Date: Wed, 24 Apr 2019 14:27:08 +0000 From: destabilizer15 Subject: "Young Lovers," Chapter 30 Chapter 30 It was opening night. "The Visitor" was to have just three performances, and I wasn't about to miss it. Of course I knew the basic plot of the piece. A mysterious alien creature shows up in an unnamed American city. Before long we learn he is a vampire -- but not just your run of the mill blood-sucking vampire. No, he's a sex vampire, with the ability to entrance earthlings of all sexes and ages and make them his prey. But it turns out he must have sex every night with a different person or he dies, and when he meets and falls in love with a mysterious woman his craving for new sex partners runs headlong into her desire to make him hers and hers alone. The play is propelled almost entirely by dramatic dance sequences, and the eroticism of the dance, the graphic sex onstage, and the theme of pansexuality had created a scandal -- a scandal which of course led to a long run of sellout New York performances and reviews that ran the gamut from hysterical condemnation to gushing praise. Ever since my afternoon tryst with Ian, the island's very own sex vampire, I had wondered about how in the world Young Lovers, with a very small student population and a tiny makeshift stage, could pull off such a production. For one thing, where would an all-male community find an Illyria, the femme fatale of the piece? And how would they find enough dance talent to make up what I had heard was a rather large cast -- Ian's breathtaking skills alone wouldn't be able to carry a two hour show. And what about music and lighting and costumes? I wondered if Snyder had bitten off more than he could chew. These questions -- and, let's face it, my own desire to again watch the magnificent Ian in action -- had led me to Mr. Snyder's classroom/ theater that evening. Joon and Johnny had passed on my invitation to accompany me -- I left them at the apartment looking very much as if they were going to enjoy some quality time in bed. For the performers' sake I had hoped there would be a halfway decent turnout of boys and guests, so I was shocked to arrive twenty minutes before the piece was scheduled to begin and find at least sixty or seventy men and boys waiting in line outside the classroom building. Taking my place at the end of the line that stretched across the tropical lawn and wound its way between two nearby cabins, I noticed up ahead of me two faces I recognized. "Hey Dwayne! Nelson!" I called. Two young heads whipped around. Their smiles were tentative as they recognized me. "You here to watch your brother?" I called to Dwayne. He nodded. "Nelson, have you seen his brother dance? He's really talented." The Filipino boy shook his head no, his face blank. I decided this was going nowhere, so I just smiled and waved. Dwayne gave a little wave back -- Nelson just stared. Glancing farther up ahead I noticed a couple of other boys I recognized, and then, near the front of the line, I spied Jack and Rondol, who seemed to be with two men, both tallish guys in their mid-forties, obviously their guests. At first I wondered why a guest would spend the kind of money Young Lovers charged only to pass one precious evening of his stay watching an amateur dance concert. Then I remembered Evan commenting that many of the men who came to Young Lovers were extremely rich. I guess once you've got enough money you don't have to be careful with it -- I'd heard there were some guests who could afford to stay for weeks at a time. Before long the line began moving and soon thereafter I had settled into one of the last available folding chairs that had been squeezed into the small performance space. A few dozen boys and men were standing in back. There was a murmur of anticipation, and occasional calls and laughter. And then, right on time, the lights dimmed, the crowd quieted, and the production began. Yes, some of the dancing was pretty graceless, some of the acting even worse, and the lighting and other production details haphazard at best. But the recorded music was powerful, and from the moment that the Alien glided onstage, all the little imperfections became unimportant. If Ian's dancing at that one rehearsal I observed had been impressive, he was nothing short of sensational now. As I watched him I was reminded of a comment a friend had made at a rock concert years before, about a long-forgotten vocalist: "That guy has the one thing all good lead singers have: you can't take your eyes off him." I was sure that, as Ian leaped and swirled about the stage, his crimson cock swinging, his glittered face sparkling, his purple muscles glowing, every eye in the room was on him. And by the time he had seduced and then conquered his second or third victim, copulating with a physicality that was somehow both frenzied and masterful, all were enthralled. And yet, as the story progressed, his wasn't the only mesmerizing presence onstage. There was also Illyria. She first appeared from behind a curtain at the alien's feet as he lay writhing in pain, having been forced by a twist of fate to go nearly a full day without sex. She was tiny, almost fragile in appearance, but once she began to move there was supreme confidence in the languorous gestures of her slender arms, the smooth glide of her steps as she