Big Flipping Deal Ch. 06

"All right, go ahead."

"So let's say I settle down with a brunette chick, and she's not the type to dye her hair. I might have to give up on the idea of ever having sex with a blonde again."

"Uh-huh."

"Or," I said, ignoring her skeptical tone, "suppose I settle down with a woman who's black, and have to give up ever having sex with a white girl again. Or maybe I fall for someone fat, and for the rest of my life, I'm never having sex with a skinny girl again."

"Nick, there's kind of a difference between being not racist or not a shallow asshole, and being not straight."

"No argument about that," I said. "But what if I meet someone really special, and she's in a wheelchair? Then I'd be looking at going the rest of my life knowing I'd never get to dance with my girl again."

She cleared her throat and patted her crotch. "This isn't a handicap, buddy."

"That's exactly my point. If you were paraplegic, you might not get much out of sex at all. You might not even be able to feel below your waist. Hell, depending on how you got that way, there might not even be anything below your waist. If I met the right girl, and then she got in a car accident and severed her spine, I'd have to deal with a future where sex wasn't anything like what I spent my whole life expecting it to be. So considering the alternatives, and considering how many things about you are so amazingly perfect, I should count myself lucky that you've got anything down there that works at all. And frankly, not only do I know it works, but I'm getting pretty fucking obsessed with it. Enough to start wondering if I'm not nearly as straight as I always assumed."

"Hmm," she said, putting the end of one pinky between her teeth. "That was actually pretty good. So ... new subject."

"Yeah? What is it?" We'd reached the traffic signal at the highway, so I spared a glance over at her.

She batted her eyelashes enticingly. "Tell me some of these things you think are so amazingly perfect about me."

* * *

At Lindsey's, I followed her up the stairs to her apartment without saying anything. She stopped me on the doorstep and kissed me, holding me by the collar with both hands, her eyes filled with hope and uncertainty as she let go and pulled away to unlock the door. The need to reassure her made an ache in my chest; the desire to hold her put my heart into a breakneck gallop. I felt on edge between my own insecurities and wanting to banish hers.

Was I really just here Saturday? I thought as I followed her into the apartment. The orange couch looked the same, the hardwood floors, the distant, unlit kitchen hinting of lemons and banana pudding, the red-brick wall with the fireplace.

"Come on," she said quietly, taking my hand and heading toward the stairs.

Wow. This is really happening.

When we reached the top of the stairs, I found myself in a cute loft bedroom that overlooked the living room below. The walls and carpet and bed had been done in snow-pure white, with pastel accents in the form of green and pink pillows, a checkered throw rug to match, and several unframed canvases covered in abstract designs.

"Did you paint those?" I asked, pointing to the paintings.

"Yeah. Help me get my boots off." She towed me over to the bed, where she sat and unzipped a black-leather calf-boot while I went to one knee and felt my palms start to itch. With her leg up to remove the boot, I could see straight into the shadowy depths of her charcoal skirt. But she had on black panties, and my brief glance didn't catch much detail through them.

I took her foot by the heel as she offered it to me, sliding my other hand into the unzipped leather to cup and caress the back of her lower leg, easing my grip lower and lower and tugging at the boot-heel until I got the whole thing past her ankle and off. A soft pink ankle-sock clothed her foot. I took that off too, and she wiggled her toes and smiled. She had long toes, like her fingers, with the nails painted to match her rose blouse.

I massaged the instep of her bare foot with one thumb before letting go. She grinned and put an index finger between her teeth as she offered me the other foot.

"God, I'm so horny," she breathed at the sound of the boot zipper descending. I ran both hands down her calf, peeling the leather free. "Mmm ... take your shirt off."

With the second boot gone, I leaned back and unbuttoned my shirt. Lindsey reached around beneath her hair to fish for the clasp of that gold chain necklace, her raised arms lifting and accentuating her breasts within the raspberry silk of her top. Then she tossed the necklace aside and leaned forward to push my open shirt back from my shoulders, palming and then grasping the muscles there to pull me to her as I squirmed free of the sleeves.

