Delicia Meets Her Master

By Lilith Goode

From the black man who picked her up in the food court and taught her about sex to the African Prince Delicia calls Master to the aging rocker who played at Woodstock or the mild mannered camera operator who is teaching her about friendship, Delicia's escapades will captivate you. She may have been born a boy, but inside she's all gurl.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lilith Goode
• Release date: Jun 15, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005420734

Lilith Goode

I was born in Fort Lauderdale, Florida back before it became a parking lot running from Miami to Palm Beach. In an attempt to escape my five and a half million neighbors, cockroaches, and hurricanes, I moved to Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan, which lies on the Canadian border in Michigan's upper peninsula, in the mistaken belief that anyplace located on a large body of water would have a lot of seafood restaurants. Not being much of a sports person, I missed the somewhat obvious correlation that in order to have seafood restaurants, the body of water has to be an ocean and not a lake. My writing career, such as it is, began when my computer tragically died at a very young age. As background, I should tell you I've long been a fan of Hentai, which is basically anime styled porn, and my favorite meme is where a sweet and virginal young girl has her first sexual encounter and immediately turns into a stark, raving nymphomaniac. When my computer went to computer hell (Seattle, Washington) I had just finished reading an article describing how Japanese anime is influencing Western drawing styles and memes more and more, and had also just finished reading several of Adam Warren's 'Empowered' comics, (which, if you haven't already, you should definitely check out). Suddenly having lots of free time on my hands, (if you want to spark your creative juices I strongly suggest trashing your computer) I began to wonder what a story done in my favorite hentai meme (nymphomaniac, remember?) would be like. I envisioned a young virgin who, on her eighteenth birthday, dreams of a sexual encounter with a stranger and who, upon awakening, realizes it wasn't a dream. Following which, naturally, she turns into a sex-crazed maniac. At first that was the extent of it, but as time went on I kept thinking about what, exactly, that would entail, and finally had to write it down so I could keep track of it. That story has gone through many changes, and I'm still not ready to publish it, although I hope to someday, but it got me interested in writing. (I did recently publish the opening scene in a collection of short stories called "Pretty Little Sluts" as a bonus feature if you'd like to check it out.) Since my favorite subject is sex, I naturally turned to erotica. (I've been told that what I write isn't strictly erotica, as apparently my stories come with too much of something called 'plot.' I considered toning the...

Book preview

Delicia Meets Her Master

Copyright 2022 Lilith Goode

Published by Lilith Goode at Smashwords

This book contains scenes of an adult nature, including graphic sexual scenes, scenes depicting drug use, and obscene language. No one under the age of eighteen should purchase or read this book. All characters in this work are eighteen years of age or older.

Cover Image Credit: SHUTTERSTOCK / RO SEN

ISBN: 9781005420734

Delicia may have been born a boy, but inside she’s all gurl. Follow her journey as she discovers all about life while making new friends and lovers along the way. Lots and lots of lovers.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE – I’M COMING OUT

CHAPTER TWO – TIGHT TERRY

CHAPTER THREE – MEETING HER MASTER

CHAPTER FOUR – ACES

CHAPTER FIVE – TRANSITIONS

CHAPTER SIX – JINGLE ALL THE WAY

CHAPTER SEVEN – MASTER JENKINS

CHAPTER EIGHT – STORY TIME

CHAPTER NINE – NEW YEAR’S EVE

CHAPTER TEN – GRADUATION

CHAPTER ELEVEN – DELICIA DOES IT LIVE

CHAPTER TWELVE – FRANK

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – BLACK DADDY

CHAPTER FOURTEEN – INTERVIEW WITH THE SISSY

CHAPTER FIFTEEN – ALWYN BECOMES A MASTER

CHAPTER SIXTEEN – THE KINDEST CUT

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN – THE RETURN OF ALWYN

PROLOGUE

The mall was packed with shoppers looking for the perfect gift for the special someones in their lives. I’d picked up a couple presents for Mike and his mom, to thank them for letting me stay with them after my father kicked me out.

I didn’t really have much more than that to get. I wanted to pick up something for my mom, but I’d have to mail it because according to my father I was still persona non grata at the old homestead, so I was thinking that perhaps I’d just send flowers. Maybe a large poinsettia since it was Christmas.

I was sitting at a small table I’d managed to snag at the food court nibbling French fries and sipping a soda when a deep, rich masculine voice asked, Mind if I sit here? There aren’t any other tables available.

