A Riddick Chronicle
- 4 years ago
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Thinking With My Dick - Ch 2 - Cleaning Up free porn video
Author's note: Here's chapter 2, now with 100% more spell-check, and my
apologies in advance for any small and large errors that have crept in.
Most, if not all, editing and revisions are being jettisoned in favor of
speed for a variety of reasons.
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I sat at my kitchen table, back once again in my own clothes, rather than
my ex-girlfriend Annie's leftover underwear. I pointedly tried to ignore
the metallic teal nail polish on the fingers holding my coffee mug, the
similarly painted toes beneath my white athletic socks, or the smooth
shaven legs rubbing intriguingly on the inside of my baggy jeans. One
fun experiment is fine, but enough was enough. I had to get some nail
polish remover to get this stuff off before I needed to see anyone I
knew. Work was most of the weekend away, but unless I got this taken
care of, I'd be hiding in my apartment all weekend.
Checking the clock on my microwave I saw it was still pretty early. Way
earlier than I'd normally be up on a Saturday. The perks of having a
hangover so vicious it wakes you up, I suppose, though thankfully a bowl
of the blandest cereal in cupboard had settled my stomach somewhat. The
important thing was it was early enough not many people would be out,
maybe I could just sneak in and out without having to interact with too
many people. A plan started to form in my mind. There was a supermarket
ten or fifteen minutes away slightly out of town. It was a decent size,
sure to have a small makeup and beauty section, but it wasn't my normal
grocery, it didn't get a lot of shoppers at once, and, most importantly,
had self-checkout stations. I could get what I needed without having to
actually talk to anyone, I just had to keep my nails reasonably hidden.
It was the best idea I was going to come up with, and the sooner I got
moving, the more likely I'd be able to finish before they started getting
many shoppers in. I threw on shoes, and hustled down to my car with my
hands jammed deep in my pockets. I knew, deep down, that it didn't
matter that much. Guys with nail polish weren't that unusual, heck, in a
liberal university town like this, even trans people transitioning
genders weren't exactly unheard of. But in my mind, that wasn't me, I
was a straight fairly white-bread dude, and the idea that someone might
spot me, even a total stranger would be mortifying.
My nails kept distracting me as I drove over. The flashes of color, so
out of place on my hands, kept catching my eye as I turned the wheel. By
the time I got to the store, it was almost kind of thrilling. The thrill
was slightly dampened as I entered the store, trying to hide my nails in
my pockets, or fisted up and angled against my leg as I carried the
basket, but then returned with even greater intensity as a thought
occurred to me. No one in the store knew of the shaved legs or pretty
teal toenails beneath my clothes.
Trying to get a grip, I made my way through the store, first getting a
few basics to act as camouflage in the basket if anyone glanced in. A
box of cereal, a replacement razor for the one I'd abused last night,
just basic household needs. Then I tried to swing casually by the beauty
aisle, doing my best to look like I was just shopping normally, maybe
picking up a few odds an ends for a girlfriend or a wife. It was
probably pretty silly, the store had been largely empty, and this aisle
was totally clear. The nail polish remover was easy to find, I knew what
to look for from the bathrooms of girlfriends past. I was grabbing it,
and was reaching for a plastic bag of cotton pads to use with it when my
eyes glanced over at the rest of the makeup section. Down a the bottom
of the rack, a small item caught my eye. A pack of glue-on french tipped
nails. I have to admit, I always loved long nails on girls. I
understood how impractical it was, in fact, that had always been part of
my fascination, that girls would put themselves through the inconvenience
for the look. But I'd often dated pretty active girls, and none liked
the inconvenience of long nails, and it had always seemed dickish to
demand they wear them just for me. I'd always wondered what they'd be
like to wear. There were a few packages, lots of packs of short nails, a
few marked 'medium', but no longs. There were even some short use ones,
but only in short. I picked up a pack of the medium ones, that looked
like they'd extend a nail maybe a quarter of an inch past the finger, and
all worryingly marketed as 'everlasting', just to read the instructions
on the back. It turned out that everlasting was overselling it. They
actually lasted about a week, but could be removed early with acetone
nail polish removed. Just like what I had in my basket.
Still, it seemed too much, I've already gone farther than I'd ever
dreamed this weekend. Maybe the quick use ones, they looked like they
used much less powerful adhesive, though they were shorter, why bother
doing it if they weren't long enough to notice. I stood there, trying to
look like I was investigating the cotton balls one shelf over while I
cast surreptitious glances at the fake nails and tried to decide. I was
going to start looking weirder standing here staring at this stuff than I
would if people did see my painted nails if I was here much longer.
