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From: LeAnna <totaldis@shells.optidynamic.com>
Subject: {LeAnna} Illusion Of Loev [f/f, m/f, scifi, tg?]
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And submitted to Celeste's story contest a hair before the deadline!
*Smile* Since posting to the UseNet has been slow and sluggish lately,
I'll date-stamp this to see just how slow and sluggish it is now. It took
"Paint" 3 days.
8-23-98
Copyright 1998 by LeAnna. No part of thsi document may be reproduced in
any way without permission of the author. Permission is granted for
reviewing and archiving permission is granted to DejaNews and to the ASSM
archive. Please email the author asking permission -- and don't be
afraid, she usually says yes! Minors, you know the drill.
[Illusion of Love by LeAnna]
I was in love once.
The bar lights reflected off her eyes, causing them to twinkle as she
picked up a glass and took a deep gulp. "So, tell me more about these new
simulation chambers that are coming to this little town."
I smiled at her. "Well, Costello, first you have to realize that
these sim chambers have the capability to reproduce sight, sound, smell,
and sensation."
"But what's so special about this one? Hang on, I've... Waiter?
Sir?"
"Here, just have my drink. Anyway, we made them interactive. So more
than one person can be involved in the same adventure. But what really
stands out is that you can take on any form you want."
"How do you mean?
"It doesn't automatically record your own, it asks for input or
default. If a fluffy cat were to do this simulation as a turtle, and
someone was to touch the turtle, they'd feel a turtle and not a cat. Their
hand wouldn't come away hairy."
Her eyes widened with the possibilities. "Is this very realistic?"
"Realistic?" The waiter came up behind me and exchanged the empty
glasses for new shots of whiskey.
"Does it feel like real life?"
"Shouldn't be much difference." I smiled at her and winked. "I can
create some sensation for you, Costello."
She laughed and clinked her glass against mine just before she leaned
over and kissed me on the cheek. "Nah, I'll pass."
Feeling a little lightheaded and loose-tongued, I whispered, "I bet I
could make you change your mind."
"Maybe some other time, eh? Why don't you go talk to that girl over
there for me?" She grinned, lecherous and as sly as a fox.
I gave a dejected sigh, making sure that the corners of my mouth
drooped a bit. "In any case, I'm sure there are already prostitution
rings doing this. They stamp the sim chamber session to assure you that
there is indeed a real person under the illusion. It's quite interesting
to see, actually."
"Prostitution?" She grinned. "Without the risk of diseases? That
would be interesting." Pause. "It could wreak havoc on marriages . . .
and society," she mused, taking a sip of her drink. "It could also create
some literal messes . . . "
"Yeah. For that reason, self-cleaning mechanisms are built inside
them."
She shook her head as she laughed. I was hypnotized as the light
played on her red hair, glinting while it moved with her laughter. Even
more captivating were her deep green eyes. It was amazing to realize they
weren't even artificial, like most p eople's were.
Perhaps that was half her charm -- the offering of her entire self in
the untarnished whole. The age we live in had become digitally enhanced
and technologically augmented. Now getting a nose job was a matter of
stepping into your personal makeup closet and a 2-minute wait. But
Costello never did any of that -- she'd been born with all her natural
beauty. She wasn't shallow. It . . . it was perhaps the large reason
that I was head over heels in love with her.
I feverishly wished that I was a woman.
Amazingly, the idea didn't occur to me for a few days after that
thought. Knowing me, it should have been brewing around in my head since
the moment we'd started to develop the shape-changing feature. When it
did hit me, it rammed full-speed straig ht into me. I was eating
breakfast at the time when suddenly I sputtered and gasped, my toast
nearly escaping my mouth. My mind was moving so quickly that I could
barely decipher the commands and mathematical formulas that it would
require to pull this off from a distance. You normally had to be at
terminals right next to each other to do interactive sim, but with a link
here and a code there . . .
Suddenly, I knew what had to be done. And I nearly fell over myself
doing it. I was up and at the computer within seconds, my too-thick, male
fingers flying over the keyboard. When I was finished, I went to the sim
chamber that it was to occur in and set an interceptive device that would
link them together. It couldn't fail. I had my own sim chamber at home,
compliments of the company since I'd programmed most of it.
I finished within three hours. My plan was laid out.
