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Permission By Katharine Sexkitten "Open up, babe," he cooed softly, from behind me. I was lying on my tummy. I was almost over-dosing on pleasure. My arms were folded and my head was resting on my hands. My wig, auburn and thick, and long enough to almost touch my ass, was slightly disheveled, from the magnificent hour-long making out session we'd just had, and from his hands on my head for close to fifteen minutes as I sucked his cock, making him squirm and spasm with my oral ministrations, including when his fingers clamped onto me as he rode that final rocket ship of ecstasy and pumped his sticky seed into my mouth. I loved sucking his cock. I loved sucking cock, period. But his was special. The white-colored bra and panty set with the red trim I'd put on earlier looked gorgeous against my pale skin tone, and the matching stay-up, thigh-high stockings made my legs look as feminine as any lingerie model. And I knew it drove him wild. His body weight was on me. All over me. He was a good fifty pounds heavier than me, and about six inches taller than me, and he felt like the human equivalent of a blanket. I was covered, head to toe, with his skin. His hairy chest and belly covered me from my ass to my neck. His head was next to mine, on the left side. His breathing was as loud as a jet plane in my ear. His cock was sitting directly in the inward-curved entrance to my ass. My pussy, he called it. He wanted in. He whispered again. "Open up the pearly gates, sweetheart." His voice was rich and deep and liquidy. I closed my eyes, and concentrated. It was a lot like meditating, for me. It took a few seconds for me to cast off all the thoughts of the world, the concerns of the day-to-day, and the ins and outs of whatever had happened at work or at home. All of it. It was part of my process. I had to rid my brain of everything unimportant, in order to give my full attention to what was important. And this was as important to me as breathing. His cock, buried deep in my pussy. And all it took was permission. Not me giving him permission, no. He had that, and he knew it. No, before I could let him in, before I could be filled with cock, filled with the meat of another man, before I got to ride that exquisite razors edge between shocking pain and even more shocking pleasure, I had to deal with the issue of permission. I had to give myself the permission. The permission to go through the physical experience, which, if you never have, is staggering, believe me. But more importantly, I had to go through the emotional ordeal. I had to consciously remind myself of the ramifications, to body and to soul. And even though I'd more or less come to terms with it, and accepted it as part of who I am, I still needed to take that moment or two to grapple with the permission monster. Because granting myself the permission went against everything I'd been taught, by people and society. And yet, it was all I ever wanted. All I ever dreamed of. I knew from an early age that I was different. And yes, I know, lots of kids feel that way, growing up. It can be daunting. However, I knew my differences were unique, or at least very rare, and that they ran counter to what 'decent' and 'moral' people accepted. I remember sleeping in my older sister's discarded nightie, an unintended hand-me-down. It was a baby-doll, so it barely covered my crotch and bum, and it was pink. I assumed for the longest time that no one in my family knew of it. It was only years later that I found out that both my Mom and my sister had seen me a few times, dead asleep, the covers partially off of me, the nightie obvious. I never did find out who, but it was one of them I'm sure that began putting panties into my dresser drawer. I was probably around eight or nine, the first time I found one. It was white, and had a small ribbon and bow in the front, around the top. Remarkably, I didn't suspect that it was just misplaced there by whoever did laundry that week. I didn't traipse upstairs and announce that someone had put panties in with my clothes, in mild protestation. I didn't quietly put them back in the dryer, when nobody was looking, to let someone else discover them and realize the error that had been made. I slipped them up my legs, and when they snapped around my skin, my little tiny genitalia wrapped in the most precious of softness, my bony little arse caressed in a way male underwear never could, I heaved what was at the time the happiest most satisfied sigh of my life. Heaven. I slept in those panties for years. And others too, eventually, stray ones that somehow magically appeared in with the rest of my clothes. I slept in that nightie until I was in my early teens, when it basically fell apart in my hands, the age of it showing. I cried a little bit, that morning. When I got to breakfast, my Mom took one look at me and was genuinely concerned by the look on my face. "Honey," she softly whispered, "what's the matter? Are you o.k.?" I couldn't even look at her. I just nodded and said sure. I don't think she believed me. My parent's bedroom was directly above mine. Directly. For as long as I could remember, from time to time, I would be woken up with the same 'thud-thud-thud-thud' noise, one that started out slowly and ended up a few minutes later getting very fast, coming from above my bed. It would go on for a while, getting quicker, and then it would stop, in an instant. I confess I never heard any voices. No moans, no groans, nothing. I asked my older sister what the noises were. She smiled and told me I'd understand once I'd grown up. I'm pretty sure I knew what was going on, in a way, in that I knew it was something adults could do with each other, and that it was not only about making babies and continuing the species, but that it could be just as much about the pleasures of the flesh, but I didn't have any real world experience to relate it to, obviously. I was a good student. I made friends and played well with others. I was always watching the girls. They enraptured me. They thrilled me. How nice, I used to think, that instead of having to always try to be tough and strong and full of machismo, they could spend their time talking about clothes, and fashion, and whatever else girls got into. I couldn't understand why I had to always be doing sports and rough-and-tumble shit that 'boys' do. I remember wondering, thousands of times, why they got to wear the really good clothes, the sexy clothes, the stylish clothes, the soft and silky clothes, while us boys were always expected to wear the rough factory-made stuff we wore. Why was I being discriminated against? I also know that there were countless millions of times, all the way through my high school years, when I had urges. Yearnings. Desires. Don't get me wrong, I'd look at pretty girls, and later on women, especially if they were a little dressed up, and I would almost explode with wanting to have sex with them. Kiss them, hold them, nurse from their breasts, eat at the Y, and finally fuck them silly. I wanted a real girlfriend forever, someone to share intimacy with, both in and out of bed. But I also had urges. Unnatural urges, according to many. Taboo urges, that polite and sensitive people would refer to as 'alternate lifestyle' issues. I had urges, my entire life, about men. About sexual activities with other men. With real men. Big men, strong men, virile men. All the things I was not. But also with effeminate men, men like me. Sensitive men. Girly men. Certain teachers made me wonder, and daydream about. Fantasize about. What if Mr. Lloyd decided to keep me after class one day, on some trumped-up bogus excuse, and then while all the other kids were rushing home how he'd seduce me in his classroom, taking my oral and anal virginity overtop of his double-pedestal desk, the pens and stapler hastily pushed to the floor. Or how Mr. Bryant could ask me to help him with a special project, for the Music Department, and while showing me something written down he could stand beside me, and then slip his arm around me, making me feel warm, and then hug me, making me feel excited, and then tilt my head up and kiss me, and hold me, and make me feel like I was the loveliest most sexy human being in the world. I even had the occasional daydream about the principal, Mr. Holter, who was old and stooped over and physically had nothing that attracted me at all, except that one time I saw him in a washroom, as he turned from the urinal, just before he zipped up, and the massive length and thickness of his penis sent a shudder through me. I used to imagine myself touching his cock. I used to wonder what that would be like. And as I got older I wondered what it would be like to do more than just touch it: how would it make me feel to stroke it, and then maybe to kiss it, reverently, and then maybe lick it, and then maybe to suck it, and maybe to make him shoot his baby-batter into my mouth, all of which as I grew up I learned were adult activities. Adult activities that only women were supposed to want. And, according to all the boys in school, if anyone other than a woman did any of those things, then they were a 'fag'. A 'homo'. They were 'fudge-packers'. Words that were spat out with obvious loathing, and hatred. But why? Why did it matter who did those things? Who cares? That's what I used to wonder. And I asked my parents about it once, at the dinner table. My sister nearly spit her lasagna out in embarrassment, my Mom turned beet red and looked away, and my Dad, who was a fairly open-minded human when all was said and done, quietly explained to me that a small percentage of men ended up falling in love with and having sexual relations with other men, and an equally small percentage of women did the same with other women. "Some folks think it goes against the laws of God," he said, "but mostly I think that what two people do in the privacy of their own home is their own business, and everybody else can go to hell." Then he'd make me promise that I'd treat everyone the same, and not hate people just because they were different than me, whether it was skin color, or beliefs, or who they wanted to make love with. Sadly, even though he was close to cool most of the time, my Dad would occasionally see a really effeminate male and almost always quietly refer to them, behind their backs of course, as a 'god-damned sissy'. It was one of his go-to insults. I kept having urges. My first kiss, and many thereafter, were with my friend Jim's younger (by one year) sister, Theresa. She had a round face and long stringy hair and big boobs for a thirteen year old and we played spin the bottle with a few other people and my first spin landed on her and we quit playing the game right away and just went into a different room and made out for hours. I love kissing. Soft, gentle kisses, long tongue-duelling kisses, wet sloppy sucking kisses. I could probably spend the rest of my life doing nothing but kissing with no sex and still think I was the luckiest person in the world. Theresa let me feel up her boobies, now and again. She never let me touch her between her legs. Something about what was down there intrigued me. While I was kissing her, floating along on a sensual euphoria I'd never felt before, I had a few tremors, a few moments of wonder. What would it be like to kiss her brother Jim? I never did, of course. He was one of those guys who grew up saying he'd kick the shit out of any 'FAG!' he ever saw. And he was already a big kid, at fourteen. So I knew he could kick the shit out of me, if he found out. The urges were there, from time to time, underlying everything I did. When I was sixteen, I heard my parents speaking in hushed whispers, about Mrs. So-and-So down the road, whose oldest boy had been in one of the washrooms at the mall and had been accosted by a homosexual man, a pervert of some sort preying on innocent young men. I later learned that he hadn't been accosted, at least as far as I understood the word. The man had been masturbating in one of the stalls, and there was a hole in the divider, and the kid had seen it. He'd freaked out and left as quickly as he could, and called the cops, and when I saw him a couple of days later at school he appeared fine to me. He was actually joking about it with his friends. My normal bus ride home from school put me close to the mall. The whole trip, I kept having this urge surface, in my brain. I was curious, and the urge kept telling me to check it out. I almost missed the bus stop, but at the last second I raced out of the back doors. While I watched the other people filing off, some part of my soul gave me the permission. Permission. Sure, I realized, it was dangerous, or possibly dangerous, or potentially dangerous. Sure, I reasoned, it wasn't what most people called 'normal', and like any other human I wanted to fit in, to be accepted by everyone. There could be nothing there, I knew, or there could be something, in which case I might find out I hated it, or it disgusted me, or it offended me, thereby putting an end to a lifetime of secret urges. But I gave myself permission to find out. There were two sets of washroom facilities in the mall. One by the Food Court, and one at the other end. I chose the latter, figuring who'd risk getting caught where it was busy? There were about a dozen sinks, and a dozen urinals, and a half-dozen stalls. A really old guy shuffled past me as I went in, and I looked and listened and realized that I was alone. I scoured all the stalls, looking for holes in the wall. I found it, and I took it, and I locked the door, and I pulled down my pants and underwear (not panties - I wasn't brave