flowed about the stage. The suffering alien had risen to his feet in spite of his pain, pulled by her magnetism, and they began to dance together, in the most moving scene in the entire show. As she danced she was as graceful as a blossom waving in the wind, a fitting counterpoint to the Alien's athleticism and masculine energy. Where in the world had this delicate, beautiful flower of a woman come from, I wondered? They must have brought in someone -- from where? Manila? The States, even? In just a few weeks I had become accustomed -- and happily so -- to a world without women, and I'm sure many others in the audience felt the same. Now it was almost as if she were the mysterious alien, not the purple-and-silver Ian. Their duet began slowly and tentatively and built in speed and power. The naked Alien was erect, the near naked woman by turns submitting and refusing, fleeing and pursuing. The scene climaxed to thunderous music after several minutes that were as much intercourse as dance. With limbs intertwined, the two still danced, still graceful, all the while infused with sexual passion. The audience was silent, entranced, and burst into enthusiastic applause when the scene ended. From that scene forward Illyria more than held her own. Finally the culminating scene came, when Illyria betrays the alien out of jealousy and then, seized with grief and guilt, ends her own life upon discovering her lover's corpse. As the poison did its work and her tiny body gave its last shudder, somehow graceful even as it splayed out over the much larger body of her lover, there was a long moment of silence, and then the audience rose almost as one and, with cheers and shouts and wild applause, showered the dancers with praise. I'm sure everyone was as surprised and delighted as I was that such talent and passion had shown itself there, on a tiny stage in an otherwise amateurish production on a small island in the middle of nowhere. At length the lights came up, the dancers slowly rose and left the stage, and the minor players filed on for their rounds of applause. The stage was bare for a moment and then, entering from opposite sides, came the Alien and Illyria, who joined hands center stage to further applause. The Alien turned and, gripping the girl firmly with one arm gave her a long and passionate kiss, and the crowd roared and laughed. Ian stepped forward then, his beautiful purple and silver body shining with sweat, his swollen, flame-red cock swinging heavily, and bowed theatrically. Then he stepped back and the girl stepped forward. She bowed gracefully, smiled and waved, and then came the most shocking moment of the evening. With a flourish she reached down to the waist of her flowing dress, unfastened something, did the same behind her neck and then tore away her garment and tossed it aside. There standing before us, arms dramatically reaching to the sky in exultation, was a near-naked Asian boy, his cock, partially erect, pushing out the sheer material of the bikini briefs he wore! I had scarcely recovered from my shock when Ian grabbed a small towel tossed to him from backstage, reached out and carefully, almost tenderly, wiped the heavy makeup away from the boy's face. The boy turned to the crowd and grinned, and I could hear gasps from a few around me. I looked more carefully and almost stopped breathing for a second. It was Cu Tran. ********************************* It had been a couple of days since I'd seen the performance of the Alien. I couldn't get what I'd seen off my mind. You'd have thought that, if I had been unable to stop thinking about the play, it would have been the spectacular Ian that would have haunted my consciousness. But it wasn't. It was Cu. And why? I realized that in a way he was like Joon. Not that he was Asian -- it was that he had very little that usually would have attracted me. Both his face and his body were plain, if inoffensive. He wasn't the dimpled big eyed boy next door or the lithe kid with the swimmer's build and the beautiful tan. He also didn't seem particularly interested in bonding with me, so that emotional need thing that Marco had teased me about -- and rightly so --wasn't there either. So what was it? True, his long shiny hair was pretty hot. But what was really getting me about him -- what I couldn't stop thinking about -- was what an alluring woman he made. And this was really weird because I'd never found cross dressers attractive or interesting at all. I remembered once going to a ladyboy show with a friend in Bangkok, just out of curiosity. True, the boys onstage looked remarkably like slender girls, just as good cross dressers sometimes do when they perform in the States. Several of them had amusing onstage personalities, and they did a couple of schticks that were hilarious. Their lip-synching was mostly very good. But there was nothing about them that was attractive to me. I didn't want to kiss them, flirt with them, or bond with them, let alone suck or fuck them. I hadn't even had the urge to respond to the invitation they made to the crowd to come up at the end of the show for an autograph or a flirty little kiss from one of the performers -- I'd only gone up because my friend was interested. And yet, little Cu -- the way he commanded the stage with his graceful dancing and his pouty little