...wow," she breathed softly, silent for a moment as she faced the movie more than watched it. I joined her in not at all watching the movie, wondering if I'd turned her off with my frank confession. But she didn't pull her hand back, and her head was once again on my shoulder as soon as I'd looked back to the screen. We didn't kiss again for the rest of the movie, and we left hand in hand, my stomach filled with butterflies, her face distant and thoughtful. "Uh...d-do you...have a place to stay?" I asked when we stepped out into the too-bright autumn sunshine. She seemed to snap out of her thoughts and looked at me as if this question was extremely out of place, "Not yet. I was going to get a hotel room if I had to. Why?" Once again, she managed to throw me a curveball that stole my breath. Sure, she could have meant a thousand things by her comment, "if I had to," but that was not the immediately relevant interpretation that came to my mind just then. "I just...th-thought you would want to go home," I stammered. "I mean...n-not home. That's really far, but...uh..." Her features suddenly split into a mischevious smile, "Are you trying to get rid of me, Ian?" I blanched, feeling faint, "N-No!" I protested. "Then no, I don't want to go home," she said, wrapping her arms around my arm and tugging me away from the movie theater exit. "I am a bit hungry though. Can I buy you dinner?" I didn't respond immediately, surprised that the date was still going on. It had always seemed to me like movies ended dates, but it was still only early evening. And she really didn't have any place to go, nor did I. "Can I buy you dinner?" I retorted, pushing my luck. She groaned and threw her hands up, "What is this thing with you and buying everything?" "W-Well you drove all this way!" I responded nervously, wringing my hands, afraid I'd offended her. "I mean, if you really want, you can, but...it's just the gentlemanly thing to do." She sized me up for a moment before wrapping her arms in mine again, "This is a weird macho thing, isn't it?" "I'm not particularly macho," I retorted, once again unable to believe my good fortune. I was going to be extremely poor, but I couldn't even express how much this was worth it. "It's just a thing." "A thing?" "A thing." "You're going to have to tell me about this thing sometime, you know," she said with mock firmness. I secretly hoped she would forget. I wanted nothing more than to forget that date had ever happened because this date was the best first date ever. *** I escorted Melinda to the diner I'd told her about in the email. The air between us was much different now, walking along the sidewalk arm in arm, than it had been when we left the coffee shop what seemed like ages ago. Not only did we have the kiss(es), but also that lingering hint she'd left me. "I was going to get a hotel room if I had to." I tried to convince myself that she could have meant so many things by that, but there were the other hints too, phrases I remembered as if she was constantly whispering them into my ear. "And besides, I don't exactly want to meet in your bedroom. At first." "But I'll be there for a week. Plenty of time for other things." Even I, the pessimist extraordinaire, couldn't pretend there wasn't innuendo in those comments. Hints about her intentions. I idly wondered if this was normal, but I tried not to linger on it long. The more I thought about it, the harder it was for me to focus on Melinda, and I did want to make an effort to abate the sudden curiosity that had sprouted up after I found out she was a real human being. I wanted to know more about her. Melinda was an only child, she said over her hamburger and fries, and lived with her mother and father in Salem (or she did before she moved to college), which she said wasn't as exciting as it sounded. "It's not like there are piles of burning witches everywhere," she laughed. When I asked what she was going to school for, she said she didn't know. She wasn't thinking too much about her future at the moment. The look she gave me when she said that made me have to adjust my pants nervously. She seemed to see this and smiled even more. "So Ian," she finally said when all that was left was our milkshakes and a burning red evening sky, "When you said you'd never kissed a girl before, does that mean you've never...gone all the way with a girl before?" I sputtered out part of my chocolate milkshake and tried to ignore her delighted giggle at my discomfort, "I-It would be awful hard to...uh...y-you know, without kissing a girl!" I retorted, feeling almost assailed by the accusation. Was she going to laugh at me for being a virgin now? I'd never quite felt defensive about my virginity, but here and now, it almost felt like I should be worrying about it being a deal breaker. Wait...a deal breaker? What sort of deal was there? "Not really," Melinda said after her laughs died down, her tone almost casual. "But I see your point. It would kind of kill the mood." An uncomfortable silence followed that seemed to be only uncomfortable to me. Melinda seemed quite comfortable. Extremely comfortable. Almost infuriatingly comfortable. I waited, almost on baited breath, for her to ridicule me. But it never came. "Invite me back to your room," she said, looking up to me with what seemed now to be a shy smile. "I doubt you have enough money left for a hotel room and it seems like you're completely unwilling to let me pay for anything. Besides," she added with a soft smile, reaching over to stroke my cheek, "I'd like to stay with you. If I can." Thankfully, my milkshake was empty or we would have been wearing it. My hands were shaking so hard that