enough yet to wear them to school or out in public) and sat on the toilet. Nervous doesn't cut it as a word to describe how I felt. All of my insides were burbling, churning away. My heart was racing, my lungs were expanding and contracting faster and faster, and my almost-six- inch penis was hard enough to hammer nails. And the top of it was wetter than wet. I'd been oozing that syrupy- sweet clear love juice all day, from the moment I woke up. I knew, deep down, that I'd be coming here. I began to stroke myself. My foreskin was disappearing and reappearing as my hand pulled and pushed it, my strokes long and languorous. I didn't want to explode too soon. And at least one brain cell kept telling me that just because it happened to that other kid doesn't mean it happens all the time, or at all, or even today if it did indeed happen. I might have to come back every day for weeks before the guy showed up again. Months, maybe. And then I considered if it was possible that more than one guy might use this place, like that. Anyway, that first day, nothing happened. I sat in the stall for almost an hour, edging myself, to no avail. The next day, same result. I had to skip a couple of days, just from things. I tried again, several times. One day I even did it in the facilities next to the Food Court. They were much busier, like night and day busier, the traffic and noise almost constant. No one ever sat in the stall next to me to masturbate. My visits to the mall washrooms pretty much dried up after a couple of weeks. I'd tell my Mom I was just hanging with friends, but the truth was I didn't really have too many of those. There were a couple of guys who were okay, and a few others I abided from time to time. Strangely, it was almost five months after overhearing my folks talk about it that I happened to be in the mall for a real reason, which was to buy some new jeans, and the store I needed was right down by the washroom, and as it turns out I did actually have to pee, so I slipped in there first, so I wouldn't be all jittery while I was trying on pants. I automatically went to the stall, the one I'd always gone to. The one with a hole in the divider. As I turned from locking it, my hands on my belt buckle, ready to slip everything down, I espied through the hole in the divider that there was someone there. A human. A man. In the next stall. And yes, of course, the odds were overwhelming that it was just a normal person, doing their normal business. That's what the stall was for, after all. I sat down on the toilet, my pants and underwear down by my ankles. My erection was steel-like. And instantly wet. I had to look. I had the urge. I gave myself permission. That part of my soul that decides stuff weighed the potential plusses and minuses and gave me permission. I had already formed an excuse, in case I got caught and someone objected. I would just claim that I was bending over on the toilet to re-tie a shoe lace that felt loose. As I leaned down, I turned my head to the right. Closer and closer I got to the hole. Nearer and nearer, and I could swear that I heard small sounds, little tiny snippets of noise, some of them breathing noises, and some of them maybe something else. I didn't have enough knowledge to discern them, to figure them out. But something about those noises made me finish leaning over, my right ear almost next to the hole, my right eye open and staring. Staring at a completely huge cock. A man's cock, a throbbing pulsing pinkish brownish staff, glistening with juice all over the head and the top of the shaft, and his right hand, fingers wrapped tightly, delivering short little strokes up and down, just barely moving, slowly, and I came to understand what the noises were. Jerking-off noises. I gasped. Out loud. His hand froze, for a few seconds. Then I heard his foot on the tile floor, and I could see part of it, in the space between the floor and the bottom of the divider, which didn't go all the way. He was tapping his foot, slowly, like he was enjoying the worlds' slowest waltz. He tapped his foot again, and again. It was entirely involuntary, but my right foot, which was closest to his, tapped by itself. Something inside of me gave it permission. The next thing I knew, that round thick pole of flesh came right through the hole in the divider, and he'd withdrawn his hand, and I could see a massive forest of dark curly pubic hair, and his two hairy hanging balls, so much bigger than my own, the sac holding them jingling and jangling below. Below a really impressive cock, sticking straight through the hole, right at me. Then I heard a quiet, desperate whisper of a voice. "Kiss it," was all he said. Time stood still. I just sat there and stared at this man's erection, his enormously thick throbbing penis, jutting through the hole in the wall. Jutting into my stall. Jutting into my space. Jutting into my consciousness. Deep down, in my central nervous systems processing core, data was being amassed and data was being analyzed. Potential outcomes were being assessed and given levels of import. Deep down, I gave myself permission. My right hand left my own penis, and reached out to touch his. The strangled, urgent sigh/moan the man gave out when my fingers touched his cock was, without a doubt, the single most important sound I'd ever heard to that point. It was the physical representation of desire, or possibilities met. It encapsulated all of his feelings right then and there. There was no mall full of people, there was no world in crisis, there was no minutia of the day-to-day bullshit all of us go through. There was just us. Two humans, both the same gender, sharing a moment of true and uninhibited intimacy. I slowly wrapped my fingers around his cock. It was hot! It was unbelievably hot. His skin was soft and yet strong, loose but yet tight, strained and yet supple. I WAS TOUCHING ANOTHER MANS COCK!!!!!!! He half-whispered/half-moaned again. "PLEASE! SUCK MY COCK!" I didn't suck his cock. I hadn't given myself permission to do that yet. My eyes were as wide as dinner plates, and the few hairs I had on my body were all standing up, alive with energy. I had goose bumps up and down my arms, and I could feel them on my legs as well. My nostrils were flaring, and I was breathing as fast as a racehorse that just ran the Kentucky Derby. I wrapped my fingers around his shaft, and gripped onto his hard cock, and I slowly began masturbating him. It was weird, because it was sort of like doing it to myself, which was a daily occurrence for me, but also not like that at all. I WAS MASTURBATING ANOTHER MANS COCK!!!! I watched a small river of clear love juice seep out of his little hole. I watched, transfixed, as one drop slowly gained enough tensile strength to form, and then slowly got too heavy to keep connected, and I watched it fall from his cock onto the floor. My eyes followed that drop the entire trip down. For about a tenth of one second, I had the urge to get down off the toilet and lick it up, off the floor. Then I sanely realized it was a mall bathroom floor, and there was absolutely no fucking way I was going to lick it. Then I realized he was making more. I could get it straight from the source. After all, he'd whisper-moaned, begging me to suck his cock. I'd read enough porn stories, and seen enough porn to know what it was. A blowjob. The urge was huge inside of me. Deep down, I gave myself permission. My fingers tightened on him, and moved a little faster, manipulating his skin up and down, and he moaned again, and forced his belly into the divider, driving his cock into my stall as far as was humanly possible. He was desperate, that much I knew. He was, as it turns out, also right on the edge of his explosion. As my head started moving towards his purple angry-looking cock head, my mouth started opening, and my tongue licked my lips in preparation, even though I was so NOT prepared, never having done it, and my brain was shouting out stream-of-consciousness words and thoughts as they formed: yes, you can do this, but no, I don't know how, but yes you want this, you've wanted this for so long, but wait, how do you actually do it? It didn't matter, in the end. Before I could get my mouth to him, he gasped out loud, a muffled tortured wail, and rammed his entire body hard into the divider, and on the very next up-stroke of my hand, his cock pulsed and throbbed and jinked in my palm, and he started shooting out great huge spurts of cum. The first blast went straight into the air, up about a foot and a half! Maybe two! It shocked me, and made me stop everything, like someone had pushed 'pause' on the DVD player, freeze-framing all of it. My hand, around his cock. His cock, full of blood and darker toned, throbbing as it spewed out a massive rope of white, thick, almost translucent cum. A second blast followed, almost immediately, with no break. The third blast wasn't quite as powerful, so it didn't shoot up in the air as much, but it landed on the tile floor, right in between my feet, just like the first two. There was a puddle of his cum between my Nike's. The fourth and fifth ropes were smaller still, and weaker, and the sixth was barely a pulse at all, more like a seep, which didn't have enough strength to shoot upwards and so it merely fell, gravity sliding it down his shaft, and onto my hand. My fingers. My skin. I let go of him, which made him moan a disappointed kind of sound, and I held my hand and arm in front of my face. I had his cum, his semen, his ejaculate, on my hand. Gravity was pulling at it again, and I watched a rivulet slide down me, towards my wrist. I WAS COVERED IN A MANS CUM!!!! Panic set in. I hadn't expected this. I hadn't pre-planned on this. What the hell was I supposed to do with his cum? Standing up suddenly, I used my left hand to roughly pull my pants and underwear back up, and over my own raging hard-on, keeping my right hand and arm away from myself, for fear of spreading his cum on my clothes. I threw open the stall door and stumbled over to a sink. Luckily, there was no one else in the room, and I managed to get a tap going and ran my hand and arm under it, watching the thick gel-like syrup slowly water down and slide away, into the sink. I could hear him in his stall, breathing heavily but calming down, and then the sounds of him zipping up and buckling up again. Panic set in again. I didn't want to see him. But more to the point, I didn't want him to see me. The pleasures of the act, satisfying my life-long urges, anything positive that I should have gleaned from today all burst like a balloon. The anonymous aspect of it was about to disappear, and it scared the living shit out of me. I bolted. I grabbed a couple of paper towels from the dispenser and ran. I stopped just inside the door, and had enough sense to get my pants done up properly, with the zipper up and the belt tied. I wiped my arm and hand down, and then I just escaped. Zooming past the store I was supposed to be going to, I didn't stop until I was outside the mall, past all the parking lots, and waiting at the bus stop. Inside I was frantically praying for a bus to arrive, for some way out of this to appear. Any bus. It didn't even matter if it was a route I could use. I just needed to get out. In case he was following me, I realized. In case he was just behind me, and ready to declare to all humanity that I was a filthy little faggot slut who'd just jerked him off in a bathroom stall. In case he was trying to ruin my life. When I eventually got home, I ran to my bedroom. Kicking off my shoes, I curled up in the fetal position under the covers and rocked myself. What had I done? What was I thinking? What would my parents think about me if they knew? What would the entire school do if they found out? Would I be ostracized forever? Would a bunch of them take me out back behind the outdoor basketball courts and kick the crap out of me? Would Mr. Lloyd hear about it and put his seduction plans into place? WAIT. WHAT? WHERE DID THAT COME FROM? When Mom called me for dinner, I noticed that the toe of my right sneaker was wet, and had an obvious stain on it. His cum. The cum of the man I'd masturbated in the washroom of the mall. The cum of the man that I'd just had gay sex with. Gay sex. Gay. Gay. Sex. I reminded myself, again and again. Sex. I'd had sex. I'd had sexual activity, in the most bizarre and unusual of places. I JUST HAD SEX IN A PUBLIC BATHROOM! AND IT WAS GAY SEX TO BOOT!!!!! The shame washed over me in waves. At first. But not for very long. Then the shame turned to a kind of thrill. I mean, I JUST HAD GAY SEX IN PUBLIC!!!! HOLYFUCKINGJESUSJOSEPHANDMARY! By the time dinner was over, I was having a difficult time suppressing a grin. I felt like I'd gotten away with a bank heist or something. Nobody at the table knew they were sitting and breaking bread with such a wild man. Such a pervert. Such a slut. I told my family I had homework to do, and locked myself in my bedroom. I replayed every detail of the event, every sight, every sound, every smell, in my head, over and over and over and over again. It was a mistake. It was the greatest moment of my life. Okay, it wasn't a mistake, so much as an aberration. A one-time thing. The youthful indiscretion that some people wrote about, in their memoirs. IT WAS THE GREATEST MOMENT OF MY LIFE. The see-saw battle between acceptance and rejection didn't last more than an hour or two. Acceptance won out. I had wanted it, I realized. I had given myself permission, from deep down. And now that it was over, now that it was in hindsight, now that it was a part of my history that could not be expunged or erased, I was glad it had happened. His cock had