Secondary Education Tyla Flowers TylaFlowers@gmail.com
Chapter 8 Making Up My Incomplete
I cinch a belt around the baggy waist of my Dockers. The pants' seat and thighs are just as tight as the waist is loose. My old boy clothes don't fit my new body. It is as Tyler, rather than Tyla, that I am re-enrolling, two weeks late, in Fairfax High's summer program.
I wrap my boobs with an Ace bandage to squeeze them flat, and cover up my curves with tee shirt and a faded Kobe Bryant sweatshirt despite the stifling summer heat. It's old, from when he was number 8, and when I could still picture myself as a boy.
I hide my hair under a Dodger's baseball cap and my eyes behind a pair of Raybans. I sling my backpack over my shoulder. Along with an old notebook, a stubbly pencil, and the letter from the principal's office, I have a cute sundress, lace panties, glittery tie up sandals, a half used bottle of lube and a zip-lock containing an assortment of condoms, from unlubricated Lifestyles for covered blow jobs to lubricated Trojan Maxums for anal penetration. I never leave home without them.
As I walk to the bus stop I try to stop my butt from swaying like a chica's but even in Doc Marten's it's hard to keep my estrogen-softened hips from wobbling. I have forgotten how to be a boy.
The traffic drones by on Sunset. I glance at the passing cars and get depressed. I am almost old enough to drive, but there's no one to teach me. My dad is a convict, my mom is in a Court ordered residential rehab, and my Mara bosses don't want me to learn. They like their chicas to be illiterate and helpless and easily dominated and controlled.
It's unusual that Hector Hernandez, the Mara boss of Pico Union/ Hollywood region, is allowing me off his turf to venture into his Crip enemy's territory, but I have persuaded him that it's a good tactic. I am to arrange a revenge killing of a Crip soldier who killed Jose Rodriguez, a vicious Mara chief whose belligerence and bad judgment, more than any enemy, killed him.
If I succeed in arranging the targeted killing of my old classmate and tormentor, Antoine Lewis, I may be forgiven for the death of Jose. As my reward the Mara will continue to sell my ass on the street to all comers. If I fail, I will be killed, or sold into sex slavery in Tijuana. I am as expendable as a bullet. The expansive boulevards of Los Angeles stretch for thirty miles from the foothills to the sea. Is there enough room for me to hide from my friends and enemies in this pink stucco and palm prison?
I wait outside the principal's office. The staff is reduced during summer school, and the phones ring ceaselessly, unanswered. Papers are piled on every surface in precarious stacks. The receptionist who took my name with a scowl has disappeared for the last half hour.
When my name is finally called, I have drifted so far into my thoughts that I barely notice, until it is repeated. I look up and a pudgy Latino man, about thirty five, but already balding and graying, beckons me to follow him. I walk by piles of boxes, overhead projectors, copiers and aged computers and monitors. Fairfax doesn't get the top equipment any more, now that it's in the middle of the hierarchy of mediocrity in the LAUSD. My host motions me to a battered doorway, and to a metal chair that's squeezed between a cluttered desk and a dented file cabinet. He puts out his hand.
"I am Mr. Rojas. You are Mr. Flowers, right?"
I proffer my hand and realize to my horror that the nails are still French tipped. Rojas stares at them, and then at my face.
"I am sorry. I had some trouble at the end of the year and couldn't finish classes. I took and passed all of my finals, though."
"Phys Ed doesn't have a final. It's based on hours of attendance, and your hours were way short."
"That's where I had some of my worst problems last term."
"We're not here to talk about your problems. We're here to talk about solutions. Now, I see you have applied to transfer to Hollywood High and into the OASIS program."
"I need to so I can go to school as a girl. I'm a transsexual."
Rojas frowns. "No wonder you had problems in Phys Ed. How are we going to get you through your Phys Ed requirement? You need 36 hours."
"During the year Coach let me help him with his paperwork." But he hadn't bothered giving me credit for it. Otherwise I would have owed about 4 hours.
"Coach Hanlon is running the summer sports camp. Maybe you could help him there."
"Would I get credit?"
"If he records your time, we'll give you the credits. Then off you go to Hollywood."
He scribbles some notes on a form and hands it to me. "Remember, you're enrolled here as a boy and you are going to be working in the boy's sports program. So you may want to do something about those nails."
"I know. It's hard going back and forth."
"I can't imagine." He gestures toward the door. "Please ask Coach Hanlon to call me."
