Hello readers, I haven't posted on BC for quite a while, don't know why really but anyway here is my latest offering to you. I have posted all seven chapters together so the story can be read as a novella as I sometimes forget to update chapters regularly. Let me know what you think of this format and also of the story of course. There is a sequel coming...
Author's Note: Note carefully: Although this chapter is a coming of age story, there are absolutely no sexual acts, I say again, absolutely no sexual acts, consensual or otherwise involving persons below the age of consent.
There’s Something About Sarah
Chapter One – Sloane
Not many boys get a breast augmentation for their eighteenth birthday; nor that many girls for that matter.
I was so happy when my Aunt told me that she had enough money saved for the operation. I had the operation during spring break from college. I needed it. My sorority sisters and most of the boys in my Sophomore year gave me grief about being flat-chested. I had the legs, I had the ass, I had the figure and I definitely had the looks but I didn’t have the tits. I was a gorgeous flat-chested teenaged girl. Only one problem. I was a boy.
But I’m getting ahead of myself.
Let’s start at the beginning.
“The last thing I need is another fucking mouth to feed! And a fucking boy at that!”
That was what my Aunt Amanda said when I arrived on her doorstep.
“Well we’re dirt poor and this place only has two bedrooms so it looks like you’re sharing with your cousin,” were the next words out of her mouth.
I was orphaned at age five and as I was to find out very soon and then to be constantly reminded that the only reason my Aunt Amanda took me in was because of the inheritance held in trust for me. She had access to a small but regular stipend from that trust fund so long as I was her ward.
Amanda Grayson was a widow who had a single child; a girl my age. Sloane was her mother’s darling; a vivacious child, whilst I was withdrawn and morose.
Sharing a room with Sloane I grew up surrounded by girl’s accoutrements. Twin beds with pink beadspreads which became quilted satin comforters as we got older, teddy bears and dolls transitioned to posters of boy bands and teen girl groups. Cute hair clips, ankle socks and sneakers gave way to makeup, pantyhose and Mary Janes.
Aunt Amanda was content to let Sloane treat me almost as her pet. Starved of love and affection and with no other family to show any care for me, I doted on Sloane. I loved her and I would do anything for her, which was the beginning of my undoing; or of my metamorphosis depending on how you want to see it.
I’m not sure when it was that Amanda found me dressed in Sloane’s clothes; I really don’t remember wearing any boy’s clothes at all but I suppose I did before I lived with Sloane. I was probably around six years old.
Amanda found me wearing a white A-line skirt with blue poodles embroidered on the hem, a white blouse, Bobby sox and classic black Mary Jane’s. I was sitting on the bed and Sloane was brushing my curly blonde hair; she had even given me bangs.
“Sloane! What the fuck are you doing with Stephen!” she barked as she entered our bedroom.
I could smell the miasma of gin and cheap perfume that constantly surrounded my Aunt Amanda and she had the obligatory Virginia Slim or Salem Light dangling from her red lipsticked lips.
“He’s not your pet honey,” she cooed.
“But I’m making him look like me Mommy. Look!” Sloane jumped up on the bed and sat beside me.
Sloane too was wearing a matching A-line skirt, white blouse, Bobby sox and Mary Jane’s and her blonde hair, straight – not curly like mine, also had bangs.
“See mom! We’re sisters!” Sloane squealed.
Had I been older I could have sensed the wheels turning in Amanda’s gin-soaked brain.
“Why yes she is honey. She’s just like your twin sister,” Amanda smiled and blew a plume of blue smoke in our direction.
Sloane pulled me too her and hugged me tight and I hugged her back.
“She sure as damn is your twin sister. What’s her name?” Amanda asked.
“Sarah,” I squealed excitedly.
“Sloane thought Sarah was a nice name for me,” I whimpered and blushed when Amanda’s angry gaze fell on me for speaking when I wasn’t spoken to.
That was one of Amanda’s rules, and she had many, I was not to speak unless I was spoken to.
“Well you seem to like being sissified and it’ll be damn cheaper raising two girls as opposed to one of each. Especially when you get to growing; but we’ll cross that bridge when it needs crossing” Amanda mused.
“You girls keep playing quiet now and stay in your room. I have a gentleman caller arriving soon and he won’t want any little girls making a noise or getting under his feet. Understand!” Amanda smiled like an alligator; all teeth but no emotion.
Over the years I observed that Amanda had a lot of ‘gentlemen callers’. Some only visited on and off for a few hours, some for few days, and the rare one or two stayed a little longer. Even when one stayed with us full time, Amanda had other callers who just came to visit for a few hours. I was a very naive child and I was well into my teens when I realised that Amanda was accepting payment in cash money from her gentlemen friends for the pleasure of her company.
Sloane and I would giggle when we heard Amanda moan and wail and sometimes even scream from behind the privacy of her bedroom door. The caller would generally leave straight after the wailing stopped, usually in a hurry with a sweaty forehead, tucking his shirt into his pants.
From that day on I never dressed like a boy ever again. With Amanda and Sloane’s guidance I dressed and acted just like a girl for the remainder of my childhood. When Amanda bought Sloane new clothes I wore her cast offs. Everything I had, had once belonged to Sloane; clothes, books, toys, even my bed linen. Amanda had me grow out my hair and styled it just like Sloane’s. We played girls games and I thought like a girl and dreamt like a girl.
The little boy Stephen was gone.
I was seven when Amanda called me to her bedroom and closed the door and had me stand in front of her as she sat in a hard backed chair.
“You like living here don’t you Sarah?” she asked around the cigarette dangling from her lips.
“Yes ma’am,” I answered as I had been instructed.
“And you like being a pretty little girl too? You don’t wanna be boy?” she continued.
“I’m Sarah Aunt Amanda. That’s who I am!” I pouted and stamped my foot with my hands on hips
“Well I’m going to have to send you to school soon Sarah,” Amanda announced.
I looked at her with a puzzled expression; I knew that Sloane was off to school soon and I just presumed that I would go with her. We did everything together after all.
“You’ll be different from the other girls,” she went on and I frowned.
“Why?” I asked innocently.
“Because of this stupid!” Amanda lifted my skirt, pulled down my pink cotton panties and gripped the tiny nub that was my penis.
“It’s only a little un’ even for someone your age but its there and so are these,” she squeezed my tiny scrotal sac.
“So here’s the thing. Listen and listen good!”
“You always make sure that the door is closed when you go to the ladies room. You never, ever, ever let anyone see or touch you down there no matter what the reason. Do you understand!”
She gripped me tight and shook me.
“Yes ma’am,” I cried.
“That little pecker will sit tight inside your panties for now. But as you get older we’ll have to figure some way to hide it out the way. There’s ways of doin’ that; I saw them lady-boys on the TV and I swear you wouldn’t know they was packing heat in their drawers,” she laughed and coughed out a plume of smoke.
She gripped me tight and pulled my face close until it was only an inch from hers.
“Your name is Sarah. You are and all ways have been a little girl and Sloane is your cousin with whom you’ve been living with since orphaned. Understand?” she stared into my eyes.
“Yes ma’am. No need for me to lie. What you said is the truth,” I smiled back at my Aunt, holding back tears.
Amanda pulled me into her arms in a rare display of affection, she hugged me and kissed my cheek.
“You’re a good girl Sarah; now go and play girl,” she spun me round and spanked me playfully on the bottom, pushing towards the door.
My heart soared. I was going to school with Sloane! And Aunt Amanda thought I was a good girl! I was smiling and crying at the same time.
At school I didn’t make friends easily and those I did make tended to be quiet and studious like me. Sloane on the other hand was immediately befriended by the ‘in crowd’, even at that early age.
Although I looked, behaved and thought like a girl I was aware that I was different. I knew I carried a very special secret and if that secret was ever to get out the life I loved would be ruined. I took every precaution to keep my secret. I was particularly careful when I went to the bathroom, sitting on the seat and peeing just like a girl and I never ever put myself in a situation where my genitals would be exposed.
For physical education classes I changed into and out of my PE gear in the shower stalls. Quite a few of the girls were shy and did the same so it was no big deal. Amanda had written a note to the Principal stating that due to my religious beliefs I was never to be examined below the waist by the school nurse without Amanda’s express permission. To this day I’m not sure how that worked or why she did it as it was almost unheard of for that occur anyway. This was the Bible Belt and no one took any such liberties.
One day in the fourth grade I inadvertently wandered into a pick up baseball game that the boys were playing in the playground and I got knocked onto my ass by a kid running to third base. I sat in the dust crying, dazed and confused, with my legs spread wide while the boys all stared up my dress at my pink cotton panties.
The boys all laughed and began to chant.
“I see London, I see France I see Sarah's underpants!”
Sloane raced over and dragged me to my feet smoothing out my dress.
“Be careful!” she pulled me close and hissed in my ear.
“I don’t want to be the girl who has a weirdo for a sister.”
I often sought out Sloane’s company and spent my lunchbreaks and free time with her and her friends until junior high school when Sloane made it abundantly clear that my company was not wanted. And who could blame her. She was a budding beauty, popular and engaging but she was an academic bankrupt; she barely made her grades and was constantly required to attend remediation tuition classes.
As I grew I became tall, lithe and slender, with long coltish legs but with generous full-globed buttocks.
“There’s many a skinny girl that would give more than’s decent for an ass like a yours honey. You ain’t got any tits but you got an ass like a twelve year old boy,” Amanda used to joke and slap me on the buttocks when she was full of gin and feeling exuberant.
It was around this time that subtle changes started. I never became hirsute to any extent; my body and limbs remained mostly hairless but the odd hair began to appear now and then on my face. Amanda showed me how to pluck them out by the root using tweezers. Over the next few years after plucking out every hair as it appeared, I no longer had any facial hair to worry about except for the odd rouge one here and there that was quickly dispatched.
My penis was still small as was my scrotal sac but it was getting bigger and creating an obvious bulge in my underwear. Through experimentation and practice I learned how to tuck.
I learned how to push my testes up inside me then push my penis back between my legs, pulling the scrotal skin up on either side. I was now at age where I was wearing full-cut, cotton-spandex blend panties to school and they held my tucked parts stay in place. If I wanted to wear nice panties, I particularly liked satin bikini panties, I would gaff with tape. I could sit on the toilet and urinate just like a girl.
Amanda bought me padded bras as most of the girls my age now had budding breasts but as my friends boobs got bigger, mine could never become any bigger than a padded bra on a flat chest would allow, and I was teased about being small chested.
But the real issue was that my voice was starting to break.
I so loved being a girl that I wanted to be one in every way but I knew the biggest challenge was going to be my voice, as did Amanda and Sloane.
Amanda came to my rescue when she found a video tape called ‘Finding Your Female Voice’. She and Sloane made me sit in front of the small second-hand TV and VCR that Sloane and I now had in our bedroom and practice, practice, practice, every evening. As a result I never developed a man’s voice but I do have a lovely rich, dark-toned feminine voice that most find quite pleasant and as I was later to find out, some men find sexy.
“You sound like me after a night of drinking gin and smoking a pack of Salem’s,” Amanda quipped one day.
In fact, despite my shyness, in the eighth grade I was coaxed and coerced into singing a rendition of Bonnie Tyler songs in the school concert.
It was during my early teens years that I became curious about sex. Sloane and I had discovered long ago that the cries, moans and screams coming from Amanda’s bedroom were because she was having sex with her gentlemen callers. We just weren’t too sure what sex was.
Our school’s policy was ‘abstinence only’ and provided no real sex education but we were confused as to what we were to abstain from exactly. That was until one day Sloane and I were walking home and took a short cut through a small wooded area where kids went to smoke and generally ruckus, away from the adults. Mary Sue Thompson was known to be a wild girl; she was two grades ahead of us and at sixteen was quite developed. There she was talking to a couple of seniors just off the path in a small grove of willows. We wouldn’t have seen them except for her pleading.
Sloane quickly pulled me with her into a grassy dry creek bed where we could see the proceedings without being seen ourselves.
“Ok but I want five smokes from each of yer,” Mary Sue Thompson whined.
The boys nodded and then to our amazement they opened their flies and dropped out their peckers.
Mary Sue took one Johnson in each hand and gave them boys a good tug until their juices squirted on the ground, which didn’t take long at all. She wiped her hands on a lace handkerchief which we both hoped wouldn’t see church on Sunday and held out her hands as the boys counted out five cigarettes each. She put the cigarettes into her backpack.
“If you give us both a blowjob we’ll give you a pack each next time,” one of the boys grinned.
“If you boys wanna blowjob, you better come good with a carton,” she shrilled and skipped off down the path.
Sloane and I giggled all the way home and most of the night.
That night as we lay in our beds Sloane turned to me and asked a question.
“Do you squirt like those boys Sarah?”
“I don’t think I squirt like those boys do Sloane. But sometimes I have funny dreams and when I wake up my panties are wet and sticky,” I blushed, even in the dark.
“Aunt Amanda said it was natural for a special girl like me and that when I grow up I’m going to have to figure out what’s what as been as I don’t have a pussy.”
“I wonder what she meant by that?” Sloane asked quizzically.
We both drifted off but it wouldn’t be long off before Sloane was going to know exactly what her pussy was for.
In High School I jumped a year as I excelled at my schooling which was inversely proportional to Sloane’s decline in academic achievement. Sloane was nearly held back a grade and we drifted further apart at school. I tried my best to help her study but she wasn’t interested.
Sloane’s interests were her looks, money, and boys; in that order.
We still loved each other and looked out for each other but we were drifting apart. I spent hours reading and studying while Sloane spent hours flipping through teen magazines, listening to records and talking to her friends on the phone. We seldom bought friends home; Amanda discouraged it. I knew it was because we were poor and because Amanda lived a life that did not garner the approval of most of the community, most kids weren’t allowed to come over to our place anyway.
“Them hypocrites would just roll over and die if they knew their husbands were want to visit mama when they got the chance to sneak away from their dried-up pussy bitch wives!” Sloane hissed vehemently one day when she’d been slighted by one of her friends mother’s.
As Sloane grew older she spoke and more like her mother despite my best efforts to teach her proper diction and pronunciation.
“I don’t have to speak like some stuck up cunt! I want to be a hairdresser or cosmetician, not one of those hairy-legged, eye-glass wearing, no-makeup, sensibly-shoed, teachers or librarians,” she joked one day.
Sloane was also using profane language as a matter of course whenever Amanda wasn’t in earshot.
When we turned sixteen our school allowed the girls to wear makeup in moderation and to wear pantyhose in place of sox should we so desire or in our case if we could afford to. Amanda had allowed us both to wear makeup on special occasions before this but now we could wear it every day and we loved it. For me it was especially exciting to preen in front of the mirror applying lipstick, powder, a little eyeliner and shadow and a smudge of mascara. It highlighted my feminine features and even I knew I looked attractive with my long blonde hair and bangs.
Amanda bought pantyhose which were handed to Sloane still in the packet and I had to make do with her cast offs when they got a hole or a runner or if she’d just done with them. I’d repair them as best I could and became quite adept. I soon found that if two pairs had a runner in one leg I could cut away the ruined leg and make one good pair out of both. Also the gussets of the pantyhose helped hold my gaff in place so I wore my panties over the top of the gusset of my pantyhose so they looked and felt nice. Wearing pantyhose and makeup to me was a true sign of womanhood.
But Sloane! Sloane of course pushed everything to the limit and she piled on the makeup, hiked up her skirts and dresses when she could get away with it and wore high-heels that she ‘borrowed’ from Amanda to wear to and from school. At school she had to tone down the makeup, lower her hem and wear her Mary Janes just like the rest of us but she still looked stunning.
We still looked like sisters but Sloane was Cinderella and I was plain Jane. The boys gathered around Sloane like moths to a flame.
Quite a while before this Amanda had warned us about men. She came home one day when Sloane and I were fourteen and we were play wrestling on the lounge room floor. We were sweating and our skirts had ridden up high exposing our panties and our blouses were loose and unbuttoned, displaying our training bras. But we were too busy having fun to notice.
But Amanda’s gentleman caller had. He was sitting in the lounge chair studying us with rapture, sweat beading on his upper lip which he licked at now and then; he had a large bulge in his pants.
Amanda came through the door to find Sloane straddling my prone body, my skirt hitched high and my blouse mostly undone as I struggled underneath her. Sloane’s skirt was also rucked up and her panty crotch was inches from my face and she giggled as rode me like a steer in a rodeo.
Unbeknown to us girls that man now had his hands inside his pants and his fascination was such that he wasn’t aware that Amanda had come home until she smashed him upside his head with the beer bottle that had been sitting the table beside him. She bashed that man repeatedly so hard that when he finally got away from her he called the police.
I heard later that when the police came around and Amanda told them what’s what they went and found that man and gave him another beating.
Sloane and I ran to our room and cried and sobbed, hugging each other and waiting for our turn for a beating but when Amanda came in to our room she pulled us both close and hugged us.
“You girls did nothing wrong but I suppose I’m remiss about not providing that part of your education that you ain’t gonna get at school,” Amanda said.
“What do you girls now about sex?” she asked.
“Only that we have to abstain or we will get pregnant or get a disease. Oh and we saw Mary Sue Thompson give some boys a hand job in the willow grove,” Sloane said.
Amanda burst out laughing.
“Well I hope she was well paid for it; from what I hear that girl don’t give away what she’s found she can sell,” Amanda chortled.
“Well ok; serious now! Boy’s are going to try to get at what you have in your panties and that’s natural and you know that abstinence is the answer. But there’s more’n just horny teenage boys trying to pop your cherry to worry about. Some older men have a penchant for girls your age so its best I give you all the gory details,” Amanda said.
“Now it’s not the same for you Sarah cause you know you’re different down there but most of it applies. You in particular are never, ever, ever, to let anyone touch you down there. When you’re older I’ll tell you how your kind do what they do but for now listen up both of you.”
And so we finally received our sex education in full and in graphic detail. I found it fascinating but Sloane squirmed and winced when Amanda’s description became too detailed.
I have to admit I was fascinated by Amanda’s statement: ‘When you’re older I’ll tell you how your kind do what they do’. I was entering puberty and now and then I found myself fantasising and my penis had started to become erect when I had those fantasises. They were nothing too lurid; I just imagined a handsome boy dancing with me or holding my hand and stealing a kiss. I knew this was dangerous territory for me and I kept those feelings to myself. But I was awakening at night more often with my panties soaked with my juices and I snuck away and furtively washed them and hung them to dry.
The age of consent in our home state is sixteen and I’d bet Sloane only just made it before she got her cherry popped.
As Sloane pursued her own interests and me mine we grew further apart. Our late night girls talk and secret sharing had became less frequent. She began to see boys on a regular basis, taking on boyfriends and then casting them aside when someone better came along.
One day I was sitting in the study hall when one of my study-buddies, a chubby plain girl, sat close to me.
“How come you and Sloane are so different?” she asked, her eyes searching mine.
“Whatever go you mean?” I asked, the hair on the back of my neck bristling.
“Well you’re a studious academic who seems to have no interest in boys and your sister; well she’s getting a reputation for being easy,” she whispered.
I swallowed and looked away from her.
“You know the boys call you the Ice Princess,” she said.
“Pretty but unattainable,” her hand gripped my knee.
“Are you? Well are you like me?” her hand began to slide up my knee.
“Like you?” I gulped, confused.
Her hand slid under the hem of my skirt and squeezed.
“Do you prefer girls?” she panted in my ear and squeezed harder.
I shot up out of my chair. I could feel the heat in my blushing face. I was angry and confused.
“I’m nothing like you!” I hissed.
I accidentally kicked over my chair as I bolted from the long table and out the door into the corridor, tears streaming down my face, feelings of confusion, anger and frustration washed over me.
The others in the study hall looked up form their projects surprised by my outburst.
“Keep the noise down ladies. Pick up that chair Miss Dudley,” the study hall teacher on duty ordered and followed me into corridor.
“Are you okay Sarah?” she asked, lifting my chin with her finger.
“Yes ma’am,” I replied and strode off down the quiet hallway.
A week later I came home early with stomach cramps. I was in my senior grade of High School, the youngest at sixteen, but still close to top of my class. Sloane had dropped out of junior grade promising Amanda she would find an apprenticeship at a beauty parlour or hair dressing salon.
Amanda was out and the house was quite. The smell of stale cigarette smoke and alcohol pervaded the air and did nothing to settle my stomach so I raced over to the bedroom door intending to lie down and let the dizziness dissipate.
I flung open the door and found a tableaux that I can’t forget to this day.
Sloane was lying on her back with her legs high in the air. She’d obviously stolen a pair of her mother’s black stockings as her legs were clad in the sheer hose, although they were a little too big for her and wrinkled at the knees and tops of her thighs. Her feet were shod in shiny black pumps she kept ‘for special’ and her skirt was hitched up around her waist, her bosom exposed and heaving. Her head was thrown back on the pillows her hair fanned around her face like an angel; her face was a mask of lust and debauchery as she gasped profanities.
“Fuck me! Fuck me honey! Oh god yes fuck me!” she gasped as her nails raked the back of the high school quarterback who lay thrusting between her legs.
She sensed my presence and her head snapped around and she glared at me.
“Got out! Get out! Get out you freak!” she screamed.
I ran from the house sobbing and sprinted to our ‘secret place’. It was about half a mile down a track that ran from our back yard into an overgrown paddock; an old shed once used for tack and horses, now deserted and dilapidated. I climbed the rickety ladder to the loft, laddering my hose on the splinters. My makeup had run; smeared by tears and sweat. I dug around under the hay and found the secret place where Sloane kept her stash of illicit cigarettes and tried to light one. My hand shook but I eventually got it going and was seized by coughing fit.
I was determined to smoke the damn thing and I did and then lit another. I’d got it half done when Sloane hiked herself up over the top of the ladder.
“Those things ‘ll kill ya,” she grinned down at me.
She held out her hand I offered up the cigarettes and the plastic disposable lighter. Sloane lit up and blew out a long stream of smoke.
I noticed she was bare-legged and had replaced her ‘fuck-me heels’ with sneakers.
She dropped down beside me and turned my face to hers and looked directly into my eyes.
“You gonna tell Momma?”
I stared up the cobweb strewn ceiling; slivers of daylight penetrating the cracks between the boards.
“Nope,” I whispered; my throat hoarse from crying and the smoke.
Sloane scrunched over next to me and snuggled up to me. She held me for what seemed like an eternity; her head resting on my chest.
“I love you Sarah. I love you like a sister,” Sloane whispered.
Fresh tears streamed down my face.
“But if you tell a soul what saw. If you tell Momma. Even if you confess to what you saw to the Pastor under the sacrosanct of confession I’ll fuck you over. I’ll ruin your life.”
“You’re the big shot going to college now and I’m the white trash who dropped out to go to beautician school. I reckon Momma loves you almost as much as she loves me.”
“But don’t forget one thing,” she raised her head from my chest and I saw the malignancy in her eyes.
“Under all that lipstick and powder, those blouses and skirts, those hose and heels…”
Her hand shot under my skirt and she dug her fingers viciously into my groin until she found my penis gaffed between my legs and squeezed me until I gasped with pain.
“Under it all you’re still a boy! You walk like woman, talk like a woman, probably even think like one for all I know. But you’re just Stephen Grayson wearing nylons and a dress and I’ll shout it from the rooftops if you ever cross me you bitch!”