I looked up into a pair of shockingly light hazel eyes set in a chiseled and sculpted medium-brown face. The young man they belonged to had high cheekbones with thick lips that, for some reason, fascinated me, so firm and yet so soft looking at the same time. So enticing. I stared at them, enchanted, unable to take my eyes off them.

After a few seconds he arched his eyebrows inquiringly and cleared his throat, and I snapped out of my trance.

Oh! I’m so sorry! Yes, please, of course, by all means, sit down. Here, let me make room for you. I’m Steve.

Carey.

It’s a pleasure to meet you, Carey. Are you doing some early Christmas shopping?

A little. How about you?

I brushed my hair back on one side, looping it behind my ear and holding onto the end, unconsciously playing with it as I answered, Yes. I’m almost finished. It’s so crowded this time of year, isn’t it? Can you believe how packed the food court is? Would you like some fries? They give you so many. Here, take them, I’m so full I can’t eat another thing.

Carey chuckled and my belly roiled.

Is this your first time, Steve?

My first time what? At the mall? No, I’ve been here lots of times. I come here all the time. I practically live here.

Picking up a black man.

I goggled at him. Suddenly my dick got rock hard, and for a second, I was sure I was going to either pass out or cum. Probably both. First, I’d cum, then I’d pass out. I didn’t think it could work the other way around.

I could feel my cheeks getting hot and knew I was turning brick red.

What? I’m not… not…

I stared into his eyes and forgot what I’d been talking about. I licked my lips and swallowed, because suddenly I had a raging case of cottonmouth, forgetting all about the Coke sitting in front of me. I wondered vaguely why it was so hot in the food court. It must have been because I was wearing a sweatshirt. It felt like tiny beads of sweat were forming on my skin.

Carey chuckled again, and I got a little closer to making a mess in my undies.

It’s all right. There’s nothing wrong with it. We’re both adults. You are eighteen, aren’t you, Stevie?

I loved the way he called me Stevie. Before that moment in time, I would have hated it if anyone else had done it, but somehow when he said it goosebumps formed on my arms and I felt a tingling sensation throughout my body.

Yes. But I – I – I’m not - I’ve never – with anyone…

He placed one of his hands on top of one of mine, the one not playing with my hair. I stared down at it as if I’d never seen a hand before.

It was so large it engulfed mine, swallowing it up as it covered it completely. He had strong hands. They were hard and callused. It felt so good, but it also made me nervous because it felt like change, and I wasn’t sure where it would lead.

Relax. Don’t be afraid, Stevie. I’ll take good care of you.

I felt like I was dreaming as I looked up into his gorgeous eyes and slowly nodded my head in acquiescence.

Where? I asked in barely a whisper, as if afraid that secret listeners would hear what I was agreeing to do with this stranger, this handsome black man, and condemn me for it.

I have a van in the parking garage.

Okay.

Carey left his hand on top of mine as he finished his burrito and the rest of my fries. I watched him eat with fascination, wondering how he could be so calm when I suddenly felt like I might puke. My heart was pounding, and it felt like my whole body was trembling. Now I felt chilled. and I wondered if I was coming down with something.

When he was finished with his meal, he released my hand as he gathered up the used napkins and empty paper trays, including the napkin on my own tray, then set everything on the hard plastic one they give you to carry your meals on. He set that one on top of mine, so they nestled together.

I stared at the way his tray fit so neatly on top of and inside mine. By coincidence, he’d been given a dark brown one and I’d been given a light tan tray. As I looked at the way the two joined together, a picture formed in my mind of him lying on top of me, the way our bodies would fit together like the trays did, his dark skin contrasting with my light complexion, his large, hard body covering my small, soft one, pressing down on it and enveloping it, swallowing me up whole until there was no him and no me, just us, and it seemed so right, so beautiful, that it left me wanting to cry. As he gathered up his bags, he said, Take care of that and follow me.

Even though he was only a couple years older than me, he seemed like a man, especially compared to me. Saying, Yes, sir just seemed natural, either because of our age difference, or because he was obviously so much more masculine than I was, or perhaps it was just the commanding tone of voice he used.

The way he ordered me about reminded me of someone, but I couldn’t think of who it might be, and when I uttered those words to a black man for the first time, I creamed my tighty-whities.

♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠

I paused for a second, gasping and shaking as my cock spurted. Carey looked at me and asked if I was all right.

Fine, sir. Sorry.