And no, I didn't feel a single bit of remorse or guilt right then.
It flashed by my mind for a fleeting moment that what I was going to do to
her would be tantamount to me having sex with a male. The shudder washed
away in a sudden flood of hormones, and it didn't occur to me again. For
a while.
The opportunity to set it in motion didn't come for another few
weeks. But I bided my time, knowing that because of the interest she
displayed in this new technology, she would mention it again one night.
And she did, in that same bar where the subject was first brought up,
drinking the same drink.
"Hey. Raymond. I'm wondering something." Her pink tongue darted
out to catch a drop of liquor that had fallen onto her soft lip. I
swallowed deeply and diverted my gaze. "You know about the sim chamber
you told me about? The prostitution thing?"
I acted natural. "Yeah. What about it?"
"We've known each other for years, right, Ray? I can trust you?
You're my best friend and shit?"
I nodded.
"Well" she blushed -- "I've been having a hard time getting a date
lately."
I laughed. I found that genuinely funny. "You are anybody's dream,
Costello -- female or male."
"Ok, I admit it, not a hard time. It's -- I try to live life to the
fullest, but I don't feel comfortable getting close to anyone just yet.
I've been burned, you know . . . Or maybe I'm just reluctant to associate
with the hard-core butch feminists of this town."
"Shhh. They might hear you generalizing about them and conclude that
you're not a lesbian."
She snickered. "In any case, could you hook me up with that?"
I smiled. "You know where the chambers are, Costello. Down the hall
on your left."
"Yeah, but I mean, a site. A cheap site where I can hook up with one
of the women.
"Why do you want a simulation woman? I mean, if you don't like the
people in this town why not go to the city?"
Her eyes were dark. I felt surprised at the sudden change of
demeanor -- she was usually happy. "I told you . . . And it isn't
particularly any of your business."
"You can trust me. What happened?"
"A man." She took a quick gulp. "Now can we get on to it?"
I frowned, appearing to contemplate, talking quickly, hoping to get
it off her mind. "Ah. You know what? I can set up a special deal for
you. But you have to make sure to follow all my instructions. This shit
was arranged for me, but I have no l ibido" -- she burst into roaring
laughter which I ignored -- "and I'm feeling pretty generous."
"Tell me about it."
"Ok. When I get home, I'll send a message that you're going to log
in from the terminal in this bar, the one on the LEFT from the door -- the
LEFT. Please don't get this confused."
"Should I write this down?"
"Yeah, if you want. And just go there anytime tomorrow, and enter
the code -- you will definitely want to write this one down. A3392-5501.
That takes you to the site, but it doesn't let you in there. You need to
enter an access code to get into the actual site -- RAY8802-55-2-5552."
"I'm getting dizzy."
"Well, once you get in there -- what would you like your lady to look
like?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes. This is for you. Also, I have to make pre-arrangements.
Otherwise, they'll boot you out for lack of authorization. This is worth
it, trust me -- top ladies and I get the shit free for being so special."
"Damn. Ray, where do you get these connections?"
"I sell myself. Anyway, what kind of woman do you want?"
She frowned. "You remember an old 90's film star -- well, no, you
wouldn't. She's got shoulder-length blond hair, really fine and really
light. A couple white highlights. Fine features, beautiful cheekbones,
and large brown eyes."
"Do you want to just give me a digital of her? It would take a
couple more days, but I could get a girl digitally enhanced so that she
looks like --"
"No, no. It wouldn't be realistic then."
"Okay." I smiled at her. "So you scroll down and find the woman
that looks MOST like her. Please don't change your mind at last moment
because this all has to be prearranged."
"Is it really worth it?"
"It's worth it, it's worth it. If only to save a few more credits."
"Okay. I'll go do it tomorrow."
"Want another drink?"
She giggled. She was starting to sound tipsy. "Don't want a
hangover."
I gulped down a few good-luck shots of whiskey.
I got home half-drunk and wired. I paced around my house at a
furious beat, wringing my hands and gritting my teeth in nervousness. My
fears were calmed, however, when I thought to myself that I could perhaps
'practice' at being a woman, polish up a bit in the ol' sim chamber.