I walk down the. In the stillness of summer these halls are even more threatening than when they are overflowing with students. My footsteps make a lonely cadence as I pass nervously through these dim and echoing corridors.
I turn the corner past the locker room and scuttle by unnoticed. Whoops and growls of manly fellowship resound from behind the locker room door. I scuttle by unseen and let myself in to Coach's tiny office. It is piled high with papers, as though no one had filed anything since I left after my laundry room encounter with Antoine and the Freeze, almost three months, and a seeming lifetime ago. Much had changed in my life since then, but not in Coach's management style. No wonder that he incompleted me and demanded 36 hours of make up. It will take me that long to unsnarl this Augean mess.
But Coach's scheme to indenture me as his personal assistant fits perfectly with my own plans to escape my slavery to the Mara. So I begin filing with great enthusiasm and energy. If I have excavated the first level by the time Coach gets back, he will take me back and give me the credit I need and deserve to get out of this hell hole.
I find a stack of empty file folders marked with student names and numbers, marked for the summer term. I flip through them, making mental notes of the names and sorting the scattered papers into the appropriate folder. I pause, overcome with emotion, when I come to the name of Matthew Frawley. I lift the folder to my nose, as if the paper could conjure the fragrance of the cynosure of my fantasies. My heart almost stops beating when I come to Antoine Lewis's name, and then resumes with such intensity that for a few seconds I am blinded by the intensity of my apprehension of danger and opportunity.
I calm myself and get back to work. For the moment, Antoine and Matt are just names like a hundred others on tardy slips, injury reports and discipline notices. I sort their paperwork into their files just like everyone else's.
Coach shows up after I had been at work for an hour and gives me credit for five hours even though I have worked six. I decide not to protest and say thanks, I'll see you tomorrow, and he just shrugs and leaves. I take the precious make up credit slip straight to the principal's office. My footsteps echo in the empty halls. Public places are spooky when they're empty. I am nervous and quicken my pace to get out of this menacing place. Then, as I turn a corner, I collide with a huge onrushing body and crash to the floor in a heap. The large black guy who has felled me mutters an apology and helps me to my feet. I look up and see that my benefactor is Antoine Lewis. On seeing me, he double takes.
"You're Flowers, aren't you?"
"Yes, I'm still Tyler Flowers, Antoine." I'm not really still Tyler, but I want to use our past guilty prod. But he just smiles off the guilt.
"I didn't see you around much. Where you been?"
"I took a little break from classes. Now I'm back, because guess which PE teacher flunked me?"
"Yeah, you never were much in PE class. You were good after class though." He laughs and I fight off a blush.
"That goes for you too." I smile provocatively.
"So why did you run out of here just when we were getting to be friends? How's that s'posed to make me feel?" Antoine puts on a hurt expression.
"I wasn't sure you wanted me as a friend. You were a little bit too rough. And rude. And I was afraid that you would tell everyone."
"It seemed like you were enjoying yourself to me. B'sides, why would I tell anyone bout our little thing? They might get the wrong idea bout me." He runs his fingers down the nape of my neck, gently pulling my hair. "I like what you've done with your hair, baby."
Our collision has dislodged my baseball cap, and my newly styled hair, colored auburn and highlighted with platinum streaks, is flowing down my back.
"Oops, I am supposed to dress as a boy while I'm still here."
I stoop to pick up my cap and Antoine cops a gentle feel of my butt.
"I think I'd like to have another couple of scoops of that sweet Asian ice cream."
He uses a sexy tone that makes me want him. My ass is buzzing with anticipation, my nipples itch with desire, and my lips swell with hunger. Objectively, Antoine had raped me and he had been a rough, contemptuous and cruel. But so had Cesar, Hector, and the Mara. Most guys figure that a trannie wants to get fucked, and they're right most of the time. Plus, I probably had been his first trannie, and he was in a way as inexperienced as I had been.
But I had learned a lot since them. Now, his sexy voice and smiling eyes, coupled with the memory of his massive cock, was irresistible. I decide to give him another try, especially since I need him at least as much as he needs me.
I pile my hair under my hat and squeeze his hand.
"Walk with me to drop this off at Administration. We need to talk."
"We need to fuck, baby. I knew you liked it. But why did you run away?"
"I just needed to get away from here while I transitioned, and you were part of my old scene here. I was afraid you were going to tell everybody about fucking me, and all of the losers and freaks would be after me, harassing me, or trying to fuck me. But now, I feel more comfortable with myself and being a trannie and all. I can deal with it."