expressions, even as he shared it with the spectacular Ian. The way she -- Illyria -- spurned the alien's advances, her pale, slender arm extended in refusal as she tossed her long locks defiantly over her shoulder. The way she gasped, a totally believable young girl in the throes of passion, as the Alien simulated entry into her, her little hips surging up to meet his raging erection. I was shocked to realize that I wanted him -- and yet it wasn't him I wanted. It was Illyria. ********************* Joon was not receptive to my urging that he hook me up with Cu. "Do I look like some kind of pimp?" he growled as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He stood barefoot and shirtless in our new kitchenette. His hair, now getting some length, was pushed all askew from sleep. His biceps were starting to gain a little size and definition thanks to Byron's work. The hideous scorpion crawled over his long, narrow belly. I had an erection in seconds. "No, you look like a hot teenage fuckboy. I love those jeans on you." He glared at me and slurped his coffee. "How can you drink that shit without anything in it?" I asked. He dropped into a chair and looked at me over the rim of his cup. "You gonna fuck him?" I had begun to tell Joon about Illyria but he had already heard all about the play. For an anti-social grouch it was remarkable how he somehow was always on top of the latest news on the island. "I don't know. Maybe. But to be honest, Joon, I don't know what I want exactly. I know it's not that little fast-talking poker player. I mean, Cu's got his charm, and I like him, but not really for sex." "But he'd do in a pinch. I guess you're not held back by overly high standards." His eyes bored into me. "It's Illyria I want." He started to roll his eyes, but he held back. He was already pretty close to the line, and he knew it. Instead, he said, "You know that's Cu's thing with his guests, right?" "His thing?" "Yeah. His guests are guys who want cross dressers. He's dressed up like a girl half the time here." "You're kidding!" "No. I bet that's why they got him to do the play. Being a woman was no big deal for him. They probably just had to teach him to dance." I shook my head. "It's kind of an amazing transformation. I mean, that guy shuffling cards and dishing out insults the other night in here didn't seem very feminine." Joon was silent. "Well, I gotta admit, the idea of it -- I dunno, I like it," I offered. "You're going bisexual now," he said, shifting in his chair. "Never. It's just -- I don't know -- there's something about -- a girl with a cock . . ." He sniffed. "You gonna be putting me in a dress next?" "Hmmmm . . ." I sat back, pretending to consider the possibility. "Actually, you might make a pretty sexy girl. A little eyeliner, some blush, some lipstick -- maybe a soft pink . . ." "Shit . . ." he replied, with a small smirk. "I might just do it too." My face was smiling, but my voice wasn't. I wanted him to know his earlier sarcasm hadn't gone unnoticed. Suddenly I was stone serious. It was my turn to bore into him now. I made my voice soft with menace. "And if I did, you'd cooperate totally. You'd be as feminine as I required you to be. Wouldn't you?" He dropped his eyes. I raised my voice suddenly. "WOULDN'T YOU!?" He looked up at me. "Of course," he answered quietly, holding my gaze. "That's my boy." I rose, walked over and gave him a soft, lingering kiss. He hesitated a fraction of a second, then kissed me back readily. "Mmm," I murmured. "I've been missing that." I gazed into his eyes. "It's been too long since I made love to you." He eyed me and did not reply. I caressed him and changed the subject. "So, I want Cu here in full Elizabeth Taylor tomorrow, or as soon as he's got an off night." "Who's Elizabeth Taylor?" "Oh Jesus!" I shook my head. "Some singer or something? You know I don't do pop culture." "She's an American icon, you moron! The most beautiful woman to ever grace the screen! Do a search and then tell me who Elizabeth Taylor was. I'm sure you've figured out how to unlock your phone by now." Joon didn't deny it. "And get Cu here ASAP," I added. "You mean Illyria." I smacked him lightly on the head as I reached for the coffee pot. ************************************ I sat on the bench that Joon and I had sat on together that first night -- it seemed forever ago, but actually it had been just a few weeks. Hard to believe. The sun had set but the waves still reflected the fading light of tropical dusk. A soft warm breeze touched my face. Earlier that day Joon had given me Cu's reply. "He's not interested," he had reported definitively. "Hmph. Did he say why?" "No." Joon seemed uninterested in further discussion, so I let it drop. Encounters with boys on the island were not something whose outcomes I could control, I had discovered. Sometimes opportunities just fell into my lap, like with Antonio and the amazing twins. Other times things seemed promising, then died on the vine, like with Ian and Tim. Maybe Lawrence too. And there had been plenty of others, long before. It looked as if Cu would be another boy whose charms eluded me. Funny, I thought. Since I'd come to Young Lovers I'd had huge amounts of great sex, and had found three boys I deeply loved. I'd had moments when I was totally fulfilled, more happy than I'd ever