I stripped nude and gazed at myself in the mirror. I was a computer
nerd, but I didn't quite look like one. The reflection in the mirror had
neck-length black hair complemented with a light beard and mustache, a
style revived from the 20th century. Women had often told me that I had
biting hazel eyes in beautiful almond sets. My arms were molded and
shaped with muscles as well as my chest. My stomach had ripples that
melted into my pubic hair.
I couldn't understand it. Why did she refuse all men? I gazed at
myself. My muscles. My callous hands and large feet. Perhaps that was
it. Or was it the roughness of my beard? Or the tight hardness of my
genitals? Yet my lips were as soft as any woman's, as well as my caress.
I was her best friend, so what was so wrong with me?
I climbed into the chamber, shivering as my bare bottom slid across
the cold plastic. I cursed myself for forgetting to flip on the
seat-warmer. I sighed and put it out of my mind as I entered a few keys
to open up the woman that Costello would soon make love to.
I had big chocolate eyes, just as she'd ordered. And my hair was as
fine as a baby's -- I could barely feel it between my fingers. I ran my
fingertips over my face, feeling the firm rise of my cheekbones over a
delicate jaw. My nose was perfectly straight, and my skin was beautifully
smooth -- no matter how hard I squinted at my reflection, I couldn't spot
a single microscopic pore. Perfect. My illusion, my creation, finely
crafted. I was suddenly glad for the training in illusion graphics that
I'd received my freshman year of college.
My body. It was absolutely perfect. I'd made love to women before,
but never one with a body this good. My stomach was flat, but not
muscular -- a fine cleft running down from the division of my ribs to the
swell of my belly. My nipples were symmetrically perfect, as were my
thighs, which were so fine that the inner parts didn't touch when I
pressed them together. My ankles were delicate, and my feet were small,
the toenails pain ted a burgundy color to match my fingernails.
I ran my hands down my chest. It was an odd feeling -- the genitals
hadn't quite been replaced, since the chamber hadn't been engineered
toward that. Yet, when I rubbed and pinched my nipples, I felt a tingle
rush to my groin. My fingers were smooth, slim and long, and I closed my
eyes at the feeling. I imagined it was a woman. It was peculiar -- it
felt like a woman's fingers touching my male body. Even though it was a
woman's body when I looked down. And when I ran my fingers over my sex, I
shivered. I touched the clit, and the head of my stiff cock tingled. I
frowned in curiosity and started to rub myself . One hand on my nipple,
the other in between my legs.
I slid a finger inside me.
I can't ever explain that feeling. I can't ever explain how the sim
chamber, which I helped to program, was able to convey the feeling. I'd
expected to feel the finger up my ass, but no, it's the same feeling a
woman has -- and I, a virgin, gasped at the exquisiteness. What an
amazing sensation! I felt full. I -- ah -- worked a slick finger in and
out, feeling myself contract around my finger, feeling the pangs of
pleasure shoot up my middle. I positioned myself so that my thumb rubbed
against my clit at the same time, and the pangs grew sharper and deeper.
I marveled at the sensati on, of my clit, so hard underneath my finger,
moving a tiny bit with my strokes. I tilted my head back, my eyes
squeezed shut. I gasped and let out guttural moans, harder and faster.
My cock -- it felt -- not the same, yet engulfed in fire -- my testic les
tightened --
Oh!
Oh, god!
I slumped over on the floor, my heart thudding in my ears. I could
feel warm, sticky ejaculate on my thighs and knees, even though I couldn't
see it. It wasn't -- oh, how did the chamber manage to do that? I
frowned as I thought. Ohhh . . . Sammie -- he did a lot of overtime,
even though he always seemed to be ahead of his work. I grinned. Good
old Sammie. You know, I'd always 'wondered' about him.
And then, suddenly, it was the moment. I'd fallen asleep after
thinking for a while, right there in the chamber. I was exhausted, I
suppose. And when I woke up, it was about four o'clock in the morning. I
couldn't get back to sleep. I sat in the chamber, zombie-like. I must
have reached nirvana and back in my meditative state, for I jumped and
smacked my head on the roof of the chamber when my site registered
activity.
Ten o'clock. Up bright and early, I noted with a grin. I reached to
flip on the full illusion, and then remembered that I was still 'wearing'
it. I became aroused just looking at myself, remembering what had
happened just a few hours before.
I admired my work for a while, and then she appeared quite suddenly.