"I can help you deal with it, if you want protection. Crips take good care of their friends." He stops and pulls me into an alcove, and enfolds me in his arms and lifts me off my feet in a firm hug. I tilt my head back and let him kiss me. I open my lips, and then quiver them as he crushes them. One hand slides to my ass, and I grind my bottom in his grip.
"Oh, baby, that's good."
I guide his other hand to my breast and under the protective bandage. He molds his palms against the soft flesh of my boobs.
"Wow, you got titties."
I hear the sound of approaching footsteps so shush him, we disentangle and hurry to the principal's office. Antoine waits for me. Rojas takes my make up slip and gives me a sly smile.
"Keep up the good work, Flowers."
"Thanks. I like it better here, now that I know I'm on the way out."
"Probably the best for all concerned."
I skip out of his office and find Antoine. We walk nonchalantly to the parking lot like a couple of casual buddies, but Antoine keeps looking over at me, like he's sizing me up.
I stop and give him a quizzical look. "What?"
He smiles goofily, and says, "Nothin'."
As we approach the black Escalade I decide it's time. "Antoine, but I have something to tell you that's going to make you go freaky, but you have to promise to let me tell you my whole story, until I finish."
"I'll let you finish your story as long I get to finish in your booty."
"Of course, but this time you have to use a condom while you're inside me."
"Definitely. I got reminded about the insides of your booty every time I pissed for a week. So what's the news flash?"
He opens the door and flicks open the locks. I get in the car. No, I know, I am vulnerable, in his power, and I am about to reveal a dangerous truth. But I have gotten in a lot of cars with a lot of dangerous strangers, and gotten out alive and both well fucked and paid. I feel like I can handle myself with him.
"Antoine, I saw you shoot that Salvo out on the street that night."
He shoots me a panicked glare. "You bitch, don't you dare be coming here to blackmail me. I should just cap you in the head when I'm done fucking you. Or maybe just cap you first."
"Before you go postal don't you want to know what I saw?"
"How `bout you saw that motherfucker pointing a Glock in my face."
"That's exactly what I saw. And I know he was going to use it. So if the police ever connect the dots back to you, don't you want me alive and healthy to tell my side of the story?"
"OK, baby, so you're my self defense. I like you better all of the time. But why are you coming around here and telling me that?"
"Because the police are the least of your concerns. The Mara got a hit out on you. What I'm supposed to be doing is setting you up."
He looks panicked, and his sexy baritone rises a couple of registers. "You're hooked up with those crazies? Why are you telling me this shit?"
"Because I hate those bastards. My boyfriend made me join. Now they're pimping me out on the street and threatening to sell me to a pimp to work the street in Mexico. And they want to kill you and every other black living north of Jefferson Boulevard."
Antoine pulls up in front of a battered Tudor-style house near the corner of Crenshaw and Adams. Its paint is peeling off, taking with it swathes of caked on graffiti. From the overlapping gang tags I can decipher that this is a neighborhood in conflict. It's divided between white urban pioneers, black holdovers and surging brown tide of Mexicans and Central Americans. This is the realm to which Hector plans to extend the Mara's reach. This is where the Crips must make their stand.
"The Mara want this block. They want to run everything from Pico Union to Crenshaw.
"Welcome to my hood, baby. I got no plans to leave."
"But the Mara plan to drive you out of here."
"That's not going to happen. So are you here to help, or are you one of them now."
I turn, lift my sweatshirt and show him the whore tag on my butt. He emits a low whistle.
"They got you tagged, bitch." He traces the M and S that garland the sides of Betty Boop's flowery throne.
"I'm one of them, but I want to be free of them, just like you. I want to erase those letters from my bottom. And that's why I'm here. You help me, and I help you."
"How's a ladyboy like you gonna help me?"
"Because I got the plan. It goes like this. First, I tell the Mara I found you. Then I lead the Mara to you on your territory. I tell you where and when they're coming and the Crips ambush the Mara and wipe them out."
"You got to make me trust you. How do I know this isn't a double cross?"
I rub my boobs against his chest. "I'll show you how loyal I can be."
Antoine emits a low whistle. "How am I going to know when this is going down?"