felt FANTASTIC in my hand. I smelled my sneaker too, lots of times. I thought about licking it. Instead, I masturbated myself, purposefully edging for a long long time. Usually, I erupted into an old athletic sock that I kept hidden from everyone, so no one could ever find it, the tell-tale striped crusty edges of a cum rag. This time, I blasted my load right onto my own body. All over my belly and chest, with a few drops shooting up to my collar bone. Laying on my back, on my bed, feeling like I'd just run the longest marathon of my life, my heart trying to calm down and not leap out of my rib cage, a new urge took over me. Taste it. TASTE IT! The first blob of it had an odor to it, I realized, after I'd scooped it up with a finger and brought it to my face. It was a smell that made me startle. It was earthy, and pungent. It was alive! I waited, my finger poised near my lips, wondering what I would do. Did I want to taste it? Deep down, I gave myself permission. In all the years I'd been masturbating, since I'd first discovered it as a youth, I'd never once tasted my own cum. The first touch of it to my lips, and then onto the taste buds of my tongue, and then rolling onto the taste buds in my mouth, affected me more than the previous events of the day. Yes, I'd jerked a man off, and yes his cum was on my running shoe. But this, this taste, these sensations, these droplets of cream, staggered me. There was nothing I'd ever encountered, in all my years that came close to this taste. Creamy, salty, heady, earthy, it just kept making me think the word 'real', as in this was a truly real thing to be enjoying and swallowing, real as life. It shook me to the bone. I swallowed every single speck of cum I could find. First, I rolled it around inside my mouth, letting it touch my gums and teeth and palate, letting it coat my lips like gloss, like Chap-Stick. LIKE LIPSTICK! Even though it had never happened before, I was instantly erect again, right after my explosion. Tasting my own cum, and dreaming of lipstick, made me jump up, find an old pair of panties that I still held onto, and slide them up my smooth skin. I gave myself permission to wear them. Always. From that day forward, I wore panties under my clothes. To school. It was daring and dangerous and kept me in a state of semi-hardness twenty-four hours a day. I especially hoped that Mr. Lloyd might have noticed. He never did. I did go back to the mall, many times. I went back to the same washrooms, after scoping them out to make sure they weren't being used for their stated purposes. I spent many an hour in that stall, waiting for someone to play with. A few times people came in, and an even fewer amount of times someone came into the next stall, but it never happened again. After high school, I went to community college, to get a certificate in Hotel Management. I figured that there would always be work in that field. Every day, and I mean EVERY FUCKING DAY, I hoped and fantasized that I'd get to masturbate a man again. I daydreamed that I'd get the opportunity to taste someone else's cum, since I was now a daily consumer of my own. I dreamed up all sorts of fantastical scenarios about fellow students, or professors, or visitors, or hell, even people on the street. Bizarre ideas would constantly echo and rebound in my brain cavity. Most of them were about public sex, and all of them were about men. Gay sex. Gay. I scoured the washrooms at the college too, even in buildings I didn't have classes in and therefore had no reason to go into. I kept my ears open and constantly hoped to hear muted quiet snippets of other people's conversations, praying that someone would surreptitiously give away the secrets I so desperately wanted to know. Where did men go for anonymous sex with other men? Where could I find sympathetic fellow travellers down the cross- dressing gay road I seemed to want to travel on? Who would let me touch them, let me masturbate them? Who would allow me the privilege of taking their cock into my mouth? Where was the man who'd want me to suck him? Where was he, the man who could shoot his cum straight into my mouth and immediately into my soul? WHERE WAS MY LOVER? I had given myself permission, after all, to do those things. And more. I'd learned, soon after my mall adventure, that sliding my cum-coated finger into my own ass made me quiver with delight. I'd watched enough porn to know that anal sex was both daunting and the most electrifying, exciting thing imaginable. I'd given myself permission. The urge was ALWAYS there. In the end, pardon the pun, it came down to an underground magazine. It was an accident, I suppose. I mean, I wasn't looking for it, I wasn't even aware it existed, and yet there it was, in plain sight, strewn on a park bench, on the grounds of the college, near the library. DV8. That was the name of it, in a bright red font, over top of a picture of a male model who looked a lot like Arnold whats-his-name. Muscles on muscles. Oiled-up skin. The tiniest barely-there speedo bathing suit. The very obvious and very intriguing bulge. Cock. I knew what that was like. I'd masturbated one. Once. I grabbed the magazine and shoved it into my backpack. When I got home, I told my Mom I had tons of studying to do. I was right, in a sense. Just not about Hotel Management. I studied every square inch of every page of that magazine. There were true stories of sexual adventures, all of them either gay or bi or group or BDSM, there were articles about all the different 'alternative lifestyles' in our city. There were articles on how-to's, and where- to's. There were pictorials. There was a huge classified section in the back that catered to every kind of kink and every kind of person. I had the biggest hard-on of my life. There were ads for retail shops that catered to various different clientele, including three that advertised themselves as CD FRIENDLY. I memorized their addresses right there and then. There were ads for places that sold Adult Toys. They also rented videos. I committed some of them to mind as well. There were also a few ads for places where people could watch XXX-rated movies. There was one full-on movie theater, and several 'arcades', as they were called, where individual booths were available for small- screen viewing. Purchase a roll of quarters at the door and watch as many as you like. One of them was tantalizingly close to college. And open twenty-four hours a day. And as it turned out, right next door to one of the clothing/sex toy shops I wanted to visit. The next day, I went to my first class of the day, but during the entire boring lecture I couldn't think of anything but cutting the rest of the day and visiting those shops. My mind played over a hundred different scenarios, from mild to wild. Each new fantasy, each new creation in my mind must have sent certain signals to my core, because it was on my way to my second class that I gave myself permission. Walking outside of the building, it was like being hit with the proverbial bolt of lightning. Turn left, and walk into Professor Specht's hall. Turn right, and follow your urges. I turned right. My penis became instantly erect, in my panties. I'm certain a few people noticed it, all those goody-two-shoes actually going to class. It didn't matter to me if they did. I had permission. That's why I had no hesitation when I reached the front door of the retail store. I could have just kept on walking. I probably would have in my past life. But grabbing the door handle, pulling it open, and walking boldly in was, I suppose, pre-ordained. I'd already given myself the permission. The goth chick with the huge ring through her nose looked at me and then looked away. She couldn't have cared less. I realized she'd probably seen all sorts in her time here. There was a cornucopia of sex in the store. There were dildos, and vibrators, and cock rings, and sex toys of every size and shape imaginable, there were shelves and shelves of lubes and creams, there were racks of boxes containing games, and gadgets, and videos galore. There were walls and walls of videos. There was clothing, some on counter tops and some hanging on racks. There were outfits. Complete kits, in clear plastic bags. Sexy Nurse. Sexy Witch. Sexy Schoolmarm. Sexy police officer. Lots of others. Some of them were complete with wigs and heels, others were just the lingerie. Panties. Bras. Stockings. Garters. Slips. Camisoles. Bustiers. I couldn't help the oozing in my panties. I couldn't imagine ever feeling that incredible, to wear those kinds of things. I was overcome with the urges. A short fifteen minutes later, I walked out of there with almost eighty dollars worth of lingerie under my boy clothes. A bralette, panties, and thigh-high stockings. I'd also grabbed two lipsticks from the front counter. One was as pink as bubble gum; the other was the kind of red that just screams out 'SLUT!' There were a whole bunch of wigs on Styrofoam heads, on a shelf up above the cash register. The goth chick saw me staring at them, and asked me if I wanted to add to the bill. I shook my head. "Maybe next time," I said. Then I asked her to let me change in the washroom, so she knew I wasn't stealing anything. There was no way I was going to fuck up being able to come back to this store. I'd already satisfied the urges, and I knew I'd be having the urges again every day for the rest of my life, so I couldn't spoil a good spot. She had the most completely uninterested look on her face as she said, "fill your boots". I walked out of her store and turned immediately into the front door of the 'arcade'. Which it was, as it turns out. There were at least two dozen full-sized arcade games, in the main room. The lights were low, there was thrash metal music playing, and all sorts of machines were making all sorts of electronic noises. On the right, at the back, I saw the neon sign that said 'MOVIES'. The ugly guy at the counter nodded at me, and I fished a ten dollar bill out and handed it to him. He gave me a roll of quarters, and nodded at me again. I was nervous as hell walking back there, because I'd never been in such a place and had no idea what it would look like or how things worked, but any fears that popped up were immediately placated by the main voice in my head, which kept telling me that I had weighed the pros and cons and discerned my course of action. I'd given myself permission. It got much darker as soon as I walked through the curtains. There were about a dozen little booths, maybe fifteen, with little bench seats and tiny t.v. screens, and a slot to put quarters in. About five were in use, as far as I could tell, and there were a few people milling about, as if they were trying to decide what they wanted to do. Some of them looked right at me, while others looked away, trying not to be seen. I ducked into the sixth booth along one side, near the end, and closed the door. Cracking the roll, I fed six coins in to the machine, and the screen jumped to life. There was a really fat chick, her tits like droopy water balloons, on her hands and knees, with a man feeding his cock into her mouth, and another man ramming his cock into her pussy from behind. The sound was coming out of one tiny little speaker, and tinny. Mostly it was just gasps and moans. She was making all kinds of gagging noises. There was a big white button on the control panel, so I hit it, and the screen jumped to a different movie. Two thick MILFs, each probably in their sixties, in poor lighting, wearing too much make-up, both of them looking either heavily-drugged or just plain out of it, dyking it out in a classic sixty-nine, their moans put on and not genuine, as their tongues wiggled and waggled in the other's hairy fleshy pussy. I hit the button again. Bright light filled my booth. Once I got used to it I realized it was an outdoor shot, the sunlight streaming right into the lens, which then moved, taking away the burn, and showing a naked young man, maybe twenty or so, on his knees, on the shoulder of a road somewhere, next to a beat-up old sedan, choking on the cock of a much older man, who was leaned up against the car, his fat old belly hanging down, his hands secured in the hair of the young fellow, forcefully face-fucking him. The gagging and choking noises shocked me, to my core. I hit the button again. A shower scene, like in a school gymnasium, or a sports club. About a dozen or so naked in-shape men, all of them tanned and oiled up, obviously models, all of them engaged in one form or another of gay sex. Some were soaping each other up, some were making out under the spray. Some were jerking cocks. Some were swallowing cocks. A couple of them were bent over, their hands against the wall, bigger men behind them, ramming them in the ass, frantically sodomizing them. I shoved more quarters in, so I didn't miss a single second. I gave myself permission. My jacket and t-shirt came off, revealing the bralette I'd bought. It was a dull brown color, and the material was a little fuzzy, and probably not top-of-the-line, but it didn't matter. It cupped my little breasts, and held me around my torso, and felt like the kind of gentle restraint and support that I had yearned for all of my life without knowing what it was. It felt like heaven. Stripping off my shoes, and then pants, I exposed to the tiny room my new panties, virginal white, and the thigh-high stay-up stockings, which were black, and fishnet. Grabbing the garish red lipstick from my pocket, I opened it and ran it over my lips, again and again and again, pausing each time to smooch them together, to make sure all of my lips were covered and looked sexy. I'd never been more adventurous. I'd