Nature had made Costello's perfect body -- and that made it so much more
beautiful than mine.
She looked around the chamber with awe in her eyes. "My gosh. This
is quite impressive." She looked directly at me, and I melted inside.
Lust flashed in her eyes. "Can you hear me? Can you see me? Did I do it
right?"
I spoke in a throaty lilting voice, compliments of the voice
synthesizer. "You did it perfectly, honey."
"You're beautiful." She smiled. "Are you real?"
"Yes. I am." I grew cold with anticipation. My hands started to
shake.
"I mean, are you in a sim chamber just like me?"
"Yes." I showed her my forged seal of authenticy.
"That must be expensive. What's my bill going to be?"
"Well, normally, it would run up to over a thousand credits, but your
friend has a freebie. You just have to pay the bar that you're at the
charge for using it."
She whistled. She looked incredulous for a moment, and then smiled,
reaching out to me. "You're worth it all," she whispered. "You're so
beautiful."
She kissed me. I felt her warm, soft lips against mine, and started
to shake even harder with nervousness.
She broke away. "Are you okay? You're shaking."
"I'm fine. Don't worry about it, sweetheart . . . "
She leaned close to me and after a hesitant moment, took me in her
arms. I inhaled deeply through my nose. Her hair was -- it smelled of
sweet herbs and of her own natural scent. I closed my eyes and ran my
hands along her firm figure.
It was better than I imagined. It was better than I ever, ever
imagined. And yet -- I felt -- I felt --
She gave a soft growl, a sexy growl that rose from deep within her
soul, and I forgot all my reservations again. "It's been so long. You're
so incredible. I don't think I can even wait."
"You're not paying to wait, honey."
Her eyes turned sad. "Pretend, for an hour, that we're lovers.
Pretend that this isn't simulation and that you aren't some . . . some
person on a distant shore. Pretend. Please."
I was silent for a moment. That was the moment in which my guilty
conscience reared its ugly head -- and unfortunately the moment in which
my cock reared its ugly head. My clit stiffened. My -- er? -- pussy
tightened in response. Then I returned to thought.
"Yes. We're lovers. I'll make love to you every night in your past
and I'll make love to you forever in our futures, but most of all, I'll
make love to you right here, right now."
She smiled. "You have a way with words." Her hand traveled down my
side, her grip tightening on my thigh. "You don't have to be nervous . .
. loosen up, honey." She glanced at me for a long moment, and then moved
close to me again.
I didn't realize that I was clutching my hands at my side. I smiled,
exhaled, and relaxed into her hold. I gave in to the sensation and kissed
her long, swanlike neck. We sank down to the ground, legs in between each
other's, our arms around each other. Her lips met me in a sensual kiss,
and her hand lifted up to push the strap of my sheer dress of my
shoulders, one at a time.
My dress fell to the ground by the bed in the instant before I sank
into the soft blankets and pillows. I worked my feet out of it and
relaxed into the soft mattress. I started to undo her front buttons, my
hands fumbling as I tried in haste to reveal her. Still kissing me
hungrily, almost as if she was trying to give me her desire, she fiercely
moved her hands under mine and tore her blouse apart at the buttons. I
tossed it into the air, and it floated to the ground next to us.
She descended on me, her legs spread, her dark side hidden underneath
a skirt. She wasn't wearing panties, and when she spread her legs to
straddle me across my thighs, a wet warmth greeted me. The sensation made
me gasp and delve deeper into her kiss.
My hands reached up to knead her full breasts, which were better than
I could ever have imagined. I marveled at the way her skin was soft and
firm at the same time. She moaned into my mouth when I reached her
nipples, rubbing them with my thumb and forefinger.
She moaned into my mouth. "Oh, oh -- gentler, please, gentler." She
seemed even more inflamed by my touch, but I paid her heed.
She thrust her groin ever-so-slightly into mine, which would be the
tip of my clit and the head of my cock. I arched my back and thrust back
at her, spreading my legs a little further so she could thrust further.
Her pussy, her smooth, shaven pussy thrust at me several times, and then
settled into a steady undulating rhythm.
Her lips abandoned mine and traveled down my chin toward my breasts.