"I'll send you a text message when we are on the way. I'll get you descriptions of the players on the hit team, and their cars, and you tell your soldiers where to set up and whom to shoot. Just promise me that you'll kill Hector Hernandez. He's the leader." I show Antoine a camera phone shot of Hector standing in the kitchen of the Bella Casa. "I'll send you pictures of the others."
"Why don't you just lead me to them?"
"They have that neighborhood so wired you'd never surprise them. You'd be ambushed. I'll deliver them to you here, where you have the advantage."
"You're good, my little ladyboy. In more ways than one."
"Let me show you just how good I am."
I lean over the console and gently squeeze his cock. It's even bigger than I remember it.
"Mmm, I can't wait to start sucking on this."
"Upstairs." Antoine guides me up the stairs to the second floor.
"I live here with my mom, but she's not around now."
"Neither is mine. Rehab."
"Mine too. Maybe they're together."
"That would be funny. Is it OK if I change. I feel too boyish in these."
"You need something to wear? My momma's a lot bigger than you."
"No, I'm prepared. Can I use your bathroom?"
"Sure. I'll go get us some beer. You need anything else?"
"Maybe some wipes, for afterwards."
"Sure baby. If we ever stop." He kisses me and leaves alone me in his home. I am touched by his trust and generosity, for his home is just as threadbare and impoverished as my own. For all of his flash and grandstanding at Fairfax, Antoine is just a poor kid like me.
On the noisy, rusty old refrigerator there's a picture of him riding a bike, and another, even younger, blowing out six candles on a birthday cake. There's a picture of him in a Fairfax high football uniform, and another sprinting across the finish line at a track meet. There's his mom, a fat lady with a sad expression. Antoine is like me, trying to make good through sports like I have been trying with art. It's hard poor kids to survive in LA. You need a gang to support you, to keep the others off your back, but the gang ends up dragging everyone down to the same level thuggish brutality. I have to get out of it. And Antoine, and his gang, will provide my escape from the Mara.
The gangrenous shower curtain and chipped and filthy commode are just as tawdry as the ones at my house. There is a rat trap behind the toilet, and roach hotels on the counter top. I stand on my tip toes, fill my douche, insert it, and squeeze in some warm water, to flush my ass clear of any poop.
While I wait for the colonic rinse to work its magic, I put on my make up. My ass soon is urgent, and I squat above the grimy toilet seat to make tiny poo, which pops out in a flood of clear water. The towels are so filthy that I pat myself dry with toilet tissue. Then, I step into the rusty tub and wash my bottom. The towels are so filthy that I pat myself dry with toilet tissue and dress. When my panties touch the smooth and hairless skin of my tiny scrotum and cock, I feel my nipples erect and graze the pleated bust of my dress. I hurry to lace up my sandals when I hear Antoine's feet on the stairs.
He unlocks the door, and I realize that I have been his captive behind the double bolted door, but this realization only enhances my expectant mood.
"Wow, you look like a real fine lady, baby."
"Thanks, I did the best I could in a hurry." I gloss my lips as he watches, and smack them together in a air kiss to finish. "What did you bring me?"
"Six of these tall boys, and one of these really tall boys." He pats his crotch, which is bulging noticeably.
He pops open and hands me a beer and leads me to the bed. I sit, take a gulp and feel the dull glow of alcohol spread through me.
He puts on some John Legend and offers me his hand. We start to dance. Antoine is six foot three, about ten inches taller than I am and weighs about 210, compared to my 105. My head barely reaches his shoulders. I breathe in his powerful aromas as he nuzzles his head in my hair. Antoine's body is earthy and tangy with sweat, even though he has just showered after his practice. "It's really hot here." He wrenches open a window, and the sheet that's been nailed to the frame billows in and out in the Santa Ana winds. "That's better." He gathers me to him again, and we sway to the gentle music.
He has really long, strong arms, and he rubs my buttocks as we rock back and forth, making ever tighter concentric circles around my booty. He hugs me tight with his other arm, and presses my boobs against his taut, angular abdomen. The song ends, and we swig some more beer, and then he dances me toward the bed.
I unhitch his belt, and his baggy pants glide off his slim, toned waist slip easily to the floor. His cock is straining against his boxers, so I release it. It gently slaps my cheek, and I rub it against my face, breathing on it, inhaling it, and looking up worshipfully.
"I think it grew since I saw it last."
"I'm still growing, got three inches taller since last year. Coach says I might get some college scouts looking at my ball this year."
