Gender Issues

"Leave it on," I said. "I want to do you like I said, the way a man does a man."

Our eyes met and we saw each other then, saw the truth of who we were. I looked in her eye and saw a girl who'd been playing at sex all her life, playing at being a boy, a girl, a bisexual, trans-gendered, crosswired, one thing or another. Putting on and taking off sexual identities like she put on and took off her mask and little moustache. I saw that she didn't even know what the real thing was anymore, that she had no idea what it was all about, and that now, finally, she was ready to learn.

She looked at me and I imagine she must have seen the thing she was looking for right there on my face: the raw desire, the furious need. She must have seen it because I saw all the masks and disguises fall from her. I saw the genuine fear and excitement shining from her eyes, the desire that's impossible to fake, that thing you feel when you know the water's over your head but you want to go in anyhow. You have to go in.

Her hair was starting to spill off her head. Her lips were all red and swollen, and her little moustache was smeared over her face, making her look like a waif.

She looked into my eyes again to see if I was serious. I was. She put her fingers to my lips in a sign of truce and said, "I don't know if I can."

"You came up here with me, punk. You knew what we were going to do. Now are you going to be a man about it or not? You want to know what it's like, don't you? Or are you just as phony as that little dick?"

She stared at me, reading my eyes. Her little nipples were poking through her tee-shirt like live coals.

"There's condoms and cream in my jacket," she said. "Go slow? Please, please, go slow."

"Like molasses," I said. "You just have to tell me to stop and I will."

I found her jacket and reached in the pocket, and found her stuff: a little tube of KY and a packet of Trojans. She'd come to this party fully intending to bang some girls with her little cock, and I had an image of her in her two-strapper and St. Christopher medals, slipping a rubber over her dick and greasing it up as the Princess lay back with her legs spread, her eyes glowing with excitement. The vision inflamed me; I was wild to fuck her.

Sam watched me nervously. She seemed to know what was on my mind, and quickly put one hand against the wall and stepped out of the tangle of her pants and shorts. She stepped out of her shoes too. She was wearing little black socks that matched her dildo. They almost broke my heart.

It had been a long time since I'd worn a condom, a long time since I'd done what I was about to do. The thought struck me that this wasn't something you did with a girl you just met, but some madness had taken hold of both of us and none of the normal rules applied. She was a boy, she was a girl; I was gay, I was straight; it was the beginning of the new year, the end of the old, and somewhere the shadow of midnight was sweeping over the face of the earth, headed westward like a scythe.

I got the rubber on and greased it up.

"Where do you want me?" she asked.

"Right there," I said. "Right against the wall. Like two studs in the alley behind some bar. Just put your hands against the wall and hang on. Push your ass out."

She did as I said and my eyes fixed on that beautiful innocent curve of her back. Her shirt still hung on her, the medals swayed around her neck.

"Pigeon-toe your feet together," I said. "It'll help open you up."

She pointed her little toes at one another and dipped her head, afraid to look. I squeezed out a big dollop of lube onto my fingers and smeared it around her asshole. I couldn't resist reached under her legs and running my greasy hand over her cock too, which made her groan. I put more lube on my finger.

"Get ready," I said.

I slid my finger easily into her rectum and the feel of her wild and secret heat made me groan as if I were the one getting fucked. Sam's head jerked up but she didn't make a sound. I twisted my finger around inside her and my cock throbbed like I was gong to shoot right then and there. I began to slide my finger in and out of her, letting her get used to it. I was trying to go slow, but I already knew I wasn't going to last.

"Okay?" I asked.

"Yeah. Okay."

I reached around her and took hold of her cock and began to pump it, pulling it hard enough to set that piece moving inside of her. I wanted to take her mind off it.

The second finger made her squeal and rise up on her toes. She pressed her cheek against the wall.

"Breathe!" I told her.

"I am! I am!"

"You've never done this before?" I twisted both fingers around inside her, felt her anus slowly relax, those reflexive spasms starting to fade and grow less urgent. The blood was pounding in my ears like a kettle drum.

"Oh, I forgot," I smiled as I whispered against her cheek "A gentleman never tells."