the couple sitting in the seats behind us looked around wondering where the clattering rattle was coming from, though. Melinda, to her credit, didn't laugh or even comment on my discomfort. She just waited for me to recompose myself. "I--are you sure you...want to?" I asked hesitantly. Her smile turned that much more playful, "Why? Is your room really messy or something?" "No," I said quickly, then blinked and shook my head again, "I mean, it is sort of messy, but that's not what I mean!" She cut me off by leaning across the table and pressing her lips to mine. The kiss was somewhat more needy than before, and contageous as I felt my pants tighten even more as her need infected me. She broke the kiss after a moment and, staring right into my eyes, whispered, "Invite me to your room." I nodded dumbly, obeying her command without question. In fact, just like our little games online, I found the idea of her ordering me around to be somewhat intoxicating. And arousing. I left some money hastily on the table, not even bothering to wait for change. After all, it was beginning to look like I was going to have an unbelievable night. Why shouldn't the waitress? Melinda and I walked almost swiftly through the small college town towards the campus, ignoring everything. I think I may have even heard Phil and Rich call out to me at one point, but I couldn't be sure, they were gone so fast. Despite the fact that Melinda had expressed interest in seeing the town before, she seemed to only want to see one place now. It took me far too long to unlock my door when we arrived. Melinda waited patiently, rocking on her heels while still holding the handles to her rolling suitcase, which I gathered to be everything she'd brought with her on the trip. When I finally opened the door, she followed me in and, for all of our haste, seemed interested in taking a look around now as I closed the door behind us and fumbled for something to do with my hands. And the feeling of pent up arousal that now seemed to have no place. "You're right," she said, looking back at me. "This place is a mess. It needs a woman's touch." I gulped past a lump in my throat that seemed to be occupying roughly the same space as the entirety of the room itself. It was pretty cluttered, but not in a filthy way. I mostly had books and papers littering the floor, nothing so unsavory as spoiled food or spilled drinks. It was claustrophobic with the two of us there, however, and I felt my panic growing ever deeper with our proximity. She seemed completely unperturbed, however, and turned to me with that same mischevious, playful smile as before before speaking. "Take off your pants." I complied almost without question, tugging down my khakis with such fervor that I was afraid I would rip them. She seemed pleased, nodding appreciatively at the speed with which I followed her commands, "Your shirt now." The shirt joined my pants on the floor, my shapeless, pale torso bare before her, my boxers straining uncomfortably to contain my package which wanted nothing more than to leap out. She seemed to size up my body, striding around me before reaching out to run a finger over my skin. "You like this, don't you?" she asked, not accusingly, not seductively even. Just...curiously. "I'd always kind of wondered if this was actually a thing with you or if you were just playing along online. But you like taking orders, don't you?" I gulped past that lump again, which now seemed to have expanded to roughly the same size as Ohio, "I--y-yeah," I stammered pathetically, looking down. It almost shamed me to admit it to her, as if it was going to end the evening prematurely. "I mean, it was always fun online with you. But...then you started ordering me around tonight and...well, it was..." my voice trailed off, a bit huskier than I intended. She stopped in front of me again, looking up into my eyes compassionately. She didn't speak for a moment, but when she did, her own voice was husky as well, filled with passion and need, "Kiss me again." she said, a bit softer, but still commandingly. I complied, pressing my lips tentatively to hers. She broke the kiss early. "Harder." I steeled myself and did as she ordered, pressing my lips almost bruisingly to hers. She seemed to approve of this kiss, and wrapped her arms around me, returning it with the same fervor as it was given. Our tongues once again met and, no longer confined by theater ettiquette, moans filled the air, both mine and hers. Her hands tickled at my back and she pulled me towards the bed. My head swimming, I barely registered this until she broke the kiss and climbed onto the bed in front of me. "Take off my clothes," she said, facing away from me but looking back at me over her shoulder, "slowly." I bit my lip, my breath coming in raspy bursts. My head was swimming in the moment, but still I hesitated. This seemed almost to be going too far, and I looked to her in conflict, looking for reassurance. Reassurance came in the form of a smile, "I gave you an order." I knelt on the bed and reached around her to begin unbuttoning her over- large flannel shirt, which I pulled back with trembling hands. I did so too quickly, and one of the buttons snapped off, rattling against the wall and onto the floor. I started to apologize, but she shooshed me and brought my hads down to her cotton undershirt, which I tugged up with jerky, uncertain motions. I felt my hands brush against smooth silk mounds on my way up, and my breath caught. I recognized the feeling, though I had never touched or even felt them before. Her breasts. Not to be dissuaded, I tried to ignore what I felt and, with her help, removed her shirt, tugging