"Right now I'm the one looking at your balls, and they're beautiful." I take one of his testicles in my mouth and gently guck it as I tickle the other with my fingers. My other thumb and forefinger cannot quite reach to circle his cock but I stroke it gently and his moans mingle with the music.
"Oh, baby, that's good."
I take his cockhead between my lips and he jolts in response, and starts face fucking me intensely, mashing my lips against the surging black cock and digging his fingers deep into my hair to gain leverage against my head. I let my muscles go limp in his hands, and he wrenches my head to and fro, banging his cock on from my lips to my glottis.
He pauses, draws me next to him on the bed and kisses my cock flavored mouth deep and long.
"You taste good with a little cock on your lips."
"Mmm, I like the dark meat best."
"Don't you know how to deep throat, baby? It feels like it's only going in half way."
"I'd have to be a hippo to deep throat that monster." I point his cock straight up impale my throat with it. It slides past my gag point into my esophagus. I push it farther until I feel the tickle of pubes on my nose, and then come up for air.
"I'm going to need CPR if I deep throat that."
He laughs. "What's that stand for?"
"Cock or Penis Rear Entry."
I pat my ass and reach for my purse to grab lube and the largest condom in my collection. I put some lube on my butt and hand Antoine the bottle.
"I like your new attitude, baby."
"Now Antoine, I need to teach you how to fuck a T Girl. The first thing is to open me up slowly with your finger."
I point my ass up, and bow my head back down over his cock. He starts playing with my ass on the outside. It sends trills of pleasure through me. I respond by bobbing my head ever more energetically over his cock, licking the underside from his balls to the tip and then back, and then popping the glans in and out my lips. He draws the alphabet with his fingers inside me. I am shivering with sensation, and push my butt back on him to signal to push farther. His knuckle pops through the second ring, and I decode from the rush of neural signals a way to control that inner sphincter. I discover that I am able to pull my ass open, to make it gape, inviting, rather than resisting penetration. I focus every nerve and every muscle fiber on opening up.
"Baby, how are you doing that? You're wide open for me."
I take a breathe and look up at him worshipfully, panting. He is peering into my insides, like a connoisseur looking at an art masterpiece. "I don't know. I just figured out how to do it."
"It's beautiful inside there, like a deep red cave."
I relax my muscles, and feel my ass snap shut on Antoine's fingers.
"Oh, baby, you trapped me." I open and shut again, hoping that repletion will make my muscles remember this trick.
"I think your butt's ready to get reacquainted with Mr. Johnson."
I pause from blowing him, roll a XXL on his cock, and slather it with lubricant.
"OK, now please go slowly at first."
"I'll be good."
I roll on my back and throw my legs up in the air. When he approaches, I latch my ankles over his shoulders. He leans over me and I guide his cock to my ass.
"Ready for me this time, baby?"
"The second time's the charm. And practice makes perfect."
The first seconds of anal sex always hurt a little, and I have gotten used to that. I endure it willingly as the price of the pleasure that follows. But Antoine's cock is so huge it that in a second it had utterly shattered my relaxation and defeated my determination. I yelp a cry for help. A contagion of pain burns through the lubricant, scours my mucosa and sends searing flames of agony through me. I struggle to escape the invasion, but he is so enraptured with his own sensations that he cannot let go of me, and slowly pushes in deeper. I try to surrender, to gape with him inside, but the brute force of his cock gives no quarter, and my own burning, screeching muscles refused the commands of my mind that they yield. So they fight back in useless, unequal struggle.
I bite my lip and shut my eyes. I conjure visions of submission and surrender from my storehouse of fantasies. I am a Chinese princess, carried in a silk shrouded litter across the trackless Gobi. My spice caravan is ambushed by Mongol horseman, who slaughter my servants, cut off my clothes with sword strokes. When I am naked and helpless they will tie me to the ground and gang rape me, one after the other. I cry futile tears that disappear in the dust. But even these heartless assailants of my imagination are routed from my consciousness, and I return to reality, still staggered by Antoine's cock, which drills ever deeper inside me. I break into prickly sweat.
"Antoine, please stop. I need to take a break."
"Keep trying baby, feels so good, I can't stop."
He bears down, slowly, steadily rending me open. I bite my forearm, trying to create a new locus of pain to distract me from the cataclysm in my rectum. I am afraid that I can't handle him after all. I look up at him. Antoine's face is all bliss and pleasure.
"Oh baby, open your eyes, so I can see the love in there."