We kissed, eyes closed, her on the edge of the bed, me on the carpet, hips between her spread knees with the hem of her skirt gliding across my now-bare stomach. Our hands searched and explored - hers with fingertips and nails drawing gentle paths around my shoulder blades, mine with palms and fingers settling into the soft hollows of her at the waist, the small of her back, the nape of her neck. I dipped into the waistline of her skirt, tugged her shirttails up and out, brought my hands around to work at her buttons. She murmured agreement without breaking our kiss.

As her shirt fell open, I returned one hand to the small of her back, skin-to-skin now, the glossy fabric of her blouse loosely brushing my knuckles, wrist, forearm. The other hand, my right, traced and then cupped her breast through the lacy curve of her bra. Flickering my eyes open, I saw that it was black and sheer and filled to perfection. I shifted my left hand up and my right hand around and felt for the catch of her bra in the back.

Lindsey's hands weren't idle either, running firmly down the sinews on each side of my spine, teasing into my waistband with a single finger, wandering up to lace through my hair - and then down to find my belt-buckle about the same time I unhooked her bra. We pulled back from our kiss and opened our eyes, and hers were so blue and knowing as she undid my buckle, pulled the whole belt free, let it swing out and drop to the floor behind me. I took advantage of the movement to get her blouse over one shoulder and down the arm, revealing a smooth, pale curve of flesh with only the loose black strap of her bra adorning it now. She obliged me by shucking out of the other sleeve and discarding her top entirely, then crossed her arms as I brought both bra straps down over her shoulders and past the elbows. When I leaned in to kiss her, she relaxed her arms and let the bra fall away.

Even though my chest wanted to implode from the hunger to feel and lick and suckle those breasts, I put both hands to her cheeks and kissed her deeply first, hearing and feeling her give a moan of want at my touch. Gradually, while my tongue kept a tight dance with hers, I brought my hands down along her graceful neck, out and over her shoulders, then in along her pectorals to the soft swells they found there, bare and waiting.

"Ooh, Nick ..." Breathing heavily, she put her forehead to mine and turned her eyes downward. Her hands found the button on my slacks, slipped it loose, slowly ran the zipper down. I cupped and lifted her breasts, weighing their perfect, silken gravity in my palms, circling one areola with the tip of my thumb, marveling at the lush and surprisingly natural shape and form of both her breasts and her nipples.

"These are fucking amazing, Lindsey," I said. The awe must have been clear in my voice, because she laughed.

"I responded really well to hormones," she said, "So I didn't need much in the way of implants to get me well into a decent cup size. You like them, huh?"

"Definitely." To show it, I lowered my head and kissed one nipple, ran my tongue around it, teased it with my teeth. Lindsey put a hand behind my head and used the other one to toy with the elastic of my underwear in the gap where she'd opened my pants. I took a break from kissing her nipple and said, "Feel free to go there anytime now ..."

She laughed again, a little throatily this time, and slid her hand forward and down, tickling her way through my pubic hair until three fingertips found the root of my cock and stroked it in small circles. I groaned around her nipple. Lifting up, I gave her another kiss as her hand dove deeper, circling itself around my engorged shaft. I pushed at the hem of her skirt, then clasped her derriere two-handed to encourage her nearer the edge of the bed. She moved about half as far as I would have liked, legs spreading wider to either side of my pelvis, gorgeous naked thighs revealing themselves as the skirt climbed higher and higher.

Her lips left mine and went to my ear.

"I want you in my mouth."

My cock surged even harder within her grasp.

"I can get on board with that plan," I said, letting go of her to work my pants down. Freed from confinement, my dick sprang up into her welcoming hand, which squeezed and then opened, so that my erection lay revealed across her palm.

"Mm, that looks nice," she said. I became intensely aware of her bunched skirt forming a ledge beneath her hand as she held me - intensely aware that the swollen head of my cock now jutted just an inch or two above what that skirt concealed.

"So do I get to see what yours looks like too?"

She looked up at me, a flash of something in her eyes, her lips momentarily compressing.

"Or not," I said, spreading my hands. "We can get there whenever you're comfortable."

Lindsey sighed, smiled, shook her head slowly. Then she said, "Come on, then."