To be continued.
There’s Something About Sarah
Chapter Two – The Ice Queen
Sloane did go to beautician school and also qualified as a hairdresser and took a reasonably well paying job in town in a beauty salon. Her natural beauty and style declined into what I described as a ‘skank ho’ countenance; short tight dresses openly displaying her breasts, the hems of her skirts and dresses were so short her panties often showed. She liked to wear platform soled wedges or fuck-me heels, her hair was permed and frizzed, and she wore way too much makeup. She walked around in an effluvium of ‘Poison’ perfume and Salem menthol lights cigarette smoke. At seventeen she had become a caricature of her mother.
We remained friends and confidants, even after the day she threatened me in the loft. But we grew more distant. She stayed out late; often overnight and she was catting around. My friends at school never said anything to me directly but their oblique references to Sloane’s lifestyle were enough for me to know she was considered a slut.
I continued to study hard which was sometimes difficult when Sloane came home drunk, emotional and often quarrelsome and indignant.
“You think you’re better ‘n me doncha!” she’d screech in a drunken rant.
“Well I gotta good job, all the boys like me and I got a life Sarah. What have you got? A fucking education and a cock taped between your legs!” she’d bawl.
I knew she didn’t mean it, but it hurt. I’d hold her close and comfort her and listen to some story about how her latest boyfriend had treated her bad.
She would end up sobbing and apologetic.
“I’m sorry Sarah. I don’t know why I’m such a bitch to you; I love you honey. You’re like a sister to me,” she’d sob when I put her to bed and lay beside her, consoling her.
She tugged at my heartstrings when she said that; I still idolised Sloane and was sad to see her hurting herself this way.
I turned seventeen just before graduating in the top ten percentile of my senior year. My Aunt Amanda couldn’t hide her pride in me and even Sloane told me how proud she was.
“Fuck me Momma, a Grayson girl is going off to college! We better celebrate!” Sloane raised her glass to me.
She and Amanda were sitting on the couch sipping gin and smoking. I’d taken a beer from the fridge which I did rarely, but this was a celebration.
“So who’s taking you to the Prom baby?” Amanda grinned drunkenly.
“Jeez Momma! Don’t you know all the boys call her the Ice Princess? She ain’t so much as kissed any of those randy pecker-woods, but there’s plenty ‘d like to taste them pretty pink lips and slide their dirty hands under her skirt,” Sloane teased.
“Shame is they’d end up with a handful of cock,” she horselaughed.
I blushed and put my face in my hands and Amanda slapped Sloane viciously.
“You don’t talk to your cousin like that! She’s special yes but she’s done nothing to you but love and adore you Sloane so you apologise now!”
“I’m sorry Sarah; you know I was foolin’,” Sloane smiled at me, her mother’s handprint visible through her caked on makeup.
“Yeah. I knew you were joshing me Sloane,” I replied.
I’d found it easier to talk like Southern white trash in the house as I knew my perfect diction and refined accentless speech was annoying to both of them. But once again Sloane had driven a barb into my heart when there was no need.
I was going though my own private hell but was scared to talk to them about it.
A few of the nicer boys had approached me and asked if I’d be their Prom date but I was so worried that they would find out my secret so I always said no. My girlfriends all had dates and they were beginning to nag me to make up my mind and pick a boy to escort me to the Prom.
Lizzie Sanders, my best friend, if I had one, I never confided much to anyone, was becoming particularly insistent.
“Sarah Grayson you’ve got some of the most handsome, intelligent boys in this school yearning for you and you haven’t settled for one of them! You know that you are one of the prettiest Seniors but you insist on being the Ice Queen.”
I was both flattered and annoyed by her comments.
“Lizzie I’m too busy trying to decide on which college to go to and what degree to take that to worry about boys!” I quipped.
“Oh pish Sarah! There isn’t a seventeen year old girl in the country that doesn’t think about boys now and then!” she replied.
And that was the reason for my private hell. I was thinking more and more about boys.
My wet dreams were becoming more frequent. I’d dream that some handsome boy would take me in his arms and kiss me and hold me close; we’d lie down together and he would fondle me and I could feel the heat from his body. He would stroke my small breasts through my blouse and his hand would slide down to my thigh where his fingers would stroke and caress me. Usually the dream ended when his fingers slid up nylon-encased loins and I would ejaculate and awaken.
The boys who approached me tentatively asking for a date were handsome and educated and I felt regretful when I turned them down.
It was soon after the conversation that I had with Aunt Amanda and Sloane about attending the Prom that I finally got the gumption to ask Sloane the question that I had been dying to ask.
She was lying on her bed smoking, listening to her Walkman so she wouldn’t disturb me while I wrote out college applications.
“Sloane?” I said to her.
She was staring off into nowhere; probably a little high, and didn’t respond.
“Sloane!” I yelled.
She took off her headset, a tinny rendition of Aerosmith’s ‘Dude looks like a lady’ blasted out the sponge covered miniature speakers.
She clicked the stop button and the tape stopped.
“What?” she was a little angry at being disturbed.
“What did Amanda mean when she said ‘When you’re older I’ll tell you how your kind do what they do’? ” I asked.
“You really wanna know sugar?” she looked at me searchingly.
“Sure,” I replied.
She popped the ring-pull tab on a beer she had sitting on her beside table and lit a cigarette. She offered the packet to me and I shook my head.
“Take one! You’re gonna need it. Here take my beer too,” I took the proffered beer and cigarette and lit up.
Sloane reached down into the cooler and grabbed another beer for herself.
I hated myself for smoking but living in this house it was a bad habit I had picked up. I didn’t smoke at all at school, only rarely in the house or in the loft of the old barn when I went there with Sloane, which was less frequent now that she was working.
“Ok Sarah, you sure you wanna go through with this? It’s really a conversation you should have with Momma,” she looked seriously at me.
“I want to know Sloane! Now!” I beseeched her.
“Ok. So you know you are special; you been raised as a girl for most of your life. You look like a girl, you act like a girl, and you smell like girl; hell you even think like a girl. But you ain't a proper one and you know it.”
“Youse probly ninety percent girl but there’s bits of you that ain't. I’ll be blunt. You ain't got much in the way of titties but that don’t matter much; you wear a padded bra and it looks like you got a little, and for most boys that’s enough.”
“But you ain’t got a pussy. You seen mine enough to know what one looks like and you know what us girls use it for besides pissin’.”
“Yeah I get that Sloane, but what is it that Momma was implying my kind do?” I asked.
“Well your kind is what’s called transvestite or transgender is the new fangled name for it. I’ve been with boys who have been to the city and seen them. They say some’s just a boy in a wig dressed like a girl and some look just like a real girl; they got everything, even titties, but they ain't got a pussy, although there’s some apparently that have, they had the operation.”
“I understand I think; go on please,” I said.
“Well these special girls still wanna please their boys, and to be honest, the transvestites that most of my friends have met ain’t givin’ it away if you know what I mean.”
“Prostitutes,” I replied.
“Whores, yes,” Sloane pulled on her cigarette.
“Not that I’m saying youse one of course.”
I just nodded wanting for her to get on with it.
“Well regardless of what sort of girl you are, boys gotta real hankerin’ for having their pecker sucked.”
I blanched. I had heard of fellatio but it was preached to be a sin.
“Oh don’t go all shy and virginal Sarah; most girls won’t admit to it but there’s a lot do it to keep their boyfriends happy and from strayin’. Specially those that’s hell bent on keeping their virginity.”
I nodded. I was intelligent enough to understand the paradigm and had heard plenty of rumours.
“Course you can always give a boy a handjob but most won’t settle for that.”
I blushed a deeper red.
“So. And now wees getting to it; some girls, not many but some, will let their boyfriends…Christ! There ain't no way to say it but plain…they let their boyfriend fuck their butt.”
I gasped. I was mortified.
“Yep there’s some will allow their boyfriends to put it in their anus so they can keep their virginity for marriage. And I’ll be honest; there’s some boys like to do that regardless, even if they can get pussy.”
Sloane blushed a deep guilty red.
I had averted my eyes but I looked up at Sloane and she read the question on my face.
“Don’t you tell a soul but yes I’ve done it, and I ain’t no virgin as you well know” she took a long pull on her beer.
“It hurts like a sumbitch the first time, but if a boy takes his time it ain’t so bad,” she shrugged.
“But to get back to the subject. Special girls like you can give out handjobs and blowjobs; you think about it, ain’t no one gonna know you ain’t got a pussy if you do that.”
“But I'm figurin’ if you let a boy fuck you that other way; he’ll find out for sure you ain’t a real girl.”
My hands were shaking and I snatched another cigarette and lit it. I sat in stunned silence taking it all in. Some of what Sloane had told me I already knew; but some was a revelation.
Sloane came over and sat next to me on my bed and put her arm around me.
“Listen honey. You’re one of the prettiest girls in school and you got brains. You don’t have to do any of what we been talking about but you got options.”
“You don’t wanna turn out to be a slut like me…”
I lifted my head to protest but Sloane put a finger to my lips.
“I know what I am and it’s my choice; don’t you go feelin’ sorry for me or I’ll get angry.”
“But you can still date a boy if that’s what you want. Plenty of girls at the school ain’t even stuck their tongue in their boyfriend’s mouth, let alone let him feel them up. But boys is boys and if they can’t get what they want from their girlfriend they’re liable to roam and get what they’re hankerin for elsewhere.”
“What I’m sayin’ is, you got alternatives to fuckin’,” she looked me the eye, as serious as she’d ever been.
“Can you tell me what it’s like? Giving handjobs and blowjobs?” I asked tentatively.
“And kissing? What’s this thing with the tongue?” I smiled at her.
Sloane punched me in the shoulder and laughed. A good belly laugh like she used when we were kids.
“Why Sarah Grayson…I never!” she giggled.
She reached under the bed and pulled out her bong and stoked the bowl from the stash she kept in her top drawer.
“If I’m going to give away all my confidences I’m going to need a little bit more than a can of cold Lone Star,” she laughed and fired up the bong and took a deep draught.
She offered it to me but I shook my head.
“I’ll take another beer though,” I said.
Sloane reached into the cooler and then proceeded to provide me with an education that I would never get in school.
Two things happened shortly after that night that changed things forever.
Having listened to the advice that Sloane had given me I set my resolve to attend the Prom with a suitable date and having found said date Aunt Amanda began to fuss over me like she had never before.
It was two days later that I was sitting cross-legged on the lawn under the shade of an old oak eating my packed lunch. I was flicking idly through a fashion magazine relieved that my final grades were in and my college applications were in the post. I had not a care in the world other than what I was going to wear to the Prom and who might approach me to ask to be my escort. As I had turned down most of what I considered eligible candidates I was worried I might not even get asked again.
It was mid June and two weeks before Prom night. Because of the warm weather I was wearing a white A-line skirt and light-blue capped-sleeved blouse. My legs were clad in control-top pantyhose, not because I needed them to pull in my waist but because they gaffed me without needing tape. I was engrossed in my magazine and not aware that the hem of my skirt had ridden up to show off the darker bands on the hosiery at the top of my thighs and my long coltish legs. My feet were shod in black, low-heeled Mary-Janes, my long blonde hair was worn loose with bangs and as always my makeup was perfect and perhaps a little heavy for summer but that was how I liked to wear it.
Unbeknownst to me, Drew Carter a lettered running back on the football team who was hoping for a football scholarship, was looking purposely in my direction. He stood with two of his team mates about thirty yards away under the shade of a slowly dying Dutch Elm eyeing me off.
“She won’t have anything to do with you Drew. She’s a bookworm and you’re a jock,” Bing Holthouse Jr, the quarterback for the Rattlesnakes, our football team, chided.
“Fuck you Bing! She still doesn’t have a date; she’s declined all the academics so maybe I have a chance,” he retorted.
“Declined”. That’s a big word for an athlete. You been book learnin’ again ain't you!” Bing punched his best friend playfully in the shoulder.
Bing had already been picked up by the Arlington Mavericks at Texas U and his future was assured with a football scholarship guaranteed. Drew Carter was a pretty good running back and had been scouted but not yet signed up. But he had also made reasonable grades, not only because he was not assured of a football scholarship, but because he was actually quite intelligent and could have made it into the top ten percentile of graduates himself but for his commitment to football at the expense of scholastic studies.
“Double fuck you Bing!” Drew chided his team mate and sauntered over to where I sat in the shade.
Engrossed in my magazine I had no idea how long Drew Carter had been standing in front of me until I became aware of his presence and I jumped with alarm.
I slammed my magazine shut and gazed up at the countenance standing before me, raising a hand to shield my eyes from the bright sunlight.
“I’m sorry ma’am I didn’t mean to scare you,” the tall athletic apparition before me drawled.
“What do you want?” I said curtly.
I saw his shoulders droop and sensed his confidence dissipate. Being curt was my natural defence and I chided myself for it.
“I'm sorry ma’am. I’ll leave you to your reading and to your lunch,” he said in conciliatory tone.
He turned to leave and I summoned my resolve.
“Wait! I was rude and I’m sorry,” I replied.
He turned back to me and smiled.
As he did a cloud obscured the sun and I could see him clearly. He was handsome in a lean cowboy sort of way. Tall and tanned, slim-hipped, long-legged, with a crooked smile and long sun-bleached sandy hair that he habitually flicked out of his deep blue eyes.
My heart skipped a beat.
“May I?” he indicated a spot beside me on the lawn and when I nodded he effortlessly eased himself down beside me at a respectful distance.
“What are you reading?” not ‘whatcha readin’; I was impressed this jock actually spoke English.
I blushed when I held up the fashion magazine and his face lit up with that cheeky smile.
“I was expecting something a little more, shall we say, intellectual, from a girl with you’re reputation” he grinned.
He saw the cloud cross my face and he reached out and gently touched my hand.
“I didn’t mean anything bad by it Ms Grayson; just that you are known to be the studious sort that has no interest in frivolity of any kind,” he explained.
“The Ice Queen?” I replied.
“You said it ma’am; not me,” he grinned.
I laughed and he laughed along with me. He scooted closer to me so we were nearly hip to hip.
“I’m Andrew Carter but everyone calls me Drew,” he held out his hand.
I took it and he squeezed just a bit; the feel of his long cool fingers sent shivers up my spine.
“And I’m Sarah; not Ms or ma’am; just plain Sarah Grayson,” I smiled back at him shyly.
“Sarah, as us country folk are like to say, you is anything but plain,” he said and beamed that smile at me again.
My heart melted at the compliment and I blushed bright red.
We chatted for what seemed like an eternity but it was closer to a half hour. We discussed what subjects we had studied, what books we both liked and what colleges we hoped to get into. He looked at me with his deep blue eyes but I notice they flicked down to my tiny breasts and more often to my legs. Unconsciously I fiddled with the hem of my skirt, pulling it down and smoothing it out. I saw the look of disappointment in his eyes and I was secretly glad. A boy who seemed to like me for my brain and my body; an intellectual jock, we were both different to the rest of seniors but for totally different reasons.
“May I come around to your house and call on you sometime?” he asked as he was about to leave.
He sensed my uneasiness; I had never had anyone around to the house. With Aunt Amanda’s gentlemen friends likely to arrive at any time and Sloane’s recently found penchant for the life of a slattern; the Grayson house was not conducive to visitors of the genteel kind.
I scrambled around in my pocketbook and found a pen and wrote down our home number on the page of my magazine and tore it off and proffered it to him.
“Call me. We can meet, on shall we say neutral ground,” I smiled up at him.
Drew was astute enough to understand my dilemma and he gave me that heart-melting smile. He took the scrap of paper and his fingers touched mine. They lingered as neither of us wanted that fragile touch to end. He looked searchingly into my eyes and his fingers intertwined with mine. He pulled me forward and leant into me and kissed me. It wasn’t anything passionate but it wasn’t chaste either. He kissed me on the side of my mouth; our lips barely touching. He made to move away and I pulled him back to me and put my arms around him and kissed him.
I kissed him properly, our lips crushed and I let the tip of my tongue slide into his mouth. When he tried to press harder I gently eased him away and as I did I head a loud whoop.
Bing Holthouse Jr and Bobby Fillay where still under that old Elm and were whooping and yahooing when they saw us kiss.
I blushed a deep red and Drew gave me his high-beam smile.
“Sorry ma’am, but you know what them jocks is like,” he grinned at me.
“You talk like a cowpoke again Andrew Carter and you may not get another kiss,” I smiled back at him.
“Well we can’t have that now, can we?” he said getting to his knees.
He kissed the tips of his index and middle fingers and waved me a kiss,
I blushed again as I watched his lithe athlete’s body spring to his feet and stroll away. My heart was beating like a racehorse on the home stretch. I could feel my penis had become erect inside my control-top pantyhose and even felt a little wetness there. I liked how that felt but I also so wanted to be a real girl.
I sighed and went back to my magazine; but I couldn’t concentrate. I kept thinking of Drew Carter and my first real kiss.
The call came the very next day and I was both excited and trepidicious when I heard Drew’s voice in the receiver of the telephone.
“So can I see you Sarah, please?” I was thrilled to hear genuine longing in his voice.
The intellectuals who I had repeatedly turned down sounded childlike and whiney compared to Drew’s deep masculine drawl.
“Yes but not here. There’s an old barn, well its more just a shed really, about half a mile down the track that runs from my back yard,” I said.
“I’ll pick you up out back of your place,” I could sense the exhilaration in his voice.
“No!” I shouted into the mouthpiece.
I took a breath and composed myself.
“That won’t be necessary Drew; I’ll meet you there.”
I didn’t want Sloane or Amanda to know I was meeting a boy. Especially not a football player. God! What would they think!
I checked myself out in the mirror and fixed my makeup. I should have been wearing jeans to traverse that overgrown paddock and mooch around that rickety barn but dammed if I wasn’t going to show off one of my best assets; my long legs.
I slipped out of the housedress I was wearing and into a pair of cut-off denim shorts, I kept on my control-top pantyhose for two reasons; they really helped gaff me and the sheen enhanced the look of my shapely legs. I put on my best white padded bra to match my white satin panties, underwear was the only items of clothing I had that was new. Everything else was a Sloane or Amanda hand-me-down. I put on a blue denim blouse and sprayed myself with some of Sloane’s perfume and brushed my hair.
I hardly remember the walk through the overgrown paddock to the old barn, I was so excited. Just as I got there a blue pickup arrived in a cloud of dust; I heard the ratchet of the parking brake and then Drew threw open the door and strode towards me, slamming the door in his haste.
He pulled me to him and I inhaled the scents of prairie-dust, Old Spice, a hint of sweat and tobacco. He smelled masculine and when he wrapped me in his arms I felt his powerful muscles. He kissed me hard.
This was no peck on the side os the mouth or tentative slip of the tongue over the lips; this was a deep, open-mouthed, tongue in mouth, exploring kiss.
I melted in his arms and responded, putting my arms around him and pressing my body against his.
After what seemed like an eternity he broke the kiss and eased me away from him a little and held me by my arms. I was tall for girl but he was taller by three or four inches and he looked down into eyes.
“Damn you are prettier than I remembered and it was only yesterday we met. You smell nice too,” he said and my emotions stirred again.
“I wanted to ask you something Sarah. I didn’t come around here to fool around, I know you’re not that kind of girl.”
It was my turn to be witty.
“How do you know I’m not that kind of girl? You’ve only known me for one day,” I smirked.
“How naive you are Sarah. I’ve been watching you from afar for over a year. I’ve wanted to talk to you but when I saw you dismiss every boy that approached you, including the smartest in the school, I figured a jock like me didn’t stand a chance.”
“An intellectual jock if I recall, who scraped a couple of A’s together and still managed to keep his place in the starting lineup,” I smiled.
“So what did you want to ask?” my heart was pounding again.
“Will you be my Prom date? Look I know this is kinda short notice and….”
I never let him finish; I threw myself into his arms and kissed him as hard as I could. When we finally broke for breath he beamed.
“So I guess that’s a yes?”
“Yes. Now I have a question for you,” I went on.
“What did you mean by you didn’t come here to fool around? You’re not going to waste my time and effort to look pretty for you are you?”
This time his grin lit up his whole face.
I took him by the hand and led him into the old barn and over to the ladder to the hayloft.
I started up the ladder and turned my head over my shoulder and found Drew’s eyes glued to my ass.
“The ladder’s a bit rickety so be careful Drew,” I said.
“Yes ma’am,” he replied.
“And it would help if you watched where you put your hands and feet rather than staring at my caboose you big galoot,” I grinned.
“Well if I fall and die ma’am, I’ll die happy knowing the last thing I saw was your damn fine derriere,” he smirked.
“Why Drew Carter!” I chided climbing onto the loft.
And then I squealed with delight as Drew came up behind me and dragged me down into the hay.
“Is that how you capture all your girls Drew Carter; by tackling them like a linebacker?” I grinned up at him as he lay on top of me.
“Nope! Just mouthy academic Ice Princesses.”
I was about to retort but he pressed his lips to mine and I wrapped my arms around him and responded. We kissed forever or what seemed like it in that hot, dust-smote, hayloft. Before long I felt his manhood press against me through his jeans. He wasn’t crudely rubbing it against me or anything; but I could feel it pressing against me.
After a while his hands began to explore my body, he stroked my legs starting at my knees and then letting his fingers glide up them to my thighs. He stopped at my shorts and then moved on to my waist, sliding his hands up my flanks and under my arms than across my body. His hand stopped at my breasts.
He broke the kiss and looked me in the eyes.
“I don’t want this to go wrong. You tell me if I’m going to far,” he whispered hoarsely.
I looked up at him, my head resting in the hay, my hair fanned out. I remained silent.
Drew’s fingers fumbled with the buttons on blouse and I put may hand over his and he stopped and I saw the disappointment in his face.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to. It’s just that…well my titties ain’t exactly a mouthful,” I resorted to trash talk to hide my embarrassment.
He grinned at me; his face lighting up and those deep blue eyes shining.
“This ain’t my first rodeo ma’am, I could sorta tell when I was fumbling around earlier that the decks were stacked; if’n you don’t mind me mixing my metaphors. Now you let me decide what’s a mouthful and what ain't.”
Drew flicked open the top three buttons of my blouse and his fingers slid inside and caressed my skin. I gasped and he lowered his mouth to mine and gently kissed me while his fingers continued to explore. They slid under a cup and caressed the small mound of my breast and I gasped again, and when he flicked my erect nipple with his fingertip I melted.
I crushed my lips against his and writhed in his embrace as his hand cupped my small breast and squeezed and caressed it. His hand moved over to my left breast and he performed the same trickery as I squirmed underneath him. I could feel myself fully aroused and was glad I was fully gaffed today, my member taped back between my legs; my pantyhose providing extra support.
It was then that I found myself feeling guilty. I was letting this boy kiss and caress me thinking I was a girl. And I was a girl; except for that one thing. But pleasure and lust overcame guilt and regret and I let Drew carry on stroking and caressing me.
His fingers slid around my back and expertly release the clasp of my bra and he pulled it free. He looked down at my pathetically small breasts but I didn’t see disappointment in his eyes. I saw desire.
He lowered his mouth to my mounds and licked and caressed them, his hot wet tongue driving me wild with pleasure. He sucked on my nipples, playfully nipping at them now and then and I felt ecstatic. Just when I thought I would explode with delectation he stopped and looked at me again.