never been more brave. I'd never imagined myself to have the chutzpah I was displaying. Brazenly wearing women's lingerie and makeup in the booth of a slighty-dirty porno shop, watching gay sex on the screen, and imagining myself immersed in it. After all, I'd given myself permission. For everything so far. I began rubbing myself, through the panties. There was already a small round wet stain, from my own clear pre-cum. I slipped a finger inside the hem and brushed it across my cockhead, where a huge lake of liquid had pooled in the circle of my foreskin. A great big blob of that juice stuck to my finger, which I immediately pulled out of my panties and brought to my mouth. I sucked at my finger, moaning out loud my joy as the taste of it hit my sensibilities. YUM FUCKING YUM! Suddenly, the door to the booth burst open. I looked up in shock at some pudgy middle-aged man, with a bushy moustache and even bushier eyebrows, looking at me. I shook my head, NO! He backed out, and closed the door. I hurriedly scanned the inside of the door. How do you lock them? Surely there should be a lock, right? I couldn't see one. The screen went dark. SHIT! I fumbled around and found some more quarters and fed them in, and the screen came back to life. This movie was different still. A room, it looked like somebody's basement living room, or den. In through a door came a man, in a cheap-looking suit and tie. He began undressing, showing off a trim body, and once he dropped his drawers, a pretty decent sized cock, just starting to harden. He turned to off-camera and said, "Get in here, baby!" I heard four clicks, and then saw the reason for them. High-heeled shoes, stilettos, attached to a pair of sexy legs, in black stockings, and as I scanned up I saw a garter belt, also black, and panties, also black, and then a bra, also black, and then a blonde-hair wig on the head of a modestly-pretty woman. Except, of course, she was a he. I'd seen something in the panties, on the scan up, and immediately went back to them again. Yup, there was a little lump in there. She walked into his arms, and they immediately started kissing, his tongue going down her throat, much to her amusement based upon her noises. His hands were going up and down her back to her ass and she was running her long fake fingernails through the hair at the back of his head. He didn't have any on the top. They made out for a few moments, and then he put his hands onto her shoulders and pushed her down to her knees. She smiled as he did, like she was happy to be where she was, and where she was going. His cock hit her on the chin as she settled down, and she immediately grabbed it with one hand and stuffed the big fat head into her mouth, and I could see the shape of her tongue wriggling around inside, going round and round his helmet. She looked up at him, and smiled even more. The wet spot in my panties was getting to be a small lake, and I casually scooped up more juice a couple of times, savoring the taste and tang of it, watching the man begin to buck his hips and force more and more of his cock into her mouth and throat. She smiled even more. A few more minutes of cocksucking, and she almost jumped up and kissed him again, with lots of sloppy tongue. Then he grabbed her by the arms, and turned her, and bent her over the mattress. He checked over his shoulder, and I realized he was looking at a monitor, and he adjusted the both of them so the lone camera could actually get the sex act. Slipping his finger into her panties, at the rear, right between her ass cheeks, he pulled it violently off to the right side, and then grabbed his ramrod-hard cock, lined it up with her puckering ring, and PLOW! shoved his entire erection right into her, balls deep. I gasped for her. She screamed, the pain obvious even through the crappy little speaker. Then he grabbed her by both hips and just started pummelling her, smashing himself into her again and again and over and over. Her cheeks, which were generous, to say the least, bounced and rippled every time he bottomed out in her, and she yelped each time. I pulled my rod free from the panties and started stroking hard. I wanted to cum, I needed to cum, and I wanted to do it with him. Based on his actions, I assumed it would be sooner than later. I started jerking on myself, splayed on the little bench, in my lingerie and lipstick. The door opened again. A crack. Wide enough for me to look up and see him. He looked like a stock broker, or a high-priced lawyer. He was wearing a dark blue suit that looked like it cost a thousand bucks. His tie was silk, his shirt crisp and snow white. His glasses were designer types, and it looked like the little screws were made out of gold, or platinum. I watched his eyes go big and wide, and then he pushed the door open a little more, and nodded at me. It only seemed right to nod back. He smiled, and slipped into the booth, and closed the door. "My my," his deep voice soothed, "don't you look sexy as hell!" I couldn't help it. I giggled. Acceptance. He gave me that, in a heartbeat. And confidence, too. And he revved my motor up a few gears as well. He slipped his suit jacket off, and carefully hung it on a hook on the back of the door. "What's your name?" he asked. Which took me out of my reverie, if only for a moment. I hadn't thought of a name. But it came to me. "Eve." The screen went dark. I jumped and fumbled more quarters into the slot. It sprang to life again with yet a different movie. This was an orgy, all heterosexual as far as I could tell, and looked about forty years old, based on the d?cor and the hairstyles. It was a mass pile of middle-aged out-of- shape Mom's and Dad's, all humping away in somebody's suburban rumpus room. Reflex made me hit the button. A black man, as huge as Thor, was ram-fucking a much smaller white man, who looked barely old enough to vote, over top of the hood of an old Corvette, in a boring nondescript two-car garage. The young white guy was in tears, sobbing and crying, and yet also moaning as loud as could be, "DON'T STOP DADDY! DON'T STOP!" I turned to look at my visitor. He'd pulled his shirt and tie off and carefully hung them. His chest was bare, no hair at all. He had some love handles, for sure, but for what I guessed his age to be (mid-forties?) he looked in pretty good shape. He was smiling down at me. His smile was deceiving. It looked partly joyful and partly sinister. "I'm Robert," he said, and undid his belt, which was expensive leather. "Not Rob, or Bob, or Bobby. Robert." One quick unhook, and one quick unzip, and he carefully stepped out of his trousers. His boxer briefs had a VERY big lump in them. He put his hands on his hips. "The rest is up to you," he whispered, "I don't force myself on anyone." From my almost-prone position, I was almost head height with his groin. I waited. For permission. For me to give myself permission. It came, almost instantly. I grabbed his underwear with both hands and pulled them down his legs, leaning over to complete the task and let his feet step out of them. In his Ivy League designer socks. He took his underwear out of my hands, and hung it with everything else. I was eye to cock with him. It bounced, and moved as he did. It throbbed. It looked to be about seven, maybe seven-and-a-half inches long, and uncut, and a little thicker than my own cock, and his volcano top of a foreskin was just like mine. A pool of juice sat there. A second or two later, he held out his hands, and non-verbally invited me to stand. He was a couple of inches taller than me. His skin was a slight tan color; in the blaring light of the video screen, where the black man was still pile-driving the white man. "Eve," he said, staring down into my eyes, "I want to kiss you. Is that okay?" The urge swept through me, spreading outward from my heart. "Yes, Robert," I said, my voice quavering and barely-there, "I'd love it if you would kiss me!" He wrapped his arms around me, and I put mine up over his shoulders, and our bodies came together, and I felt his cock up against my tummy, and my smaller one was touching his body, and then we were squeezing harder and hugging harder and his hands slid down to my bum and he pulled even more and my almost-ready-to-blow penis got squished up against him, and his face came slowly at me, and I closed my eyes, and then he kissed me. It was warm, and alive, and soft, and vibrant and I moaned into his mouth and then I just began shaking and twitching and when his tongue gently came into my mouth and licked at my tongue I bucked my whole groin at him and started cumming. All over both of us. Lost at sea, my grip on his head pulled his tongue even farther into me, and I was sucking at it. It seemed to be my natural response. And I marvelled at how I had spent my life being the guy, trying to French kiss a girl, trying to get my tongue in her, and how now I was the girl, and absolutely loving his tongue in me. He broke our kiss, and looked down our bodies. There was white frothy cum on our tummies, and sliding down into our groins. I couldn't help but feel sad that I still had my little growth of pubic hair. In the time it takes for an idea to form, I swore to myself I'd be shaving my body from now on. He looked me in the eyes. "Eve," he leered, "I'm a married man, and I can't go home with your cum all over me, now can I?" I shook my head. Of course not. That wouldn't do, at all. "So," he laughed, "you'll have to clean that up, won't you?" I may have set the land speed record for dropping to one's knees. My tongue got very busy, licking everywhere, swallowing great globs of my cum, going over the same areas multiple times to make sure I got everything. Then I moved lower, to his cock and balls. I looked up at him. "Uh oh," I playfully cooed, "looks like some of my yummies slid down to your balls. I'll have to clean them up too!" He nodded his approval. I gave myself permission. A big jump. A huge jump. I'd masturbated a cock, once. That's it. The extent of my experience and abilities with a cock. Sure, I'd watched porn, and watched lots of oral sex, but this was a whole different ball game. This was me, performing oral sex. This was me, little old me, dressed in lingerie, in a porn video booth, with an adult man, who I'd seconds ago made out with, and now I was getting close to performing oral on him. PERFORMING ORAL SEX ON A MAN!!! From deep inside my being, I gave myself permission. I took another man's testicle into my mouth, and quietly sucked on it, the hair creating a mesh inside my mouth, my cum oozing its way onto my tongue, and into my throat. It was the biggest head rush I'd ever encountered. My left hand reached up and grabbed him by the base of his shaft, and all the memories of that day in the public washroom came flooding back to me. The heat of the skin of a cock. The pulsing energy and life of a cock. In my hand, again. Where it should be. I moved him to the left, and moved my mouth to suck on his other testicle. To clean it, of course. But also, to adore it. Finally, when both were clean, I aimed his magnificent rod on the horizontal plane, toward my face. I looked up at him. He nodded. I nodded back. I gave myself permission. The first moment my lips touched the skin of his head, his cock lunged at me, and seemed alive, like an animal, inside my mouth. It was thick, and I had to open my jaw a little bit. It slid to the back of my mouth, and stopped. I WAS SUCKING ON A MAN'S COCK!!!!!! I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE IT!!!! I'M SUCKING ON A COCK, AND I'M IN FUCKING LA-LA-LAND!!! He groaned out loud, and hissed out an, "oh yeah!" I started bobbing. The physical sensation of a thick roundish shaft going in and out of my mouth, my lips and tongue conforming to the girth, the size of it, trying to take more and more of it into me with every bob, it was all so surreal, and so shocking, and so wonderful. I closed my eyes, and tried to banish every thought in the world, except the feeling of his cock, the taste of him, the salt of his skin, the tang of his syrup, the lure of meeting up with his pubic hair. I was bound and determined to make it happen. Concentrating on NOT concentrating, I just let things happen. He kept hissing out, "OH YEAH!" and I kept sucking and licking and slurping and swallowing, and getting faster as I went along. "Here it comes," he panted. I sucked harder. "OH BABY, HERE IT COMES!" he moaned. I sucked more. I opened my eyes. I looked up at him. He looked down at me, his eyes as wide as saucers, his nostrils flared, his skin flushed red, his mouth open and his tongue flicking around his lips. He was trying to say something, but he couldn't find the words. I knew what he wanted me to know. Then his eyes clenched shut. His first blast of cum flooded my mouth, and made me almost choke, and I sputtered, and gulped, with his exploding wriggling snake bouncing around in my lips, and then his second blast filled my mouth and blasted out in tiny little rivulets from where my lips weren't perfectly sealed around his shaft, and I sputtered and swallowed as much as I could, and his third and fourth shots filled my mouth again, and I swallowed a huge amount, and then he oozed out a few more droplets while he was hissing out a strangled cry, his eyes squeezed tight, like he was enduring the most difficult ordeal of all time. But it wasn't an ordeal. It was the absolute height of pleasure. He jerked and spasmed and I swallowed and licked and slurped and felt his cock actually begin to deflate, to lose its thickness and length. I had the urge to get him hard again. I REALLY WANTED TO DO THAT AGAIN!!!! He let me clean up the last of his cummy drips, and then