Slow, slow, so slow, she worked her way to my nipples. I found myself
responding enthusiastically to it, twisting underneath her warm lips. Her
hands kneaded my thighs for a moment before traveling to my inner things
to touch me.
With her tongue, she traced a fine line down my, or more
appropriately, her lover's, stomach, tasting the skin, slowly circulating
the swell of my belly.
Like a cat stalking its prey, she kept at an excruciatingly dangerous
distance from the center of my pleasure.
"Oh, my."
My head rolled back and forth, and my teeth were sunk deep into my
lower lip.
"Don't tease me, please, honey . . . Oh, I won't last long at all."
Costello, with her full lips, crept closer to her lover's clit, her
soft kisses touching her inner thigh. The tendons of my leg strained,
needing her to finish. And she sank down lower, lower, until finally her
lips were wrapped around the engorged clitoris. Suck, ever-so-gentle
nibbles . . .
"Costello! Oh!"
The hand of orgasm clutched me.
Costello moved her head up and down with the wild thrusts that her
lover's hips produced. When the orgasm died away, she lifted herself up
and was greeted by warm arms.
"How did you know my name?"
I was silent.
"Because . . . because this is anaonymous and I never gave my name to
you and the bar didn't and . . . did he do . . . ohhh . . ."
Costello collapsed unto herself. She buried her head in her arms.
And she wept.
"You," she whispered. "You."
Then, only then, did I fully realize the consequences of my actions.
She sat up and pushed me away. She hugged herself, her eyes wide
with fear. "I feel raped. You fucking raped me!"
"Costello, please, if you'd -- it's not that bad -- look at it this
way --"
"You." she said in a dead voice, "Raped. Me."
"Costello . . . I've wanted you for so long. This was my one
chance, the only way that I could have you."
"You want me? Here! Take me while you can! Take me in your rough
_male_ hands and pin me down to the floor and fuck me where no man has
fucked me before! Oh -- wait -- don't forget, when you cum, pull out and
squirt it all over my fucking face! Would that fucking make you happy?"
She regained her composure. "This -- this clearly shows that you don't
respect me or my sexual preferences."
"I deeply respect you." It felt like a lie. "Look, let me put it
this way. I love you. I changed into a woman for you, Costello."
She started to cry again. "You don't understand. Nobody
understands. Nobody fucking understands me! Can't you see? It's not the
tits, it's not the pussy. It's not the beauty. It's a real, actual
woman. Her soft touch. The kind of touch that only a woman could have --
the kind of touches that even the toughest woman has. The way she kisses.
Her mind, Ray, her mind! A woman can respect another woman's mind!" Her
tone grew softer. "Sharia understood me. I loved her so much . . . and
she leaves. Now this happens. Nobody . . . "
"So can I, I can understand . . . " My arguments sounded weak and
feeble.
"But I don't want you! What did you think was gonna happen? That
you'd get me to keep coming back again and again and I'd be too stupid to
figure out who was getting their rocks off on it? I had it figured out
that something was wrong halfway through the session! A woman would never
have squeezed my nipples like that. I'm surprised that even you did.
With looks like that, I would have thought you'd have experience."
"Costello, I" --
She continued. "But most relevant -- I don't ever want to see you
again."
"Costello . . . " There were tears in my eyes. "Please listen to me.
It wasn't all that bad, was it? We've been best friends for years . . .
and I've wanted you so bad. If this is the only way you would ever touch
me, I'd do it forever. You're so soft, Costello, but more than that, I
want to be loved by you. You're so ferocious. I need you . . . please,
give me a chance."
There was a long pause. I didn't know what to say to her and I
realized, finally, that I had no business being in here with her, causing
her this pain. Not now, not ever. I turned for the keypad, ready to end
the session.
"I love you." She said it softly as I reached for the keypad so
softly, indeed, that I wasn't quite sure whether I had heard her or not.
I looked into her eyes. "I love you, Costello."
She took a deep breath. "This can't happen."
"What's so bad about it?"
"Ray, you just have to understand me."
"No -- please, give me the explanation. I... this might sound
selfish, but I think that you owe me at least that much. Explain to me
why I can love you and you can love me and this can't happen. "
"I don't owe" --
"Please."
"I -- I don't -- I can't -- hmm."
"Try."
"I... I just haven't ever met a man who can do for me what women
have. Emotionally, they're so much more comfort."