Come on. I don’t have all day.

Yes, sir.

As I followed him down the street to the parking garage, I tried to keep my mind blank, concentrating on the way his ass swung back and forth beneath his tight, faded jeans.

Anything to distract myself from thinking about the fact that I was about to have sex for the first time. Two firsts, really. Sex, and sex with a man. Three if you added in sex with a black person. That was definitely a first for me.

White people like to say they have black friends, as if it’s some sort of badge of honor they wear, but I didn’t. Not really, not kids I hung out with. I knew a couple of black boys well enough to say hi to or occasionally share a lunch table with, but I’d never been to one of their houses and they’d never been to mine. I guess I had black acquaintances, but that’s not the same thing.

I was terrified and trying desperately to avoid thinking about what I was about to do. What if I couldn’t do it? What if I could, but was terrible at it? Would this black man laugh at me? Would he hate me? Would he beat me up?

I doubted he would do the latter, but suddenly I cared greatly about the first two questions. His opinion of me seemed to be the most important thing in my world at that moment. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew that I absolutely had to do it well enough to please him. Pleasing him was the only thing that mattered to me right then.

To try to calm my nerves I practiced the ancient meditative art of watching a male ass swing back and forth in a tight pair of jeans. It brought some slight measure of peace to my mind, until I had a vision of what those sexy butt cheeks would look like with nothing covering them. I suddenly pictured me pressing my lips to them, kissing and then licking them, and let out a noise halfway between a giggle and a sob.

Are you all right?

I’m fine. Are we almost there?

Almost.

I couldn’t decide if his answer made me feel better or worse. I felt like I was going crazy, that if we didn’t get to his van soon, I was going to start screaming right in the middle of the street. Half of me just wanted to get this over with, and the other half wanted to turn around and scurry back to the safety of the mall.

At least it was sunny out, with the temperature in the low seventies and no wind. Perfect weather for losing your cherry to a stranger in a van I thought, and I couldn’t decide whether I felt more like giggling or puking.

We arrived at the garage, and I followed Carey past the parked cars until he stopped in front of a white panel van and used his remote to unlock the doors. He slid the side door open, said, All aboard with a grin, and stepped up inside it.

I climbed in behind him as he set his purchases on the floor behind the front seats and removed his jacket, dropping it onto the bags. The van had no other seating, just a thick section of rolled up carpet on the floor and some toolboxes and loose tools scattered around.

Do you lay carpet?

Among other things. Come here.

I obediently walked over to him, noticing that the van had a raised ceiling that allowed me, and even Carey, who was about a foot taller than I was, to stand upright inside it, although his head was almost brushing the roof.

I wasn’t sure what to do. Was I supposed to kiss him? Carey resolved the issue by grasping the bottom hem of my sweatshirt and lifting it up, so I raised my arms as he removed it and tossed it onto the floor. His fingers went to my belt buckle, so I began unbuttoning his shirt, staring up at him, yearning to feel his lips pressing against mine.

Once he’d unbuttoned my jeans and unzipped them, he granted my unspoken wish, pressing his firm lips against my much softer ones as he pushed my pants and underwear down until they fell and bunched up around my ankles.

I blindly fumbled with his belt buckle and then his jean’s button, moaning as he slipped his tongue between my lips and began frenching me while sliding his hands down to clutch my butt cheeks as he pulled me up tight against him.

It was the first time I’d ever French kissed anyone. Besides a couple games of spin the bottle and one time when a neighborhood girl took me and another friend into a basement and took turns kissing us, it was almost the first time I’d ever kissed anyone. It was definitely the first real kiss I’d ever had, the first with intent behind it, and the first with a boy.

I managed to get his jeans and boxers pushed down until they joined mine on the van’s floor, and then I wrapped my arms around his broad back and held on tight as he made all my dreams come true, even the ones I hadn’t realized I had, or at least hadn’t been willing to admit to myself that I had.

♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠

Carey kissed me while running his hands over my body, holding me close as my knees grew weak from the feeling of his hard cock pressing into my soft belly.

I barely moved, other than my tongue, overcome with lust but not sure what to do, so simply doing nothing while I let him do whatever he wanted to me.

He squeezed my butt cheeks and slid a finger up and down my crack, causing me to jump slightly and clutch him with more force as I pulled myself tighter against his body.

His finger probed my anus, which shocked me for a second and then felt so good that I moaned my approval and encouragement into his mouth.