“Sarah, they’re exactly a mouthful and they are magnificent,” he grinned and lowered his face to my bosom again.
I gently held his head as he suckled my breasts and I think it was at that moment that I fell in love with Andrew Carter.
We continued to kiss and Drew continued to explore my breasts; we were both becoming highly aroused. I so wanted to go a little further but was terrified if I went too far my secret would be exposed. But I couldn’t help myself.
I reached down and squeezed his hard penis through his jeans. It felt so hard and big as I gripped it through the denim. This time Drew gasped and quickly broke the kiss and looked at me intently.
“Sarah; I don’t want you doing anything you’re going to regret. I didn’t come here for that,” he said earnestly.
“I know Drew, and I guess that you think that you’re the first boy I have been with this way; and well, you are. But I know my boundaries and I don’t want to be a cock tease but you might as well know we aren’t going much further.”
“I’m enjoying my first intimate moments with a boy but there isn’t going to be any consummation. I like this, I really do. It’s special. But I’m not a whore like…” I stopped myself there, having said too much.
“Like Sloane?” Drew finished my sentence and I nodded.
“I know Bing and Sloane had a thing going for a little while, but that’s not what this is,” he said.
“I know. See this is what happens when two intelligent people make out; they over-analyse everything instead of just enjoying the spontaneity,” I smiled up at him.
“Now are you going to let this pretty girl lying underneath you with her titties exposed go to waste or are you going to get back to making her happy.”
“Well yes I am; and cognisant of there being no consummation may inquire if it might be possible to for me take off those shorts,” he grinned.
“Well it just might be possible but lets set some boundaries shall we. You see those dark bands at the top of my pantyhose; well that’s the state-line. And there’s no crossing the state line,” I smirked.
“Fucking Ice Princess!” he chuckled and fell on me and I wrapped my arms and legs around him and pulled him close as we kissed, writhed and rubbed against each other.
I helped Drew struggle out of his shirt and the feel of his skin against mine was glorious. We were both hot and sweating and his chest rubbed against my small breasts as we writhed in the hay. His hands found my shorts and I lifted my buttocks to allow him to ease them from me.
I felt vulnerable, lying underneath this strong athlete dressed only in my underwear but I also felt excited, exhilarating and free. I also felt so feminine and sexy.
He was kissing me excitedly, his hands on my breasts and his groin pressed into mine. The denim of jeans rasped against the silkiness of my satin panties. I could feel the heat of his erection pushing against me.
He reached a hand down between us and I knew that he intended; to free his erection and rub it against my panty-crotch and that was as far as I was willing to let him go.
But that never happened.
“I see London, I see France I see Sarah's underpants. I see London, I see France I see Sarah's underpants. I see London, I see France I see Sarah's underpants!”
We both gasped with surprise and Drew rolled off me and I curled up trying to conceal my body, feeling vulnerable clad only in my underwear and heels.
“Well ain’t this a sight to behold!”
It was Sloane who had chanted that playground teasing rhyme.
She was sitting cross-legged at the top of ladder smoking a cigarette, drunk and with mischief written on her face.
I scrambled to pull on my shorts and blouse.
“Don’t be embarrassed on my account cousin; ain’t like Drew here hasn’t had me in the same state of undress,” she slurped on a Lone Star beer, she had the remains of six pack on the boards beside her.
“Ain’t that right Drew?” she jeered.
I continued dressing while and Drew buttoned his shirt.
“Well here cuz; take a beer and a smoke and I’ll tell you all about our boy Drew,” Sloane kicked the five remaining cans of beer over in our direction and tossed her cigarettes and lighter.
I looked up at Drew and saw the guilt on his face. I cracked open a can of beer and took a deep draught and lit a cigarette and stared at him intently. I was confused and angry.
“See Drew; Sarah ain’t much different to me. She drinks and she smokes now and then; course she’s different in other special ways but that ain’t for me say.”
Sloane was sitting, legs akimbo on the edge of the loft and it was all I could do to stop myself pushing her off. I glared at her and she registered the intense anger in my face.
“It isn’t what you think Sarah,” Drew implored.
“Sloane and I had brief; very brief encounter right here. It started off just fooling around but she wanted more I wouldn’t do it. She was drunk and emotional and I am not the sort of guy who takes advantage,” he explained.
“Yeah but not Bing. He didn’t care if I was drunk, high or sober so long as I opened my legs for him. Sometimes he didn’t even care if I didn’t want him to; he figured what I’d given him once he could take when he wanted,” Sloane was crying now, her mascara running down her cheeks.
“I guess that’s the difference between quarterbacks and running backs; the quarterbacks are used to gettin’ what they want when they want, and running backs get what the quarterback tosses to them,” Sloane sneered.
“We all three was up here drinking and Sloane came on to me,” Drew went on.
“We fooled around but I wouldn’t go any further than that. God’s honest truth. I’m not the guy who takes advantage of a drunken woman.”
“I wanted to leave and I asked Sloane to come with me and offered to drive her home but by then she was coming onto Bing Holthouse and they told me in no uncertain terms to leave,” Drew finished explaining.
“You fucking wimp! Bing gave me the fucking of my life that night and you coulda had seconds or joined right in Drew Carter. But no! You left!” Sloane sniggered.
“Course Bing wanted to jump me whenever it suited him after that; didn’t matter what I cared. Christ when I was having my ladies monthlies he’d just roll me over and use the other; wasn’t nothing to him.”
Now I was weeping; feeling so sorry for Sloane. I remembered coming home and finding her and Bing making love on her bed but I had no idea what she had been through.
“So there you go cuz. You got my leftover clothes, my leftover shoes, my leftover toys, even whatever my Momma has got leftover from her love for me I suppose; and now you got my leftover boyfriend. You just livin’ on my leftovers,” Sloane bellowed.
“I love you Sloane; and if all I have is your hand-me-downs and leftovers, so be it,” I replied indignantly.
I turned to look at Drew who had his head in hands and was too ashamed to look at me.
“But Andrew Carter isn’t a leftover or hand-me-down. He’s my boyfriend in his own right. He approached me and I accepted him on his own and my own terms; before I knew any of what you told me.”
Drew looked up surprised.
“I’m your boyfriend?” he gulped.
“You fucking bet you are Andrew Carter! I am not going to the high school Prom with some pick up date,” I reached out and put my arm around him leaned into him.
He pulled my face to his and kissed me.
“Well I’ll be a horses ass! Andrew Carter is taking my fucked up Ice Princess cousin to the Prom! Well don’t pack no rubbers Drew; you won’t be needing them with this bitch!” Sloane hissed.
Before either of us could retort Sloane slid down the ladder and was running out the barn.
“Fuck you both!” she yelled as she ran off into the night.
“Come on little lady; that’s enough drama and excitement for one day,” Drew said and helped me down the ladder to the floor of the barn.
He picked straw out of my hair in between kisses and then he drove me home. It was twilight by the time we got there and full dark by the time I eventually got out his pickup after a protracted good night kiss that never seemed to end.
“Sloane? Sloane?” Is that you out there?” Amanda yelled from the porch.
I wish I had camera to take a picture of my Aunt’s face when she saw me get out of the pickup and walk to the porch; clothes mussed up, hair akimbo with the odd stalk of straw still in it, makeup messed up and my pantyhose snagged.
“My, my, my! Sarah Grayson what the dickens have you been up to?” she looked stupefied.
“Well I’ve been securing myself a date for the Prom,” I grinned mischievously.
“Is the Drew Carter, starting running back for the Rattlesnakes I just saw molesting my darling niece in the cab of that pickup before he drove off?” Amanda grinned.
“You betcha!” I giggled.
“You get your ass in the house and on my couch and you’re taking a drink and telling me all about this eventuality young lady, or you ain't ever going to bed!” she slapped me playfully on the buttocks and we hugged each other and laughed as we went inside.
Amanda and I sat up until midnight chatting, drinking, smoking and laughing.
“I’m getting you the best Prom dress I can afford,” Amanda said when she kissed me goodnight.
I awoke with a start and looked at the alarm clock. It was 3.30 am. There was a red glow low on the western horizon. The old barn was ablaze. Sloane’s bed was empty.
To be continued…
There’s Something About Sarah
Chapter Three – Prom Night
Warning: this chapter contains graphic content that may not appeal to all sensibilities
Sloane never admitted to burning down the old barn but I knew it was her; I could picture her doing it in a jealous rage. She never came home that night or the one after, out catting or staying with friends most likely. But when she returned it was like our confrontation in the barn had never happened.
“So. Drew Carter hey Sarah? Now there’s a catch,” she grinned at me.
“You told me about your history with him the night the barn burned,” I replied.
“Oh pish Sarah; that is history and there weren’t nothing to it anyway, he was just a stepping stone for me to get to Bing Holthouse,” she answered indigently
I was really worried about Sloane’s mental health, she was drinking and drugging heavily and her memory of events was distorted or she sometimes just plain forgot what happened.
“Momma says she’s spending a pretty penny on your Prom dress,” she changed the subject.
“Yeah, I feel kinda guilty about that.”
“What the fuck for Sarah; she’s taken all your trust fund money payments and given you little of it. This will be the first frock you’ve had that isn’t a hand me down,” Sloane said.
“Well there is that,” I grinned at her.
“And I’m going to do your hair and makeup. No, no. No protesting; it’s the least I can do for my cousin who’s shortly off to college,” she smiled.
“Have you decided where you’re going?”
“Well locally there’s Texas U at Arlington where Drew’s hoping for a football scholarship or perhaps the more prodigious University of Houston,” I replied and I noticed her wince at the mention of Arlington where both Bing and Drew would likely be attending.
Amanda fussed over me. She bought home a pile of brochures with pictures of Prom dresses in them for us too moon over. We eventually settled on a blue backless drop waisted dress made of shiny satin. The bodice was lined with a second layer of satin, with unlined full cut skirt which was a little longer in the back than in the front and closed with a zipper down the back.
It stretched the budget but using shoes and accessories that I could borrow from Sloane, Amanda said we could afford it.
Amanda rang the store in Austin and made sure that there was one in stock in my size and also asked if any girls from my high school had bought anything the same or similar. I grinned and clapped my hands when she told me no one had.
It was a day trip to Austin to pick up the dress and then drive back again, three hours there and three hours back. Sloane declined to come with us but she did not seem resentful.
“You kids have fun; I have a date today so I can’t come along,” she smiled at us.
“It ain’t that Kettering boy is it Sloane? He’s too old for you and he’s white trash,” Amanda growled around her Salem Light.
“Sheesh Momma; and like we ain’t? You never mind about who I’m seein’ and who I ain't.”
“You’re still shy of your eighteenth birthday Sloane and I’m still the head of this household,” Amanda snapped back.
“Speaking of which; I got paid so here’s my board.”
Sloane tossed two twenties at her mother.
“And forty for you too Sarah. Taint much but you can buy some heels, nylons, and nice panties and a bra to go with your Prom dress if you’re thrifty.”
Once again Sloane surprised me with her generosity.
“Course you shouldn’t get panties that are too tiny in case your cock falls out,” Sloane couldn’t help insulting me to mask her benevolence.
“Sloane!” Amanda admonished her.
“Don’t worry Aunt Amanda; it’s just Sloane’s way of showing her jealousy cause she ain't going to the Prom,” I stuck my tongue out at Sloane.
“I’d rather blow the whole football team than go to a dance and put up with prancing around in taffeta and lace,” she retorted and playfully stuck her tongue out back at me.
“Well from what I hear you already done the starting lineup and now your working your way through the bench,” Amanda attempted to join in our burlesque joviality but her pun went too far and I saw Sloane wince.
Amanda and I drove to Austin and spent the day shopping. As I hoped, the dress I had selected fitted me almost perfectly and Amanda would nip and tuck where it was needed to make its fit faultless. I bought a pair of blue faux-suede high heels to match my dress, a pair of white satin panties and matching strapless padded bra. I also bought a pair expensive, sheer-to-the waist glossy flesh-toned pantyhose.
We found a store that sold good quality costume jewellery and despite my claims that we were already spending too much money, Amanda splurged out on accessories.
That day was like a dream, it was the best day I spent with my Aunt. She didn’t even hit the bottle until late afternoon but that was okay because I drove us home with a beatific smile on my face the whole way.
Now there was no studying to be done, I saw Drew almost every evening. He’d take me out for a shake or a coke and we’d meet up with his friends who teased him about being a jock going out with an intellectual, but the teasing was good natured; except for Bing who couldn’t help being cruel.
“So Drew is Sarah as free with herself as her cousin was with me? I hope so ‘cause if she’s half as good as her cousin you’re really getting the ride of your life,” he sniggered.
I blushed and turned away.
“Nah Bing. Sarah’s a sweet and virtuous lady; that’s why were going steady. Unlike you I have some pride and don’t date skanks,” he replied.
Bing got flustered but the rest of the boys and their dates all laughed along with Drew so there wasn’t much Bing could say or do to retaliate. I also knew he was a little jealous. I had seen Bing’s eyes roam over my body when he knew Drew wasn’t watching. He’d stare at my legs or try to look up my skirt and once he’s even asked me to meet him alone, which I politely declined.
“So we’re steady now are we?” I asked Drew when we were alone in the cab of his pickup.
“Well I think so? Don’t you want to?” he looked a little hurt.
I tuned his face to mine and kissed him.
“I don’t let just anyone panty-pop me Drew so I guess we must be,” I giggled.
“Why Sarah Grayson! What comes out of your mouth sometimes!” he laughed.
I took on a solemn tone.
“Drew; you’re the only boy I’ve ever kissed, let alone the other shenanigans we are getting up to. I’m not naive and I know this isn’t forever and all. We’re likely to go to different colleges but if you’re not serious about me I’d rather know now and break it off,” I said tersely.
“You bet I’m serious Sarah; in fact I think I might be falling…”
I put my hand over mouth and hushed him.
“Don’t say it Drew. Please don’t say it. Let’s just say we are going steady for now and see how it goes after the Prom,” I said.
“Sure,” he replied, a little relieved I think.
“Doesn’t mean we can’t fool around some more though. Let’s go parking!” I grinned.
Now that the barn was gone we had to find somewhere else where we could be alone and we settled on a grassy field behind the community playground. It was nice and quiet at night, easy to get to being close to the school, and lit only by the moon and starlight. A few couples used it but everyone was discreet and ensured they lay their blanket well away from whoever else might be there.
We’d gone there a few times now and I let Drew undress me down to my underwear, leaving on my pantyhose under my panties and not allowing Drew to put his hands further up my legs than my thighs. My little breasts were ‘in play’ and I was delighted that Drew was happy to caress and suckle on them for hours.
He would strip down to just his jeans and I would stroke him through the denim but that was as far as I was prepared to go. I so wanted to do more but I was petrified he would find out that I wasn’t a real girl and I often felt guilty but my lust overcame my guilt in those moments that I was alone with him. I would let him rub his cock against me through his jeans until he was almost there and then he would stop. I didn’t make him stop but I think he thought I would find it undignified if he came in his jeans whilst panty-popping me. That was our term for dry-humping.
I knew he was frustrated and getting what the boys called ‘blue balls’ but so was I. I would get home to find my panties saturated with pre-seminal fluid and my penis so hard in my gaff that it hurt. I would rub it until I climaxed; filling my panties with sperm and then I’d feel guilty again.
The night Bing insulted me I decided I would take things along a little further as I was as frustrated as Drew was and I too was falling in love, even though I had told Drew not to say it.
We lay on the blanket and I was underneath him, naked except for hose, panties and heels. My skirt, blouse and bra were neatly folded in the corner of the blanket as was his shirt; his shoes and sox beside the pile of clothing.
Drew was kissing me and I was responding; his fingers were exploring my thighs and his hard cock was pressed against me; I could feel the heat through his jeans.
I moved my hand between our bodies and I squeezed it and he gasped. I felt it pulse and harden even more. I kissed him harder and drove my tongue into his mouth and my fingers found his flies and I began to slowly unzip them.
His strong hand gripped my wrist and stopped me.
He broke the kiss and looked earnestly into my eyes.
“That’s a big step Sarah; I don’t want you doing something just ‘cause you think you have to,” he sighed.
“Shut up Drew,” I grinned up at him and pulled his lips to mine and yanked down his flies.
My fingers fumbled around in his jeans and I was getting frustrated trying to find his penis in his jockey shorts. Then my fingers touched his smooth, hard, warm flesh and I melted. I felt my panties begin to soak when I finally wrapped my fingers around his hard, pulsing phallus.
“Oh god!” he groaned and kissed me harder.
I took my time exploring his cock with the tips of my fingers. The sleek, veiny shaft, the bulbous spongy glans, the eye leaking pre-seminal fluid which I rubbed gently into his fraenulum which almost drove him insane.
“Jeez Sarah, for a virgin doing this for her first time you sure are good at it,” he grinned.
“Shut up you jock. It ain’t exactly rocket science you know,” I grinned up at him and squeezed his shaft.
I reached for his belt and fumbled around trying to unbuckle it but he became more frustrated.
“Fuck this!” he whispered harshly and jumped to his feet to pull off his jeans.
I laughed at him.
“Men! No patience!” I grinned.
“Might as well take off them jockeys as well,” I giggled.
He looked a little shocked.
“That’s right Drew Carter; I want you nude but don’t get overly excited cause I ain’t removing any more of my drawers,” I teased.
“Why is it you talk all sophisticated except when we are alone and doing this?” he looked down at me, standing one legged struggling out of his shorts.
“Well I guess it just doesn’t seem right to talk with eloquence whilst lying nearly naked squeezing my boyfriend’s dick!” I laughed.
“Sarah Grayson!” he chided me.
I reached up and pulled him down beside me, naked, warm and smooth-bodied. I pressed my breasts against his chest and pulled his face to mine and I kissed him, wrapping my legs around his, feeling his hard phallus pressing against the sensitive skin of my belly. I felt him throb and leak pre-cum on my skin. I felt so excited and I could feel his breathing begin to increase and become erratic.
I snuggled and wriggled until I had his cock on my lower belly, rubbing against my sheer nylon panties and began to grind against him as he rubbed his throbbing manhood against me. Our kisses became wet and wild, his tongue exploring my mouth. I pushed my small titties, my nipples erect and sensitive, up against his chest and wrapped my legs around him, my nylon-clad calves rasping and whispering as I rubbed them against his back as we humped away at each other.
My own cock was hard and pressing against the gaff and once again I was glad I had left on my nylons so the gusset would help hold it in place. The feel of Drew’s body on mine, his hard quivering cock pressing on the front of my panties and hose, the passion of our kisses, was driving both of us to extremis.
Drew gasped and gripped my hips and pushed me down into the blanket and I pulled him hard against me with my legs and wrapped my arms around him. Our teeth clashed as we panted and kissed and slathered at each other. I writhed under him as I felt his cock convulse and explode.
Drew’s searing hot seed saturated the front of my panties, soaked through the gusset of my pantyhose and scalded my skin. I climaxed with him, my gaffed penis held in place and pushed back into my groin, pulsed and secreted my semen into my panty gusset.
I held my lover against me as he spent himself against me whilst secretly expending my own secretions into my underwear. I rubbed his flanks with my nylon-clad legs and raked his back with my fingernails and thrust my body against his. His kisses became less desperate and demanding and became loving and gentle. We slowly seceded from our frenetic thrusting and gyrating and lay still. Drew stroked my face while he gently kissed me.
“That was beautiful Sarah. I’d swear you climaxed too but I didn’t even touch your pussy,” he grinned.
“I sort of did honey. Just the feel of you against me was enough,” I smiled up at him.
“I think I’ve messed your panties and nylons babe,” he smiled down at me.
“Just as well I have tissues and spare underwear in my purse then,” I smirked.
“Why Sarah Grayson you just never cease to amaze me!” he laughed.
“Now get off me you big lunk,” I tried to move from under him but he pinned me down.
“Who says I’m finished?” he grinned.
I could feel him becoming aroused again.
“What if I do?” I smiled.
“Then I guess I am too but I’d be sorely disappointed,” he made a frowny face.
“Suppose these drawers are ruined anyway so you might as well do as you will,” I smirked.
“Jeez you are sweet to me,” he joked, but his voice had become hoarse with lust again and I could feel his full tumescence against me.
I wrapped my legs and arms back around him and thrust up to meet him as gently rocked himself against me.
This time it took a while longer for him to orgasm and it was a lot less frenzied but just as passionate. I didn’t come with this time but the feel of his climax against me was gratifying and I hugged him tight and kissed him deeply as he spilled his seed on my body once again.
A while later we lay side my side, both smoking and looking up at the stars, Drew’s semen and our combined sweat cooling in the evening breeze.
“I got quite a hankering for this panty-popping as you call it Ms Grayson,” he said with an exaggerated cowboy drawl.
“If’n you keep up that west Texas cowboy twang, you better get good at sitting on your hand til it’s numb and then putting it on yer woody pretending its me, cause that’s all your getting’” I replied in my own faux Texas drawl.
“Jeez Sarah! What you come out with sometimes!” he laughed.
“Get your skinny ass over here cowboy and give your lady a cuddle and some kisses,” I laughed back at him.
We rolled together and canoodled for another hour before we called it a night.
On the day of the Prom Sloane and Amanda started drinking early. Amanda bustled and preened around me making a fuss.
“My lovely niece is going to the graduation Prom and she’s taking the hunkiest guy in town! Who’d have ever thought a Grayson girl would be going to college,” she cooed.
“For fuck sake Ma your own daughter is sitting here and your fussing over Sarah like she’s better than me,” Sloane whined.
“Oh come on Sloane honey, you know I love you but this is Sarah’s special day,” Amanda replied.
“Yeah! Sarah’s special day! And we wouldn’t wanna fuck that up would we?” Sloane said sarcastically.
I was worried Sloane was becoming psychotic; her mood swings were so unpredictable.
“Sloane? Did I do something wrong?” I asked.
Sloane looked at me vehemently.
“You did everything wrong! You’re smarter than I am. You’re prettier than I am. You have the best guy in town. Fuck you’re even more feminine than I am and you ain’t even a real girl!”
“Look at you. You’re gorgeous and you’re going to college and I’m a drunken slut with a whore for a mother and I’m most likely gonna turn out to be just like her!” Sloane cried.
Amanda was about to lash out at Sloane but I stopped her.
I pulled Sloane into my arms and held her tight and kissed her cheek and stroked her hair.
“Sloane everything I am, I am because of you. Don’t you understand? I have always worshipped you and I wanted to be just like you. You turned that frightened little boy into the woman you see before you now.”
Sloane sobbed for a while and then gained her composure.
“I'm sorry momma; I’m sorry Sarah,” she wiped her eyes.
“Now let me get to work on your hair and then I’ll do your makeup. You might be going to the Prom but I have a date tonight too,” she smiled through her tear-wetted eyes.
Sloane worked on me for about three hours getting my hair and makeup perfect. She wouldn’t let me see the results until she was finished then she led me over the full-length mirror in our bedroom.
I gasped when I saw myself; Sloane had had given me the utmost eighties kitsch hairstyle. She had piled half of my long blonde hair high on my head so it looked elegant and sophisticated; the remainder was teased into tendrils running down the left side of my face which emphasised my long pale neck.