it over her head, which was somewhat difficult with her mane of brown hair. "My pants next," she said without looking at me, as if she could read my mind and sensed my desire to move straight to her silken bra. As lost as my sense of decency was, I found myself curious about what her body looked like. She was sitting facing the wall, so all I could see was her slim waist and back. She was definitely a pale girl, and as small as I expected from her picture. But I couldn't see anything beside that. Not wanting to break the flow of the game, I did as she commanded, awkwardly reaching around her to fumble with the button of her pants and beginning to pull them down. This proved difficult, as she was sitting with her legs folded under her. She hadn't seemed to think this through, and there was a bit of awkwardness as she struggled to help me remove them without trying to look like it was awkward at all. I wasn't complaining. As we fought with the garment, my hands traveled down the silken expanses of her legs. I was starting to feel woozy, and I wasn't sure how long I would last if we were indeed going to go all the way. I hesitated a moment. I hadn't quite thought about that. I had no condoms, and it seemed awkward to tell her about this now. I resolved to do so when the time came, but for now, my mind wouldn't let me focus on that. Not with a half naked girl sitting in front of me. Melinda had turned to sit facing me now, and beckoned me to climb on top of her as she laid onto her back. I finally got a chance to see those covetous mounds and was neither disappointed nor surprised by their size. I, of course, had seen a number of pornographic websites on the internet. I wouldn't say I was a conoisseur, but I certainly had spent a fair share of time on them as inspiration for my sessions with Melinda (particularly when I played the woman, which was surprisingly often), so I knew how big they could get. Melinda's were not large. If I had to guess, I would say she was an A cup, large apples at best beneath those silken cups. But sitting there then, with the only woman I had ever kissed, the only woman who had voluntarily chosen to spend time with me, I couldn't recall ever having seen a more beautiful body. Melinda held her arms out for me beckoningly, and I complied without being told, pressing my lips to hers and pulling our bodies together. This kiss lasted longer than all the ones before, and I could feel our bare skin, mine hairy and rough and hers silky smooth, rubbing together tantalizingly, enhancing my already throbbing arousal. I found myself uncertain about what to do with my hands. It was easy to pretend online that I knew what I was doing, but faced with the reality of it, with gravity and awkwardness and everything else that comes with it, I wasn't sure where to put them. I decided to cater to my curiosity and ran my hands over her breasts, even breaking the kiss so I could watch them. The bra was smooth and delicious to my touch and she let out a delighted moan, indicating to me that it was as pleasurable as I'd always pretended it was online. I could feel her breasts beneath the cups, and let my fingers dip under the cup of her right breast and pull it up, finally seeing one bared for the first time. It was not like what I expected. Slightly asymetrical with little dimples around the aereola, the sight of it surprised me at first. But then the idea that this was a real breast, the breast of a woman who was letting me feel it, touch it, made it so much more appealing than any of the fake breasts I saw online. The nipple stiffened under my touch, a little pencil eraser that, despite myself, I couldn't help but smile as I played with. Melinda let out another moan, letting her head fall back to the pillow behind her as I continued my exploration, lost in the delightful feelings of discovery. "Ian," she moaned softly. "I want you to fuck me." At first, I almost hadn't heard her. Her voice was so soft, so trembling, that hearing her was difficult and understanding her nearly impossible. But, almost as if it took a moment for the command to reach my brain, I did eventually realize what she'd said and looked up to her. Surprise must have been evident on my face, for she let out a playful little smile. "It...it's a command," she murmured huskily. "I want you to fuck me. Take your cock and stick it inside me." This change of tone, the vulgarity of the command, took me by surprise. It also served to enhance my arousal, which had plateaued somewhat during my exploration of her body, to near peak levels once again. I cleared my own raspy throat, feeling my member throb beneath the fabric of my boxers. But even as lost as I was in the feelings, I couldn't help but remember my trepidations. "I...I don't have any condoms," I whispered. Part of me hoped she would back down and just...finish in other ways. I knew from my experiences during our "sessions" that there were plenty of ways to end a sexual encounter that weren't sex. But that other, feral, carnal part of me was already reaching down to remove my boxers and her panties. I was slightly surprised to see the hungry smile on her face, "I don't care." she said in a needy tone. "It's fine. T-Trust me. I use birth control." That little quiver, the stutter in her voice struck me immediately. She must have sensed I was going to continue to protest, however, even as I released my throbbing penis from my boxers, for she practically barked out, "Ian! I am ordering you to fuck me!" I didn't need telling twice. I reached down to help her remove her panties, tugging them over her firm, girlish ass. We didn't even bother to remove them all the way. Her