Eventually he was done toying with me. Pulling away, he placed his hands on my shoulders, signaling that the next stage of our drama was about to begin.

Are you ready?

My eyes felt enormous as I nodded, not trusting my voice in that instant. He gently pushed me down to my knees in front of him. I stared at his cock in wonder as it rose before me, long and hard and so beautiful.

Even then, I knew this was a major turning point in my life, although I didn’t have a clue as to just how major it was going to be.

I wrapped my hands around his shaft, marveling at how thick and firm it felt in my grasp, how heavy it was. Trying to remember what I’d seen girls do in porn videos, I hesitantly extended my tongue and began licking the head.

Staring up into his gorgeous hazel eyes, I slowly made my way down his shaft, tongue extended as it dabbed here and there along its length, leaving wet trails to show where it had been.

Suck it.

Yes, sir.

I obediently took it inside my mouth and wrapped my lips around it, just below his crown. It felt amazing, and somehow, so natural, so right. And not just because he was a man, but because he was a black man.

An image appeared to me of how I looked to him, a tiny naked white boy, so small and weak compared to him, with a pale face and long blonde hair, blue eyes staring up at him as he called him sir and sucked his big black cock.

I wondered what my father would say if he were watching. I wondered which he would hate more, me sucking a black man’s cock, or calling him sir. I shivered with pleasure at the thought and my cock erupted, sending a small fountain of cum spurting upward.

Carey laughed and I smiled around the thick black shaft filling my mouth as my cheeks caved in and my head began to move backward and forward.

The feeling of his cock gliding past my lips and over my tongue was sending electric starbursts of energy into my brain, strong enough that I imagined I could hear a sizzling, zapping sound each time one hit me, and I wondered vaguely if I was about to have a seizure. If so, it would be worth it. So, so, worth it.

I had no finesse. I didn’t lick his shaft or the glans or tickle his frenulum or poke my hardened tongue into his urethra, all things I would do today as a matter of course. Basically, I just sucked it while moving my head back and forth, my eyes fixed on Carey’s as I searched them for any clue as to how I was doing, any hint of approval.

His cock felt so strange in my mouth, so warm and slippery. It seemed to throb and move around on its own a little from time to time. Yet, at the same time, it felt so natural, so right, that whatever nervousness, whatever hesitation, I’d been feeling melted away. I moaned with pleasure and began sucking harder as I sped up the motions of my head.

♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠

When it was time for him to deflower me, Carey told me to place my sweatshirt on the rear edge of the carpet roll and then straddle it on my stomach, with the sweatshirt beneath my groin.

I didn’t question it, just kicking off my sneakers and working my jeans the rest of the way off my ankles, leaving me wearing nothing but a pair of white ankle socks, before complying with his commands.

It wasn’t until he was fucking me, and my body began sliding up and down the carpet, almost as if I were fucking it while Carey did me, that I realized it was to prevent my dick from getting friction burns. It gave me a warm feeling knowing that he cared enough for me to protect me like that.

But before that, of course, there was the actual deflowering. I lay down on the carpet roll on my belly, with one leg hanging down on either side of it.

The roll was thick enough that my knees didn’t touch the van’s floor, so I was suspended on it with my calves angled back, my toes touching the ground and my arms wrapped around the carpet like they’d been wrapped around Carey’s body earlier, my naked rear end pointing up enticingly. Invitingly.

Lying on the carpet roll like that, with it forcing my legs apart and my bare ass angled up towards Carey, offering it to him for his pleasure, was so intensely erotic that I moaned with excitement as he dribbled spit on my anus.

It was even more thrilling than sucking his cock had been, because this was surrendering myself, placing myself totally under the control of a stranger, a black man I’d just met.

Something in me responded to that so strongly, it somehow fulfilled a need in me so fully, that for a moment I thought I was going to cry with joy. In that moment I loved him, and I would have done whatever he asked, anything at all to please him.

He inserted his index finger into my anus, pumping it in and out a few times before rotating it while applying an outward pressure.

After removing his finger from my butthole, he reached around me to offer his index and middle fingers to my mouth. Instinctively I wrapped my lips around them and sucked them while running my tongue over them, getting them nice and wet.

He inserted them into my anus and spent a little time rotating them before withdrawing them again. A second later, I felt his cock head pressing against my rear dimple.

Spread your cheeks.

Yes, sir.