Her hands tugged at my waist as she rose up from the bed, skirt falling back into place. I stood with her, got my pants the rest of the way off and stepped out of them. If my heart had turned into a hummingbird, it might have been beating faster.

"You're sure?" Her eyes held mine very seriously as she undid the catch of her skirt.

"Uh-huh," I said, lowering my gaze to those long fingers of hers where they waited at her zipper. "In fact, I wouldn't mind turning up a light or two."

At the moment, the only illumination in the place came from the hanging fixture in the entryway downstairs, shining up along the stairs and across the half wall that overlooked the living room. It was plenty to see by, but not enough to show off the gold of Lindsey's hair, the blue of her eyes, or the bright decor of her bedroom.

But she blushed at the suggestion and said, "Can you let me be just a little shy this first time?"

I tipped forward and kissed her, then touched my nose to hers. "You can be as shy as you want."

"Okay," she whispered. And she slid out of her skirt.

The world became hazy and hot, like I was experiencing it through a window fogged by steam.

"Wow."

She waited, arms at her sides. Then she turned her palms forward, questioningly. "Wow? Good wow or bad wow?"

"Good wow..."

I reached down to the black lace of her panties, strained outward by a bulge that part of my brain said shouldn't be there and part of my brain had been dying to see for weeks. Grazing that distended fabric with just my fingertips, I marveled at its rigid certainty, so at odds with the feminine curves of her breasts and belly - yet beautifully part of her at the same time. I pressed more firmly with my hand, making her gasp.

"Yeah, good wow for sure," I said. "Even though I'm used to a woman's panties giving me a really different signal that she's ready."

"Feel lower," she whispered.

Raising my eyebrows, I let my fingers slide southward on the tense beam in her lingerie, and then lower still, feeling the softer bulge of her cockhead - and then a slick, damp spot right at the tip. Lightly, I took hold with my thumb and middle finger, then rubbed the very end of my index finger in slow circles against the wetness of her precum.

"Ahh-hnn," she breathed.

"Can I take these the rest of the way down?" I asked.

Her grin wavered between mischief and bashfulness. "I'm being shy, remember? How about if I take them off in a minute after I'm in the middle of something that will keep me from thinking too much about it?"

She grabbed the still-waving flagpole of my erection and wet her lips with a swipe of tongue to make it clear what she meant.

I said, "Okay."

Turning us sideways to the bed, Lindsey sank to her knees, folded her legs beneath her, and settled her ass on her heels where I could just see the black arc of panties past the crown of her head. Her hand milked my cock with slow strokes of paradise as she looked from it to me to it to me, lips parting and tongue peeking its pink tip alluringly forward.

"This is going to take longer than it did in the car," she said.

I gasped at a squeeze from her hand and replied, "I'm not so sure about that ..."

"Hmm," she said with a wicked look. "How little you know."

Then she leaned forward and sucked me in.

"Oh my god."

With one hand around the base of my hard-on and the other clutching her breast, she held me in her plush, hot mouth and stared up at me with those eyes. Scattered light from the entryway fixture fell across half her face, creating a subtle play of shadows on the other side.

"Lindsey, you are so beautiful."

She slurped off of me and smiled, then gave a couple of lollipop licks to the underside of my glans before enveloping me again.

"Ahhh, fuck ..."

Her tongue swirled side to side, drenching my cock in pleasure while her lips suckled at a point about three-quarters of the way to my root. I put one hand against her cheek, and she tilted her head to meet it, closing her eyes and running a finger in a spiral from her nipple around and around her breast until it traced a path down her sternum, between her tits, and out of sight beyond her forward-tipped ribcage. Though her upper body blocked my view, I could tell when the hand reached her panties, because she made a long "Mmmm" around my shaft as she worked her tongue and lips, not yet moving her head or neck.

"Shit, that's so hot," I breathed.

She looked up at me and gyrated her hips, a motion that traveled up her spine and neck to bob her mouth just slightly around my dick. I could tell the hand within her panties had hold of its contents, both from the rolling of that shoulder and the tension between her eyebrows.

Take it out, I thought, not saying it aloud because I didn't want to make her feel pressured. Instead, I just bit my lip and said it with my eyes. Take it out, Lindsey.