he pulled his cock out of my mouth, and he sat down heavily on the bench seat. He was breathing hard, and let out a huge audible "WHEW!", like what he'd gone through had nearly exhausted him. His eyes looked at me, and he smiled, and then he looked away, and sighed, and I presume started thinking about his wife, at home, and how he'd just cheated on her, and I saw his expression change, from joy to regret. Here was the very first cock I'd ever sucked, the very first man I'd ever made cum in my mouth, the physical manifestation of something I'd been dreaming about my WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE!, and instead of joy, I began feeling sad. I began sharing his regret, or at least picking up on it. I began to wish I hadn't done that, to her. I began to wish I hadn't insinuated myself in their relationship. Then the screen went black. I hesitated, not knowing if I wanted to watch more porn, but I still had a bunch of quarters, so I fed a few into the slot. The movie that popped up, lighting the booth again, was yet another new one. This one had an over-the-top transvestite, heavily made-up, grotesquely made-up, wearing a glittering sequined evening gown, like she'd just walked into a Miss America contest, on her back, on a mattress, with three naked men around her. One was jerking himself off, his cock barely out of her mouths reach. One was laying off to the side, his cock shrunken and withered, as if he'd just cum and needed some time to recover. The third man was between her splayed legs, his cock buried in her ass, her pussy, and he was humping away like nobody's business. She was licking her lips. Over and over again. And I knew where fellow number two had just exploded his cum into. She'd given to him the exact same thing I'd just given to Robert. A blowjob. She'd sucked cock, like I had. LIKE I HAD!!!!!!!! I turned to my guy, and his eyes were focussed off in the distance somewhere, as if he was a thousand miles away. I somehow knew where he was, spiritually. He was in his own marital bed, trying to justify the indiscretion he'd just been involved in. Maybe it was the male in me, but I knew what that look meant. For about a second or two, I felt bad for him. For them. For her. Then I looked at his cock, which had just been in my mouth, and all I could think about was doing it again. I leaned over and kissed him, on the upper thigh. He looked down at me and sighed. "Can I suck you one more time?" I asked. His eyes shot open. "You want it?" he asked, surprised. I nodded. "Yes please," I whispered. He looked down at his cock, and then at my mouth, my lipstick smeared all over my lips and cheeks. I saw his cock move a little, jiggle a little bit, and gain a small fraction of size. There was some blood shooting into those capillaries, I thought. Then a gigantic sea of something sad came over him, and he looked away from me, to the screen, seeing the TV on the t.v., who was now making little 'whooping' noises as the guy continued to fuck her. Robert waited a few seconds, and then shook his head. "I have to go," was all he said. I watched him put his expensive clothes back on, slowly. He tried a couple of times to look over and down at me, coming close to making eye contact once or twice, but he couldn't do it. Finally, his tie tightened and straight, he reached into one of his pants pockets and pulled out a wallet. Sliding a couple of bills out, he placed them down on the bench seat, near where my head was. Not looking me in the eye, he said, "that's for you. Buy yourself something pretty." Then he opened the door, peered out discretely, and seeing the way clear, he slipped out of the booth, shutting the door behind him. I saw two fifty dollar bills next to me. My immediate reaction was disappointment. At not getting to suck more cock, yes. But also at the idea that Robert thought I was some sort of prostitute. I mean, it kind of stunned me, and I just sat there, in silence, in disbelief. The transvestite was getting pounded now, her 'whoops' getting louder, and I was on my knees, the taste of another man's cum still vibrant in my mouth, the memory of his thick shaft between my lips still omnipresent in my mind, a belly full of cum, and a hundred dollars richer. A HUNDRED DOLLARS RICHER! JUST FOR SUCKING HIS COCK, WHICH I WOULD GLADLY DO AGAIN FOR FREE!!!!! That's where my viewpoint began to change. Realizing that I now had the resources to buy more sexy lingerie, and maybe even one of the wigs on the shelf in the store next door, my own little cock began hardening again. New panties! Ya-fucking-hoo! I masturbated myself, watching the tranny on screen, using up the rest of my quarters. Guy number one jerked himself off all over her, most of it landing on her fake boobs, and I got mad at him, for potentially ruining a perfectly good glittery evening gown. I hope he pays her something too, so she could afford the dry cleaning! Guy number two just watched and didn't recover. Guy number three eventually pulled out and came all over her hairless genitals, his load dripping down her balls and into the crack of her ass as she oohed and oohed some more. I came for the second time just after that, as the last quarter I had went in, and I'd switched channels to a video of an in-shape oiled-up Hispanic body builder feeding a grotesquely huge cock into the ass of a very young white guy, missionary style. I mean very young. It made me worry whether this would be considered illegal. Still, the sound that kid was making as his ass was defiled with the massive pipe of the gym monkey affected me, inside. Deep down, where the permission gets granted. I was back in the very same booth the next day. I'd spent the entire twenty-four hours since then living and reliving the moments again and again, revelling in the outlandish naughtiness of it all. Wearing lingerie, and lipstick. Watching porn. Kissing a man, being kissed by a man, cumming with him, and then sucking his cock until he rewarded me with his seed. IT WAS THE BEST DAY OF MY ENTIRE LIFE!!!! The next day, I sucked off two guys, in the same lingerie. Neither of them wanted to kiss me, or hold me, or even cared if I enjoyed myself. They both just wanted to get sucked. One of them was pretty average-sized, and didn't last very long before he squirted his watery seed into my mouth. The other guy was a bit aggressive with me, holding onto my head as he tried to fuck my mouth, but I had enough strength to hold him off, to push on his meaty thighs, to get him to back off, to make him realize I didn't want to go through that, and he eventually let me set the pace, and I was able to make him cum pretty good. His juice was sweet, and thick. It made me wonder what he ate that was so different from the other two guys. The day after that, I spent an hour in a booth, and only managed to watch a bunch of videos and jerk myself off. It was a slow day in the arcade, and I couldn't even get a nibble. I couldn't get there the next day, or the one after that, which made me sad and anxious and took my usual amount of yearnings and amplified them by a few thousand degrees. So the first chance I got, I was back in the sex store. I opted for the Sexy Nurse outfit, and I used Robert's money. Then I dipped into my own savings for school supplies with enough to purchase a wig. The goth chick behind the counter nodded when I pointed it out, as if she knew that was the one I'd go for. It was the richest shade of auburn I'd ever seen, and it was thick and curly and luxurious. But the best part about it was it was sooooooo long. I tried it on first, and it came down almost all the way to my calves. It was heavy too, and if I let it it would pull at my head, forcing my head back a little, keeping my chin up. I stuffed it into a shopping bag she gave me. It had the logo of the sex store on it, a stylized silhouette of a woman, well built and in high heels, turned profile, with long thick curly hair running down her back. The ugly guy in the arcade next door took one look at the bag I was carrying, recognized the logo, and laughed out loud. I bought two rolls of quarters. I planned on staying all afternoon. There were a few men in the movie lobby, milling about. As I inventoried them, I spotted a gorgeous business suit, dark and pin- striped, and my heart raced, and my blood pressure soared, and I instantly thought to myself, 'OH MY GOD, ROBERT IS HERE! HOW COULD I GET SO LUCKY?' Another step forward told me it wasn't him. This man I was staring at was bigger, in every way I could see. He was taller, and broader, and wider, and had to outweigh Robert by fifty pounds. He was also of obvious African descent, but his skin was as light as a two-creamer coffee. His dark smoldering eyes were like laser beams, aimed right at me. I slipped into my favorite booth, and began undressing. Underneath my sweater and baggy pants I had become the Sexy Nurse, with a halter- style white bra, that had red trim, and the tiniest barely-there white panties, a G-string, also with red trim, and red fishnet thigh-high stockings, with white bows on the top lace, and a little nurses hat that gets pinned into your hair, which I did as soon as I'd slipped on the wig. I was going to go with the bubble-gum colored lipstick, but at the last second changed my mind, and coated my lips with the slutty red. I threw some quarters into the machine. The first movie that popped up was a compilation of older men, some of them white-haired and ancient, teaching younger men all about sex. There were blowjobs, and fuckings, and more blowjobs, and more fuckings. My cock was rigid in my panties and almost spewing out juice. There was a knock on my door. That had never happened before. Is this some process I'm not aware of? Have I done something wrong? It snapped me out of my reverie. "Hello?" I asked tentatively. The deepest richest warmest voice came through from the other side. "May I come in?" I didn't know what to say. I thought, well, maybe. I mean, yes, I'm here to hopefully find some horny cock to masturbate, because I've already done that and I LOVED it, and of course I was there to find cock to also suck on, because I'd also done that and I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING LOVED IT!, but I also know that certain guys just aren't my type. Certain looks, I guess. I mean, we all have our likes and dislikes, right? What if this man with the soothing voice was ugly? "Okay," I stammered out. The door opened just a crack, and I saw an eye and a bit of a cheek and part of an ear, and the eye opened wide, like it had just seen something totally surprising, and then the rest of the face appeared as the door was opened all the way, and I was staring at him. The Black man, in the expensive suit. He slipped in, and closed the door behind him. He turned to me, and kept his hands behind him, on the door, and he leaned back into it. I got the impression he was leaving me as much room as he could, in consideration of any fears or feelings I might be having. Hell, maybe he was just holding back until I decided whether I liked him or not. Or whether now that he'd seen me up close he was deciding if he liked me or not. Either way, he seemed to be showing me either nervousness, or an enormous amount of respect, both of which warmed me inside. I got to hear that smooth deep voice again. "You are so sexy," he growled, almost-moaned, eyeing me up and down. "You're Eve, I hope?" he asked. He had to have seen the confused look on my face. Only one person on the planet knew of me by that name, and he wasn't the guy. "Yes," I admitted, flabbergasted, "how did you know that?" He smiled, a huge grin coming over his face. His skin was dark and yet light, and gorgeous, with no faults that I could see, and his eyes were like fireballs. Like Robert last week, this man's suit was ultra- expensive, and unquestionably tailor-made. I quickly scanned up and down, from his polished shoes, no doubt the finest leather, to his long sturdy-looking legs, to his groin, where there was a significant shape, to his belly and chest, in the whitest of silk shirts and the bluest of silk ties, and finally to the diamond stud in the lobe of his left ear. And all of him was just so much larger than me, or Robert for that matter. This man was significant in size. For some reason, I noticed that even his fingers seemed so much bigger than mine. It was the most genuine smile I'd ever seen. "I can't believe I found you, first time!" he chuckled. I was even more confused. "What do you mean, found me?" He reached out his right hand, and patted the air in between us. "Please, don't be alarmed," he whispered, "I'm not a nutcase, or a danger to you in any way, although I could understand why you might naturally feel that way. You need to protect yourself, of course!" I nodded to confirm he was right. "Allow me introduce myself. My name is Walter," he smiled, and leaned back against the door again, giving me my space, "and I'm a, well, I'm an acquaintance of Robert." He waited for me to recognize the name. "He told me all about you, all about meeting you here, and, well," he stopped, seeming to search for the right words, "he couldn't say enough about you, about your feminine beauty, about how you were, and I quote, 'the god-damned best kisser' he'd ever had!" Walter let me revel in that knowledge, which I most assuredly did. The best kisser? And here I thought it was Robert who was so fantastic at that! "And," Walter continued, "he also told me how after you had, um, well," he paused, I assume trying to put things delicately and diplomatically, "after you had given him the very best happy ending of his entire life, how he'd suddenly gotten an enormous case of