She was beyond the point of joking, and so was I. She was ready. I stepped up close to her so my cock slid beneath her crack and I felt the searing heat of her ready sex right through the condom. I was seething with emotion—lust and love and anger and humiliation and God knows what.

I pushed my hands inside her two-strapper and caressed her little breasts with my greasy hands. I pinched her nipples. I felt huge, like a bear with a little white gazelle. I pulled my hips back so that my cock slid up the crack of her ass and she shuddered and squeezed me with her buttocks. She was hotter than hell back there.

I bit her neck gently below the ear. "Get ready, punk!" I whispered, then leaned back.

I had to bend my knees to fit the head of my cock against her asshole, but I got it in place and quickly grabbed her hips to hold her as I pushed. Sam wailed. She grunted and scratched at the wall, clawing against the sudden invasive outrage. The head popped into her rectum and I just about lost it. I put one hand on the back of her neck and held her pressed against the wall. Her ass was exquisitely tight but already she was pushing back at me, wanting it, wanting to take it. It was if her lower body wanted it, even as her mind told her no. I groaned and hung on.

"Oh God! Oh God! Enough, enough!" she cried

Just the head was inside her but that was enough for now. I could look down and see my thick stalk disappearing into her little stretched rosebud and see my own stomach quivering with thrills of illicit pleasure, my nerves on fire.

I reached around and grabbed her cock. I had this terrible need to feel her little prick in my hand, to close my fingers on that hardness. I began to beat her off again, and this time I could feel that little piece moving in her pussy, pressing against the head of my cock. I almost saw stars.

"Oh my God!" she gasped. "Oh my God!"

"Oh fuck!"

My whole body was on fire, everything—centering on this maddening throbbing of her ass on my cock, but it went far beyond the physical, into the weird realm of homosexual love, of gender confusion, of melting identities. As I fisted her artificial dick, the little piece bobbed inside her and pressed against me, so it was like stroking myself. Sex and masturbation all blurred together till I didn't know where I stopped and she began.

"If you're going to come," I gasped, "You'd better do it now, because I'm not going to last!"

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Faster! Do it faster! My dick! Do it faster!"

She covered my hand on her phallus with hers, and showed me how to move it, fast and hard. Her touch was frantic. Her fingers trembled against mine like spiders.

The base of the rubber prick had slipped and now was nearly over her clit, and she guided my hand so that I was hammering the plastic against her, banging her clit as the stalk moved inside her, and all the time my prick was sliding higher into her ass, into her incredible heat and tightness. I was beating her off and pushing my prick into her and Sam began to tremble. She went limp, dropping her head between her shoulders as the sensations overwhelmed her.

"Fuck me!" she breathed "Fuck my ass!"

Hot little bitch! Hot little boy! I didn't know what she was anymore. I stepped up, fed her more cock, easing it into her greasy rectum. I started to pump, then stopped. I was too close, too close. I slapped the base of the dildo against her cunt in a fast, steady rhythm causing her ass to twitch back and forth on me, like beating off using her body instead of my fist. Weird things were going through my head, not even thoughts, just impressions, confused, hot pictures—the feel of her tight ass around me, that hard cock in my hand, the smooth submissive curve of her back. We both still had our shirts and vests on. We might have been twins, two men fucking in an alley.

"Oh fuck!" I yelled. "Oh fuck!"

Sam was clawing at the wall, pressing her ass back at me now. In my frenzy I pulled too hard on the dildo and felt the snaps give. Enraged, I tore it off her, making her ass rock and throwing her off balance. My prick in her ass held her up.

I pushed her up against the wall and shoved all the way into her, making her take it all. I turned the useless dildo around in my hand and pushed it into her pussy.

"Oh no! What are you doing!"

I pushed the dildo into her, fucking her with her own cock, and I felt the pressure on my cock as that big plastic knob slid into her. I began to pump it into her, not even knowing what I was doing. My legs were bent so that I was almost squatting behind her, fucking up into her ass like an ape and she hung from me like a rag doll with her cheek pressed against the wall, her ass out, biting her knuckles to keep from screaming. Her face was red and hot with suffused blood, her hair stuck to her sweaty skin.