My makeup was perfect; she had used blue, purple and mauve eyeshadow in such a way that I knew would look great when I put on my blue satin dress; heavy black kohl and mascara drew attention to by green eyes. She’d accented my high cheekbones with rouge and my full lips with cherry-red lipstick. She’d painted my fingernails to match my lipstick.
“Oh thank you Sloane! I look amazing!” I tried to pull her to me so I could hug her but she held me at arms length.
“No hugging, kissing or anything that’s going to fuck up all that work Sarah. After the dance you do all the smooching and hugging you want but I want you looking your best when you arrive at the Prom,” she smiled.
“Ok, I gotta fix myself and git. Like I said I have my own date tonight,” Sloane wondered off to our bedroom.
She had been drinking steadily all afternoon but wasn’t falling down drunk; just like Amanda she’d built a tolerance to the booze.
Amanda led me into her bedroom where my gown and accessories were laid out on the bed.
Sitting on the dressing table was a little roll of cosmetic tape. I hated that little roll of tape; it was a constant reminder to me that I wasn’t a real girl but without it, it would be difficult to hide what made me different. Amanda bought it for me ten rolls at a time and I had learned to become adept at tucking and gaffing at very early age.
“Do you want a hand tucking Sarah? This one night you want it to be prefect” Amanda asked.
“Nah, I’ve got it. Can you just cut me some pieces of tape and hand them to me when I’m ready,” I replied.
This may seem strange to most, but being transgendered makes normal what most folks call bizarre.
I pulled off the tank top I had been wearing taking care not to ruin my hair and makeup then I shucked out of my shorts and panties so I was nude. I had only that morning shaved what little body and pubic hair I had and was smooth all over.
I lay flat on the bed and gently pressed each of my testes up inside my body into the inguinal canal and held out my hand so Amanda could pass me the pieces of tape. I taped my scrotum around my penis, then I pushed my penis up and back. Then I took the proffered pieces of tape, each a few inches long, and used it to neatly secure my package.
Amanda opened the packet of expensive, sheer-to-the waist glossy flesh-toned pantyhose and carefully handed them to me so as not to snag them. I remained on my back and slid the cool, sheer nylons up my legs and smoothed the sheer gusset around my buttocks and groin. To me, there is nothing that exceeds the feel of silky nylons against my skin to make me feel feminine.
Then I pulled on the white satin bikini panties and smoothed them out too.
There was no sign of any boy parts; I had a smooth V between my legs that looked just like any girl.
Amanda helped me with the matching padded strapless bra and my foundation garments were completed. Next, Amanda helped me into my backless drop waisted blue satin ball gown and zipped it behind me in the small of my back. I stepped into my blue faux-suede high heels and I looked in Amanda’s mirror and was pleased to see the shorter hem at the front of the dress showed off my shapely claves. The satin liner of the bodice felt wonderful against my body and the dress looked magnificent.
Amanda accessorised me with the costume jewellery she had bought which included a small tiara which fitted perfectly with the hairstyle Sloane had given me. She rummaged around in a big drawer and found a nice clutch purse. Then she sprayed me liberally with perfume.
“Baby you look magnificent!” she cried.
She made me pose repeatedly as she took picture after picture with her cheap camera.
“Ok lets go into the lounge and wait for Drew,” she almost dragged me out of the bedroom.
“There is no way I’m sitting down in this dress!” I said.
“Of course not darlin’ but lets get your nerves settled,” she fussed and lit me a cigarette and gave me a glass of gin and tonic.
I was careful not spill anything on my dress or wrinkle it and stood almost stationary in the centre of the room sipping my drink and smoking my menthol.
My heart hammered in my chest when I heard Drew’s pickup pull up outside and his footfalls on the porch sounded almost foreboding.
He came in through the door looking so handsome in his tuxedo that I gasped.
“Now who’s this angel?” he beamed at me and strode over and pecked me on the cheek.
“You are going to be the most gorgeous girl at the Prom,” he whispered in my ear as he pulled me to him.
“Dontcha go ruining that dress and her makeup before you get her to the dance you big galoot!” Amanda cautioned, but she was grinning and we had to pose for what seemed about a hundred pictures before she would let us leave.
Drew held the door to the cab of his pickup open and I could see he had washed and polished the exterior and cleaned the interior. He’d even hung one of those little air fresheners from the rear vision mirror. Other girls would be arriving in limousines but I didn’t care; arriving in Drew’s pickup was like arriving in a golden carriage with prince charming as far as I was concerned.
If this was fairytale the Prom would have been the best night of my life and Drew and I would have been voted Prom king and Prom queen; but life isn’t a fairytale. The Prom changed my life forever that’s for sure; but it was no fairy story.
We arrived excited like everyone else and posed for the obligatory picture together in the foyer. We even posed with Drew’s varsity football team mates and their dates; we made quite a statement, half a dozen strong young handsome men and their beautiful beaus.
Drew and I danced the night away and chatted with his friends between dances. I still didn’t feel comfortable being among the ‘popular’ crowd and during the evening when I made my way over to the ‘intellectuals’. But it was there of all places that I felt myself shunned.
“Haven’t seen you for ages; did you come over here to slum Sarah?” Lizzie Sanders asked indignantly.
“Or did you come over to show off your jock hunk boyfriend? I’ll bet you two have some vigorous, intellectually stimulating conversations in the afterglow.”
“Oh sorry! Does he know what afterglow is? Or do you just play tic-tac-toe with a sharpie on your little titties?” she hissed.
I blushed a deep red.
“Why are you treating me like this? Aren’t you my friend?” I asked.
“The girl I was friends with was nicknamed the Ice Queen and could have had any of the top ten percentile academics. Instead she settled for a meat-headed football jock which is both cliché and passe, but I doubt that your beau would even know what that meant.”
My eyes started to tear up but Drew had been keeping a close eye on me from across the room and he came over and put his arm through mine and led me away but not before Lizzie Sanders attempted to take one more bite out of me.
“Don’t go away mad Sarah; just go away,” she sniped.
I was about to retort when Drew spun on his heels and looked Lizzie and her smug date in the eyes.
“I’m not going to get into a battle of wits with you Lizzie; I never attack anyone who’s unarmed!” he snapped back at her and she stared at him with amazement.
I pulled Drew closer and put my head his shoulder and let him lead me away.
After a whole bunch of announcements that most of students found boring, the Prom king and queen were crowned and then the lights dimmed and a large screen was lowered across the stage.
Of course someone had spiked the punch and most of the boys had bought hipflasks so everyone was a little high, some more than others, and a series of boos went up when the Vice Principal took to the stage and picked up the microphone.
“Ok hold it down people; the band will be back on stage soon but first there will be a slide show with a series of vignettes of the senior year students,” he announced and left the stage.
The jeers changed to cheers as slide after slide lit up the screen starting of course with pictures of the football team in action. What followed were slides of various other sporting teams performing their feats, and then some of the debating society in action, and then some of the other arts and crafts societies doing their things. After a series of slides depicting scenes from the high school play a slide titled ‘The Prestigious and the Scoundrels’ came up.
What followed were candid shots of boys and girls of the senior alumni starting with the gratuitous quarterback action shot of Bing Holthouse throwing a pass, then the Valedictorian giving his speech at graduation and so on. Each picture was followed by cheers or playful howls of derision, depending on who was depicted.
Then to my amazement, projected onto that huge screen was a picture of me sitting under that old oak reading a book. Drew squeezed my arm and I was quite delighted that the picture was greeted mostly with cheers. The next slide was also of me, this time leaning against Drew’s pickup smiling. I was quite surprised to see two pictures of me in a row and I also wondered who had taken those pictures.
Then the whole room became deadly silent except for a few gasps.
The next slide was of me, partially naked, lying on a blanket underneath Drew. I was stunned but the worse was to come.
I heard the carousel click as it rotated and as the next slide dropped into the projector and it sounded as loud as a shotgun in the quiet gymnasium.
There was a picture of me naked, standing one-legged pulling on my pantyhose. My small penis and scrotum had not been tucked and were plainly visible.
To my horror the slide show didn’t move on. That slide remained projected on the huge screen as the audience began to gasp, then laugh and then jeer.
“What?” I heard Drew whisper but I couldn’t look him in the face.
My whole life had fallen out from under me.
Then to my absolute terror I heard Sloane's voice come from the loudspeakers and there she was on stage, obviously drunk.
Suddenly a bright white spotlight lit up and searched the crowd before finding me and holding me transfixed in its glare.
“Thank you Billy. Ladies and gentlemen please thank Billy Kettering for fixing up that slide show for me and making it more interestin’” she drawled drunkenly into the microphone.
“But please thank the star of the show, my cousin Stephen who you all know and love as Sarah Grayson,” she screeched.
“Happy fucking Prom night Sarah!” she squawked and then began to cackle like a mad woman.
All eyes were on me and I felt like a deer in a headlight.
“Oh my god!” I heard Drew gasp and then all hell broke lose as the Vice Principal raced onto the stage and snatched the microphone from Sloane.
But that picture of me remained projected on the screen and the shouting, laughing and jeering started again as the Vice’s amplified voice cut across the cacophony.
“Turn that thing off! Turn that thing off! Oh for god sake someone turn that thing off!”
I burst through the stunned crowd and raced through the foyer and around the back of the school past the bleachers.
I ran, and I ran, and I ran.
I just ran.
They caught me at the community playground. I was no match for the jocks and I was running in my Prom dress and heels.
Someone grabbed my arm used my velocity to swing me around and the held me in a vice like grip. It was dark but I guessed there were about five of them; hard to see in their tuxedos.
But I knew who had hold of me. It was Bing Holthouse.
He pulled me to him, his face only an inch from mine. He walked me backward until the small of my back came up hard against a park bench
“I knew you weren’t right you freak!” he hissed and I smelt the bourbon and tobacco on his breath.
“Your aunt and your cousin are both whores but you’re far worse. You’re a monstrosity, an abnormality, a malformation. You should have been aborted.”
Tears ran down my face, mascara and eyeliner making little black runnels.
“Oh dear! The freak is crying boys.”
I head the others snigger.
“Even worse you been leading on my best friend. How did you hide it? Did you just blow him to keep him happy?” he snickered.
“Do you give blowjobs as good as your cousin?” he grinned.
“Well you seemed to want to find out Bing Holthouse. Drew may have been your friend but it didn’t stop you coming on to me!” I spat in his face and he wiped it away.
He punched me in the stomach and I bent over as the breath was knocked out of me. Bing spun me around and bent me over the bench.
“You hide it pretty good eh? Whatcha got hiding in those pretty panties,” he gasped.
I struggled but he held me over the bench and hitched up the back of my gown.
“Come on over boys. Take a look,” as I writhed and struggled, the back of the bench pressed against my stomach I felt the presence of the others as they moved in closer.
“Well lookee here boys; she’s wearing nice pretty white panties. Probably like most of the girls tonight but she ain't a girl is he?” Bing was panting with exertion.
I heard the others gasp as my thighs and buttocks were exposed.
“It’s not like you’d know she wasn’t a girl even now,” one of them said hoarsely.
I recognised the voice of Bobby Fillay.
I lifted my head as I struggled and saw the others gathered round me in the gloom.
“What do you say boys? Shall we see what Sarah has hidden under those pretty panties?” Bing laughed.
He yanked at my panties and I struggled harder.
“Don’t just stand there give me hand,” Bing panted.
One of the boys gripped my wrists and held my arms down on the back of the bench.
Bing pulled my panties down and I tried to kick him but he was too quick. He tore the crotch out of my pantyhose.
“Jeez look at that tight white ass; you’d never know she wasn’t a girl,” Bing sneered.
“You know how her kind survive in the city? I’ve been there and I know. They sell their pretty white asses and pretty red mouths on the street.”
“What do you say boys? It ain’t like she can complain. What’s she going to say to the sheriff; I dressed like a girl and didn’t like it when I got used like one?”
I could feel Bing’s hot breath on the back of my neck and I could feel the hot bulge in his pants rubbing against my buttocks as I struggled.
“Gee I don’t know Bing. This ain’t right. We done humiliated her enough; she won’t come back any more pretending to be a girl,” one the youths said.
I could feel the trepidation in his voice.
“Ben’s right Bing,” we should let it go now, another boy spoke up.
I recognised the voices, Ben Mowbray and Gerry Kershaw.
I felt the indignation rise in me and I struggled again, trying to free my arms and free myself from Bing’s embrace as he pushed me against the bench.
“See Bing. Your boys are losing heart. You’re all just cowards picking on a defenceless girl,” I shrieked.
“See boys! This thing here just called you all cowards and it still thinks it’s a girl,” Bing howled.
“Fuck that! Hold her still face Ben we’ll see who’s a coward!” Gerry Kershaw grunted.
The youth holding my arms down on the back of the bench pushed down harder and Ben Mowbray came over and placed a hand on either side of my face holding my head still. I tried to cry out but Bing squeezed the breath out of me.
Gerry climbed on the bench seat and I heard him unzip himself. I was become hysterical; I knew I was helpless. When the head of his penis rubbed against my lips I tried to shake my head and then I felt the blade in my side.
The youth who had been holding my arms had pulled out a pocket knife and I felt the cold steel pierce my dress and push against the delicate skin on my left side. He leaned in close.
“You so much as nip him and I’ll drive this blade into your guts. No one around here is gonna care if some tranny gets cut up a bit. You be a good girl and this will be over real soon,” he hissed in my ear.
Gerry pushed his erection into my mouth and I had no choice but to clamp my lips down on it and let him violate me. He tossed my tiara aside and tangled his fingers in my hair and pulled my face into his groin as his penis thrust in and out of my mouth. He didn’t last long and I soon tasted the musty stench of his seed and started to gag.
“Whooee boys! She ain't half bad!” Gerry Mowbray whooped as he pulled his phallus from my mouth and rubbed it on my face.
His place was immediately taken by another who began to fuck my face.
“Make her suck me!” he howled.
The knifeman pushed the blade harder into my side and I felt a trickle of blood.
I acquiesced; it was that or get stabbed and I sucked on the throbbing penis invading my mouth. Around my muffled cries of pain and indignation I sucked that cock as hard as I could, using my tongue, wanting him to climax and get his filthy member out of my mouth.
That’s when I felt Bing kick my feet apart and I tried to struggle again but the ever-present knife pressed harder and I stayed still. I heard Bing spit and then a searing pain shot though me as his tumescent penis invaded my rectum.
Bing slammed himself deep inside me, grinding himself against my buttocks.
“My god this bitch is tight! Fuck I’m gonna come!” he howled.
I sobbed silently as Bing ejaculated inside me; thrusting and rutting and digging his fingernails into my soft buttocks.
Whoever was in my mouth climaxed at the same time and I began to gag. Semen spilled from my lips as the stranger pushed his cock in and out my mouth in a frenzy of lust.
“Let’s change around Bing. You take the knife while I fuck her ass,” the knifeman said; the lust thick in his voice.
I was preparing myself to be violated again when suddenly out of nowhere a roundhouse punch hit Bing square in the jaw and knocked him out cold. The youth with the knife had removed it from my side and I stamped down on his foot with all my strength, driving my stiletto heel into the top of his shoe. He howled and turned in an effort to use the knife but another punch knocked him to the ground.
He scampered to his feet and hobbled off after the other three youths who were running away leaving Bing unconscious on the ground. I was still bent over the bench, my side bleeding, winded, and my anus burning.
I felt someone begin to slide my panties and ruined pantyhose back up my legs and I screamed.
“Leave me alone!”
“Shh Sarah. Shh. Let me take care of you,” Drew whispered in my ear.
Drew helped me pull up my panties and pull down my dress. I leaned against the bench panting; catching my breath. Eventually I could breath normally again and Drew gave me his handkerchief and I wiped my mouth.
“Here,” he offered me his hip flask and I took a swig of bourbon, rinsed my mouth and spat it out.
I took another shot and swallowed it. The burning liquid felt good as it went down my throat and into my stomach.
He took back his handkerchief, padded it up and poured whisky on it and put it against the cut in my side.
I heard a groan and looked down and saw that Bing Holthouse was regaining consciousness. I limped over and kicked him in the side and he groaned. It sounded good so I kicked him again, and again, and again, until Drew dragged me away.
He sat me on the bench and lit two cigarettes and gave me one.
I dragged on my cigarette and remained silent staring at the ground until I couldn’t stand it anymore and then I forced my eyes to meet his. My face was a mess; my makeup ruined, my eyes red from crying and my hair was in disarray.
“Do you hate me?” I whispered.
“I don’t know what I feel,” he replied.
“I understand if you do. I was going to tell you soon Drew, its just well…” my sentence drifted away as there was nothing I could say that would justify my deceit.
“I guess I deserved what I got for deceiving everyone,” I sighed.
“Don’t you say that! Don’t you dare say that!” he was livid.
“You deserve a lot of things for lying to me like you did but you never, ever, deserved what happened to you tonight Sarah. What happened to you is unforgivable.”
“You have never been anything but, kind, considerate and loving to all who have come in contact with you Sarah.”
“Don’t you ever say that you deserve to be treated any different.”
“I’m sorry Drew. One last favour; can you just see me safe until I can get a cab home? That’s even if a cabby will take me,” I asked.
“Fuck that! I’ll drive you,” he flicked his cigarette butt away and helped me to my feet.
He stooped down and picked my little tiara and handed it to me. I looked at it and let out a sob and threw it into the darkness.
He put his arm around me and I put my head on his shoulder and he helped me limp back to the car park and his pickup.
The ride home was in total silence.
When we got to the driveway he got out and held the door for me and helped me out of the cab.
I stared at him and tears ran down my face.
“Do you hate me Drew?” I asked.
It was then I noticed the tears in his eyes.
“I loved you Sarah. I loved you,” he kissed me lightly on the cheek and then gently eased me away from him.
He walked back around to the driver’s side of the truck and drove away into the black night.
The porch light came on and I heard the screen door bang.
“Sarah! Oh my god Sarah!” Amanda cried and ran towards me with her arms outstretched.
Bad news travels fast in this part of Texas.
To be continued.
There’s Something About Sarah
Chapter Four – Bruno’s Bar and Grill
The phallus was long, thick and veiny. The glans was an angry purple color and clear droplets of pre-seminal fluid oozed from the eye.
The red nailpolish I was wearing contrasted nicely with the smooth, almost silky pink flesh of the turgid member as I slowly stroked the throbbing shaft. He sighed and then gasped as I extended a finger and caught a globule of the precum and rubbed it into his fraenulum. I smiled; gladdened that my ministrations were giving him pleasure.
He reached out and gently eased my head towards the rampant erection and I opened my mouth obligingly and licked the clear syrup dripping from the glans and then took the already pulsing penis into my mouth. I moved my lips up and down the shaft; flicking my tongue around the sensitive base of his glans; then his other hand also rested on my head and pulled me harder into his groin.
He pushed up and grunted; forcing his hard manhood deeper into my mouth. I didn’t gag. I slavered at the quivering cock and sucked on the shaft, evoking his orgasm. He moaned and shuddered as his penis pulsed and erupted in my mouth. I swallowed the hot, musty seed, feeling both submissive and powerful knowing that I had given such pleasure to my lover.
When he had finished ejaculating I licked the last of his issue from the eye of his penis and smiled. I looked up into my lover’s face and that’s when I started to scream.
Staring down at me with a malevolent smile was Bing Holthouse.
I screamed and he started to laugh and I screamed harder and louder.
I woke up from the nightmare and opened my eyes.
I was lying safe in my bed in my small apartment and all was well. It was just a bad dream.
I was in my first year at Haas School of Business at the University of California, Berkeley where I was undertaking a two year MBA to be followed by a one year Masters of Financial Engineering.
But once again I’m getting ahead of myself…
Amanda came running to me as I stood sobbing in the dust and exhaust fumes as Drew drove off into the night.
I was inconsolable, tears running down my already mascara smeared cheeks, my Prom dress ruined. She led me inside, undressed me and bathed me. She wrapped me in a white woollen bathrobe and sat me down and lit me sit me a cigarette and gave me a tumbler full of bourbon.
“You know you can’t stay here Sarah. Things are not going to get better for you,” she sighed.
“I know!” I shouted.
We spent the rest of the night packing everything I had into two beat up suitcases, drinking whisky and smoking but we never discussed what happened to me. Unsurprisingly Sloane did not return home that night.
Amanda drove me to Austin; we left in the grey pre-dawn light and I sobbed for about an hour, other than that we said nothing to each other. My mind was racing; I needed to plan my future. I stopped crying and began to think. I had the beginnings of a plan by the time we reached the outskirts of Austin. Amanda broke the silence.
“Mary-Jo Bilkin rang me and told me what happened at the Prom. As much as she knew anyway. I don’t know what happened after you ran out of the Prom and I don’t suppose you want to tell me,” she mumbled around her cigarette.
I just turned and glared at her.
“That bad huh? I’ve been taken against my wishes more’n once; ‘taint nice but it ain’t the end of the world neither,” she said.
“You have no idea!” I hissed.
“Yeah, well once or twice there was more’n one,” she squinted over the smoke.
I shuddered at the memory of the previous night and then cleared my mind.
“I’ll need money,” I said woodenly.
“Taint much left but I guess now you’re movin’ on what’s left is yours,” Amanda lit another cigarette off the butt of the one she had just finished and handed me a passbook.
“My trust fund?” I queried.
Amanda nodded; staring straight ahead.
I opened the passbook. There was a little over $7000 left in escrow. It wasn’t until I was on the Greyhound heading west that I flicked through the well-thumbed little booklet to see that Amanda had spent over three hundred thousand dollars over the twelve years I had been living with her and Sloane. That’s only $25,000 a year but still a pretty penny in 1986.
“And take this; you’ll need some cash,” she rummaged in the pocket of her coat and thrust three hundred dollars in greasy bills into my hand.
“Where you goin’ hun?” she stole a glance at me.
I saw genuine sorrow on her face.
“I’ll call…Or maybe I won’t,” the old car chugged into the bus depot.
Amanda didn’t get out from behind the wheel. I realised then she was too ashamed.
I climbed out of the rusty Ford pickup. Sloane and myself joked that the panels had more Bondo than metal in them and the fading paintjob was a patchwork of primer and mottled duco.
I was wearing skinny jeans, a baggy long-sleeved T-shirt and flats. I had combed out the hairdo and wiped off the makeup that Sloane had painstakingly done for me for the Prom and my hair was worn in a simple ponytail and my makeup minimal. I hefted my suitcases out of the pickup’s tray and shouldered my large vinyl tote bag.
I didn’t look back; I strode over to the ticket window and bought a ticket to Oakland California. It cost me twenty five dollars and lucky for me the bus was leaving in fifteen minutes.
By the time my suitcases were loaded and I was seated in the rear of the half-empty bus I was mentally and physically exhausted and when the Greyhound lurched out of the bus station I was fast asleep.
I awoke as the bus pulled into a gas station and diner on the outskirts of Tucson.
“One hour stop folks; enjoy and don’t be late re-embarking,” the driver called out as the brakes hissed and the door opened.
The diner was garishly lit; all vinyl and formica and it smelled of fried food, stale coffee and disinfectant. I peed and then ordered coffee while I laid out some paperwork on the table. A middle-aged travelling salesman sauntered over, smiled a licentious grin and pointed to the chair opposite. I turned down my mouth and gave him the finger and he blushed, mumbled something unintelligible, and stumbled away. I later regretted discomfiting him that way; but at the time I was in no mood for a come-on – by anyone.