Obediently, I reached behind me and grasped them, balancing on the carpet as I pulled them apart. There was a moment’s pressure, and then his cock forced its way past my anal ring.

The pain hit, a sharp, intense agony that made me gasp, but in a moment his cock head was past my ring and the pain lessened as my anus tightened around his shaft. It still hurt, but the feeling of my anal ring closing around his cock, holding it tight, felt amazingly good, as if it was a tiny fist squeezing his manhood, and that, combined with the knowledge that I was really doing it, that I was actually letting a black man fuck me, was so exciting that I moaned with pleasure.

You like my cock, little Stevie?

Yes, sir.

Tell me you like my big black cock.

I giggled, embarrassed. He slapped my butt.

Say it.

I love your big black cock, sir.

That’s good. I like that. Call me sir again. Tell me how much you like it.

Yes, sir. I love your big black cock so much, it feels so big inside me. I tried to think of what the girls in porn videos said. Somehow, telling Carey how much I liked his cock, how much I wanted it, was exciting me even more. I want you to fuck me with your big black cock sir, fuck me with it hard, as hard as you want sir, as hard as you can.

Get ready.

I’m ready, sir. I’m more than ready.

Carey wrapped his hands around my waist, holding me in place as he began pumping his hips slowly, gradually working his cock deeper as I moaned and begged and told him how much I loved his big black cock, never forgetting to call him sir as I did.

Soon he was all the way inside me, and when I felt his balls pressing against my much smaller ones I came again.

Oh, God sir, your cock feels so good, it’s so fucking big sir, please fuck me with it sir, I want you to fuck me so bad, I need you to fuck me so bad sir, please sir, fuck my ass with your big black cock.

That’s right, tell me how much you like it bitch, tell me how much you love my big black cock in your tight little white ass.

Carey held onto me as he began pumping his hips back and forth with more force, gradually building up the speed and intensity as I continued to moan and exhort him to even greater efforts, learning to thrust my rear upwards in time with his thrusts until the van was filled with the sound of our bodies impacting.

The van was definitely rocking.

I’m cumming bitch, I’m going to cum, tell me you want it.

Fuck yeah sir, give it to me sir, fill my ass with your cum, let me have it all sir.

Carey shouted out, God! as his cock seemed to twitch and lunge deeper inside me. I felt it erupt inside my rectum, and when it did, I came a fourth time, which beat my old record for the number of times I’d cum in a day by two.

Every time his cock pumped another stream into me, he groaned, Fuck!, over and over, Fuck!, Fuck!, Fuck!, until his cock softened and receded, popping out of my rear as he collapsed on top of me.

I could feel our sweat intermingling as his body pressed down against mine, and the pool of my own cum I was lying in. More started leaking out of my ass onto the sweatshirt, and I wondered for the first time whether he’d had me put it there to protect my dick or his carpet.

Afterward, I put on my heavily stained sweatshirt because what choice did I have? I hesitated when faced with putting my sodden undies back on, but it felt wrong, disrespectful, to simply discard them in Carey’s van like it was a trash barrel, so I slipped them on before donning my jeans.

Thank you, sir. Um – could I have your phone number? Or would you like mine? Maybe we could see each other again?

No.

I stared at him, but that was all he said. When it became apparent that it was all he was going to say, I asked, Would you mind dropping me off at the exit, sir?

Sure.

I pouted as he drove to the exit, crossing my arms over my chest while staring blindly out the window. Just before I got out, he said, Don’t worry, Stevie. I predict you have a long future of pleasing black men ahead of you. You did good.

I was grinning as I climbed out of the van.

♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠

As I walked to the edge of the street to hail a cab, I tried to figure out how I felt. I was self-conscious about the cum stains covering my sweatshirt, hoping people wouldn’t realize what they were.

I was sore, because Carey hadn’t been a gentle lover, and hadn’t used lube. I was a little mad that he didn’t want to see me again, but happy about what he’d told me at the end. And I was sort of in shock that it had even happened, and still half-thought it might be nothing but a dream.

CHAPTER ONE – I’M COMING OUT

Dude! What happened to you?

Mike’s mom looked up and frowned, then smiled slightly, and I had a feeling she knew exactly what had happened to my sweatshirt. I felt my cheeks growing warm as I replied, I spilled a milkshake on myself.

Yeah? You got some in your hair.

Leave him alone, Mike. Steve, give me your shirt. I’ll toss it in the wash.

Um – I can do it.

Give it to me.