And then she rose up a little, came forward along my cock, sucking all the way down to its foundation, burying her nose in my pubes.

"Oh, god ..."

As I watched, her free hand went to her waist, easing her panties first down over one hip and then over the other, then down one thigh, then the other, until she could lift each knee in turn and flick the black lace away behind her. All through this, her face remained tight against my crotch, her lips around my root and my tip all the way down her throat. The undulation of her spine side-to-side carried through to her head, rotating the wet embrace of her mouth around me. And while her hair and shoulders blocked my view of her groin, I could see over them to her ass switching right to left with each step of her panties' descent. Full and smooth and pale and naked, it drove me almost as crazy as the anticipation of seeing what she had between her legs.

Then, when she'd fully undressed herself, her sweet mouth and throat retreated from my shaft, sweeping slick pressure along it on all sides until her lips popped free and she looked up at me and licked them. Her hand returned to my root in their place.

"How do you want to see?" she asked, still leaning forward so that her upturned face obscured my view.

I bent and kissed her lips, then got down on the floor with her, face-to-face, mouth-to-mouth, my hands stroking her cheeks, her hair, her shoulders. She kept hold of my cock the whole time, milking and pumping. I could feel the low heat of orgasm hovering some distance off, coaxed forward by the blowjob and now kept from retreat by the action of her hand.

With my palms at the juncture of her collarbones and shoulders, I eased her back, leaning with her at first to hold the kiss, then pulling just far enough away to look her in the eyes and see her move her lower lip between her teeth.

I raised my eyebrows to ask her permission. She nodded and let her lips part.

And I looked down.

Mostly, I had expected my recent she-male porn habit to prepare me for this moment - though I also feared that it wouldn't, and that I'd be shocked or queasy or disgusted by the reality of a beautiful woman with a penis.

But neither one turned out to be the case.

Nestled in the valley between Lindsey's sleek and wholesome thighs, stiff and swollen with her arousal, rested something I hadn't seen before at all. Not a cock ... her cock.

"Jesus, Linds."

A nervous titter escaped her, and her free hand went up to cover her mouth. "Is that good?"

My hands left her shoulders almost without conscious thought on my part, trailing down her breasts, her ribs, her gentle belly. They turned as they went, so that my knuckles caressed the crests of her pelvis and came to rest at the tops of her thighs, both palms up and parallel to the rod that now lay between them and gave a small surge at their nearness.

She kept it completely hairless down there, which gave her a fresh and pink and clean appearance that struck me as feminine in spite of her virile rigidity. Turning my right hand over, I ran the index finger from her pubic arch down the length of her almost to the head. She stiffened at my touch - both her erection, which lifted free of her thighs, and her body, which shivered a bit before she returned to milking my rod. Before her hard-on could relax back into place, I slipped two fingers beneath it and ran them up the underside all the way to the base, lifting and angling her as I went, only to find that she still had her balls trapped between her legs, out of sight. It seemed modest and girlish and made me burn even hotter. I circled my whole hand around her then, and just let myself absorb how she felt - familiar, and normal, because she was about my size in length and girth - but strange and exotic at the same time, because I had never taken hold of myself from an angle like this, and because the movement and touch of my fingers gave no corresponding sensation to my shaft, which instead responded to the tugging, massaging grip she maintained on me.

"That feels good," she said. "So ... it's okay?"

"It's way better than okay," I said, caressing and staring at the sculpted object in my palm. "I'm in awe. I don't even know what to do with it first."

"Well," she asked, "can I pick, then?"

I looked up into her eyes. A tiny male neurosis urged me to be worried about what she might suggest, and I actually felt my asshole tighten reflexively, which pissed me off. Fuck you, asshole, I thought at it. If she wants in you, you're just going to have to suck it up and let it happen. And I got a giddy kick out of telling my own anus off - because I knew I wanted to trust and please her much more than I feared anything that might happen.

"Sure," I told her. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to stroke me off until I come," she said, which momentarily struck me as tamer than I'd been hoping for - until she went on. "But I want you to bury your cock in my ass while you do it."

She gave me a little squeeze for emphasis, so I squeezed her in return, felt the erectile rush of her response, and suddenly burned to know what her cock would feel like going off in my hand.