On the table before me were acceptance papers for both Texas U at Arlington and the University of Houston. Both were out of the question of course. There was also an acceptance from the University of California. I’m not even sure why I applied; just to see if I could get in I suppose.
I wrote down the number of the Dean of Admissions on a napkin and went over to the payphone and dropped in a quarter. When I returned to the table fifteen minutes and seven quarters later I felt a little better.
I smiled at the waitress and waved my cup at her for a refill and began to stuff the papers back into the manilla envelope when something dropped out. I picked it up and stared at it. It was a Polaroid taken by Amanda of Drew and I dressed for the Prom.
A single tear ran down my cheek and then I felt my anger building and I screwed up the Polaroid and threw it towards a nearby trash can where it bounced off the rim and tumbled to the floor.
“Are you ok hun?” the waitress asked raising an eyebrow and smacking her gum.
I gave her my best smile and nodded as she filled my cup.
I gulped at the hot coffee; I had no appetite but I was very thirsty.
“All aboard! Greyhound for Oakland California now leaving!” the driver bellowed through the diner door.
People began to gather their belongings and file out the door and I followed. I was last in line when I got to the door of the bus.
“Wait! Wait!” I squealed at the driver and ran back inside the diner.
I raced over to the trash receptacle and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the crumpled Polaroid still there on the floor. I snatched it up and ran back to the bus giving the driver my biggest smile and he gave me an appreciative grin, forgiving me for holding up the bus.
I fell into my seat and carefully smoothed out the photograph.
I took another bus from Oakland to Berkeley and checked into cheap hotel and slept until midday. I bought takeout coffee, a bagel and a copy of the local rag and perused the classifieds, circling potential lodgings.
I found a cheap one-room furnished apartment close to the University of California and signed a one year lease, shelling out the bond from the remains of my inheritance. The place was sparsely furnished but good enough for my needs. Over the next few days I bought some curtains, rugs, small appliances and knick-knacks to brighten the place up. I kept myself to myself pretty much but I did go to the hairdressers and had my hair dyed brunette and cut into a bob.
The extravagance of my first professional hairdressing experience was wonderful and after the treatment I hardly recognised myself. I was still attractive but I looked older and I hoped more worldly. I was very much aware that I was a small town teenage girl in a big city.
About a month after I had settled into my little apartment I became acutely aware that I wouldn’t be able to survive on my trust money. it was dwindling fast and I had signed up for a pre-term coaching class which started next week and I was yet to pay any of the University tuition fees but I’d done the math and the payments were going to clean out my trust. I needed a job.
One block down from my apartment was a bar called Bruno’s Bar and Grill. It wasn’t so much seedy as, shall we say, atmospheric. Relying mainly on students for cliental during the university semesters, it survived on the patronage of locals during the breaks. I had been in the place a couple of times just to test the water so to speak; the legal drinking age was twenty one and I was sure I could pass with my new hairstyle, makeup and the appropriate outfit. Both times I had been served a beer and a shot without being carded.
I also figured it was the kind of establishment that didn’t regularly card its customers anyway; relying as it did on the college crowd for income. I had noticed the sign in one of the windows ‘Bar Staff Wanted’. I dressed in a simple skirt and blouse ensemble and low heels ensuring I was showing plenty of leg and fussed over my hair and makeup until I was happy that I looked the part. I wanted to look fresh and sexy but also mature.
Bruno Basso was a large, swarthy man; proud of his Italian heritage and it was obvious he was taken with me as soon as he laid eyes on me. His dark droopy eyes scrutinised me intently, lingering on my long nylon-clad legs and my underdeveloped chest.
“You’ve got no tits but with legs like those and that pretty face you’ll pull in those college boys,” was his assessment of me, without even asking if I had any experience behind a bar.
I started working at Bruno’s six nights a week; 7pm to 11pm Monday through Friday and 4pm to 11pm on Saturdays. The job paid minimum wage and I split my tips with Steve Soderman the other barman, and Lucy Bellows the waitress.
Steve was a skinny kid about my age and it probably took me three shifts to figure out he was gay. He was out and out ‘faggy gay’; he had the lisp, the effeminate mannerisms, and dressed al la David Bowie circa 1973. Also, he didn’t hit on Lucy or me unlike Bruno who took every opportunity to rub his crotch against our asses behind the crowded bar. I didn’t really mind, it went with the job and was reassuring in some way that my secret was safe.
One evening Bruno cornered me in the stockroom; he’d been drinking on the job and his blood was up. He pressed me against the shelving with his big haunch and I could feel the heat of his erection on my belly. His fingers raked my thighs and he lowered his face to mine and he opened his lips. He smelled of garlic, onions and Jack cheese.
I slipped out his embrace and held him at arms distance.
“Bruno! Really! You’d only regret it and think of Mary waiting for you at home,” I chastised him.
Mary was Bruno’s wife, she was petite and pretty and as placid as a mouse. Bruno apologised.
“I’m sorry Sarah. You are so beautiful and sexy and I’ve been drinking. I promise it won’t happen again,” he sighed.
Bruno put a twenty in the tip jar that night but his promise didn’t stop him copping a feel or rubbing up against me and Lucy whenever he got the chance. We both just put it with it; we needed the job and it was the 1980s, and sexual harassment in the workplace was still ‘de rigour’.
Lucy became my first friend in California. She was vivacious, loud and sassy; the opposite to my shy, cool and demure demeanour. She wore her blonde hair teased out with red and blue highlights, flouncy skirts and dresses of tulle and satin, fluro-colored lustrous pantyhose, too much makeup, too much jewellery and spiked high-heels. Think Cindy Lauper on steroids.
The college boys and locals alike loved her. She teased and flirted with them but never went beyond that and because of that the college girls liked her too. She made double the tips of Steve and I but she still insisted we split the spoils.
“Hey you’re my sister in arms,” she said one night and hugged me.
I thought of Sloane and held back tears.
I was well into my first semester and besides working at Bruno’s, outside of my classes I did nothing but study. Plenty of guys hit on me but once again I had become the Ice Princess and they gave up eventually.
I loved living in California; it was so different to the small Texas town where I grew up and the people were so different to the rednecks like Bing and his football buddies. People were sophisticated and tolerant. The races and the sexes mixed freely. Women still hadn’t broken the glass ceiling but around Berkeley and most of California you weren’t likely to be beaten up because of your race, sexual orientation or your beliefs.
One Saturday evening after we had closed up, Lucy and Steve collared me and talked me into having a drink before we left the bar.
“Hey Sarah why don’t you come out with us,” Steve asked flicking ash from his cigarette into the large crystal ashtray.
“Nah. I’m really not up for it. I wanna study tomorrow for an exam I have on Monday,” I replied.
“Oh fuck me Sarah! You’re acing your grades and you’re top of your class. You’re the only one of us girls who won’t have to give professor Biderman a blowjob to pass his trickle down economic theory class!” Lucy laughed.
“And what! Boys can’t give a professor a BJ to pass?” Steve rejoined.
We all laughed.
After a couple of freebies on Bruno’s tab they talked me into going out with them.
We squeezed into Lucy’s beat up Toyota and she drove us downtown and parked in the parking lot of a club that was garishly lit with pink and aqua neon. ‘Bendy Wendy’s’ was the name of the club which I figured was cute and later discovered was also apt.
We coughed up the two dollars admission and got stamped on the wrist. The stamp was a cartoon figure of a vamp lady, think Betty Boo, sitting cross-legged on a barstool displaying her stocking tops with ‘Bendy Wendy’s’ lettered underneath.
The place was dark, with booths running along the walls, a long bar and a small dance floor and it smelt of stale beer and cigarette smoke. An all-girl band was on the small stage cranking out a pretty good rendition of ‘Walk Like an Egyptian’. We made our way through the crowd to the bar and to my surprise an elegantly dressed lady who looked a little like Betty Boo herself leaned over and kissed Lucy on the lips.
“Wendy, meet Sarah; Sarah, meet Wendy,” Lucy smiled as she made the introductions.
Wendy took my hand in hers and kissed the back of it.
“Charmed I’m sure. Any friend of Lucy’s is a friend of mine,” she smiled at me with brilliant white teeth framed by her bright red lipstick.
“Two Jack’s and coke; and a beer for Steve,” Lucy smiled.
Wendy poured the drinks and put them in front of us then she leaned over the bar, her ample bosom nearly spilling out of her bustier and enveloped me in a cloud of perfume. She wore a lot of makeup, her eyes outlined with kohl and her lashes heavily mascaraed, her cheeks were rouged and her lustrous black hair was curled and framed her pretty face. I guessed she was in her forties but it was hard to tell.
“Your first drink is on the house darling; after that you pay…one way or another,” she stroked the back of my hand and smiled licentiously.
She reached across the bar and kissed Lucy again, this time the kiss was passionate with lots of tongue action. Wendy stroked Lucy’s face as they kissed. I blanched at this open display of affection but then I looked around and reality hit me.
Boys were dancing with boys and girls with girls. There were some boy-girl couples but not many. A lot of the couples were kissing and groping each other in the dark club and I felt an uneasiness creep over me.
“Oh my god you should see your face Sarah!” Lucy grinned.
“You’ve got a lot of growing up to do you Texas cornbread hick; kick that cowshit off your heels and smell the perfume sugar,” she laughed.
I smiled back at her and raised my drink. We clicked glasses and both burst out laughing.
“I’m sorry I just never guessed,” I smiled at her.
“Yep I’m a big lezzo and Wendy is my squeeze,” she smiled back.
Steve had wondered off and was sitting with a group of young guys talking animatedly over the music.
“Let’s get a booth,” Lucy took my hand and led me to a quiet booth away from the bar and the dance floor.
“To my first gay bar experience,” I raised my glass to Lucy and we both drank our drinks.
A waitress arrived immediately with refills.
“The perks of fucking the owner,” Lucy smirked.
We chatted for an hour or so and then Lucy excused herself and got up to dance with Wendy. I had quite a buzz going and was feeling very pleasant as I sat there perusing the passing parade. I almost didn’t notice that someone had slid into the booth and was sitting beside me.
I turned and was about to tell the person that the seat was reserved for Lucy when I looked into the most gorgeous face I think I had ever encountered. Her face was elfin; heart-shaped with green eyes, tiny nose and cupid’s-bow lips. Her jet black hair was short, emphasising her long elegant neck and alabaster skin. She was wearing a green satin Cheongsam with a Mandarin collar; the hem rested at the top of her thighs showing off her long elegant legs sheathed in sleek flesh-toned hosiery. Her waist was tiny but her bosom was quite ample.
“I’m Tina,” she smiled at me and offered her hand and my heart melted.
Other than Sloane, who I worshipped as a sister, I had never been attracted to a woman before but I became instantly infatuated with Tina.
I took her hand in mine.
“I’m Sarah,” I smiled back at her.
She leaned forward and kissed my cheek.
“With that accent you definitely ain’t from around here,” she grinned.
“No I’m from Texas,” I replied.
The conversation came easy and before I knew it I was telling Tina my life story. That is the life story I had concocted; no mention of me being adopted as a small boy named Stephen Grayson or of the events of the Prom night. I glossed over all of that and told Tina of being taken in by my aunt Amanda while I was still a little girl and of my love for my sister Sloane. It was all happy families and serenity. No mention of Amanda being a whore and Sloane following in her footsteps. No mention of me being outed as a trans woman at the Prom or the assault that followed.
Tina and I fell into an easy repartee, drinking and joking and more drinking. Some time during the evening we danced; basking in the comfort as we held each other close.
Lucy came back to the table sometime later. I had lost track of time.
She scrunched up beside Tina and me and grinned.
“Well! How good is this! My two best friends sitting together and getting cosy.”
“I’m taking Wendy home; she’s had enough to drink and the staff can keep the place going until closing time. You girls play nice,” she winked and squeezed my knee.
“A parting gift,” Lucy dropped two joints on the table and Tina slipped them into her purse.
After Lucy left I felt a little vulnerable; Steve had departed earlier hand in hand with a Bowie lookalike; ‘how Steve’ I thought.
Tina sensed my discomfort and took my hand in hers.
“I have a car. Let me drive you home,” she said.
“Aren’t you a little too sloshed to drive?” I asked.
“Shit girl! This is California! You can be arrested here for sober driving,” she chuckled.
Tina had a Mini; it suited her diminutive build. I couldn’t help but steal a glance at her long, well-defined legs as she engaged the clutch to shift gears. We chatted about my studies at college during the short drive and when I asked her about what she did she was evasive but said she worked in the film industry.
“I’m usually behind camera,” was all she let on.
“But tell me more about those hunky Texas high school football players Sarah; I bet one of them popped your cherry,” she smiled.
I shivered as I remembered being bent over that park bench and she felt my angst.
Her hand caressed my knee.
“I’m sorry if I bought up some bad memories babe,” she said consolingly.
“Right here. This is my place,” I pointed to my apartment block and we pulled up outside.
There was an awkward silence for a while and then Tina opened her clutch and took out the two joints and held them up.
“Do you wanna?” she looked at me with those big green eyes and once again my heart melted.
“Fuck it! Lets do it!” I grinned.
“That’s my girl,” she beamed back at me.
I lit some candles and put ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ on the turntable and we sat on the rug with a glass of bourbon each.
“You southern girls do know a good bourbon whisky,” Tina held her glass up to the candlelight.
“Ok cowgirl, here you go. Just take a toke and hold in the smoke. You’ll want to cough but hold the smoke in to get the full effect,” Tina had lit one of the splifs.
I took it from her and drew in a lungfull of the acrid smoke. We sat crosslegged on the rug and swapped the doobie back and forth until it was gone. The narcotic effect of the marijuana began to kick in and I lay back on the rug listening to ‘The Great Gig In The Sky’ and closed my eyes.
I felt Tina’s body as she lay on top of me. She lowered her lips to mine and I responded. She tasted like candy and bourbon, sweet and mellow. At first we just brushed our lips together then she slipped the tip of her tongue into my mouth. I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close and we kissed deeply, our tongues intertwining.
Our nylons rasped as I raised my legs and slid them along hers; her breasts pressed against my flat chest. She stroked my face and looked deep into my eyes and kissed me again.
Tina’s hands slipped under my blouse and she tweaked my nipples. I wanted to touch her breasts too but the Cheongsam was difficult to unbutton. Tina raised herself off me and opened the buttons on the front of the Cheongsam and took my hand and guided it to her breast. My hand slid inside her satin brassiere and found her plump mounds, her nipples were erect.
I wanted to apologise for my meagre breasts but Tina had already lowered her face to my bosom and flicked my nipple with her tongue. I gasped and reciprocated and she gasped too. I cupped her breast in my hand and suckled her nipple and she moaned. We kissed and suckled on each other’s breasts, our lust heightened by alcohol and narcotics.
Tina’s hand slipped down to my legs and disappeared under my skirt; she stroked my thighs. I was still wearing the control-top pantyhose that I wore to work at Bruno’s, her fingernails gently stroked my upper thighs. My penis was straining against my gaff and I was leaking pre-seminal fluid. Her hand drifted across my satin panties.
“You’re getting wet,” she smiled down at me and extracted her hand from under my skirt and licked her finger as she looked at me, the lust apparent in her eyes.
Tina tried to put her hand under my skirt again and I gripped her wrist and stopped her.
I started to cry.
“I’m sorry there’s something I should have told you. It’s a secret that I have never told anyone,” I sobbed.
Tina was straddling me and she lowered her face to mine and kissed me tenderly. She raised herself up again and looked down on me.
“You mean this?” she whispered.
Tina hiked up the hem of her Cheongsam exposing her stocking tops and white nylon panties.
She put her hand inside her panties and fumbled for a few seconds and then released her turgid penis. It was long and slender, the glans glistened with her secretions.
“It takes one to know one,” she smiled down at me.
She put her hand inside my panties and tore open the gusset of my pantyhose and ripped away the cosmetic tape and freed my rampant member from the imprisoning gaff.
She pressed our achingly hard members together and lowered herself to me. We kissed as we frottaged and groped at each other.
If not for the booze and the drugs I probably would have panicked and fled, but it felt so wonderful and so right.
Tina lifted my legs and nestled her penis against my anal bud. I tensed and pushed on her shoulders.
“Shh babe…relax,” she smiled down at me.
She snatched at her nearby clutch and took out a tube of KY.
She entered me slowly and tenderly; stopping to kiss me and caress me until she was fully inside me.
Unlike the awful experience with Bing and his troglodytes; this time it felt sensuous and erotic. The sensitive synapses in my sphincter reverberated with pleasure. I felt full; but joyfully full. Tina’s glans was pushing against something inside of me that intensified the sensuality and excitement and I lifted my legs and wrapped them around her slim waist and held her too me.
We kissed and caressed as Tina slowly fucked me. Her back arched and she mewed as her hot seed ejaculated deep inside me and I felt my own orgasm wash over me as I spent my semen against her belly.
We lay in each others arms, pressed against each other until we were both sated.
Tina rested on her elbows and searched my eyes with hers. I was weeping.
“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you? Did I make you do something that you’re regretting?” she said, obviously concerned.
I gazed into her exquisite emerald eyes and pulled her face to mine.
“No. It was beautiful. So beautiful. I thought I was a freak but you made me feel so wonderful; so special,” I sobbed.
“Sarah; you are wonderful and you are special,” she kissed me tenderly and I held her tight.
In the early hours of the morning I awoke in bed and wondered if I had been dreaming but I felt Tina’s warm body next to mine and I snuggled up to her. She rolled over and kissed me; her breath smelled of cigarettes, whisky and marijuana but it tasted like an elixir to me.
She was naked except for her stockings and panties and I was naked too but still wearing my panties and now shredded pantyhose. We intertwined our legs as we hugged each other until we drifted off to sleep.
To be continued.
There’s Something About Sarah
Chapter Five – Returning Home
Author's Note: If you haven't read the previous chapters I propose you do so for continuity. If you just want a wank read the first few paragraphs
Tina and I, rightly in my opinion anyway, decided that we wouldn’t move in together. Sure, we would save on rent if we did, but the temptation to constantly give into our urges would undoubtedly distract me from my studies and Tina from her work. Also our relationship was volatile, there were periods of serenity when I thought I might be in love with Tina but they were interspersed with brief spells when we argued and fought furiously.
I wanted to keep my trans identity a secret and also our relationship secret from Steve Soderman and Lucy Bellows which angered Tina.
“What are you ashamed of Sarah? That you have a transsexual girlfriend or that you yourself are trans?” she screeched at me one evening when we got into it.
We were sitting in a booth at Bendy Wendy’s both having consumed too much alcohol.
“You know why! I’ve told you my life story! I’m not like you, I’ve been raised as a girl since I was five. I feel like I am a girl,” I hissed back at her.
“Well you weren’t very ladylike last night when you stuck your cock in my ass and fucked me ‘til I screamed!” she retorted.
“Shh! For fuck sake Tina why don’t you just climb on the table and scream it out!”
“What are you worried about? That your little college buddies are gonna find out that you’re a fake!” she seethed.
“Fuck you!” I hissed back at her.
“Fuck you too!” Tina replied.
We both stewed in Tina’s little red Mini Cooper on the way home; you could have cut the tension with a knife.
As soon as we got inside the door of my apartment it started again.
I went to the kitchen, clattering and banging about, pouring myself a double shot of bourbon.
“You’re such a child sometimes Sarah!” Tina hadn’t told me her exact age but I figured her to be in her late twenties or early thirties.
She still hadn’t told me much about her past or even about her current life and I was getting pissed with her secrecy as much as she was getting pissed with me keeping my own secret about being a trans woman.
“And you can be such a hag!” I spat back at her.
“Fucking Ice Princess; that name suits you, you uptight primadonna!” she was leaning against the door and obviously hadn’t decided whether to stay or leave.
“Don’t you fucking-well call me that!” I strode over and confronted her.
“Ice Princess!” she taunted me.
“Fag hag!” I spat back.
Tina’s hand shot out and slapped my face.
“You cunt!” I made to strike her back but she stopped my hand short of her face, gripping my wrist tightly. I had the drink in my hand and I spilled some of the bourbon on her decolletage.
Tina was wearing a low-cut black cocktail dress.
“You clean that up you bitch!” she twisted my wrist and pulled my face into her bosom.
Tina was a lot stronger than I and as I struggled against her more of the drink spilled on both of us both as we wrestled with each other. My face was pressed to her firm breasts and I inhaled the sweet smell of her perfume mingled with bourbon and her perspiration.
I was becoming aroused as I always did when I was this close to her and I licked at her mounds. Her arms wrapped around me.
“That’s it you brat; clean up the mess you made,” she taunted me.
I took the scoop-neck of her tight-fitting dress in my teeth and wrenched it; tearing the bodice and exposing her perfect alabaster globes supported in the lacy black half-cups of her bra.
“Bitch!” she howled and pressed my face back into her bosom. I pressed my body against her and lapped at her breasts.
She whimpered and I felt her stiffen against me. She too was becoming aroused. Her hand snaked down and I felt her nails rake against my thigh as she fumbled for the hem of my dress. Her other hand squeezed between our bodies and clutched the neckline of my red evening dress.
She ripped my dress open from neck to waist.
“Whore!” I hissed and bit down on her nipple.
“Cunt!” she raked her fingers across my little titties and tweaked my nipple.
I lifted my face to hers and crushed her lips with mine; she bit my lip and I tasted blood.
Her hands found my buttocks and clutched and squeezed them, digging her fingers into my haunches.
I moaned and she shredded my skirt, leaving it in tatters. Her tongue darted into my mouth as her fingers explored the crevice inside my red satin panties. She found the tape and ripped away my gaff and my hard penis sprang forth.
She caressed the bulge through my panties and I moaned again and my face fell to her soft mounds and devoured them. I licked her creamy tits and then her dark areoles and swollen nipples. She held my face to her breasts as I suckled and nibbled her nipples.
Tina was panting with lust and she gripped my engorged staff and freed it from my panties and stroked it.
“Oh god!” I moaned.
I was standing on my high-heels my dress ripped to tatters, my stockings, panties and bra fully exposed as I pressed Tina against the door, slavering at her tits. Her dress was ripped open at the top and I pulled it down over her shoulders and down to her waist; she struggled to free her arms and when she did her hand found my erection again and began to squeeze it.
“Cunt!” I gasped and crushed my lips to hers.
“Whore!” she hissed into my mouth.
I yanked her dress down all the way and it puddled at her feet. My fingers found her gossamer-clad thighs and raked them, tattering the nylon. I wrenched off her lacy black panties and ripped the crotch out of her pantyhose.
Tina guided my cock between her legs; she wasn’t gaffed or taped and her own turgid member sprang free. She pressed back against the door and lifted her legs up around my waist as my hands gripped her buttocks and supported her weight. She lowered herself onto my rampant member and I pushed up and buried myself in her to the hilt. She had pre-lubricated, anticipating sex that evening.
“Fuck me you bitch!” she gasped and began to ride my engorged phallus.
I gripped her backside and eased her up and down; she clenched and unclenched her anus, her tight passage spasming.
She put her arms around my neck to support her weight and kissed me harder. I held her tightly against me, her buttocks in my hands and I walked her over the couch and knelt down whilst still inside her. I tipped her onto the couch and she opened her legs and raised her haunches as I fell between her thighs.
