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Releasing her cheeks for the moment, I reached round her front and found her nipples. They were heavy with blood, and the touch thrilled us both."Oh!" she moaned, pushing her arse back against me, "Oh!"Behind her kneeling by the headboard, I could see Dolly looking down on the scene, chewing absently on a strand of her blonde hair.I let go her teats and eased backward a bit, then leaned forward and began to gamahuch Eunice for her arse had the strongest appeal to me at that very moment. Using long, lascivious swipes of my tongue from the star of her puckered arsehole to her now unhidden boatman; I caused Eunice to cry out: "No, No, with your prick!"Eunice didn't wait for me to act, but reached back and, taking it firmly in hand, guided it to her cunt. She paused for a second, her palm along my shaft, her fingertips against my balls; my knob at the wet entrance of her labia; then she drew in her breath and thrust back at me and it seemed my prick was sucked into her rather than me. I didn’t grow up in some So Cal hellonearth, that’s part of the problem. I had a convivial suburban childhood, a responsible adolescence. I entered college studious, quiet, though I had at least acquired my Enid hair and goth-lite wardrobe. How embarrassing it would be to embark upon a freshman orientation-week life makeover! I wasn’t ready to fake out that bad. But by the onset of sophomore year it was high time to start taking things up a notch. My liberal arts campus isn’t particularly arty, let alone experimental in any gender or queer direction. Still, it’s basically a tolerant place, and Matt stood out as one of our more experimental denizens. Maybe it was being surrounded by so few openly gay people that made Matt a kind of Queer-of-all-trades. As far as his social persona went, he had a lot of the stereotypically effeminate Disco Fag traits; he understood girlie kitsch and all that, but he could take care of himself, and I always thought there was a lot of traditionally.
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’ ‘Jen, don’t be. Shauna should’ve told you. It was unfair to spring it on you like that.’ His hand caressed my upper arm in an effort to comfort me. It settled me down, at least to the point of just teetering on the edge of nervousness. ‘You actually handled it well.’ ‘After awhile, it’s just easy to forget. You seem so, adjusted?’ I wasn’t sure that was the right word. ‘That’s as good a way of putting it as any. I’ve been like this most of my life, so I’ve had a while to adjust, as you so eloquently put it.’ ‘What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?’ ‘Of course I don’t mind. I suffered a retinal detachment when I was very young. I wasn’t walking or talking yet, so no one noticed. It wasn’t until sometime later that my mother figured out that something was wrong. By then it was too late to do anything.’ ‘That’s awful. Your mother must’ve felt so guilty.’ ‘She did. So did my Dad. But I didn’t exhibit even the slightest sign of it happening. It was sort of like I knew it was meant.

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