I blink my watery eyes open. Antoine's face filled with joy and pleasure. He leans down and gives me a tender kiss to comfort me. "I love it when you ass pussy vibrates that way."
My squirming, pulsating agony is enhancing his pleasure.
"Antoine, you're torturing me. Please, take it out for a minute."
"You'll get used to it. You did last time, and you loved it at the end."
He's right. I just need to relax. But the flesh of my poor hole is stretching to the breaking point. As he pushes deeper inside, his thick cock unfurls the coils of my colon. I begin to lose consciousness, and close my eyes to let myself slip into that void. Now, my muscles drain of energy. One by one they capitulate and soften. My eyes roll back in my head, my body is limp, and I wonder for a moment whether I am dying. His surge finally stops as his ileac bumps my bottom. I jolt back into awareness.
"Oh god, I think your cock is about to come out of my mouth."
"It's that big, huh?"
"You're enormous."
"You OK now?"
I nod, and he heaves deeper inside me.
"Oooh, it feels like you are stuck inside me."
"If it goes in then it can come out." He levers his arms against my back and begins sliding back.
I grimace. "It feels like you're pulling my insides out along with your big cock."
My head throbs, and my newly showered body is dewy with perspiration. "Sorry I'm so sweaty. You filled me up so full it made me get too hot."
"Ain't no such thing as too hot for me, baby." He is almost out now. My ass yearns to be filled up again, but I am tensing again.
"I think I need more lube."
"OK, baby." His cockhead makes my sphincters snap it exits. But I feel a rush of relief. I hoist my ass and gape it open.
"Oh, yeah, I can see way deep, baby. Inside your booty looks like a jar of strawberry jam."
"I feel like I'm burning up inside. Squirt some lube inside me." I feel a splatter of oil inside me. The tendrils of flames inside me are doused.
"That's better. Now open me up with your fingers."
Antoine pokes one finger into my hole. It glides in easily, and I nod and he adds another. My ass first contracts, but I force it open, and it yields, so he adds a third, then a fourth and finally his thumb. I bite the pillow to contain my cry. He is watching me intently, and I nod, again and he forces his whole hand up to his knuckles inside me and gently punches it in and out. I arch my back, and point my ass upward. His fist presses against my prostate and I feel a tingle of pleasure emanate though me. My cock twinges to a tiny erection.
"Oh, baby, I love that booty. Look at that boy clit. It's so cute." He rotates his fist and strokes my cock between his fingers. The sensations fullness inside me and playful tickling outside meld and make me feel like a perfect little girl. I writhe and moan in a soprano.
"Now you're ready for my love." He pulls out his fist and dribbles more lube on his cock. It's even bigger than when we began, a throbbing black beast. But I feel more ready now. The pleasant pressure of his fist has restored my confidence.
"OK, let's try that again." I drape a towel on his sheets and lean over his bed.
"Gape your butt open."
I comply, and he coats my ass with more lube. It tickles me as it coats my buttocks. He strokes it deep inside me with his fingers. Then I feel the slap of his cock against my ass, and reach back to point him inward. I inhale, and then exhale as his cock slides through my rings deep inside. My interior has been softened by his fingers and fist and is so coated with lube that his cock glides in with a rush. The tiny core of maleness that remains part of me is crushed, exposed and expelled by Antoine. I feel like I've been reborn, as an angel.
I trill ecstatic choruses, as his cock plumbs my depths, finds my soul, and frees it with a flourish as his cock withdraws. Antoine is big and strong, and I am slight and week, a flower bending in the fury of a hurricane. I am crushed beneath him as he surges in and out. He black cock pound like a hammer on an anvil. Each new blow rings loud, sends sparks showering through me and reshapes the nub of me, from boyness to girlness. The old me is being swept away as though by the torrents of a tsunami. Then, when I feel as though I cannot take another breath, he pulls his cock out, rolls my legs over his shoulders and pushes effortlessly back inside me. He clutches my thighs in his huge hands and bangs my ass against his onrushing thighs.
"Oh, baby, you look so beautiful when you got my big cock inside you. How do you feel?"
"Like a virgin who's just had her cherry popped by the biggest cock and the strongest, sexiest man in the world."
"You like it like this?"
"I love it every which way."