the guilts." OH MY GOD. He knew. Walter knew, somehow. He wasn't making this up. So he had to have been talking to Robert. "He did change," I whispered, "I remember that. It was my very first time, and I loved it so much," I paused, searching for my own words, "that I wanted to do it again. And then," I paused again, "he wanted to, but something changed his mind. I could sense it." Walter nodded, conveying to me he completely understood the situation. "Robert is new to our group, and he's perhaps still coming to terms with his feelings." I looked at Walter, the question on my face. "Your group?" Walter smiled. I watched his eyes go up and down me, twice, and I watched his facial expressions. If I wasn't mistaken, he was looking at me with desire. He was looking at me with a certain kind of hunger. "It's a web site," he said, and then the screen went dark. I slid some more quarters into the slot, and the booth lit up again. This time it was a video of two silver-haired Daddies on their knees, orally worshipping the biggest erection I'd ever seen, in any porn, anywhere. The man was a giant, in every way, including a cock that, while never being able to get above the horizontal plane, looked to be well over a foot long. The two Daddies each had one side of the shaft, and plenty of room to kiss and lick and suck on, their tongues occasionally crossing paths. "It's a web site," Walter repeated, "catering to professional businessmen. Successful men, like myself, who have otherwise spoiled and happy lives and still have so much more love to give than they can within the confines of their traditional relationships." He let me absorb the information. "Men of a certain age, mostly married as far as I know, who network, online. We share our thoughts, our desires, and our experiences, and we sometimes set up meetings, you know," he paused, "with other like- minded individuals." I nodded. I understood the concepts, if not the particulars. "And," he said, his word drawn out and smooth as the hottest cup of coffee, "Robert chatted about his experience with you here. Here in this arcade." I smiled. "Here in this exact booth," I said, trying not to take any of the pride out of my voice. Walter smiled from ear to ear, and his eyes opened up wide. His voice became deeper, and softer. "Is that right?" I nodded. He just kept smiling and staring at me. It was like he was trying to communicate with me without using words. I could see him running through possible outcomes in his mind, all of them delightful to him. Delightful to me too, I thought. Is it true what they say about Black men? "The fact is that I've never actually met Robert, in person. We've seen each other, so to speak, on the web site, for a couple of years, since he first joined. The group is from all over the world, naturally. But I saw on his profile that we lived in the same city. I introduced myself at the time, and he and I have chatted here and there, off and on, for a while now." "I see." It was all I could think of to say. "Robert couldn't stop talking about you the other day. He kept saying, several times, that he just couldn't have imagined walking into a place like this and meeting someone so pretty, and sexy, and full of life." I blushed. "He also said several times how terribly he felt after he'd left you here, after he'd been overcome by the shame of 'cheating on his wife'." He did the two finger quote thing with both hands. "It can happen. And he kept saying that he wanted to somehow get the message to you that it wasn't about you at all, and that he hopes your feelings weren't hurt at all." I just looked at Walter. "Were they?" he asked. I shrugged a little. "It was my first time here," I whispered, "so I didn't know if that's the way it always goes." Walter looked at me with some sadness, as if someone he loved had just received some negative news. "It's not, baby," he said, his baritone low and rumbly, "Robert just had one of those rare reactions, I guess. It could happen to anyone." I looked right at him. "Has it ever happened to you?" I asked. He shook his head, determinedly. "Never." Then we stared at each other, and then as he began to smile, so did I. "When I meet someone I'm attracted to," he intoned, "I make it my business to pursue it. I love my wife with all my heart, but any fun I have independently isn't about her. It's about me." He let that hang in the air. "It's about my desires. My passions. I make sure that my wife gets all the loving she wants, of course. Because I do truly love her, and we've been blessed with three wonderful children and a lifetime of love together. But it turns out that I want more than she's capable of. That's not a criticism of her, you understand?" I nodded, because I did. "Different people, naturally, have different levels, different needs." He paused. "I have much more to give and take than she does, that's all." He paused again. "And I enjoy certain aspects of human sexuality that she isn't comfortable with, or even physically built for." His voice was just barely louder than the tinny sound coming out of the speaker. I slid some more quarters into the slot. I was curious. "Like what?" Walter grinned again, from ear to ear. "I have lived my life with an enormous capacity for romance, and love- making. And since as far back as I can remember, I've had urges and desires that don't just limit me to women." He stopped for a second, to let me fully absorb his meaning. "Eve, I enjoy sexual relationships with other men," he said, openly and honestly and proudly, "especially younger men, and especially younger men who enjoy embracing their femininity." He stood up tall. He was so much bigger than me, in every respect. "Younger feminine men," he whispered, "like you." I looked up at him, at his full lips and perfect skin and barrel chest, and wondered what it would be like to be wrapped up in his arms, safe from the world. "Like me?" He nodded. "Like you, Eve." I felt my blood beginning to race around me, my heart beating faster. "Naturally," he continued, "it's a two-way street, so I only pursue those kinds of relationships if the other person is equally interested. But when they are interested," he smiled, and shook his head, in a gesture that said, you know, wow-wee!, "there is no greater feeling than sharing the most extraordinary times with other liberated, enlightened, loving souls." I didn't know what to say. "So after hearing Robert wax euphorically about you, I found myself thinking, about you. About how I'd like to meet you, just to see if there's any chance of something developing. To the point of obsession, but in a good way. I've been missing something in my life for a few years now, and based upon how Robert described you and the vibes I picked up from him, I somehow got the idea that you could be my dream lover, my dream girl. I became overwhelmed with the idea of meeting you. My schedule was fairly busy, these last few days, but I did find time to drag myself away from my own business to do a little exploring today." His eyes were eating me up. "And like I said, I cannot believe the stroke of good fortune that allowed me to meet you on my very first try." I giggled. "Have you been here often, since your time with Robert?" he asked. "A couple of times," I admitted. He waited for a second or two. "And? Did you find what you were looking for? Did you have some fun? I can't imagine anyone not being turned on by the sight of you!" I thought about my times here. "Yes and no." He winked, to let me know he'd love to hear more. "I mean, I did meet a couple of men, and I did get to, um," I paused, trying to be coy, "I did get to enjoy myself a little." Walter sighed slightly. "Only a little?" I nodded. "They were okay, sure. But," I added, "being with Robert was different, and I think it made me realize that there's some things missing with some people." He looked quizzically at me. "Like what, Eve?" Luckily, the word seemed to spring into my head, perhaps from the gods. "Romance," I said. Walters smile came roaring back. "Go on." I looked at his groin, and saw movement. It made a warmth rush through me. "Robert held me, and kissed me, and, well, he, he loved me. He made love TO me. That's how it felt. And I've NEVER experienced anything like that before. Ever. The other guys I've met here, they just wanted me to suck them off, so they could cum and go, you know?" He nodded, a serious look quickly coming on his face. "Yes, I do know about that, Eve," he cooed, "and a beautiful special woman like you SHOULD be made to feel loved, and SHOULD be held, and ABSOLUTELY MUST be kissed and cuddled and protected and loved. I can tell you, from my own personal experience, that there is no equal to that kind of loving." I could feel my cock straining in my panties, it was so hard. And my nipples were as erect as they get, poking little nubs into the halter- style bra I had on. "Your own personal experience?" I asked, reflexively. He nodded, and took one tiny step towards me, which almost made us touching. Walter held out his hands, down by my waist, palms up, inviting me to touch him. I placed my pale white hands in his caramel-colored hands. There was a palpable and immediate shock running through me. And him too, judging by the look on his face. "Eve," he whispered, gazing down on me, "what you're describing, what you say you want from this world, is the only kind of love-making I'm interested in. Any fool can have sex, can find sex. Only a few people can truly make love." He paused. "Only a very few special people can let go of the ropes that tie us all down to modern life, and simply live in that moment, live for that moment, those moments, of unbridled passion and romance. The way Robert described you, it struck me that you could be like that, that you could be like me, that you could be one of my kind." I nodded. "Is it possible?" he asked. I nodded again, emphatically. "Eve?" "Yes, Walter?" "I am filled with the desire to kiss your sweet lips, if you'll let me, but I do have one concern." I felt a shudder go through me. Have I disappointed him already? We haven't even done anything! "What's wrong?" I asked, defensively. He shushed my concerns, and then grinned again. "I'm worried that if I start kissing you, I might not ever want to stop." Walter laughed out loud at that, so I did too. His voice was rich, and full, and large, just like the rest of him. "Eve," he said, back to almost a whisper, "I know we've just met, and I know you don't really know me at all, but I would love to take you away from here, away from this tawdry little booth with its cheap porn playing on that tiny screen. I'd be honored if you'd let me show you what real loving is like, what real passion is like." I was quivering. Standing in my lingerie and new wig, my hands in his, and I was quivering and shaking inside. "You said that it was your first time, the day you met Robert?" I nodded. "So you're relatively new to this world of sexuality?" I nodded again. Walter beamed. "I would be delighted to show you just how unparalleled it can be, how unmatched by anything else gay love can be. And yes, I know you came here today because you're discovering your sexual desires, discovering your sexual menu. And if the thrill of one-offs in this little room is what you truly want then I'll leave you to your fun, of course," he added, "but I'm looking for something more private and personal." He waited for me to say something, but I didn't know what to say. "I have an apartment that I keep, here in the city, for those days when my work consumes me. It's not far from here. I would love to invite you to join me there, if you'd like to find out what real love can feel like?" His warm hands were caressing mine, as we stood facing each other, him looking down into my eyes, me looking up into his. The screen went dark. I went to pull a hand away from him, to feed more quarters into the slot. He gripped my hand enough to let me know it wasn't necessary. "We don't need the light, do we?" he asked. I knew my answer right away. My soul immediately gave me permission. "No." Walter gently pulled me, and then placed my hands on his pecs, letting them go, and he slid his arms and hands around my body. I couldn't get over how warm his skin was, and how he was able to transfer that heat to me. His chest felt strong, and massive, like it could stop a bullet, and I began moving my hands, feeling the luxurious fabric of his expensive shirt overtop of his musculature. And I could feel a forest of hair underneath, tight curly hairs, in clumps, on his chest. His hands began gently caressing my skin, on my lower back, but they quickly slid to where he really wanted them to be, on my ass cheeks. He squeezed my bum, with his huge fingers, toying with the edges of my panties, and I moaned out loud. Pulling on me by my ass, he brought us together, our bodies touching, my hands sliding up his chest to his shoulders, and then around his huge neck, to the back of his head. The booth was dark, with no video playing, but there was a wee bit of ambient light in the space, and I could barely make out his face, as it slowly approached mine, the whites of his eyes shining at me, and then his teeth appearing, a grin so huge I could tell I'd made him happier than he'd been in a long long time. When his lips touched mine, it was like I was reborn. It was like I could start counting my life again, from a new starting date. Life before Walter, and now life with Walter. His lips were bigger than mine, and soft and plump, and they covered mine, delicately, and he snorted out a big exhale through his nose, as did I, and then his lips opened up and his tongue touched my lips and I opened up and then