"Do you feel more attracted to them? Is there no way you could be
attracted to a man?"
"I don't know if I would ever like it. Enough to get into a
committed relationship that is."
"But you never tried to find out? Why don't you try to find out,
Costello? Explore yourself. Don't limit yourself . . . Stop being
stubborn with your sexuality."
"I have! I've even found myself saying that a certain man has a
beautiful face, a certain way in his walk. But I just don't find most of
them attractive."
"Most?"
"Most."
Pause. "You don't find me attractive?"
"Don't corner me like this. You are very attractive to me. You're
almost enough to make me change my mind." She looked at me and closed her
eyes. "Would you please, for the love of God, change back into your real
body?"
"Oh." I'd forgotten. "Sorry." I reached for a keypad. "Is this
better?"
"I guess. Look." She sighed. "Your eyes are absolutely beautiful.
They're just gorgeous. I've caught myself staring at them before --
they're absolutely deep and hypnotizing. And your lips . . . " She
started to cry. "I just wanna . . . but I can't!"
"Costello. Don't cry, honey." I took her by the shoulders, gently,
pausing for a moment to see if she'd shake me off. She didn't. I drew
her close to me and tucked her head under mine, wiping her tears away.
Her body shook against mine.
The words came out broken. "Your lips are so pink, and you've got
hair that I always want to touch" --
"Shhh, shhh." I kissed the top of her forehead, holding her tight.
She was silent for a long time. "No, it wasn't that bad." She
glanced up at me. She whispered, "not that bad at all."
I let my eyes travel over her fine face, before sighing and closing
my eyes. I felt depressed.
Her lips touched mine, ever so softly. It felt like a butterfly
brushing against my mouth. My eyes would have flown open with shock, but
she was so gentle that instinct kept them closed, leaning toward her. She
slid her arms around my waist and held my close. We stood on our knees on
the soft bed, our bodies pressed together.
She was shaking. I kissed her gently and didn't try to force apart
her lips or to flick my tongue over her mouth. It perhaps reassured her.
She drew back from me, her eyelashes sticking together from the moist
tears.
I said nothing. It wasn't my place to say anything.
She squeezed my waist and felt my stomach, running her hands up to my
shoulders. She did this so slowly, though, that I could barely track her
movement. It was just that her hands were there one second, a millimeter
higher the next. Her fingers caressed my chest, almost searching for
breasts that weren't there. But I didn't mind -- it was a nice sensation.
She kissed me again. This time, her kiss was deeper, and she opened
her mouth slightly, running her tongue along the part between her lips.
Trying to be gentle and demure, trying to not scare her off, I brushed the
edge of my bottom lip along her tongue so that she could taste me. She
sucked at my lip before opening her mouth just a bit more to lick it. She
kissed and nibbled along the edges, and slipped her tongue just barely
into my mouth. I flicked my tongue along hers, and she sighed, moving her
tongue against mine. We must have kneeled there for five minutes,
exploring each other's mouth, learning each other's needs. She was
sensitive to me, finding that the soft nibbles along the inner lip drove
me insane, and I discovered that she liked my tongue playing with hers.
She pressed her body against mine. We were both naked and she seemed
almost surprised at the velvet hardness of my cock, which was pressed
between us. I gasped when she wriggled against it, lifting herself onto
her toes to push her mound against it. I took it as an invitation and
lifted my hands to squeeze her breasts. No -- no, this was better than I
could ever imagine. Myself. And her.
"Does this feel like a simulation to you?" she murmured.
"No," I whispered, "not at all."
"Feels so real . . . "
Her lips pulled away from mine, bit by bit, until all contact
consisted of our hot breath washing on each other's faces. She tilted her
head down to look at my stiffness, and squeezed my ass while she went to
reach for it. She put a finger on the tip of my cock, pulling gently in
either direction with both thumbs, feeling my tiny hole expand and close
on her index finger which was well-lubricated with precum. She swirled
her fingertip in it, rubbing it along the head. My breath quickened and I
rubbed her nipples, ever so gently, careful not to make the mistake that
had given me away.
She arched her breasts into my hands. "That's how you do it," she
whispered. She wrapped her hands around my cock. "It's big. Is this . .
. " She blushed. "Is this bigger than normal?"