He pull out again, rolls me onto the bed, and lies beside me. He nestles against me, cups my breast with one hand, and braces my shoulder with the other. I bend like a twig as he slides back inside me. His cock has found a new path into my core. My intestines realign on the vector of his cock. The flesh of my tummy bulges and falls with his motions. After a few strokes my abdomen relaxes. I begin pumping my bottom back against his sideways thrusts. All of my life, I have been felt empty, and looked for fulfillment of an unknown aspiration. I was born with part of me was missing: my missing vagina. In Antoine I have found something with which, for a moment, I can fill that void.
"Fuck me, Antoine, fuck me hard."
He responds by rolling me back over on my stomach and riding me hard, but now that's all I want, be fucked until I am remade, or until Antoine has expended all of his energy on the task. He is bathed with sweat now, his mouth black skin is slick as he rides me, and his speed increases. His muscles are bulging and rock hard and they slap my flesh. Every thrust knocks my breath out, but I am propelled by energy erupting from deep within me. I feel my self obliterated, and recreated.
I feel like his cock is boring a vagina, and building a uterus out of the broken bits of my useless male parts, the prostate and the vas deferens. With each retreat of his cock, my vision of immanent womanhood recedes, but with each of his thrusts, my femininity is restored. I need Antoine to complete the destruction of my boyhood and the completion of the woman inside me. I beg for it. "Harder, deeper, more, more. Fuck me, fuck me more." My flesh trembles, my eyes roll back in my head, and I drift into a dream state.
I am a Thai princess. The gods are angry with the Kingdom. They rain plagues of death and destruction on my people. I offer myself in sacrifice to their wrath. My subjects gather at the temple. The temple priests sing in mournful chorus as they bear me aloft to the silk shrouded altar. They lay me down on the embroidered silken cover, and place a lace shroud over my body. The high priest ululates an ancient prayer, and the others bow their heads in obeisance to the gods. Then, in unison, they lift their daggers and plunge them deep into me.
Their blades enter my belly with sharp pricks, but as they slide deep inside, instead of pain, my sacrifice brings forth ecstasy. Through my wounds my soul is released from the constraints of my body. My consciousness floats upward, to the high ceiling of the temple, and looks down upon the crowd gathered around my bloodstained body. The temple is aglow with light, and a chorus of angels sings hallelujah. The gods have been appeased.
I awaken from this reverie. The heavenly chorus is my own voice, the dagger is Antoine's cock, and the release is a flood inside my well-fucked ass. It pulses waves of energy up and down my spine from my butt to my shoulders in an involuntary shuddering cascade. I quiver and shake until my body goes limp, and I faint. I am shaken awake by Antoine, who still rides me from behind and slaps me to bring me out of my languor. I feel as though a part of me has died, and another part has been reborn. My body goes limp.
"What's the matter baby? Your booty's better when you fuck back at me."
"I think that I orgasmed. I'm tired. Do you want you to finish in my mouth?"
"I guess I finally used your butt up."
"I want to watch you cum. Cum all over my face and tits."
"OK, whatever."
He pulls out and I prop myself against the headboard. I pucker my ass to keep the flood inside. I unsheathe his cock, coat my fingers with lube and begin jerking him with my hands. I kiss the greasy tip and flick my tongue whenever I can reach it, but he is flailing so that I my mouth can't keep up. The first jet of jism fires into my eyes and I am momentarily blinded, but I hang on to his cock with both hands, stroking him. More gobs fly into my hair, ears, chin, and onto my chest. I blink my eyes open to see the looming monster poised within my lips' reach, so I take his cockhead in my mouth, cup his scrotum and squeeze. I extract the last rich, thick residue of his semen, swirl it around my mouth, and gulp it. Its mossy tang quenches my thirst.
"Mmm, that's delicious."
"Love the way you squeeze my lemons."
"Love your lemonade."
"Love your jellyroll." He give my butt a playful poke, and then lifts his fingers first to his nose, then to mine. "Your poop shoot don't smell like shit. How do you keep it so clean?"
"With a high fiber diet." He laughs, rolls off and lies beside me.
After a few minutes of silence, Antoine clears his throat. "I don't want to be quoted, but I think your ass pussy is better than any cunt pussy."
"Thank you. I think your big black dick is better than the puny white and Salvo dicks I've been getting."
"OK, from now on, no more Salvo dick for you, and white dick only if it pays or if I say."
I contemplate this for a few minutes. "Are you saying you want me to be your ho?"
"Let's try it for a little while."
I smile and slide my head under the covers and slip his penis back into my mouth. It's soft and malleable, and his balls are buried deep in the folds of his scrotum. But soon, I know, it will be hard and huge once again.