he squeezed my whole body into his so much that I could feel his steel pipe in his pants, up against my belly. Not as big as the freak-a-zoid in the earlier video, but OH MY GOD Walter was blessed! His tongue was playful, and teasing, and tempting, as he ground himself into me. I'd known when Robert kissed me that there was something magical about it, dressed as I was, and feeling as I was. But this, this was a new level, a new journey, a new place in my universe. This was everything! Walter kissed me, and kissed me, and kissed me. Sometimes slow and sensual, sometimes fast and wet and frantic. I was losing myself in his lips, and in his body, which seemed to envelop me from every angle. We'd been kissing for minutes on end when the door came suddenly open, hitting Walter in the back. We both heard a male voice mutter some sort of apology, and then disappear. Walter kicked the door shut again, tapping it behind him with his foot. We kept on making out. IT WAS THE GREATEST THRILL I'D EVER KNOWN! It was so much better than any kissing I'd ever done with anyone, male or female. And I was sure it was made better by the way I was dressed, by my wig, and by my slutty red lipstick. Being held by this man, this man's man, this Black man, looking as girly as I did, and feeling it even more, made me want to scream to the heavens! Finally, after at least forty minutes or more of the sexiest kissing I'd ever done, better than I could ever have imagined, we broke for a second. "YES!" I panted. "Yes what?" Walter asked. "Yes, I want to go with you to your apartment that you keep, the one you mentioned earlier." I heard him moan a little, under his breath. "And yes, I want to explore everything that this has to offer. Everything you have to offer." He moaned much louder now. "Make love to me, Walter, please?" "My car is outside," he whispered, "in the front parking lot, the only Mercedes. I can meet you there, give you a few minutes to throw your normal guy clothes on again." I shook my head, which I sensed he could feel, and found his lips again, there in the dark. I kissed him with every ounce of passion I could find. "I want to be Eve for you, now, and always." He broke our kiss. "You want every guy in here to see you walk out of this booth in all that sexy lingerie?" I found strength in my voice I didn't know I had. Like a blind person suddenly given the gift of sight, everything inside me, the urges and yearnings and feelings I'd had, all of it coalesced deep in my operating system, and flicked a switch, turning my past boring life into something new, something other-worldly. Something magical. "I want every person, man or woman, here in this arcade or out on the street, to see me, to see the feminine me, to see Eve, who I am now, dressed as I want to be, and leaving with the man I want to be with, the man who will love me tonight, for my very first time." Surprising myself with my words, and yet never prouder of my own honesty, I kissed him quickly again. "I want the whole world to see me holding hands with you, holding hands with my lover. I want the television stations to broadcast it live! I want the whole fucking world to have it drilled into their brains. My name is Eve. And Eve wants Walter to take her home and make love to her." Walters moan was unmistakable. "I am the luckiest man alive," he whispered. I slid back into my running shoes. The rest of my boring boy clothes I bundled up and stuffed into the shopping bag from the toy store next door. Walter kissed me again, his tongue darting into my mouth quickly, and I began sucking on it, as if I'd been sucking on his tongue my entire life. And then I thought, I have a new life, and so yes I have been sucking on his tongue my entire life. And then I laughed out loud, and caused him to laugh as well. "What's so funny, sexy girl?" he asked. I kissed him, a short one, and our bodies met again, and I could feel how hard he was in his designer pants. "Baby," I cooed, breaking our kiss, "I can't wait to suck your cock. This feels so much bigger and thicker than Robert did!" Walter smiled. "You know what they say about Black men, don't you?" I giggled. "That you're all hung like horses?" Walter laughed. "It ain't true, baby girl. Not in every case." Then he kissed me, hard, his tongue shooting into my mouth all the way to the back, making me instantly begin suckling it with the entrance to my throat. He ended the kiss, and looked down at me and smiled that ear-to-ear, happier-than-a-pig-in-shit kind of grin. "But I'm pretty proud in that department, and I can't wait to watch you suck on my cock, Eve," he moaned, and then, flicking his eyebrows up like we were about to start an adventure together, his right hand reached back and opened the booth door a crack. "Are you ready?" he asked. I stood up tall. I couldn't believe what I was about to do, but I also knew there was no way I wasn't doing it. I wanted to do it. I'd already given myself permission, from way deep down. The looks on the faces of the men we passed were priceless. I so wish I'd somehow been able to record it, but they say the best pictures are the ones we keep in our heads, and I got a whole album full in less than a minute. There were eyes blazing open, and eyebrows shooting skyward, and literal open-mouthed gasps, and several lips moving saying 'HOLY FUCK', if I can read lips at all, and right at the last second I saw one younger man's surprise morph into envy. I watched him going through his own epiphany. He was another cross- dressing femme girl, if I'd ever seen one. He saw me, dressed in a Sexy Nurse outfit, holding for dear life onto the arm of a much taller and bigger Black man, who was escorting me out of a booth, my lipstick smudged and smeared no doubt, proving we'd been kissing. And we were obviously walking together, going somewhere together. The interracial aspect alone probably jolted people, never mind the whole homosexual cross-dressing aspects. The ugly guy at the counter had just taken a big bite of a sandwich, and as he saw Walter and I come through the dark curtains at the entrance way to the booths he stopped chewing. Open-mouthed, he stared at us, and followed us through the store to the front door. On my last look back at him, a small piece of lettuce had actually fallen out of his mouth, off his tongue, and had landed with a little 'splat' sound on the counter. Two people were on the sidewalk or in the parking lot, but neither of them looked at us. Walter fobbed the doors to the unlock position and he opened the passenger door for me. I sat down, as lady-like as I could, and then swung my legs in. The red thigh-high stockings looked so sexy, I swelled again in my panties. Then I looked at my Nike's, and realized the horrible juxtaposition. I must get some high heels, I decided. Walter hopped in his side, started the precision German engineering up, and we slid out of the parking lot. His right hand, with the huge fingers, came over and he lay it on my left upper thigh. His warmth pumped me up, again. He began gently caressing me, sliding the smoothness of his fingernails over the exposed skin above my stocking tops. It made me a-jumble inside. I reached my left hand over, and placed it right on top of the lump in his tailored trousers. His thickness struck me first. Solid. Indescribably masculine. I actually moaned a little bit, just touching him, truly appraising how much bigger he was than me. At three traffic lights we had to stop. All three times Walter leaned over to my side and kissed me. They were light, and soft, and delicious. They made my heart smile. Soon enough he pulled us off the road, down a ramp, and into an underground parkade. His stall was right next to the elevator lobby. He shut the car off, and undid his seat belt. When I undid mine, I turned my body towards him, and even though there was a little console between us, I still managed to get most of me over it and got partially into his lap. We automatically fell into a kiss. Open-mouthed, and tantalizing. His tongue was wet, and pulsing, and unpredictable. His lips were sweet, and covered mine, and then some. I found space with my right hand, and got it around the steering wheel, and ran it down his chest and belly, stopping only when I was able to palm his hard-on. And it was so different than touching my own. So much longer, and rounder, and thicker. I let my fingertips dance on the bulge of his balls, semi-trapped as they were between his thighs, conformed to the shape of the seat as they were. He growled into my mouth. I really liked that! I palmed his cock some more, and he tried to shift his lower body. We were a little cooped up, or couped up I suppose, and there wasn't a lot of room, considering how large a human being he was. Walter broke the kiss, and stared at me, our heads barely an inch apart. "Eve," he gasped, "Let's get upstairs, shall we?" I nodded my approval, and waited for him to come around to my side, and open the door, like a gentleman does for his lady. Walter was very much a gentleman. And I was loving this new me, being his lady. No one saw us, or more specifically me, in the parkade, or for the minute or so we stood waiting for an elevator. And there was no one on the elevator either, so we got on, his left arm around me, me turned to him as much as possible, my arms around his mid-section. We kissed again, soft and sweet. The elevator stopped at the lobby, like they're programmed to do. The doors opened, but no one got on. The doors closed again. At his floor, we moved quickly to the door, and he fished out some keys and let us in. It was a modest condo, but very nice, as it should be considering the upscale part of downtown we were in. There was a small living room, sparsely furnished, and a small kitchen and eating nook, and a doorway to a modest deck, and a hallway with two bedrooms and a bathroom. The second bedroom had the most stuff in it. There was a full office desk and run-off and pedestal and hutch and credenza and chair, and they were all covered in papers and files and books and monitors and keyboards. "I work from here a lot," he said, as we passed by, arm in arm. The bedroom had everything we needed, and nothing we didn't. The bed took up almost all the room. There was a closet, with shelves and drawers and hanging rods built in. Otherwise, no dressers, no night stands, nothing. Walter enveloped me in his arms again once we were at the foot of the bed, and our kissing began anew. And I thought, Robert made my toes tingle and I'd thought he was the best kisser ever, but this man is in another league all by himself! We kissed, we held each other, we caressed and felt, we whispered encouragement to each other, we snogged, we bussed, we made out. I don't think either of us ever wanted that part of the dance to end. Permission was given to me, many minutes later, and I spun us, so Walter's back was at the bed. Breaking the kiss, and looking up at him, I watched his eyes glimmer. I pushed him, with my hands on his big chest, and he got my message, and sat back on the bed. I kneeled down and undid his shoes. Next came his socks. I kissed his feet, and delicately licked one of his big toes. Even they were bigger than mine! I ran my hands from his ankles all the way up the front of his trousers, feeling the strength and vitality of his muscles, until both hands passed over the huge lump in his pants, which made him moan loudly, and then my fingers got busy trying to undo his belt. Which was a little bit odd. I mean, I've undone my own belt thousands of times, but doing it from below him, and from in front of him, put a new spin on the angles. I managed to get it open, and then I unclicked his pants and unzipped him. I thought that zipper sound was the sexiest sound I'd ever made. He lifted his bottom off the bed as I pulled down on his pants. He was a stylish dresser, and wore his clothes rather tight to his wonderfully trim physique, and as it happens his boxer shorts came down at the same time, so when I looked up I got to see it for the very first time. His cock. It was dark, darker than the rest of him, and standing straight up, and pulsing with his heartbeat, and I could see that he was indeed so much longer and thicker and firmer and girthier than Robert. And me too, much more so. He was un-circumcised, and there was a small lake of clear liquid on the curved top of his head. I licked my lips. Walter was propped up on his elbows, watching me. "That's what you do to me, Eve," he said, proudly. I said the only words I could find. "It's beautiful!" My voice was reverent. Walter chuckled, then his face got very serious. "It's all yours, sweet lady," he whispered, "and all I ask is one sweet kiss." He used his left hand to point at his mouth. He smiled, from ear to ear. I bounced up, and kissed him. A quick one, lips on lips, the smacking sound reverberating around the walls of the room. I went back onto my haunches. My right hand slowly slid up his naked thigh, and I didn't stop until I'd wrapped it around his shaft. IT WAS SO FUCKING THICK! Auto-drive took over and I began slowly masturbating him, just like I had to myself a million times or more. Just like I had with that stranger in the mall washroom. My left hand snaked up the hairy inside of his leg, and my fingers moulded themselves around the shape of his testicles. His balls. They were heavy! They had heft. They were lightly covered in hair, and round, and I was struck by their size and solidity. I could see in his eyes that he was twitching with anticipation. His nerves were all a-twitter, waiting for their upcoming treat. Waiting for my mouth. I aimed his cock a little bit down, towards my face, and licked my lips one more time. Then I licked his cockhead, the volcano top of it, the pool of pre-cum trapped there. OH MY GOD IT'S TANGY! I closed my eyes, overcome with the amazingness of it. One quick slurp, and that entire load of liquid was in my mouth, sitting on my tongue, spreading out and falling here and there and touching who-knows how many thousands of taste buds, and the ensuing jolt of flavors, so unlike any other substance I'd ever tasted, so manly and earthy and primal and real, it all just exploded in my body. I formed my lips to the shape of his helmet, and my tongue began lapping at him. I took a breath through my nose and began descending on him, taking him into my mouth, my lips wet and sliding, loosely reshaping and moving to adjust to his outline, my tongue doing a side- to-side shimmy. Walter breathed out a loud, "OH YES, EVE!" I quickly swallowed as I let his cock out of my mouth. I looked him in the eye. I know his stare was far more intense now. I know mine was too. "I love your cock, Walter," I cooed. Before he could say anything, I closed my eyes and dove onto him again. This time taking more of his shaft into my mouth, feeling the tip of him touch me right at the entrance to my throat. Some little voice inside me said there was no way I was going to be able to take all of him inside me, orally. And I was okay with that. My right hand began stroking him, up and down, as my left hand softly rolled those two eggs around, and my mouth just kept sucking and licking and slurping and swallowing as I bobbed up and down, slowly at first, enjoying every second and wanting to extend them, and then faster and faster as I went along. Walter kept gasping in air and gasping out short sentences. 