Slowly, I peeled it off and handed it to her. I could feel my cheeks growing warmer as my blush deepened, but all she said was, Dinner will be ready in a half-hour. Why don’t you go get cleaned up?

I hurried to Mike’s room, where his parents had set up a cot for me. I tossed my undies in the wastebasket before going into the bathroom. Before getting in the shower, I glanced in the mirror, seeing that Mike was right. How the hell had I managed to get cum in my hair?

When I got out of the shower, Mike was sitting on the bed staring at my cum-filled underwear. I supposed I should have buried it under other trash, but who would have guessed he’d fish them out again?

Dude. Anything you feel like sharing?

I opened my mouth but couldn’t figure out what to say. I saw a pretty girl and came in my tighty-whities? That wasn’t going to cut it.

Finally, I just said, I had sex.

I’m assuming a girl wasn’t involved?

Um – no. Please don’t tell anyone.

Mike laughed. That made me feel a little better.

Don’t worry about it, dude. I always knew you were a faggot.

Fuck you.

You’d better not try. So, who’d you have sex with?

This guy at the mall. A black guy. He sort of picked me up.

No shit? Where’d you do it?

He had a van.

How was it?

It was… it was… It was wonderful.

Well, my mom said to tell you dinner is ready.

♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠

After dinner Mike asked if I wanted to play some video games, but I told him I had homework. I needed some time to process what had happened to me.

While he started playing a game without me, I turned on my laptop and idly googled gay porn, but it really wasn’t doing anything for me. In fact, I found I didn’t like looking at the pictures any more than I had before I’d met Carey, which is to say not much at all.

I frowned in confusion. If I was gay, shouldn’t I like looking at gay porn? Out of curiosity, I looked up naked black men. That was better. I found I liked looking at them just fine, at their muscular, masculine bodies and their hard cocks. I had no problem imagining the things I’d like to do with those, and my sudden erection backed me up.

So, didn’t that mean I was gay? Maybe I just didn’t like looking at white gay porn. I tried searching for interracial gay porn instead.

I didn’t like that any better and was about to close the computer when I noticed a picture of a buff black man fucking a small, feminine looking white boy. My cock, which had been wilting, immediately sprang back to life.

Intrigued, I pulled it up and noticed it was listed as BBC Sissy Pics. I knew BBC stood for big black cocks and remembered Carey insisting I tell him how much I loved his big black cock when he’d been fucking me.

Giggling, I settled in for a porn night. Well, I guess that counted as homework, right? Just not for school.

♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠

Looking at sissy porn pics soon led me to looking at sissy pics in general. I learned all the terms for them, shemales, trannies, T-Girls, femboys or fembois, ladyboys.

I was fascinated by how feminine some of the boys looked, and by the things they wore. I discovered I liked the short, softer looking ones with tiny, preferably limp cocks over the taller, more masculine looking ones with huge cocks, and I liked the smaller, more natural looking breasts, or even flat chests, over the large, obviously artificial ones.

And I loved the clothes. Soon I was looking at just pictures of sissies, not the porn ones but just of them by themselves, so I could admire how they looked in panties or lingerie or even regular street clothes.

I yearned to wear the panties, the stockings, and the shoes I saw them in. I imagined how I’d look in them, and I loved what I saw.

♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠

Dude! Are you going to the mall again? I know you’re just trying to pick up guys.

I opened my mouth, but what could I say? It was the truth. I’d gone as soon as school let out on Monday and Tuesday, staying until the mall closed. Not that I’d had any luck.

Want to go with me?

I’m not gonna be your wingman for picking up dudes, dude.

Sighing, I said, All right. What do you want to do?

Play video games. What else?

I sighed again. Ever since Carey, I hadn’t had any interest in video games, or pretty much anything but panties and big black cocks. I’d spent all my spare time looking at both on the computer, fantasizing about them, or going to the mall and trolling for the latter while trying to work up the nerve to go into a shop and buy the former. I hadn’t had any success with either endeavor so far.

On the other hand, it was raining, so it limited our options.

All right.

When we got to his house his mom gave us sodas and chips and said she was baking chocolate chip cookies that would be ready in a couple minutes. Mike’s mom is great. She never seems to get mad and she’s always cooking and baking. You would think she’d be fat, but she wasn’t. She said the secret is to take your joy from watching other people eat the things you make. Later, I learned to apply that lesson to sex with black men, taking my joy from satisfying them.