“I fucking hate you,” I panted as I fucked her.
“I fucking hate you too,” she gazed up into my eyes; her face contorted with lust.
I lowered my face to hers and savagely kissed her as I fucked her as hard as I could.
She lifted her ass up off the couch to meet my thrusts and I could feel her hard cock leaking pre-cum on my belly. She wrapped her legs around me and raked my flanks with her heels.
We fucked like animals until I couldn’t hold back any longer and exploded deep inside her. Her own emission scalded my belly as we jackhammered against each other, our lips crushed together, screaming muffled expletives into each others’ mouths.
I lay on top of her when we had finished; our makeup ruined and our bodies sweaty. We were both panting. I could feel that she was still hard against my belly despite having just come. I wondered how she managed to do that.
“You ruined my dress and fucked up my best pantyhose,” she smiled up at me when we caught our breath.
“Back at you; except I’m wearing stockings,” I grinned at her.
“Get off me you galoot! I need to pee,” she said impudently and made a face.
“Sure why not…I’ve finished with you anyhow,” I mocked her.
I extracted myself from her and stood up, quivering on my heels with exsertion.
Tina shot up from the lounge and pushed me in the back propelling towards the bed on my tottering heels.
“Well I haven’t finished with you bitch!” she squealed as she pushed me face down on the bed.
She fell on top of me and entered me with one thrust. I gasped at the pain but it soon turned to delight. I too was pre-lubricated and I was soon pushing back to meet her thrusts. We fucked for what seemed like an eternity until I felt Tina grind against me as she emptied herself deep in my anus. She squeezed and stroked my penis and milked me of my seed as I ejaculated onto the bedspread.
And so it went; our volatile relationship continued for another four months. And then, three months shy of my eighteenth birthday, Tina’s secret was revealed.
Tina had told me that she worked ‘behind camera’ in the film industry but had never elaborated. I assumed she was a makeup artist or some sort of assistant. Neither Steve nor Lucy seemed to know either.
“She does what she does and makes damn good money; why should you care?” Lucy once said to me when I pressed her about it.
“You too aren’t…you know?” she smiled cheekily at me and slid a finger in and out of the loosely clenched fingers of her other hand.
“Hell no!” I blushed.
“Well you can understand me wondering; Tina does have that little extra,” she grinned.
“You know she’s trans?” I asked.
“Shit honey, Wendy and I once made very good use of her extra appendage if you know what I mean,” she winked at me.
Tina’s secret was revealed to me one Friday when I had the afternoon free of classes and was out window shopping. I had drifted the streets not heading anywhere in particular and I happened on an Adult store. Tina and I were going through one of our better phases and I got the idea that I might surprise her by purchasing an amusing sex toy. I had been around the city long enough that I was no longer a naive farm girl and being a semi-regular at Bendy Wendy’s had certainly opened my eyes.
The shop was just how I expected it to be; dark and dingy. There were rows of magazines and VHS video tapes and a long glass fronted counter held an amazing array of sex toys.
A middle aged couple was at the counter and a pale insipid balding man with a ponytail was attending to them. I decided to pretend to browse the video library until the couple left. The videos were arranged by classification with handwritten cards tacked to the shelves proclaiming: ‘Hetero, Lesbian, Gay, Fetish and Tranny’.
Of course I had to check out the ‘tranny’ section just out of curiosity. The rack containing the ‘tranny’ videos held four shelves of tapes stacked with the just the spines showing their titles. The rack at eye level had another poorly written sign ‘New Releases’ where the front of the cases was on display. And it was there I stood transfixed. I lifted one of the cases from the shelf and stared at it.
‘TRANNY AT THE TRUCK STOP. A film by Devon Devine. Based on a short story my Michele Nylons and starring Tina Morecock, Cody Hardrod, Rory Longmember and Vin Shooter. When a tranny gets caught in a truck stop restroom and is confronted by three horny bikers she knows there is only one way to escape their wrath!’
The title was written in garish yellow capitals with the synopsis poorly printed in small black text. But it was the picture on the cover that had me riveted.
An attractive transsexual woman was on her knees on the filthy tiled floor of a public bathroom dressed only in a bustier, black stockings and high heels. Her makeup was smudged and black mascara streaked her cheeks as if she had been crying but her face was lustful as she sucked on the glans of a grinning, naked, well-muscled man. Another man knelt behind her with his penis buried in her ass; his face a picture of lust. The third man was kneeling beside her and she was masturbating him. The jacket cover picture was obviously a ‘still’ from the movie.
The elfin faced Transsexual with piercing green eyes, tiny nose, red lips, short jet black hair and alabaster skin was Tina. My Tina.
“Fuck!” I whispered and the customers and the clerk glanced my way.
“I’m in the film industry, but nothing glamorous; I’m behind the camera,” Tina’s words echoed through my mind.
“You lying cunt!” I whispered again and this time I received a scornful look of disdain from the other three.
I strode over to the counter and slammed the video cassette case down on the counter.
“How much!” I demanded.
“Excuse me miss! These customers were here first!” the proprietor huffed.
The fat balding guy and his equally fat, lank-haired wife looked me up and down lasciviously.
“Nah. Let the frat chick buy her video man,” the guy said.
“Hey honey; if you wanna play we are into threesomes,” he nodded at the cassette cover.
“How much,” I said to the clerk, a little more conciliatory this time.
“Fifteen bucks plus tax,” he replied and opened a huge drawer full of tapes. Selected one and slammed it in the cover.
I ignored the fat couple and slapped a twenty on the counter and then snatched up my change and the VHS tape. I spun on my heels and walked out.
“Hey miss prissy; if you ever change your mind you know where you can find us,” the fat guy called after me.
I was seething with anger as I stormed home and when I got there I slammed the tape into my VCR and hit play. I snatched my bottle of bourbon off the counter, flicked off the screw-cap and drank deeply as I fast forwarded the tape through the movie trailers and the title credits. When the name Tina Morecock scrolled up the screen I pressed play.
“Fucking bitch!” I wailed.
Halfway through the movie at the scene where Tina was being gangbanged by the bikers I couldn’t watch it anymore and I froze it and curled up in a ball on the carpet, hugging the half-drunk bottle.
That was how Tina found me about half an hour later.
She looked at the screen and paled and then she looked at me. I began to sob.
“I can explain Sarah. You don’t know what its like being me,” she whispered.
I shook my head; tears flying from my face.
Tina turned, walked to the door and left. And that was that. Until…
A telegram arrived about three months later; about a week before my birthday.
‘Regret to inform you of the passing of Amanda Grayson. Funeral will be held on the 3rd of this month with will reading next day. Please attend if you possibly can. My sympathy and love are with you at this painful time.’
There was no indication of whom it was from. Once I had recovered from the shock I figured it had to be Sloane; who else could it be?
Tina picked up the phone on the second ring.
“Amanda died,” was all I could utter around my uncontrollable sobs.
Tina arrived at my apartment thirty minutes later. She let herself in and said nothing. She took me over to the bed, lay next me, and held me while I cried. I wept my heart out for the best part of an hour then I looked up at her perfect face through tear-rimmed eyes.
“I have no one else to turn to,” I whimpered.
“I know babe,” she stroked my forehead.
“Will you come to the funeral with me?” I begged her.
“Of course I will,” she smiled at me wanly.
We flew to Austin and rented a car; on the plane we didn’t say much but we did hold hands whenever I had a crying jag. The jags were becoming less frequent and I was starting to think better. I was still at a loss as to who had sent the telegram and how they knew where I was, I could only think that Sloane had somehow tracked me down. I was also now thinking about how I was going to play things when I arrived home.
It was time to tell Tina the truth. We picked up a cheap rental at Austin airport and hit the road.
“I didn’t tell you everything,” I whispered to Tina as we left the city and hit the freeway.
“Well yeah? As if I’m not also guilty of that,” Tina gave me a genuine smile for the first time since I asked her for help.
I found that telling the truth while driving the car was easier; I didn’t have to look at Tina nor could I become too emotional because I was concentrating on the road.
“My upbringing wasn’t quite the flowery tale I told you. Yes I was raised as girl from the time I went to live with Amanda and Sloane but it wasn’t happy families.”
First I told her about my devotion to Sloane and how as we grew older Sloane became jealous and vindictive. I explained how Amanda pretty much freelanced as a whore and gave Sloane everything and I took the castoffs and hand me downs.
I told her about falling in love with Drew Carter and he with me, and I told her how I withheld from Drew the most important secret I had.
“Oh honey,” I felt the heartfelt sympathy in Tina’s voice.
“Please don’t interrupt Tina I have to tell you everything and I’m pretty sure I can only ever do this once,” I saw Tina nod in my peripheral vision.
Then I told her about the Prom. About how happy I was and how Amanda and Sloane were also so happy for me. Then I told her what happened at the Prom.
And then I told her how Bing Holthouse, Bobby Fillay, Ben Mowbray and Gerry Kershaw assaulted and humiliated me, how Drew drove away and how Amanda pretty much bribed me to leave.
I forced myself to glance at Tina. She was staring at the road ahead but tears were streaming down her cheeks.
She took my hand off the wheel and kissed it.
“My poor baby,” she whimpered.
“It’s ok Tina. I’m past it all. We have some mending to do and I’m sure there is more in your past that I don’t know about and I was wrong to judge you without letting you explain,” I replied.
“But right now I have to think about how I’m going to handle the god awful mess ahead of me. As much as Amanda treated me as subservient to Sloane, I was still her little girl and she loved me and I am going to that goddamn funeral.”
And so we talked tactics during the long drive and eventually we hatched a plan.
We checked into the Holiday Inn Express taking separate rooms. We grabbed takeout, beer and a bottle of Jack and talked for a little while but we were both tired and went to bed early sleeping in our own hotel rooms. We weren’t ready to start sleeping together again yet.
The next day was the funeral and I woke early and drank coffee and smoked for most of the morning; Tina joined me later having slept in. We went to our rooms to get ready in the early afternoon.
I had filled out a little since I left my home town; I wasn’t fat by any means but I had developed curves and except for having tiny breasts would have been voluptuous. I admired myself in the mirror and got to work. I applied foundation, powder, black eyeliner and mascara and mahogany eyeshadow so my eye makeup was dark to emphasise my green eyes. I rouged my high cheekbones and brushed out my brunette bob and applied hairspray. I finished with bright red lipstick.
I carefully gaffed and slipped a black garter belt around my waist and slid black fully-fashioned nylon stockings up my legs, clipped them in place and adjusted the seams then stepped into a pair of tight black satin panties. I had a matching brassiere and on this rare occasion I affixed a pair of C-cup latex breastforms to my chest. I put on my bra and adjusted it and then stepped into a black nylon half-slip.
I had purchased a black dress before leaving Berkeley and it was laid out on the bed. It was cotton-spandex and form-fitting. The dress had long sleeves of black lace; the hem rested just above my knees. I put it on and adjusted it; fussing to get it just right especially around my unfamiliar large breasts. I stepped into a pair of black patent-leather high heels and checked myself out in the mirror and then sprayed myself liberally with perfume and accessorised.
I hardly recognised myself and I doubted anyone from around here would recognise me once I put on my wide-brimmed black felt hat with the veil netting which would partly screen my face.
Tina was dressed similar to me but not identical and she wore no hat or gloves.
“One for the road girlfriend?” she poured us both a double shot of Jack Daniel’s.
“To us,” we clinked glasses and swallowed the shot.
I poured us another.
“To Amanda; may she rest in peace,” we clinked again and swallowed our shots.
“Don’t get teary on me Sarah you look stunning and you don’t wanna ruin your makeup,” Tina smiled at me.
“No fucking tears today Tina. Today is for me to say goodbye and fuck those other motherfuckers!” I sneered.
“Wow! Ok lets go Sarah, we want to be fashionably late but we don’t want to miss anything,” she jiggled the car keys at me and nodded at our Pinto.
We took a beer each for the road and stopped briefly at a florist and set off for the cemetery.
The funeral was the sort of fiasco only Sloane could have organised. We parked on the cemetery service road behind the funeral procession which, except for the hearse, consisted mostly of beat up pickups and muscle cars; real southern-white-trash-mobiles. A crowd of people stood around an open grave, the mound of dirt beside it covered with cheap green felt, a yellow front-end loader was parked on the opposite service road, the driver smoking and waiting patiently to fill the hole. Very classy.
Most of the folk were dressed in black but a few of the men wore bluejeans and button up shirts with ties that didn’t match, and poorly polished shoes; their best effort at funeral attire. I was surprised at the turnout but it’s a small town and almost everyone goes to a funeral around here.
The day was cool but the sky was bright blue and without a cloud and the sun was high; a real West Texas spring day. It was a little over a year since I had left.
Tina and I stepped carefully though the weed and rock-strewn graveyard and approached the small crowd, our heads held high, each clutching a single red rose. The Minister was espousing the virtues that guaranteed eternal life. To the best of my memory Amanda possessed few of them.
As we got closer I could make out faces in the crowd. Sloane stood at the head of the grave looking worse for wear. She was dressed in a nice black dress but she had a runner in one of her nylons, her makeup was smudged and her hair dishevelled. She had the beginnings of a beer belly and her ass was definitely bigger than when I had left; it was spiteful I know but I smiled inwardly. It was obvious even from this far away that she was drunk.
That sleazeoid Billy Kettering was dressed in a poorly fitting, hand-me-down, black suit that was frayed at the cuffs and lapels. He was holding Sloane’s arm and when she burst into an obviously feigned crying jag he assisted her into a green camp chair, of which there were three rows set either side of the grave.
As Tina and I approached a number of mourners looked our way and quite a few of them stared. I stumbled briefly when I caught sight of Bing Holthouse and his asshole friends grouped together to one side of the crowd. They made no effort to hide their salacious stares and nudged each other with their elbows, smirking and whispering undoubtedly lewd comments in each other’s ears as they passed a hip flask around. To them we were just two ‘hot babes’ to be lusted over.
Tina caught my elbow and steadied me just as the Minister gave the group of ruffians a stern look and harrumphed, directing their attention back to the service.
I could see Sloane staring at us with a mixture of stupefaction, envy, and anger. I knew her too well. She was supposed to be the star of the show; not these two big-city interlopers. She would be wondering why two well-dressed strange women were at her mother’s funeral.
We arrived at the gravesite just as the Minister directed everyone to be seated and we took two seats in the back row. Throughout the rest of the service inquisitive heads turned our way but decorum prevented them from staring too long. I ignored everyone else and lowered my head and listened to the sermon, thinking of my Aunt Amanda, how she could be so cruel and yet sometimes so kind to me.
Sloane gave a eulogy that wasn’t all that bad but she mumbled and stammered through most of it. Of course there was no mention of me.
After the last prayer had been said the minister invited those so inclined to say their goodbyes to Amanda and to pay their respects to her surviving daughter. I stood up and got in line. With my head down the black net veil obstructed my sight a little but when my time came I strode purposely forward and kissed Sloane on the cheek.
“I’m sorry for your loss; may you take comfort in knowing she is in a better place,” I whispered.
Sloane looked at me with amazement and stood speechless beside the grave.
I lifted my veil, stepped forward and dropped the single red rose on the coffin.
The crowd began to murmur and mutter amongst themselves as a few of them recognised me. I paid them no notice and said a silent prayer over the grave, then I lowered my veil and walked away with my head held high.
“Yeah; you get out of here freak!” someone, most likely one of Bing’s buddies, murmured.
“Shame on you! That girl has as much right to grieve as anyone else here,” I heard a matronly voice shush the crowd but I didn’t look back.
Tina fell in step beside me as we strode away from the grave towards our car.
“You ok girl?” she turned to me.
“I’m fine honey; fuck them all,” I smiled back at her.
We got into the car and Tina had just started the engine when a woman came running towards us. She was better dressed than most of the mourners and was having trouble running in her high heels. As she got closer I realised it was Lizzie Sanders, my best friend from high school.
“Here we go. The abuse begins,” I said.
Lizzie knocked on my window and I wound it down expecting a tirade. Instead I was rewarded with a smile.
“Sarah Grayson! Don’t you look all grown up and citified!” she grinned.
“Everyone was wondering what happened to you. There’s rumours you went abroad or that you became a model in New York. Some nasty people said that you were a drug addict and working as a lap dancer in Austin,” she grinned.
I smiled peakedly.
“I thought most of you wished I was dead after the Prom.”
“You hush now! Except for the redneck brigade, and there ain’t that many really, everybody in town was downright disgusted by what happened to you at the Prom. Sure we were all shocked but jeez, we all grew up with Sarah Grayson and that’s who we love. What you was before then ain’t nobody’s business but your own,” she replied.
“You’re actually quite the celebrity around here; there’s people claiming to be your best friend who never knew you from Adam and they claim they knew all along that you was different.”
“Amanda stood up at the town meeting after you left and gave the audience an earful! Said them that scorned you were intolerant hillbillies who had no brains and no compassion. The town council passed a resolution honoring you as an ‘Esteemed Daughter’ of our little shire.”
“You’re joking!” I was amazed.
“Look, let me tell you all about it. We’re having a wake in Amanda’s honor at the ‘Dew Drop Inn’; come along and bring your friend,” Lizzie beamed at both of us.
“I don’t know Lizzie; Sloane doesn’t seem too happy to see me and some of the mourners seemed quite upset that I’m here,” I replied.
“Oh pish! That was just Bobby Fillay being his stupid intolerant self; most around here will be glad to see you and keen to hear about what became of our own Ice Princess,” she reached in and playfully punched my shoulder.
I blushed at the mention of that name and turned to Tina. She had a look of concentration on her face and I could almost hear the wheels turning over in her brain. She looked at me and smiled.
“Fuck it Sarah; let’s go. Nothing bad is going to happen to you there I promise,” Tina said.
“And I promise too! I’ll make sure you’re surrounded my friends,” Lizzie grinned.
“And Sloane?” I asked.
“Oh piss on Sloane. Most of the town hasn’t forgiven her for what she did to you. Look; most of your old friends are in college now and are only back in town for the funeral; let’s catch up,” Lizzie beamed encouragement.
“As my learned colleague beside me just said…Fuck it! Let’s go!” I beamed back at her.
“That’s my old girlfriend; see you at six o’clock then,” Lizzie turned away and I’m sure she skipped rather than walked down the road.
To be continued…
There’s Something About Sarah
Chapter Six – Tina
Tina drove me back to the Holiday Inn and we kicked off our shoes, put up our feet on my bed and lit cigarettes. I had poured us both a tumbler of Jack.
We sat upright with our backs against the cheap headboard.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Tina said.
“Sloane looks fat,” I replied.
“Ouch! Bitch!” Tina laughed.
“‘You’re the celebrity around here Sarah. Everyone loves you Sarah. Come to the bar tonight Sarah. Let me suck your dick Sarah…What the fuck is going on with that Lizzie chick!’” Tina mimicked her sarcastically.
“Hey fuck you! Just because I have friends who aren’t raving dykes, homos or porn stars,” I grinned at her.
Tina playfully threw a pillow at me and we both burst out laughing.
I took Tina’s hand in mine and looked into her eyes.
“Seriously Tina, thank you so much for being there for me and for being here with me. I wouldn’t have had the strength to come here without you.”
“Hey babe; that’s what friends are for. Besides I never believed that unicorn, rainbow and rose petal story you told me about your upbringing. I knew there would be more to it…a dark side… there always is for girls like us,” Tina smiled at me glumly.
“So what about you Tina? No unicorns, rainbows or rose petals in your upbringing?” I asked and squeezed her hand.
“Nope; definitely not. I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell you my story…” A faraway look came into Tina’s eyes and she began.
“My mom left home when I was fifteen. She’d had enough of dad’s drinking and the beatings; she didn’t even pack a bag. For a while I thought my old man might have done away with her, can you believe that? But I got a letter from her a few weeks after she left, no return address, telling me why she had left and advising me to leave that house as soon as I could.”
“Dad worked at a saw mill in the small mid-west town where we lived and he came home drunk most nights. I stayed away from him as much as I could. I was an only child, a skinny effeminate child named Tom. After mom left, so long as I had dinner on the table when dad got home, he pretty much left me alone; well mostly.”
“I knew I wasn’t quite right. I had never felt comfortable in my own skin. Like most of us special girls I experimented with wearing my mother’s lingerie in secret. When she left I had all of her wardrobe to use and I dressed as a girl as often as I thought it was safe to do so. I became quite adept at makeup and feminine traits; the walk, the gestures, the voice”
“This was the seventies and I had adopted an androgynous look at school; think David Bowie as Ziggy Stardust. I was skinny, pale and had shoulder-length black hair and hung around with the arts crowd. For some reason the jocks took a dislike to me and liked to call me ‘fag’ and ‘homo’; you get it,”
I nodded, but Tina didn’t notice; she was engrossed in telling her story.
“I copped a few beatings at school as did all the kids who weren’t macho. I didn’t care so long as I could go home and dress like a girl and fantasise about being a princess or a movie queen or I have to admit, a slut.”
“When I left school I drifted in and out of low paying jobs, packing groceries, pumping gas and making deliveries.”
“Dad drank himself to sleep from Monday to Wednesday, drinking beer in front of the TV. Thursday was chilli night at the Roonie’s Bar and Grill and dad liked to start his drinking there. He was only working four days a week and his Thursday nights through Sunday was spent in an alcoholic fog mostly at Roonie’s.”
“Those were the days I could dress and wander around the house, pretending I was a girl. I had invented an imaginary boyfriend who treated me like his sex puppet; I don’t know where these fantasies came from but they made me intensely aroused and I would come in my panties or over my nylons as I masturbated thinking dirty thoughts. I was submissive before I even knew what submissive meant”
“I was eighteen when one Thursday night my life changed forever.”
“Rex was dad’s workmate and drinking buddy. Rex and dad often started their drinking at our house before they left for Roonie’s but on Thursday’s Rex mostly met dad at the bar straight after work for chilli, beer and bourbon.”
“I was dressed in a little red miniskirt and white satin blouse. I was wearing mom’s white satin panties and matching bra, the cups stuffed with pantyhose, my legs clad in sheer taupe pantyhose and I was wearing red high heels. My makeup was heavy; blue eyeshadow, black eyeliner and mascara and bright red lipstick. I had accessorised with mom’s cheap costume jewellery: my ears were pierced so I could wear earrings, I also wore a necklace, bracelets, rings, and had even put a little gold chain around my left ankle.”
“This was one of my favourite looks, put together from mom’s meagre wardrobe which otherwise consisted mainly of housedresses and ‘going to church’ clothes.”
“It was about seven o’clock and I was sitting in the lounge sipping one of dad’s beers and playing mind games when suddenly the front door burst open and Rex burst through.”
“Hey Bob! Are you home! Let’s get our asses down to Roonie’s and suck up some suds! What the fuck?” Rex stood there looming in the doorway staring at me.
“He was breathing heavy and had obviously been drinking already. I looked up at him dumbfounded and speechless. I didn’t know what to do or say.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Rex snarled and strode into the darkened room lit only by a table lamp.
“Jeez you are a pretty little thing aren’t you? Are you Tom’s girl? I didn’t think the little faggot had it in him,” he smiled.
“Rex dropped down onto the sofa and I squeezed into the corner of the sofa as far away from him as I could.”