My cock was jerking, dry-coming inside of her, my emotions out of control. I fucked her because she was a woman. I fucked her because she was a man. I fucked her because she was Frank, or Monica, or me, or sex itself. I felt like I had my cock sunk into the very core of life itself and I fucked it for all I was worth. There was nothing between us anymore, no skin to separate us. We melted together, fused in the fire of that furious sex and obscene pleasure

"Come, you bitch!" I hissed. "Come for me!"

I was almost there, already riding that electric escalator, going up, up, losing control. I wasn't going there alone though. She was going to come with me if I had to drag her by the fucking hair.

I pushed deep into her, straightened my legs so my prick almost lifted her feet off the floor and leaned forward, bit the back of her neck like a crazed tomcat. I felt her goosebumps against my tongue

"Oh God I'm going to come!" she gasped. "You're going to make me come! Oh fuck! Oh my God!"

That did it for me. That was all I needed. I felt her let go, felt her slide into helpless ecstasy. I let go of the dildo and it slid from her pussy and fell on the rug with a dull thud. I gasped—choking on my own orgasmic fury. I wanted to tell her, wanted to warn her that I was coming too, but my voice wouldn't work. My jaws were locked, my eyes wide, everything tensed and quivering, then it just ripped out of me, a sensation of having my very insides torn out, boiling up from the soles of my feet and the very hairs on my head.

I exploded into the slick confines of the rubber, jet after jet of thundering release, bathing myself in my own flooding heat, one hand buried in her spasming pussy as I crushed her against me and felt her quiver like a bow after the arrow's released. Her head was back and she was gasping, her body jerking in time to each explosive burst of semen. I knew she couldn't feel it, but she must have felt me contract, must have felt the frantic lurching of my cock, the reflexive way it seemed to reach up into her, trying instinctively to plant my seed deep, where it would stay forever.

Slowly the spasms stopped, the tension drained from my body. I felt flayed, skinned, as if I was nothing but exposed nerve. Every sensation was suddenly exquisitely clear and almost painful.

My thighs were quivering and I couldn't stand up any more, and Sam was shaking like she was palsied. I was afraid to let go of her so I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight. My deflating prick slid lewdly from her ass and I shakily got down on my knees before I collapsed, pulling her down with me.

We ended up in a heap on the floor of the laundry room, tangled together in a frenzy of arms and legs. I was holding her tight, both of us unable to speak, and she had her open mouth pressed against my face as she gasped for air. Her breath was scalding hot, as if someone had cracked a furnace door: the heat of her desires. I loved it. It was if I'd opened the gates of hell for her, and now I had to face the heat myself.

I held her because I needed her, because I was astonished and afraid to let her go. And I held her because I was afraid to look at her face and see what I might see, that this all might have been in vain, that it hadn't meant anything to her at all, just another sexual game.

But then I felt her hands on my back, the way they squeezed me—frantic and possessive, using all the strength in those fragile arms to keep herself against me and keep me close, and I knew she felt it too. She felt the same way I did, and when I at last looked at her, I saw the same thing in her eyes that I knew was in mine: the shining astonishment, the sense of connection, the overwhelming joy.

"We've got to get out of here."

"Yes," she said.

"We're lying on the floor of the laundry room."

"Yes," she said again, and she laughed nervously.

"I've just fucked a girl with an artificial cock, dressed as a man."

"Yes," she said again, and now we both started to laugh, and we laughed and we couldn't stop.

The laughter veered into tears for both of us, and though I can't tell you the last time I cried, these tears came quickly and easily and didn't surprise me at all, or Sam. They stopped just as quickly and left me feeling purified and relieved, and strangely at peace. I realized I was done with Monica and done with Frank, and that, just as is supposed to happen on New Year's Eve, one door had closed and another had opened.

The Sam who came downstairs with me wasn't the same girl I'd gone up there with, nor was I the same man. Her clothes were messed, her shirt was missing buttons and her little moustache was gone. Her artificial cock was in her pocket as we stepped over the people on the stairs and the occasional body passed out on the floor and made our way back to my place, where we had some serious gender issues to discuss.