Once we were in his room Mike handed me a controller but didn’t start the game.

So, how’d he do it, dude?

Who do what?

The guy at the mall. How’d he pick you up? Did he just walk up to you and say, Hey, beautiful, wanna fuck?"

With a giggle, I said, I see why you have trouble picking up girls if that’s your approach.

Oh, yeah, like you ever did any better. So, how’d he do it?

Wait, does this mean you think I’m beautiful?

Gross, dude.

All right. I don’t think he was trying to pick me up. I think he was just looking for a seat at the food court where he could eat his burrito. But when he asked if he could sit down, I got all nervous and flustered. You know how girls sometimes play with their hair and talk too much when they’re around a hot guy?

Not from personal experience, but yeah.

I was doing that. I was babbling on and on until he just sort of grinned and asked me if it was the first time I’d ever picked up a guy. I didn’t know what to say. I just kind of stuttered and he told me it was okay, that we were both adults and there wasn’t anything wrong with it.

Yeah, dude, that’s good. I’ve got to remember that.

It wasn’t a line. I think that’s why it worked. If he’d been obviously coming on to me, I would have probably run away, but with him it all just sort of fell into place naturally. Anyway, I agreed to go with him. I’m not even sure if he asked me or how it happened. It’s kind of a blur. I remember feeling like I was going to puke when we were walking to the garage. We got in his van, and we undressed each other, and he started kissing me…

TMI, dude.

Okay. Anyway, that’s how it happened.

Without going into specifics, what did you do?

Well, first I blew him, and then he fucked me.

He didn’t blow you and you didn’t fuck him?

Ewwww! No!

Why not, dude?

I don’t know. I just don’t think I would like it. I looked at some gay porn, and the only kind I like is when a guy, someone masculine, is with a sort of effeminate boy.

I guess you’re a bottom.

A what?

A bottom. That’s what they call the feminine partner in gay porn.

Really? What do they call the other person? A top?

No idea. So, you never came?

Shit! I came four times. Once at the mall when I first agreed to go with him...

That explains the state of your underwear.

Giggling, I went on, And then again when I was sucking his cock…

Was he touching you, or were you touching yourself?

No.

That’s so gay, dude.

And then twice when he was fucking me. Once during, and then again when he came.

Yep. You’re a definite bottom, dude.

I think I’m a sissy.

I’ve thought that ever since I met you, dude.

Fuck you. But really. I keep thinking about panties. Like, I want to wear them.

I’ll bet Regine’s would fit you.

I can’t steal your sister’s underwear.

She’d probably let you have a pair. She likes you.

That was true. Not as in the way a girl likes a boy, but the way a girl likes a pet. She and Mike are twins, although not identical, and she’s tiny, about the same height and probably roughly the same build as me but curvier. Unlike us she’s one of the cool kids, but she’s always found me amusing.

I’d be too embarrassed to ask her.

I’ll ask her, dude.

I don’t want her knowing I’m… whatever I am. Not yet.

All right. Let me know if you change your mind, dude. There’s a party Saturday night.

Where?

Ami’s.

Like she’ll let us in.

It’s a senior party. Any senior can go.

All right.

Cool. You want to go get cookies?

Hell, yeah.

♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠

You miserable little shit! What the fuck are you doing?

It’s not what it looks like.

Oh, good, because for a minute I thought it looked like you were stealing my panties.

I’m just borrowing a pair.

You miserable…

Yeah, yeah. I get it. They’re not for me.

Explain.

I can’t.

Can you explain if I get mom?

Regine.

MOM!

All right. They’re for Steve.

And why are you stealing my panties for Steve?

He’s kind of… shit. Promise you won’t tell anyone.

I’m not promising anything until I know what’s going on.

He’s kind of gay. He wanted to try wearing a pair of panties. You’re about his size, so I thought I’d borrow a pair.

Steve is gay? Since when?

Sunday.

What?

He kind of… um, found out he’s gay on Sunday. At the mall.

How do you… oh my God! Are you saying what I think you’re saying?

I think so.

Let’s see what you picked out.

♠ ♠ ♠ ♠ ♠

Don’t get mad, dude.

What’s going on?

Regine sort of found out.

I stared at the two of them. Mike looked nervous. Regine looked like a cat that just found a whole truckload of canaries.

What do you mean… how?

It’s all right, Steve. I think it’s great that you’re discovering who you are inside.

"Thanks, Regine. But the point is I