“Don’t be like that; I won’t hurt you,” Rex slid over next to me, the sofa groaning under his considerable weight.
“My face was turned away from him and he took it in his meaty hand and turned my face to his.”
“You’re a pretty little thing ain’t you.” He searched my eyes, then raked my body with his gaze, lingering on my long legs.
“I nervously pulled at the hem of my skirt, hoping Rex would leave. Rex’s eyes locked on mine again and I saw the spark of realisation ignite.”
“Fuck! It’s you isn’t it Tom? I always suspected you were some sort of faggot but I never guessed you were a sissy,” he grinned lasciviously.
“Please Rex…don’t tell dad!” I begged.
“Well that depends…are you going to be nice to uncle Rex?” he grinned.
“W… What?” I stammered.
“Be nice. You know,” his grin widened.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said; my brain was churning with confusion and fear.
“Be nice like this you dumb cunt,” he hissed and fell on me.
“Rex weighed almost twice as much me and he was twice as strong. I didn’t have a chance. He pulled my face to his and smashed his lips against mine and slid his tongue into my mouth. He smelled of Old Spice and tasted of beer and cigarettes.”
“I tried to struggle but Rex easily overpowered me and flipped my legs onto the sofa so that I was lying underneath him. He pinned me to the lounge grinding against me as he kissed me; his hands explored my body, finally sliding under my skirt.”
“He kissed me harder and he was panting like he was going it faint. I could feel his hard cock pressing against me as he kissed me and pawed at my legs.”
“Oh my god that must have been awful!” I whispered and put a hand on Tina’s shoulder.
“You don’t understand Sarah. I loved it. I enjoyed the fact that this old fat redneck found me attractive. It was like my fantasy had come true,” Tina said, but I could sense the humiliation in her voice.
“I felt ashamed and degraded but so excited. I felt alive!” Tina went on.
“I responded to his kisses and he called me a slut and tranny whore and to my shame I became aroused. He got off me and stood facing me and pulled my face into his groin. With trepidation I opened his flies and the pungent musky stench of his loins assaulted my senses but I didn’t care; I freed his erect penis and sucked on it until it exploded in my mouth.”
“I swallowed his musty issue and to my shame I felt my hard penis was leaking pre-seminal fluid into my panties.”
“Goddamn Tommy boy you look pretty as a picture and you sure know how to suck a man’s cock,” Rex laughed.
“It’s the first time I’ve done this Rex. Just please don’t tell dad,” I begged him again.
“Well I might accommodate that but my dick is getting hard again and it needs tending to,” he grinned.
“I tried to suck him again but he slapped me away.”
“No way babe. I already had some of that. I want some of this!” Rex howled as he flipped me onto the sofa on my knees and pulled up my skirt. He tore off my panties and ripped out the crotch of my pantyhose. He slapped my soft pale buttocks and chuckled.”
“That is some fine ass you got there girl.”
“He spat on his erection and stuck it in me all the way. I screamed and I bucked with the pain but Rex just rode me like a bronco. He spat some more on my ass and his saliva eventually began to lubricate his shaft. That old boy fucked me like a bucking mule and at some stage it stopped hurting and started to feel good and I pushed back against him.”
“He came deep inside and to my surprise and delight I came in my pantyhose at the same time.”
“Rex pulled out, wiped himself and pulled up his jeans and I sat there on the lounge with his come dribbling out of my ass and my own issue soaking into my panties and pantyhose.”
“Ok Tom. I got a proposition for you,” he began.
“It’s Tina,” I corrected him.
“What?” he asked.
“This won’t work if think of me as Tom. I’m Tina; Tina the tranny if you like but I’m Tina and I know what you are going to propose. You’re blackmailing me. You want to use me and in return you’ll keep my secret.”
“You are one sassy little tranny but yeah that sounds about right. Every Thursday night while Bob is eating chilli and drinking beer at the Roonie’s Bar and Grill I’ll come around here and fuck you. And your secret stays safe not only from your old man but everyone else in this shithole of a town,” Rex said.
“I nodded and that was that. And I won’t lie to you and tell you I didn’t like it. The more he degraded me the more aroused I became. My submissiveness is something I’ve come to live with Sarah. It’s still part of me to some extent; hence my work in the porno industry.”
“But…” I was about to interrupt.
“Shush Sarah; let me tell it all,” Tina shut me down and went on with her life story.
“I think we got away with it for nearly a year. By then we had become lovers but the sex was still rough and I liked it that way. Anyway the inevitable happened and dad came home from Roonie’s early one night, drunk of course, and found me on my back with Rex fucking me hard.”
“It took him a little while to figure out who I was and when he realised what was happening he lost it big time. I thought he might have taken it out on Rex for fucking his son but nope…He kicked the living shit out of me, calling me a faggot and a homo and pervert and kicked me out of the house destitute. He and Rex laughed about it and drank more beer. I snuck back in the early hours and packed a bag including my femme clothing and hitchhiked to LA.”
“Don’t ask me why LA but I figured that a tranny might do ok either there or in New York but LA was closer. I found that by dressing as Tina and hanging around truck stops I would soon get a ride. It usually cost me a blowjob or a fuck in the cab of a truck but I didn’t care, I just wanted to move on. A businessman in some bum-fuck town in Nevada gave me fifty dollars to spend the night with him in his fleapit hotel and I was able to ride a bus the rest of the way.”
“I was dressed as Tina full time now and become quite adept at looking feminine. I wasn’t passable up close but I didn’t look like a hairy panty wearer either if you know what I mean.”
“I got off at the bus station in LA and was immediately approached by Raffe. Raffe was rake thin, wore faded jeans, a Ramones T-shirt, and wore his hair in dreadlocks. He had a razor scar running from below his left eye to his chin but he was handsome in a dangerous way if you know what I mean.”
“He said I looked lost and asked if I needed somewhere to stay. I thought he was a nice guy but of course I was naïve and uneducated in the ways of the street. Raffe took me back to his place where we made love for three days. We hardly got out of the bed. Some skinny chick with sad sallow eyes bought us Chinese food, booze and cigarettes. We smoked some reefer too and he tried to get me to try some harder stuff but I refused which pissed him off a little bit but he settled down.”
“On the fourth day he put me out on the street to work.”
“My business model is simple. I don’t care if you’re white, a nigger, a spick, a slope, a kike, a girl, a faggot, or a tranny. In my stable you turn at least five tricks a day at twenty dollars a pop; more for the kinky shit. You give everything you earn to me and I’ll give you back what I think you’re worth. The more you earn; the more you get back,” Raffe sneered.
“I worked those streets for three years. At first I was new, young, and hot, and all the pervs wanted to fuck me. Also, I was good at what I did and I didn’t rip off the Johns and I didn’t do drugs so I built up a large client base. Some of the girls and other trannies got hooked on drugs and they started to look like shit and ripped off their Johns to pay for their habits. They’d get a beating from the client and a beating from Raffe and eventually he’d let them go…or they’d leave…or more frighteningly, they’d just disappear.”
“Two years on the job I’d saved enough to go down to Mexico and got these and a tracheal shave,” Tina cupped her breasts.
“I paid top dollar for the tits and they did a good job as you can attest to. I got even more customers when I returned as a full on transsexual.”
“Not long after that I met Devon and my life really took a turn.”
“Devon Devine; his real name is Lyle Brinkman but if you call him that he’ll kick your ass. Devon is the king of VHS porn.”
“Devon liked that I was an attractive young transsexual who was willing to do almost anything sexually if the price was right. The VHS video market was in full swing and every man wanted a porn collection; the kinkier the better. Tranny stuff was particularly hot.”
He told me his business model.
“Babe I make these movies on a shoe string budget all filmed on tape. I make copies and distribute them from a warehouse in Reseda. You get a thousand dollars a movie flat rate, no matter how kinky…and I do a lot of kink, my customers love it. No scat but you might get pissed on,” was his pitch.
“You make one movie every two weeks; usually filmed over two to five days. On the other days I’m filming straight, homo or really kinky shit. What do you say?”
“What about Raffe,” I asked.
“You seen the Godfather? I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse,” he grinned.
“Don’t hurt him and it’s a deal,” I replied and that was that.
“Two thousand a month is good money and the work isn’t that hard. I kinda like it.”
“Devon has this transvestite named Michele Nylons who writes these awful screenplays; usually about a tranny who gets forced or blackmailed into having sex, mostly group sex with rough types. Really cheesy shit like ‘Tranny at the Truck Stop’, the movie you found at the Adult Store, or ‘Lady in the House’ a ridiculous story about a guy who gets forced into being a transvestite prostitute in jail.”
“She came on set once and she looks like a real trollop; word on the set is she fucked one of the camera operators in the janitor’s closet. Anyway this shit sells big. Apparently guys like seeing trans women being roughed up; who cares so long as I make good money.”
“I’ve made enough to buy the little apartment I live in and to invest in Wendy’s nightclub; I’m a half owner and partner.”
“And that’s my story Sarah. You now know everything about me.”
Tina finished her litany and lit a cigarette.
“That is some story Tina,” I said.
“Look Sarah. Don’t feel sorry for me. I like my life and I really like you but I didn’t want to contaminate you with the seedy side of my life. You are this wholesome college student going places and I’m a hooker and porn actress. I really like being with you but we are poles apart,” she smiled at me and leaned over and pecked my cheek.
“Anyway enough of this shit. Let’s get glammed up and go to this wake or party or whatever the fuck it is. I want to see how everyone reacts when they see how beautiful and successful you have turned out to be,” she grinned at me and hopped off the bed.
“And maybe there is some nice country boy who needs his tranny cherry busted,” she smiled mischievously. I threw a pillow at her and laughed.
When we arrived at the Dew Drop Inn the wake was in full swing. People had bought platters of food and there were pitchers of beer and hard liquor on all the tables. There were about ten tables with half a dozen people or so sitting at each of them. Two pool tables had been pushed against the wall to make room for the party and they were covered with tablecloths with the food arranged on them. There was also about another twenty or so people just milling around or holding up the bar. An old beat up duke box was pounding out old time country and western songs.
The same crowd from the funeral was there and quite a few others. Most were nodding acquaintances of mine but some of them I knew well.
Sloane was dressed in the same black dress she had worn at the funeral but she had changed her nylons to flesh toned hose and she had fixed her makeup and hair. She sat at a long rectangular table with Billy Kettering still dressed in his poorly fitting hand-me-down black suit sitting beside her. She was drunk but not as bad as she had been at the funeral. I deliberately avoided eye contact with her as I surveyed the smoke filled room.
Lizzie Sanders saw Tina and I standing near the entrance and gestured us over to her table where she sat with some of my former school friends.
I was also still wearing my funeral attire. The black cotton-spandex, form-fitting dress with the long black lace sleeves. I had ditched the hat and gloves and I held Tina’s hand as we walked over to the table where Lizzie and her friends sat. Two of the girls got up to give us their seats and despite my protestations they insisted that Tina and I sit.
I introduced Tina and someone put disposable cups full of beer and shots of cheap whiskey in front of us.
“Ok Sarah; I wanna know all about what’s happened to you since the Prom and all about this delightful lady accompanying you,” Lizzie grinned.
The others crowded around expectantly.
“You don’t wanna know about before…I mean…well you know,” I stammered.
“Nope. Amanda told all who would listen about how you came to her as an orphan boy and said that you willingly allowed her to turn you into the most wonderful special little girl and that she was ashamed about how she treated you. I always suspected there was something special about you Sarah; but I would never have guessed that it was that,” Lizzie said.
“We all know and love you as Sarah except for some bigoted few so that’s all we care about. What Sloane did to you was unforgivable and well…you just skipped town straight after the Prom fiasco so we never got to tell you.”
I realised then they didn’t know about what had happened to me in the park and I felt a sense of relief wash over me. At least I wouldn’t have to go there.
I gave them an abridged version of my life since I left. I told them that I was at Haas School of Business at the University of California in Berkeley and currently undertaking a masters degree in Financial Engineering and that I worked at Bruno’s Bar and Grill to make ends meet. I told them nothing about Bendy Wendy’s Nightclub or of my relationship with Tina.
“So what about you Lizzie?” I asked.
Lizzie regaled us with her life at the University of Houston where she was studying law. Then the girls and guys around the table each took a turn at telling us all about their lives since leaving high school. It was almost like a school reunion.
We were all drinking and laughing but eventually I couldn’t help myself.
“So what about Sloane?” I asked.
Lizzie raised her eyebrows.
“Well let’s just say, I don’t like to talk ill of the dead, but she has taken up where Amanda left off. She sees a lots of gentleman callers, if you know what I mean,” Lizzie whispered.
“And that awful Billy Kettering has moved in and the place looks like a dump I’m sorry to say. I drove out there yesterday with a few of us others to pay our respects,” she continued.
“Sooo…What about you, charming thing. What’s your story?” Lizzie chuckled, circling a finger at Tina.
The booze was kicking in and inhibitions were lowered.
I squeezed Tina’s thigh under the table.
“She’s my friend and my guest. That’s all you need to know,” I attempted to deflect the question.
Lizzie turned down her lips and some of the others looked disappointed.
“Oh come on Tina,” Lizzie all but begged.
“Ok fuck it. You asked so I’ll tell you,” Tina grinned.
“I used to be a hooker but now I work as a porn star and I’m half owner of a gay and lesbian bar.”
The table went deathly quiet and then Lizzie burst out laughing and everyone else joined in.
“Hah! hah! If you don’t wanna tell us, just say so,” she chortled.
We all took a drink and it quietened down for a while.
Then Lizzie leaned in close,
“And are you? I mean do you? I mean…Ah fuck it. Never mind,” Lizzie looked confused and apologetic.
“Do you mean, have I got a penis? A whang? A dick? A phallus? A Willie? A dong? A Johnson?” Tina grinned confidently
Lizzie nearly doubled over laughing.
“Ok yeah…well have you?” she was almost apoplectic.
“I’m a fully functional transsexual if you have to know. And I bet my dick is bigger than some of the guys at this table,” Tina said jokingly.
Then she broke up laughing and the whole table followed.
I glanced up at Sloane’s table and saw her glaring at me and my companions. She was surrounded by sorry morose looking rednecks and here we were enjoying ourselves. It was so obvious that she was jealous and hateful.
The evening progressed with more drinking and joviality. The conversation waxed and waned between various topics now that everyone’s curiosity was sated. Tina’s natural vivaciousness made her a hit and everyone wanted to talk to her and people regularly switched seats to engage with each other.
Drew Carter entered the bar about three hours into the party, just when everyone’s frivolity was beginning to wane.
He was accompanied by the most stunning blonde girl I think I had ever seen. My heart skipped a beat and Tina immediately became aware of my distress.
“Oh fuck! I should have told you Sarah. Drew is also at the University of Houston on a football scholarship and he has taken up with that beautiful creature April Bouvier that you see on his arm,” Lizzie explained.
“Well good luck to him. He was a nice boyfriend but he let me down when I needed him most, but I have no hard feelings,” I smiled wanly.
This time it was Tina’s turn to squeeze me comfortingly under the table.
Drew and his date made their way over to Sloane’s table, obviously to render condolences as they weren’t at the funeral. I tried not to stare but it was difficult.
“Let’s get some fresh air,” Tina said and gripped my arm.
She led me outside, stopping to pick up a bottle of Jack off a table. We sat outside on the steps leading from the parking lot to the kitchen at the back of the bar taking slugs from the bottle and smoking.
“We’ll ruin our dresses sitting in the dust like this,” I said.
“Fuck it. I’ll never wear it again anyway,” Tina smiled.
“Maybe you could get that horrible Michele Nylons girl to write a screenplay. ‘Tranny in the Boneyard’ or some such shit, where you get gangbanged in a funeral home or something. At least you could use the dress again,” I laughed.
She punched me in the arm and took a big gulp of whiskey.
“Well I’m going for a piss,” I said, a little drunkenly.
“Aren’t you the lady?” she giggled.
I got unsteadily to my feet leaning on Tina’s shoulder and opened the screen door to the kitchen.
“You want me to go with you,” she asked.
“What am I, a twelve year old girl?” I snapped back at her.
Tina shrugged and took a drag of her cigarette and another slug of Jack.
I entered the small kitchen and made my way over to the servery door, into the small passageway that led to the toilets.
Just then the door to the men’s room opened and the hulking presence of Bing Holthouse blocked my path. He’d gone to fat but he was still an imposing figure.
He grinned when he saw me.
“Well, well, well! The freak is back in town and from what I see she’s bought another freak with her,” Bing smirked malevolently.
“Maybe I should bend you over and fuck your ass again freak; and then I’ll fuck your girlfriend” he hissed as he closed in on me.
“You could try you fat fuck but I suspect you’d never find your needle dick under that beer belly and I doubt that you could get it up anyway cause you’re so drunk,” I spat back at him.
He closed the gap between us in three strides and threw me against the wall; his hand closing around my throat and I struggled for breath and the world began to black out. I vaguely heard another door open and I felt another presence in the confined space.
Bing gasped and let go of me and as I struggled to breathe I was aware that someone was repeatedly punching Bing Holthouse. Bing dropped to the floor and my vision cleared and I saw Drew Carter kick Bing Holthouse unconscious.
I got my breathing under control and was finally able to speak.
“You’ve got to stop saving me Andrew Carter or people will talk,” I rasped.
I turned on my heels with the intent to exit back through the kitchen when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun around and stuck out blindly.
Drew caught my wrist; my hand inches from his face. He held it there and looked into my eyes.
“I’m so sorry Sarah,” he sighed and let go of me.
I slapped him across the face.
“That’s because I loved you Drew,” I began to cry.
He just stared at me dumbfounded.
I leaned into him and kissed him. At first it was chaste, just our lips touching; then he pulled me to him and he kissed me passionately.
I clung to him and revelled in the feel of his hard body against mine. I wrapped my arms around him and he held me tight.
We kissed for what seemed like an eternity and then I began to struggle and I pushed him away.
“No! This is wrong! I lied to you! I deceived you! I was never what you thought I was and I never deserved you,” I sobbed.
The door to the bar opened and Drew’s date put her head through the door.
“Drew? Drew? Is everything alright?” she asked.
“It’s fine April. Go back to the party. I’ll be there soon,” Drew replied.
April gave me the once over, turned up her nose and closed the door.
I took the opportunity to duck back through the kitchen but Drew caught up to me and pulled me up short.
He held me by my shoulders and looked earnestly into my eyes.
“It was me! I found you! I’ve known where you’ve been for nearly six months now and I’ve been keeping Amanda abreast of your stunning progress at college,” he said.
“When Amanda got sick she made me track you down and made me promise her that I would contact you when she died and ensure you came to her funeral. She wanted you there. She wanted to make amends but she felt too ashamed to tell you herself,” he explained.
I was sobbing now.
“She wants you at the reading of her will tomorrow. Please go. It’s the last wish of a dying woman,” Drew looked searchingly into my eyes.
I looked up at him.
“Ok Drew. I will. But…what about us. There is so much unsaid,” I sobbed.
“I don’t know Sarah. I just don’t know,” he whispered.
“Drew! Drew!” April was calling from outside the kitchen.
“I gotta go,” Drew sighed.
“Yeah Drew. You gotta go,” I replied and turned away.
To be continued...
There’s Something About Sarah
Chapter Seven – A Conclusion of Sorts
Tina flatly refused to attend the reading of Amanda’s will and to be honest I don’t blame her.
“Sarah; it’s between you and Sloane and it’s legal shit. I don’t think having a former prostitute and current transgendered porn star is in any way going to serve you well. Besides; you need to stand on your own two feet. I know you can do it,” she said.
And she was right.
Little did I know what she had planned for the day; but more of that later.
The reading was a debacle; what else would I expect with anything involving Sloane.
I sat in the ante room of the offices of Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe, attorneys at law, dressed demurely in a polka dot dress, flesh-toned hose, minimal makeup and low heels. My days of crying over Amanda’s death were over.
Sloane was obviously hungover and possibly still a little drunk and wore a navy blue skirt, pink satin blouse, heavy makeup and black pumps. Her hair was a little disarrayed and she toyed with a set of rosary beads that I had never seen before. She was obviously putting on an act; using a tissue to dry eyes that were not actually crying.
That creep Billy Kettering, still dressed in his poorly fitting hand-me-down black suit, which now reeked of perspiration and stale beer was sitting beside her.
I couldn’t help but feeling a little peevish when I again noticed that Sloane’s belly was protruding over the waist of her skirt and straining the buttons of her blouse. But I decided to try once again to diffuse the acrimony between us.
I moved across the tiny ante room and sat beside her. I tried to take her hand in mine but she pushed my hand away.
“Sloane. We grew up sisters. I have always loved and worshipped you. I don’t understand why you became so cruel to me,” I said.
Sloane turned towards me and there wasn’t a skerrick of compassion in her eyes.
“I was my mother’s only daughter until you arrived. When you did I treated you like a sister but you rose above us with your pretentious ways. You thought you were better than us, little miss popular at school, academic lah-de-da dating the football hero. You used to wear my hand-me-downs and was Cinderella while I was the Princess.”
Sloane went on.
“The best I could do was to work in a beauty parlour while you graduated with offers from colleges across the country. I made you who you are! You were Stephen Grayson, a little Nancy boy I turned into Sarah the Ice Princess. But that wasn’t good enough for you! You thought you were better than us. That’s why I fucked up your Prom. I didn’t know what those boys were going to you in the playground after the prom, but fuck it! I laughed when Bing Holthouse told me how he fucked you up the ass.”
I shed a single tear.
“I’m sorry if I hurt you in any way Sloane. I still love you and I forgive you,” I replied, my voice trembling.
“Fuck you Sarah…sorry Stephen. You take yourself and your tranny whore girlfriend back to California to the rest of the creeps and weirdos and leave us good Southern folk alone. We have no need for your kind around here,” Sloane replied and raised her middle finger.
Billy Kettering yukked his moronic laugh, showing yellowed and blackened teeth.
I returned to my seat and sat quietly.
The door to the conference room opened and we were ushered inside and sat at an absurdly long conference table given there were only five of us there. Besides Sloane, Billy, and myself was attorney at law Richard Howe and to our surprise Drew Carter.
Mister Howe introduced himself and wasted no time over any form of preamble.
“For the record. Present today in the matter of disbursing the will of one Amanda Grayson is the attorney of record, Richard Howe, the Executor of the will Mr Andrew Carter, and Amanda Grayson’s surviving heirs Ms Sloane Grayson and Ms Sarah Grayson,” he began.
“Objection your honor. Sarah Grayson is not blood kin to Amanda Grayson and well…she ain’t technically a woman,” Billy Kettering interrupted.
“Mister Kettering. You have no standing here. This is the reading of the last will and testament of Ms Amanda Grayson and only the beneficiaries and the Executor need be here. You sir, are neither kin nor benefactor and if you do not remain silent I will have you removed from this reading,” Richard Howe admonished Sloane’s redneck boyfriend.
“However…As the issue has been raised and accordance with the instructions of the deceased I am directed to present to Ms Sarah Grayson the following documents duly sanctioned and certified by Supreme Court of the State of Texas.”
“One being an addendum to the birth certificate of one Stephen Grayson, changing the name to Sarah Grayson and a change of sex of said child from male to female due to… and I quote: ‘an incorrect assessment of gender of the child at birth by the attending physician’.”