'Oh fuck' was one of the more oft-used. He also said, 'Oh, Eve' a few times, once or twice he found the strength to go for more than a few words, and I almost passed out from the joy of hearing, 'that's the way, baby girl, that's how you suck a man'. By nature, everything just began getting faster. My sucking. My bobbing. His gasping. My fondling. His swearing. At one point, when I was bobbing pretty fast, and stroking him pretty fast, and his hips were bucking up and down on the mattress, he roared out in his normal huge voice. "OH MY GOD, EVE! I'M GONNA CUM, GIRL! I'M GONNA BUST A NUT, BABY!" I kept sucking. Harder. I wanted it. More than anything, more than everything, I wanted him to cum. I wanted to taste him, I wanted it. I wanted to know what it was like to feel his body tremble and sputter and thrash about while he pumped his seed into my sucking hungry lipstick-covered mouth. I wanted to know what it was like to make a man explode. It was everything I could have dreamed of, and more. He growled out "FUCK!" and clamped his gigantic hands around my head and the next thing I knew I was drowning in cum. His first shot hit my throat, which automatically closed for fear of liquid going into my lungs, and then my mouth filled up and it spilled out, all over my cheeks and lower chin, his semen dripping down my neck in rivulets, and then his next blast was equally large and my face became thick with him, and I managed to swallow a bucketful of cum just as he blasted again, this time with his cock only halfway in my mouth, which left more room for cum, and then he flinched again and another huge pump came out, and I had to swallow again, another huge tummy full in one go, and he kept growling out the word 'FUCK' and giving me three more small shots, each rich and fragrant and salty and nutty and intoxicating. I knew right then and there that regardless of what happened with Walter in the future, there was no way in hell that I was NOT going to suck cock as often as I could. The physical act of it sated something inside me, something that probably goes back through my DNA to millions of years ago. And the physical act of it is very daunting, and staggering. My mouth felt like it had run a marathon, my lips and tongue and jaw all had that muscle-memory thing that told me they'd been busy, that they'd been through a hell of a work-out. A work-out I would never deny myself again. But the mental impact of it, that was even larger. As significant as the physical effects of sucking cock are, the emotional and spiritual effects are so much the bigger. I'D JUST SUCKED THIS AMAZING COCK OFF! THIS BIG BLACK COCK, ATTACHED TO THIS BIG BLACK MAN! My permission center had easily given me the go-ahead, and I'd given it my all. And it was staggering to realize, that I'd not only enjoyed it, but that it had satisfied some part of me I'd never known existed. It was as if suddenly all the different numbers had finally been entered into a computer, and the ultimate pleasure center had finally unlocked, and opened up for me. A level of satisfaction I'd never known existed. A level of satisfaction I would never ignore again. I licked and cleaned and slurped off the stray drops and strings of his cum that had fallen on his shaft, and on his balls. Which gave me the chance to take one into my mouth, the whole ball, and I lovingly bathed and suckled on it. I hummed my joy while doing it, and I could feel tiny little reverberations through his ball. It was wild! Eventually, his big hands gently caressed the side of my face, and I let him lead me up into his arms, lying on his big body, on the mattress, and we both instinctively sought out the others mouth, and our deep kissing began again. I'd never met a more fervent kisser than Walter. I hope I never lose it! We kissed, we cuddled, we kissed more, I talked openly with him about how amazed I felt, and how amazing it was to suck him. To swallow him. To take his love juice into my body, as nourishment. Walter kept kissing me, and holding me, and eventually we rolled a little bit, and I was in one of his arms, and we were softly kissing, and his other hand caressed down my belly and he deftly managed to pull my panties to one side of my cock and balls, and he began stroking me. He probably innately knew that it wouldn't take me long to cum. I was that worked up. I began breathing in short sharp shocks into his mouth, which had to have been a dead giveaway, and he stopped. He used his fingers and scooped up my own pre-cum, which had more or less been pouring out of me, and the next thing I knew he was using his palm to spread my legs, and then sliding a finger down my bum crack, toward my hole. My virgin hole. His big finger was wet and slick and he found my entrance, and with seemingly little to no resistance from me, he slid inside me. I don't know which one of us moaned the loudest at that point. He pushed until the improvised lube ran out, and then he pulled his fat finger out of me and returned to my cock. A few more strokes of me got me nearly exploding again, and he backed off and collected more juice from me, and that finger went straight up into my pussy again, farther this time. He rocked it back and forth inside me, exploring, and opening me from different angles. His kisses just kept getting harder, and longer, and wetter. I'd thought that kissing him before was wonderful, but this was breaking new ground. Being kissed while being fingered was yet another new level for me. I'd never even bothered with my permission center. He'd entered me, and I'd wanted it. He wetted two fingers, two big thick long digits, and in one steady motion he buried them both inside me, stretching my insides, pushing at my rings, making me feel the first bit of pain so far, but he shoved his tongue deeper into my mouth, and all my concentration went to sucking it, taking my thoughts away from the discomfort. Soon enough, my legs spread lewdly, he was working three of his fingers into me. In my minds' eye, I could almost see my pink puckered hole, gaping wide open, as he went in and out and in and out. Our kisses kept going, and he kept fingering, and I kept disbelieving that life could get any better. And then he stopped his kiss, and looked me in the eye, three of his fingers still inside my pussy. "Eve," he whispered, "are you ready to become a woman?" I nodded my head at him. I was. I thought. He suggested I roll over, onto my knees and elbows, and he worked three pillows under my tummy area, all the while explaining that for my first time this would be the most comfortable position for me. I trusted him, implicitly. Walter hopped off the bed for a moment, and came back quickly. I heard the sound of a bottle being snapped open, and then I felt a cool blob of liquid landing on my pussy hole, poured from above. He was lubing me. Three of his fingers slid up and down my crack, gathering it up, and then they went into me in one swift motion. BANG! On my knees, and my elbows, the side of my face on my forearms, on the cool sheets of the mattress. Three large black fingers twisted into my pussy. Then they left me, and I heard the squishy sounds of him lubing himself up. My brain had a few seconds to think about things, and the only thing I could see was the size of his cock and the size of me. For the first time since we'd met, I had a flicker of apprehension enter me. Will this hurt? Will this cause me pain? Then I felt his big left hand come down on my left ass cheek, and he pulled at it slightly, and then I felt him shuffle on his knees on the bed, and then I felt the biggest jolt known to mankind. As his entire torso came down and covered me, the tip of his cock touched the outside of my pussy hole. My opening. My ass. THIS IS IT! THIS IS THE MOMENT. THIS IS BE THE BIGGEST ASK OF ALL. THIS WILL BE THE ULTIMATE EXPERIENCE, IF I LET IT HAPPEN. THE OTHER STUFF, THAT WAS ALL WELL AND GOOD, AND COULD BE EXPLAINED AWAY, IF NEED BE, IF SHAME OR EMBARRASSMENT SUDDENLY APPEARED. YOUTHFUL INDISCRETIONS. GIDDY NAIVETE. BUT TO LET HIM IN, LET THAT MONSTER OF A COCK INTO MY BODY, TO HAVE A PART OF THIS MAN ENTER ME, FILL ME, EXPAND ME, TO BE STUFFED WITH SOMEONE ELSE'S BODY PART, THAT WAS BEYOND EVERYTHING I'D EVER DONE. TO LET THIS WONDERFUL MAN MOUNT ME, THAT WOULD BE CROSSING THE BIGGEST LINE OF ALL. TO OPEN MYSELF UP IN THAT WAY, TO WILLINGLY BE HIS WOMAN, TO BE HIS LOVER, TO BE HIS PUSSY, TO BE FILLED WITH HIS COCK, THAT WOULD BE OPENING A DOOR THAT I'D NEVER IMAGINED, OR EVER CONSIDERED UNTIL THAT DAY IN THE MALL BATHROOM. TO GO THROUGH WITH IT, IF I DARED, WILL SHATTER ALL THE NORMS. THE BIGGEST ASK OF ALL. Which brings the story back full circle. "Open up, babe," he cooed softly, from behind me. I was lying on my tummy. I was almost over-dosing on pleasure. My arms were folded and my head was resting on my hands. My wig, auburn and thick, and long enough to almost touch my ass, was slightly disheveled, from the magnificent hour-long making out session we'd just had, and from his hands on my head for close to fifteen minutes as I sucked his cock, making him squirm and spasm with my oral ministrations, including when his fingers clamped onto me as he rode that final rocket ship of ecstasy and pumped his sticky seed into my mouth. I loved sucking his cock. I loved sucking cock, period. But his was special. The white-colored bra and panty set with the red trim I'd put on earlier looked gorgeous against my pale skin tone, and the red stay-up, thigh-high stockings made my legs look as feminine as any lingerie model. And I knew it drove him wild. His body weight was on me. All over me. He was a good fifty pounds heavier than me, and about six inches taller than me, and he felt like the human equivalent of a blanket. I was covered, head to toe, with his skin. His hairy chest and belly covered me from my ass to my neck. His head was next to mine, on the left side. His breathing was as loud as a jet plane in my ear. His cock was sitting directly in the inward-curved entrance to my ass. My pussy, he called it. He wanted in. He whispered again. "Open up the pearly gates, sweetheart." His voice was rich and deep and liquidy. I closed my eyes, and concentrated. It was a lot like meditating, for me. It took a few seconds for me to cast off all the thoughts of the world, the concerns of the day-to-day, and the ins and outs of whatever had happened at work or at home. All of it. It was part of my process. I had to rid my brain of everything unimportant, in order to give my full attention to what was important. And this was as important to me as breathing. His cock, buried deep in my pussy. And all it took was permission. Not me giving him permission, no. He had that, and he knew it. No, before I could let him in, before I could be filled with cock, filled with the meat of another man, before I got to ride that exquisite razors edge between shocking pain and even more shocking pleasure, I had to deal with the issue of permission. I had to give myself the permission. The permission to go through the physical experience, which, if you never have, is staggering, believe me. But more importantly, I had to go through the emotional ordeal. I had to consciously remind myself of the ramifications, to body and to soul. And even though I'd more or less come to terms with it, and accepted it as part of who I am, I still needed to take that moment or two to grapple with the permission monster. Because granting myself the permission went against everything I'd been taught, by people and society. And yet, it was all I ever wanted. All I ever dreamed of. The voice in the deepest part of me spoke. It granted me permission. I opened for him. Walter made love to me all night long. He was insatiable. We stopped lots of times, mostly for cuddling and whispering and learning about each other and he ordered food to be delivered and we drank wine and we made love. Life, I learned, was there for the taking. And the giving. All it requires is permission. The End.