command certainly stood, for she left the entire act to my inexperienced hands. I clutched my rod, which seemed woefully small now that I looked at it. I'd always been a bit self-conscious about my penis size. It wasn't miniscule, but it certainly wasn't the massive members you occasionally and unavoidably saw online when looking for other things. However, Melinda was looking at it as if it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. She stared at it past the small mounds of her breasts, one hidden beneath a silken bra cup, the other exposed to the cool air of my dorm room, and nodded quickly, urgently. "Do it," she said with that same, firm, commanding tone. Still hesitant despite my extreme arousal, I looked down to her newly exposed vagina. I'd never seen one in reality before. But if there was any doubt as to what I should do, it disappeared when I saw it. Her pussy was wide open like a moist, pulsing flower, and the hole was plainly clear. I knew this to mean she was feeling as aroused as I was. With one last look at her face for encouragement, I took a deep, shuttering breath, and thrust my member into her in one, swift motion. It was the most wonderful thing I'd ever felt in my entire life. The warm wetness of her sex wrapped around my aching penis was unlike anything I'd ever experienced before. We'd written this scene a hundred times, of course--of course, the characters in our little games had always been so much more competent and proficient. It hadn't been the awkward fumblings of two inexperienced youths--but it didn't even compare to the real thing, and I idly took note of the many differences between reality and fantasy so that I could better write this scene in the future when Melinda and I continued our chat games. If we continued. I realized as I thrust into her awkwardly, shakily, that I may never want to go back. Melinda was thrashing on the bed in the throes of passion, every bit as lost in the feeling as I was, though I barely noticed. As inexperienced as I was, as horny as I was, it was taking all of my willpower to not end our tryst prematurely. I scrunched up my face in ultimate concentration, but my thrusts were almost spasms at that point, little twitches I made for show only. I could barely move without feeling like I was going to explode. "Y-You can...cum..." she wheezed. I opened my eyes and realized she was looking at me...and the moment I saw her laying there, splayed out in all her glorious reality and genuine femininity, I felt my dick spasm and burst into her. I slumped forward, barely catching myself, both arms on the bed so I didn't fall on top of her. I vaguely felt her hand on my cheek as I continued to empty what felt like gallons of my semen into her body. All thoughts of condoms and worries about her leaving in disgust were gone. I was no longer a virgin. I knew somewhere in the back of my head that she hadn't orgasmed as I lay there beside her a moment later, panting, but she seemed remarkably ok with how things went. I even heard her giggling a moment later, running her hand through my messy blonde hair. I felt somehow that I'd failed her, but I was so locked in that post-sex euphoria that even I, the pessimistic wonder, had a hard time feeling down about anything. I'd lost my cherry and the girl was still here. "That was amazing," I wheezed, then looked at her, curled up at my side as I lay on my back, panting and wheezing. "I...I'm sorry." She blinked and swatted my shoulder, though she didn't stop laughing, "Don't apologize!" she laughed. "You always apologize for everything. You're fine. It was amazing." "But...you didn't..." I began, but she interrupted me with a bruising kiss. "There's always next time," she said with a seductive smile on her mousy face. I watched her, her matted hair obscuring half of her features, the rest playful and content. She hadn't hated it. I hadn't disappointed her-- though I didn't know whether that was a good thing or not, considering that had been far from an ideal love-making session. Had she expected so little from me? She gave me another little kiss, as if she knew what I was thinking and had hoped that kiss would expell the feelings from me, "Do you mind if I crash here for the night?" she asked officially, staring into my eyes again so that I felt almost like I could have gone another time. Those eyes were so enticing, so positively intoxicating. "I don't think I could walk, even if I wanted to leave." Even if I hadn't been practically hypnotized by those eyes, however, I certainly wouldn't have turned her away. Even if we hadn't had completely mind-blowing sex (well, my mind was blown anyways), I would have given her my bed and slept on the hard, cluttered floor. I was just that kind of guy...and this girl had a firm hold on my heart. She spent a few minutes straightening herself up, which oddly enough involved her removing the rest of her clothes, cleaning out her insides that I had despoiled, and climbing back into bed with me, nude. She curled up at my side and began to kiss my chest lightly, butterfly kisses that sent my skin alight with thrills. I felt my member responding again quickly, a new record. Every time we'd shared our little chatroom antics together, they usually ended when I mastrubated myself to orgasm. But this time, I felt like I almost could have gone moments after...and was certainly ready now. She smiled mischeviously when she saw my member standing at rigid attention and gave me a look that almost ended this second encounter before it began. "Time for round two?" she asked, climbing on top of me as I lay on my back and positioning herself over my rod. I could do naught but nod.