“The second being the adoption papers of one Sarah Grayson, legally declaring her the daughter of Amanda Grayson.”
“All said documents have been perused by the deceased’s solicitors and attorneys of record and found to be valid not only in the state of Texas but in the Republic of the USA.”
I gasped with surprise as the lawyer slid the documents across the table to me.
“Ms Sarah Grayson you are now legally a woman and the daughter of Amanda Grayson,” he said solemnly.
Sloane hissed and banged the table but remained silent and seething.
“This is bullshit! She ain't a woman! I bet she’s still got a cock! And she ain’t legally Sloane’s sister,” Billy Kettering howled.
Drew leaned over the table to reach for Billy Kettering and only the table’s extreme width probably saved Billy Kettering from a beating.
“You sir, may now leave the room. Should you not do so willingly, I have in anticipation, arranged the attendance of a Sheriff’s Deputy, who is ready to escort you accordingly and should you resist, arrest you for creating a public nuisance and any other charges that may apply including interfering with court sanctioned legal proceeding,” Solicitor Howe said with a certain amount of smugness.
Billy sat there fuming refusing to leave his seat. Sloane was too confused to realise the enormity of what had just occurred.
Richard Howe pressed a button under the table and a door opened and a large black Deputy appeared who must have weighed two hundred and fifty pounds and strode over and stood behind Billy Kettering and put a hand on his shoulder.
Billy was stupid but not moronic and realised that resistance was futile.
He slammed back his seat and shot to his feet.
“This is bullshit!”
“This is bullshit!”
“This is bullshit!”
He ranted as the Deputy led him away.
Sloane looked shocked but still defiant.
“We can now go ahead and read the last will and testament of Amanda Grayson. I will advise both of you benefactors that the will is simple and will be duly executed today by my firm. Mister Andrew Carter as the Executor has already signed the necessary documents permitting my law firm to make disbursements in accordance with the will,” solicitor Howe explained.
“To my younger daughter Sarah Grayson I leave twelve thousand dollars cash which is currently held in an account at the Citizens National Bank of Texas,” he read solemnly.
Sloane snorted but remained composed.
“To my eldest daughter Sloane Grayson I bequeath the remainder of my estate including my house and the four acres of land on which it sits and all goods and chattels therein,” Richard Howe concluded and tapped the documents on the table before him into neat pile.
“So what do I get?” Sloane looked confused.
“Should you wish to engage our services we can assist you Miss Grayson. But having premptively surveyed your estate I would say you might get to keep the house and a couple of acres if you sell the rest of the land to pay the taxes due,” Richard Howe replied.
“What about her and that fucking cash! It’s worth more than that shitbox house!” she screamed.
“None or your or my business,” the lawyer responded.
“I can tell you Sloane. I have an MBA in finance and I estimate that after taxes I’ll probably clear around eight thousand. Amanda, I mean mother, gave me the seven thousand remaining in my trust fund when I left but that’s gone in student loans and rent, so I guess I can now afford to stay in college and get my Masters,” I replied
“So you get the cash and I get the rat-hole of a house and a few worthless acres of land,” Sloane hissed.
“Sloane, the house can be renovated and if properly watered, you could run cattle or horses on the land. I can help you. I have the knowledge and business acumen,” I tried one last time to reconcile with my sister.
“Fucking acumen this,” Sloane raised her finger to me again.
“Hey shyster! Howe or whatever your name is. You can sell the whole parcel and I’ll take it in cash,” Sloane snapped at the lawyer.
“Should you wish to engage the services of Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe to liquidate the whole of your inheritance Ms Grayson we can do so. But I will need to draw up a legally binding contract which includes our commission for doing so,” Richard Howe looked down his nose at Sloane.
“Just do it you lawyer fuck and tell me when to come and sign the papers. Fuck this and fuck you all. I got screwed by my own mother!” Sloane stormed out of the conference room.
I stood and followed Sloane, I just wanted to be gone but she was waiting for me in the ante room. She screwed up her face and was about to unleash a barrage of hatefulness towards me but I’d had enough.
“Shut up you fat fucking whore! I’m done with you Sloane,” I spat and strode out of the law offices.
Sloane just stood there dumbfounded and I was glad to see the back of her.
I stopped at the local branch of the Citizens National Bank of Texas and showed my new paperwork. After a few preliminaries I was presented with a passbook with twelve thousand dollars in deposit.
My next stop was the liquor store where I bought a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and carton of Marlborough Menthol Lights then I went back to the hotel.
I burst into our room but found that Tina was gone. She’d left a note on my pillow.
‘Devon Devine is making another movie. I need the money. See you back in Berkeley after I finish filming, love Tina’
“Oh shithouse mouse!” I cried to the empty room.
“I finally have good news and my best friend and lover has left me to make a porno!” I laughed.
I wanted to celebrate but being on my own I just wasn’t up to it. I didn’t even bother kicking off my heels I just leapt on the bed, opened the Jack and lit a cigarette. I turned on the TV and started watching some inane show and was ready to nod off having drunk three drinks and smoked as many cigarettes.
There was a soft tapping at the door and I leapt to my feet expecting Tina to have returned but when I opened it there stood Andrew Carter holding a bunch of flowers.
“Drew you are three years too late and way too complicated to deal with right now. Go on back to April Bouvier and the University of Houston where you belong. I appreciate you executing my mother’s will but I’ll tell you up front; every time I see you it brings back memories I’d rather forget,” I said holding the door open but barring his entrance.
Drew pushed the flowers towards me.
“Sarah, please take these as a token of your victory over Sloane and the final validation from your Aunt Amanda who, besides her failings, loved you enough to see you right,” he said.
I snatched the flowers and pushed Drew outside and slammed the door.
I leaned my back against the door and there was now a purposeful knocking.
I opened the door and Drew had that smile on his face. The smile I could never resist.
“It’s customary to toast a victory,” he grinned.
“And April Bouvier; does she know you are here,” I asked.
“April Bouvier took the first bus back to Houston when she found out I used to have a transvestite girlfriend,” he grinned.
“Had I been with a black woman, a Jew, or a Catholic; she probably could have forgiven me but only grudgingly. But she could not forgive me for being with a trans woman. She told me she thinks I’m a homo.”
I opened the door and pointed to a seat next to the coffee table.
“I’m sorry Drew. I’ll phone her or write her a letter and tell her that you didn’t know. That I deceived you and that when you found out you despised me for my subterfuge,” I poured us both a large drink.
Drew took my hand in his.
“Stop apologising for your existence Sarah. Every time I meet you, you are sorry for something that isn’t your fault.”
“Drew; I lied to everyone. I lied to my friends and I lied to the man I loved. I sometimes I think I really I am a freak,” I cried.
Drew pulled me to him and kissed me on the cheek.
“Don’t you dare sat that! I loved you! I still love you!” he sighed.
He pulled me to him and kissed me. Softly at first and then passionately.
“I still love you Sarah. I think of you every minute I’m awake and when I’m asleep I dream of you,” he lifted me out of my chair and pulled me close.
“But, but, but…” I whimpered.
“You are my Sarah and I love you,” he whispered in my ear.
He guided me towards the bed and fell on top of me. He kissed me harder and he gasped as his hand slid up my legs and found the soft flesh above the welts of my hold-up stockings. I instinctively closed my legs.
Drew didn’t stop; his fingers stroked the front panel of my panties.
“Drew…you know what’s inside my panties, are you sure?” I whispered.
Drew stared lovingly into my eyes.
“I’m sure,” he whispered in return.
His fingers caressed the top of my thighs and drifted across the front of my panties again. I could feel his erection pushing against me through his jeans. I was becoming erect myself, my penis pushing against my gaff and leaking pre-cum.
When Drew quickly slid his fingers inside my panties and tore away my gaff I gasped. Drew flung the pad of cosmetic tape across the room and began to stroke my erection through the cool satin of my panties.
“Are you sure Drew?” I searched his eyes.
“Sarah, will you please shut up so I can make love to you,” he grinned and pulled my hand down to his throbbing cock.
I unzipped his jeans and reached inside but Drew stopped me. He got to his knees, ripped off his shirt and shucked off his boots, sox and jeans. He was naked and I wanted his hard muscled body pressed again mine but he hadn’t finished. He helped me take off my dress and brassiere leaving me dressed only in panties and my sheer stay-up stockings. I went to kick off my heels but he stopped me and shook his head.
“Leave them on. Goddamn you look so beautiful and sexy lying on the bed like that,” he sighed.
I smiled up at him and then pulled him to me. His hard body pressed against mine his penis rubbed against mine, still trapped in my satin panties. We kissed and caressed and before long the front of my panties were wet with the combined juices of our pre-seminal fluid.
I reached down and took his hard hot member in my hand. It felt firm; the skin silky and sleek. I slid my fingers up the shaft and tickled his fraenulum. Drew gasped and kissed me harder; he gripped the shaft of my penis through my panties began to stroke me and I reciprocated.
Out tongues were intertwined and we explored each other’s bodies and we stroked each other’s penises and before long I felt the slippery wetness of his precum.
“You’re getting wet,” I giggled in his ear.
“You too,” he whispered in mine.
“Do you want me to…you know use my mouth on you?” I asked a little sheepishly.
“Yes, but not now. I’m close to coming and really want to do this,” Drew opened my legs and lay between them.
I gasped when he whipped my legs up high in the air and put my ankles over his shoulders. He slid his erection inside my panties and pushed his glans against my anal bud.
“I’ve never done this before. Am I going to hurt you?” he looked down at me, concern evident in his eyes.
“Your pre-cum will lubricate me but please take it slow,” I smiled up at him.
Drew pushed forward and I hissed with pain as the head of penis pushed aside my sphincter. I pressed my palms against his shoulders.
“Slow babe,” I whimpered.
“I don’t want to hurt you Sarah but god this feels amazing,” he smiled down at me.
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pushed up slowly impaling myself on his hard phallus. Drew groaned and lowered his face to mine and we kissed as I ground against him. I felt his penis throbbing inside me and I knew he was close.
“I’m going to come Sarah; this is just wonderful I can’t hold back,” he moaned.
I kissed him harder and pulled him firmly against me and ground my buttocks against his groin as my anus tightened on his shaft and milked him of his seed. His hot semen flooded my back passage and I orgasmed with him; flooding my panties. Drew fucked me hard as his semen lubricated me and I rode my orgasm and fucked him back. We both moaned and gasped until we were sated.
Drew lay on top of me kissing me and gently lowered my legs but he remained inside me. His fingers lazily flicked my nipple.
“You are wonderful and that was wonderful,” Drew grinned down at me.
“No post coital regret? No concerns you’re becoming gay?” I teased him.
“I ain’t gay! You’re a woman with a piece of paper to prove it,” he grinned.
“ Anyway; I don’t know anything about being gay; all I know is I love you and I love this.”
“You don’t mind that I’ve only got these little titties,” Drew was still playing with my nipple.
“Hey I love you and I think you’re sexy just the way you are,” Drew replied.
“Now I’m rich I can afford to get real tits. Not too big…just a nice handful,” I tormented him a little.
“Now that would be nice,” he grinned.
“But I’d love you anyway Sarah. I was crazy to let you go.”
“When I tracked you down I was so confused. I knew I loved you but I was so flustered; I didn’t know what to do.”
“But not now?” I asked.
“No.” he replied.
“What about April Bouvier?” I asked.
“She was just arm candy Sarah. Being a college footballer it’s expected that I have a cute girlfriend but it was all platonic. I doubt she even misses me she’s so self absorbed,” Drew explained.
“So are we going keep this a secret? I understand if that’s what you want,” I blushed.
“No we are not going to keep it a secret. That would ruin something beautiful. I want us to be a couple or more precisely back to being a couple. I want to take you to places, I want you to meet my college friends and my family and I want to meet your friends too,” he kissed away my tear.
“I’m seriously in love with you Sarah and I’m not going to lose you again.”
“I love you too Drew but I don’t think its going to be so easy. A lot of people won’t understand,” I replied.
“I didn’t say it was going to be easy, but we will work it out,” he kissed me again.
“But let’s discuss this later. I have something I need to take care of,” he grinned.
“I can feel it you naughty boy,” I wriggled my buttocks as I felt Drew’s penis begin to harden inside me.
Our second session of lovemaking took a lot longer and was a lot tenderer. We took our time building to our climax; Drew’s semen had lubricated me and he was able to fuck me with long slow strokes and this time he took off my panties and gripped my penis and stroked me to climax, coming at the same time as he did.
We lay side by side sated. Smoking and drinking glasses of Jack. My left leg straddled Drew’s and he lazily stroked my thigh as we chatted.
Little did I know that across the courtyard in a different room of the same Holiday Inn hotel Tina was up to shenanigans.
Whilst I was at the offices of Dewey, Cheatem, and Howe, Tina had taken a walk down Main Street. She deliberately dressed provocatively: slinky black micro-mini, black stockings, black high-heels, and lashings of makeup and gaudy jewellery.
She soon got the response she was looking for when Bing Holthouse’s pickup pulled up beside her.
“Jeez I thought you were some hot chick and I was going to give you a ride but you’re that tranny bitch that hangs around Sarah Grayson aintcha?” he grinned through blackened teeth.
“And you’re Bing Holthouse; famous for raping transvestites at night in the park,” Tina replied flippantly.
She brazenly strode over, her heels clicking on the pavement, and leant in the tuck’s window. A miasma of perfume assaulted Bing’s nose and when he saw how pretty she was his cock began to harden.
“Heard there was a whole bunch of you fucked that bitch and that she loved it,” Tina smiled wickedly.
Tina extracted a cigarette from her purse and Bing lit it for her. She blew smoke in his face; deliberately teasing him.
“Thought you and her were friends; didn’t expect you to talk her down,” Bing lit a cigarette of his own.
“I’m over that fucking cry baby. She needs to grow up,” Tina grinned.
“If I had a bunch of guys wanting to fuck me I’d make sure they all got a piece of my ass and I’d love it,” Tina licked her upper lip provocatively.
“Well I’ll just tell you what sweetheart; I can arrange the exact same guys to take you on if you’re up for it,” the lust was obvious in Bing’s voice.
Tina leaned in though the window and squeezed Bing’s hard cock through his jeans. She dropped a card into his lap.
“Hot damn!” Bing gasped when the luscious tranny squeezed his prick again.
He picked up the card and read it. It was a card for the Holiday Inn and scrawled on the back was ‘room 406’.
“Get your boys and be there at five pm sharp. I’ll take you all on,” Tina winked at Bing, gave his cock a final squeeze and turned on her heels, shaking her ass as she walked away.
“Gotcha!” she grunted under her breath.
Bing Holthouse, Bobby Fillay, Gerry Kershaw and Ben Mowbray huddled together outside the door of room 406 at the Holiday Inn.
“So she’s that hot chick Sarah was leaning on at the funeral and later at the wake? Cept she ain’t really a chick she’s a tranny like Sarah?” Bobby asked.
“For the fiftieth time boys this chick is hot! You seen her. And she’s brazen. She squeezed my dick right there on Main Street. I don’t care how big her dick is I want her to blow me and I’m gonna fuck her ass,” Bing gloated.
“That Bitch Sarah Grayson had a tight ass that night we fucked her in the park and I want some more of that,” Bing went on.
“Sarah could suck a dick as good as any whore too! Even with a knife to her belly,” Gerry Kershaw smirked.
“Exactly boys and this bitch wants it! So lets give it to her!” he grinned and opened the door.
Tina stood in the centre of the room; she was obviously waiting for them. She had one hand on her hip and one leg thrust forward. She looked hot and sexy.
“Come on in boys and lets get acquainted. There’s drinks over there on the table so help yourselves,” she beamed at them.
“Jeez Bing you’re right. This bitch is hot!” Bobby hooted.
“Ben; pour us all a drink while I check out the merchandise,” Bing ordered.
Ben Mowbray poured large drinks into the four tumblers on the table whilst Bing circled Tina eyeing her up and down.
All the boys were excited and were all sporting erections that bulged their jeans and Tina smiled and dropped her micro-mini dress to the floor. She was wearing a black satin bustier underneath; black fully-fashioned stockings connected to it by frilly garters, her breasts pushed up and out. She could hardly walk in the six inch high-heels she was wearing. Her makeup was heavy, her eyes dark and lips ruby red. Tina licked her lips provocatively and the boys all gulped. She slid a hand down inside her black nylon panties and freed her erection.
“Jeez her cock’s bigger’n mine,” Gerry gasped.
Tina bent over so they could see the tight globes of her ass encased in the black nylon panties.
“But her ass is twenty times better,” Bing chided.
“Drink up boys, drop your drawers and then come over here and fuck me!” Tina smiled.
The four boys all downed their drinks in one gulp, ripped off their clothes and pounced on Tina.
Bobby and Gerry dragged her over to the bed and Bing fell on her and began kissing her. She kissed him back and then felt the bed sag as Bobby and Gerry climbed on and she reached out and found their hard cocks and began to masturbate them. Ben climbed on the bed too but couldn’t find anywhere to put his cock so he just wanked it and watched.
The boys began to feel heady, high, overexcited sexually, and they felt their inhibitions melt away.
Bobby dragged Tina to her knees and pushed his cock deep inside her pre-lubricated anus. He began to fuck her hard.
“Come on; one you boys put your cock in my mouth; don’t waste a hole,” Tina cackled.
Bobby Fillay obliged and Tina sucked on his erection while Bobby fucked her ass.
“What about us?” Ben and Gerry whined.
“Start on each other then you can take these guys places in my ass and mouth. What happens in this room stays in the room,” Tina grinned and then got back to gobbling Bobby Fillay’s penis.
The boys were too stupid to realise they had been drugged and any control they had over their inhibitions were well and truly lost.
The evening was one rampant orgy. Each of them at some stage fucked Tina at least once and by the end of the night her sphincter was so loose she was leaking semen. Not that it mattered; she had cum drying in her hair, on her face and all over body.
But so did the boys. They seemed unable to sate their lust no matter how often they orgasmed and their need for release was so intense that began to engage with each other while Tina was busy taking on two at a time. At first it was all very tentative; Ben stroked Gerry’s penis and Ben reciprocated while they watched Tina being fucked by Bobby.
They drank more of the spiked bourbon and the effects of the drug increased proportionately. They began to change partners and it wasn’t long until the pair unoccupied with Tina began to fellate each other.
“Don’t forget what she said boys. What happens in this room stays in the room,” Bobby yelled as he took Tina’s hard cock into his mouth.
“So this is what Tranny cock tastes like,” he grinned stupidly.
Later that evening Bing Holthouse bent over and invited Tina to fuck him; which she duly did.
Around ten pm the guys were exhausted, drunk, drugged and ready to leave. They showered and changed and all swore on the sanctity of their marriages that they would die with their secret.
“You tell anyone about this you Tranny slut and I’ll hunt you down!” Bing wheezed catching his breath.
“So who am I going to tell and who would believe me?” Tina shrugged her shoulders, lighting a menthol.
“Well consider yourself warned!” Bobby Fillay snapped at her and he, Bing Holthouse, Gerry Kershaw and Ben Mowbray left the hotel room.
Tina watched through the curtain as they staggered over and climbed into Bing’s a twin-cab pickup and drove haphazardly out of the parking lot. She smiled wickedly and hit the shower.
She was towelling herself off when there was a discreet knock on the locked door connecting the adjoining room. Tina unlocked it and Devon Devine stood there dressed in his tight jeans and tighter T-shirt and snakeskin boots.
“Did you get it?” Tina asked.
“Every second of it. It’ll need a lot of cutting but I’m going to edit it down to two, one and half hour movies and call them Hotel Tranny Homo Hump parts One and Two,” Devon grinned.
Tina wrapped the towel around herself and padded into room 405.
Up against the adjoining wall mounted on tripod was a professional video tape camera, the lens poking into a hole cut in the wall. In Tina’s room the lens could hardly be seen strategically placed between two prints the movie crew had mounted earlier in the day.
“We got overhead video and sound too,” Devon smirked, pointing to another smaller lens in the ceiling above the bed in Tina’s room.
Without knowing that it was there, it was almost impossible to notice.
“And good sound; the mike’s right over the bed. We’ll also edit out all the stuff where you’re encouraging them to drink. Fuck! There must be enough drugs in that bottle to make an elephant horny,” Devon laughed.
“I may have overdid it a little but I needed to make sure those rednecks got enough of my special potion so they’d be high enough to go at one another,” Jeff Welcote chuckled.
Jeff was the cameraman, sound man, grip and pretty much everything else in Devon’s porno movie enterprise. He liked to joke he’d do anything but fluff the talent; but he’d consider fluffing Tina. Like most in the porno industry, constant exposure to all forms of sex and debauchery made him pretty much immune to arousal on the job.
“I’ll get dressed while you boys repair the damage to the wall and the ceiling and we can pack. Then; as they say in the Westerns, let’s get the fuck out of Dodge before those rednecks come down from their high and realise that I drugged them.”
Devon and Jeff nodded agreement and an hour and half later they were on the road.
When I returned to Berkeley I met up with Tina and told her what had transpired with Drew. She was both happy and sad.
“I’m so happy for you Sarah; you deserve this,” she hugged me and kissed my cheek.
“I suppose this puts an end to our on and off sexual relationship,” she grinned.
“Yes Tina. It’s been wonderful and you have taught me so much but I’m committed to Drew now,” I replied.
“But we can still be the best of friends.”
“We’ll see Sarah. We’ll see. You’ll move in different circles soon,” Tina said.
“Well possibly; but let’s not burn any bridges just yet. Anyway I have a question. Where in Mexico did you get those great tits?” I laughed.
“I figured once you got your inheritance you’d want a boob job and who can blame you? You got the looks, you got the ass and you got the legs, but a girl needs a good set of tits on her mantle piece so a boy’s got something to play with while he stokes the fire,” Tina chuckled.
“Jeez Tina! What you come out with sometimes!” I playfully slapped her fanny.
Drew came over to Berkeley the following week at the start of spring break and we spent three days in my apartment screwing ourselves silly then he took me to Mexico and I got my breast augmentation and tracheal shave.
Drew nursed me for a few days in a nice hotel until the doctor said I could travel and then we drove back to California so I could fully recuperate.
When I was well enough for Drew to inspect my new bosom there were no complaints and I loved having real breasts. I felt even more like a real woman now. My voice became even sultrier and Drew said I sounded sexy. Said I gave him a hardon just talking on the phone.
Wendy, Tina, Lucy and Steve threw me a huge party at Bendy Wendy’s and Drew surprised me with how well he engaged with my small crowd of friends, eclectic as they are. Tina invited Devon and Jeff and few of her porn star friends, female, male and trans; and my handsome beau was the hit of the party. I had to warn off some of the more amorous types from coming on to him but Drew only had eyes for me.
I saw Devon give Tina a small box of VHS tapes but didn’t think much of it. She put them behind the bar for safe keeping.
And so readers I’ll leave my story here. I don’t know if there will be a happy ending; life is a journey not a destination. All I know is I’m happy now.
Your Ice Princess…Sarah
Tina had scourged the records at the County Registrar while I was at the reading of Amanda’s will searching for marriage certificates and mailing addresses.
The day after the party she mailed a copy each of ‘Hotel Tranny Homo Hump Part Two’ to the wives of Bobby Fillay, Bing Holthouse, Gerry Kershaw and Ben Mowbray marked special delivery.
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