I colored. "N -- no, not really."
"It's . . . soft. I love how the skin feels. So taut."
Well, I certainly knew that. I was so hard that I had to grit my
teeth against the sensations. She noticed, and with a sly grin, tightened
her grip, starting to move up and down on me. Suddenly, as if catching
herself, she stopped. It's a good thing, too. I was no longer young, but
she could shake me. Yes, she could shake me.
She relaxed, nudging me down onto the bed. I straightened my legs
and she spread them over me. She backed down, kissing my chest and
stomach and finally my wiry hair. Her breath warmed my achingly stiff
member, and she hesitated for a moment before lowering her lips down to
kiss the head. She ran her tongue along the edge of the mushroom before
moving up to taste the precum. I watched her as she absorbed the taste,
recorded it in her head and stored it in her memory. She frowned, but not
in distaste. She opened her mouth and took my tip inside it, her warm,
slippery tongue running over it. I groaned and clenched my fists. She
got the hint and dropped my cock from her mouth, dragging her tongue to
the base.
"Mmmm." I was in ecstasy. It wasn't the sensation as much as the
feeling of Costello in here, kissing me in my most intimate place -- my
heart.
She lifted up her head and smiled at me. Her tears had faded away.
I could still see doubt in her eyes, but it was overshadowed by curiosity.
Her legs, spread over mine, inched forward as she worked her way back up
my body. She pushed her skirt off her hips and lifted her feet to remove
it. I knew what was coming. She knew what was going to happen. We
didn't dwell on it for long, and when she pulled my cock up to meet her .
. . oh, God. The most wet, hot pussy that I'd ever felt. She rubbed my
cock against her clit, back and forth, side to side, her head falling
backwards. She reveled in the sensation, her breathing becoming rushed
and hurried.
"That's . . . that's got to be the best feeling on earth." She
adjusted herself so that I rubbed against her slit as she rubbed me
against her. "It's almost delicate. It's hard, yet soft enough to absorb
my clit just the tiniest bit . . . "
I watched her, gape-mouthed, fascinated with her pleasure. The way
she wriggled her hips, back and forth. They way that the light moved
across the roundness of her thighs as she undulated against me. The way
her muscles shifted against her skin. Her teeth set on her lower lip.
After toying with me for what seemed like eternity, she held my cock
against her entrance. She looked up at me, her eyes questioning.
"Are you okay with this?" I asked, squeezing her thigh reassuringly.
"I think so."
"You can always leave now . . . I'll be uncomfortable, of course,
but if you don't want to . . . "
After a moment's hesitation, she smiled and leaned down to kiss me.
"No. I'll do it."
There was no lingering trepidation. There was no doubt. All that
remained was her curiosity, her want, her need for me. She pressed a tiny
bit. I thrust a tiny bit. She pressed a tiny bit more. I thrust, slow
and steady, holding myself with the last remaining shred of my decorum.
It was almost a dance, the way we worked my cock into her. She thrust one
hip down, and then the other, one at a time, slowly, slowly, slowly . . .
her sex conquered me, centimeter by excruciating centimeter. I relaxed my
head against the pillow, loosened the neck muscles, and concentrated on
the pure feeling.
"Mmm." Her eyes were closed, and she was biting down harder on her
lip.
"Mmm." I replied, fighting every urge to thrust the rest of the way
into her.
"Ahh." She finally reached the end of me. She ground her pussy
against my pubic bone. I could feel the end of her pussy, a round, smooth
organ, as she pushed harder. "Ah, it feels so . . . "
"Does it feel okay?"
"Oh, yeah. It's so strange . . . so big . . . "
"You never had anything inside you?"
"No."
"No . . . toys or anything?"
"None. Just fingers. Mmmm . . . it feels so raw . . . ah . . . "
"Costello . . . you're . . . ah . . . "
She smiled at me. "Yes. I can feel you. You're twitching."
"To say the least."
She lifted herself up almost all the way off my cock, and lowered
herself again, shivering with delight and punctuating with a moan. She
lifted herself up again and lowered herself again, faster this time. On
and on it went, until she was reaching up and slamming down with all her
ferocity.
"I could come . . . oh! I could come so, so goo . . . ohhh." She
was writhing and thrashing and moaning. "Oh, it feels so, oh, oh . . . "
"Come, Costello, come all over me. Push yourself against me.