Just then someone I heard someone coming around the corner of the aisle.
I quickly turned away from the beauty products, and tried to look busy
inspecting shampoos half an aisle away, surely looking as suspicious as
all get out. A middle aged lady turned the corner, walked past me and
started browsing conditioners. I made my way out of the aisle, and
wandered towards the dairy section to pick up milk. I still needed to
swing back to get the cotton pads to use with the remover, but it would
be weird to swing back while the same lady was there. I got my milk, and
idly wandered a few other aisles, killing time, and hoping she'd finish
before I got back to the beauty section. As I walked, I kept thinking
back to the false nails. It wasn't like I had much to do this weekend,
with Annie gone. If I wanted to hole up for a day or two I could still
get all this off before work on Monday. I already had the acetone
remover, and it wasn't like I was going to use the whole bottle on the
current nail polish.
By the time I got back to the beauty aisle, the lady was gone, and I was
getting excited all over again. The regret of earlier this morning
easily forgotten. Everyone has kinks, I thought, I can indulge this one
just this once, it's not like I'd be single forever, and I doubt I could
manage it while living with someone else, it might be now or never. I
reached the beauty section, and could feel the first stirrings of a half-
chub in my pants. I quickly grabbed the cotton pads, hesitated for a
second as I reached towards the short temporary nails, and then, in a
moment of impulse, shifted and grabbed the medium length nails and
dropped them in the basket. Then it felt like my brain had decided that
in for a penny, in for a pound. Before no more than a few moments had
passed, a bottle of purple glittery nail polish, much like a teenager
would wear, went into the basket as well, before I marched down the aisle
and quickly grabbed a can of women's shaving gel and a pink ladies razor.
Then I turned and walked towards the checkout before I could reconsider.
I chose the self-checkout furthest from the attendant, and, back to him
and heart pounding, scanned my items and swiped my card as fast as I
could. Throwing the lot into a plastic bag, I quickly walked out of the
store and back to my car. The drive back just amped me up that much
further, knowing that all those girly items sat next to me in the seat
were mine, not for a girlfriend or someone else. It was MY nail polish,
MY pink razor, and they were MY glue-on nails.
I grabbed the shopping bag and headed for the apartment elevator, eager
to get back in the apartment. I was so excited by the prospect that I
was totally shocked when the doors opened to reveal a man in the
elevator, someone else from the apartment that I didn't know coming up
from the parking garage floor below. He nodded companionably at me, and
I got a grip on myself and managed to nod back without too much of a
delay. I stepped into the elevator and tried to maneuver both my bag and
my hands out of sight without seeming too obvious. Pushing the button for
my floor with a knuckle to try to hide my fingers, the reality of the
situation came crashing back. I was wearing nail polish, and it was in
no way in character for me, and it had to stop. My elevator mate got off
on the floor below mine, and I rode up to my floor alone. Back in the
apartment I slumped against the inside of the closed door in relief, I'd
made it, no one had noticed the nails, my leg hair would grow back,
everything was completely recoverable.
I unpacked the groceries, stuck my new male razor in the bathroom, set
the nail polish remover and cotton pads on the living room coffee table,
and then bundled up my girlie purchases with the bag of Annie's leftover
and sat them by the door, they'd go into the dumpster in the garage the
next time I went down. Then I turned on the tv to something innocuous
and set about getting the teal polish off my nails.
Ten minutes later, I was frustrated. The bulk of the polish had come off
quickly and easily, but small traces remained stuck in the edges of my
nail by the cuticle. I was probably supposed to have cleaned up my nails
and done something to the cuticles before putting the polish on, but
drunk me was probably not conscientious about that sort of thing. I
hadn't even started on my toenails yet. Fuck it, I thought. I've wasted
enough of the morning on cleaning up after this girlie stuff. I hadn't
even run yet, which I was normally pretty religious about doing first
thing on Saturday and Sunday, even when I am hungover, because it was
hard to find a long enough block of time in the evenings after work for
longer runs before it got dark.
That's what I'd do, get my run in now, and come back and finish this
stuff, it's not like anyone would see my toes in running shoes anyway. I
abandoned my efforts in the living room and headed to the bathroom to
grab my gear. It was only when I went to pull my shorts up that I
noticed a problem with my plan. My legs were still pretty obviously
shaved, with a slight shine to the skin that hairy legs just never have.