Concentrate on the feelings, just put all your focus on . . . " I never
finished my sentence. She let out a yell that would have shamed Amazons,
and went at a superspeed, her pussy clamping down on me. I have to admit
it -- I couldn't hold myself any longer. With a groan and a thrust of my
hips, I spilled myself into her, my jets shooting high into her pussy in
time with her thrusts. Every time she lifted herself up with excruciating
tightness, I shot another stream. Finally, she groaned long and hard,
gave a final dying thrust, and fell on me.
I could feel her heart thudding against my chest. Her breathing was
hard. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight.
She kissed me on my cheek and looked at me, long and hard, as if
memorizing my features. It was silent for a long time. Finally, she
spoke.
"I love you . . . "
I smiled. I kissed her and whispered that I loved her too. We held
each other in silence for a few moments.
Her words were unexpected. "Do you want to try?"
"Oh, God, yes, I wanna try."
She kissed me. She was silent for a long time, and then opened her
mouth again. "I . . . . I don't know."
"Costello . . . please don't do this to me."
"But . . . it was so good . . . but . . . I just can't do it."
"Oh, Costello, why? You loved it. I loved it. I love you and you
love me, why?"
"Never ask me why."
"Is it because of that woman? Are you afraid of . . . somehow
betraying lesbians by doing this?"
"No." Said too quickly.
We stared at each other for a while.
"It was good."
"Yes."
"So why . . . no, never mind."
"I love you, Ray. Let's leave it at that."
Pause. "Yes."
She laughed without humor. "It's funny. I always thought myself as
open-minded and as . . . as someone who dared to do something different.
But I can't change. It's not built in my blood." She sighed. "It's just
not part of me. You would never truly know me or be one with me. And
it's not fair to you or me."
I concentrated on the wallpaper opposite me. "No. Not fair."
"It can't happen, Ray."
"Well . . . Can we be friends?"
Silence. "We can try."
"Because . . . This, this is all completely . . . wrong. I don't
think, no, I shouldn't have done it. And I understand you now. I'm
sorry. I just want to be best friends again."
I held her for a long while, my eyelashes sticky with tears. After a
bit, she dozed off, and I eventually followed her into sleep. That was
the only time we ever slept together . . . and I don't think I'd ever
count it as sex. We were miles apart, connected by a link, albeit a
realistic one, but still a link. I couldn't get up the morning after and
smell her sweet shampoo on my pillow. I didn't have traces of her womanly
scent lingering on me. She didn't go through the night with my seed
seeping back out of her, bit by bit.
But I wonder. The experience was every bit as psychological as real
sex.
That is the ultimate question that society must answer to now.
Our livelihood wasted, bit by bit, like an animal carcass. Together,
as friends, we'd been as alive as we could be, loving life together, but
when it died, perhaps a part of us died. I can tell you the moment that
it died -- the moment that I'd contrived a plan to get her in bed. It's a
nasty thing to do to anyone. I know that now. And we couldn't handle the
friendship in the future. I speak for her as well as myself. I
understand how she felt, and she knew something that I couldn't realize
then. I caught a tiny glimmer of realization at the trying moment, but it
was like seeing a ray of sunlight at the very bottom of the ocean. I was
mostly blinded by the darkness. It would take me a while to understand --
that I'd feel the same way that she did in that sim chamber once I put
aside my desperation.
We went out to bars a few times, but these outings became less
frequent and more painful.
"Hey, Costello. Have a drink."
"Okay."
"How's it going?"
"All right . . . " Uncomfortable pause. That's how it usually went.
We never made love again, and eventually, we never spoke again. She
e-mailed me a couple of weeks after she'd moved to a big town. She'd met
her someone special, a lesbian who was blonde and fair. She sent a photo.
It rather looked like me in the sim chamber. Sometimes I wondered at
that, even though I had no right to wonder . . . A man still wonders, you
know?
All this that happened -- it isn't a story of the guy nailing a
hot chick at long last. It's the story of a man making love to a woman
and ultimately losing her for it. And it gave me insight. Though I
understand women deeper now than I ever did before, nobody as special as
Costello gave me the chance. And Costello and I . . . we were never
meant to be together. She made sure of that.
--
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