I dug in the back of the closet and came up with some running tights. I
normally just had them for running in the winter when it got cold, but I
could wear them today without overheating too much. I pulled them up my
legs, and found out that tight clothes over shaved legs just don't feel
the same as over hairy ones. I slight electric buzz slid up my spine as
the running tights stretched over my smooth legs. That was fun. I threw
some shorts on over the tights to feel a bit more male after that moment
of weakness, tied my shoes, grabbed my keys and headed out the door.
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The run was just what I needed, I came back sweaty and tired, and feeling
much more normal (I was determinedly ignoring the thrill I'd had knowing
I was running with secretly shaved legs and painted nails). I'd shower,
deal with my toenails, and I'd be back on track. Getting into the shower
and ducking under the hot water, I couldn't help notice how different it
felt soaping up my now mostly hairless body. It was sort of like
showering with a girlfriend, but this time it was me.
Looking down at my painted toes didn't help either. From the waist down
I looked far too girlish, even my hairless cock and balls somehow looked
so much less masculine this way. I could help giving myself a few
exploratory strokes in the shower, the thought of being halfway to girl-
dom was obviously still turning me on, just as it had earlier this
morning. If only I still had the polish on my fingernails, that hard
really done it this morning with the illusion of a ladylike hand on my
cock. Then I thought of the false nails in the shopping bag, and my cock
grew even stiffer. I don't have to go anywhere today, I wouldn't have to
see anyone or even leave the apartment for hours, maybe only just to get
dinner in the evening. I could use them, enjoy myself, and get them off
with plenty of time.
It took some effort to stop jerking off, but I managed, shut off the
shower and toweled off. As soon as I was dry enough, I rushed out the
the kitchen, rifled through the bags for the pack of nails and, on second
thought, one of the thongs. I pulled the thong up, settling it into my
asscrack and was back in the bathroom in moments. This time I'd do it
right though, I cleaned up my nails and even made a decent attempt to
clean up my cuticles. I wanted the nails to be just right. I'm only
doing it once, I justified to myself, no point in wasting my one foray
into feminine nails on a half-assed attempt. It took a little longer
than I expected, doing nails with your non-dominant hand starts getting
tricky when that hand already has long nails on it, but twenty minutes
later I was sporting quarter inch french tipped nails, and somehow had
remained at half-staff for the duration. Part of my knew they were a
little cheap and tacky, they were supermarket nails after all, but part
of me loved the trashiness and the impracticality of them. They caught
on everything, skin, my thong, my other nails. Everytime I touched
something wrong, they tugged slightly at my real nail, a little reminder
that I, a boy, was wearing long nails.
I couldn't help it, the first thing I did was go lay down on my bed and
caress my dick. Seeing the white tips of my fingernails against my cock
red-lined my horniness, and I got stiff and began leaking pre-cum almost
immediately. I gently touched fingertip and thumb to the liquid welling
up from my foreskin and gently spread it around the head of my cock, like
I'd seen in pornos. I couldn't believe how much I was turning myself on.
Then, before I could think too hard about it, I rubbed my finger across
the tip of my cock again, wiping up a good amount of pre-cum and brought
it to my lips.
"Was I really going to do this?" I thought.
"But it's just another bodily fluid," the horny part of me answered,
"it's not like it's all that much worse than sucking on a cut, or
swallowing saliva, and it's not unsanitary like urine, and some people
even do that." My left hand continued to stroke my dick, now straining
with excitement.
"I'm a straight man, and straight guys aren't supposed to know what pre-
cum tastes like."
"But wouldn't it be so hot to find out?" And I stuck my tongue out and
licked my finger clean. In reality, mostly I just tasted glue from the
nails, but it still pushed me over the edge, and my cock, sticking out
from behind a pair of thong panties, caressed by fingers capped with long
french tipped nails blew several wads of cum onto my hairless stomach.
The orgasm rolled over me, and clarity returned. Looking down at myself,
I saw my hairless body, a small pool of cum forming on my belly. I saw
my manicured left hand sticky with semen and grasping my rapidly
shrinking penis. I saw, at the far end of the bed, ten teal green
toenails at the end of my smooth legs.
This is a disaster, and I need to stop.
Vera
- 20.07.2020
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