been, for sure. And yet . . . all it took to cause melancholy to wash over me was rejection by one boy -- a kid I barely knew. I shook my head, then closed my eyes, leaned back and let the breeze tease me . . . "Is dere room for two on dat bench?" came a soft, girlish voice behind me. I whirled, shocked, having thought I was alone. A couple steps behind me stood a delicate young girl in a short, sheer pink dress. I watched in astonishment as Illyria took a long drag from a cigarette. I stared, mouth agape, and then hastily scooted aside. As she gracefully eased onto the bench at my side, I muttered, "I thought you weren't interested." She slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke, not looking at me. Then she turned and pursed her pouty little pink lips. "Can't a girl change her mine?" I continued to stare, my mind still reeling. All I could think of to say was, "How, uh, did you get a cigarette?" She didn't answer my inane question, but took another drag. There was silence between us. She smoked her cigarette slowly, languidly, and I studied her unabashedly. Her eyes, long-lashed, shadowy, avoided my gaze. There was an exaggerated indifference in her manner. She knew men studied her, I'm sure, and was unfazed. Or, more likely, wanted them to think she was. Her lips were soft and luscious as they pursed, blowing smoke up into the night sky. I wondered what it would be like to touch my lips to hers, to nibble them, to feel them yield to the force of my kisses. Her little tongue darted out and lashed her lips quickly, making them even more wet and juicy. Her small, ivory fingers shifted the cigarette about quickly, nervously. I reminded myself these were the same agile fingers that had shuffled cards so deftly a few nights earlier. The fingers of a Vietnamese boy. Two thin rings -- one silver, one gold -- flashed as she smoked. They had not been there when those were poker-playing hands. Nor had the pink nails, long, almost claw-like, that made her fingers seem like those of an older woman, seductive and somehow predatory. She tossed her head, flicking her long, lustrous hair from her face, and I saw she wore earrings, large, dangling ones, sparkling with rhinestones even in the dim light from the nearby office. Her ears were small, shell-like, and I found myself wanting to kiss her there, to feel with my tongue tip the cavities and recesses of her. She turned to me suddenly, put her arm across the back of the bench and lay her little pointed chin on the back of her hand. She held my gaze. "You never been wit a girl like me." There was something of a challenge in her arch, insinuating tone. "No," I found myself replying. "I've never felt the attraction before. Not until --" I stopped. "Until what?" she whispered, still holding my gaze. "Until I saw you dancing with the alien." She sat back up, drew delicately on her smoke and exhaled theatrically, looking away. Then she turned to me. "The alien be hot. But he be dead inside." I considered this. "You responded so passionately to him, though." She looked away. "I couldn' bring him back to life." "His cock certainly looked alive!" She glanced at me and said nothing, uninterested in my attempt at humor. I decided to go deeper and see how Illyria would react. "Did you ever actually make love? With Ian, I mean." She was expressionless. "Dat's kind of a personal question, don' you tink?" "Yes it is. I want to get personal with you." It was my turn to hold her with a challenging gaze. "A girl doesn't talk to men about her bidness with other men," she stated softly, batting her lashes. I considered this. "OK, fair enough. But I'll tell you what -- maybe he's dead inside, but I'm not!" For the first time a smile stole over her face, sweet, almost shy. A smile I had never seen from Cu Tran. I softened my voice. "You gonna give me a chance to prove it?" She gazed at me, falling into my eyes. Then she surprised me. Leaning forward, moistening her lips, closing her eyes slowly, she brought her little mouth to mine. Our lips touched, and then we nibbled each other. I gently held her shoulder as we kissed. Suddenly I gave a start as I felt one of her hands slip onto my leg, then draw slowly, steadily upward. She pressed herself against me, and for the first time I felt urgency, desire in the way her tiny frame sought me. She gave a little murmur and slid her hand all the way over my erection. "Mmm," she murmured, eyes still closed. She squeezed my cock once, then again. I broke the kiss. "It's all for you, baby!" I whispered. A thought suddenly struck me. "Joon and Johnny are at the apartment tonight. I don't think--" "I don' go to men's apartments," Illyria murmured. "Dey come to mine." "Your, um, dorm?" "I don' stay in a fuckboy dorm," she said with unmistakable disdain. "I hab my own place." "Wow. How did you manage that?" She scratched her cheek with a long pink fingernail. "A girl need what she need." I smiled. "Mm, yes. And I'm hoping I can give you what you need tonight!" She raised an arch eyebrow. "We'll see." We sat in silence another moment. Illyria finished her smoke, flicked the butt aside in a decidedly unladylike way, and turned and looked directly at me. She blinked her long lashes languorously, then suddenly stood up. "Just pas' de swimming pool, right near de cliffs, dere's a cabin wit' a yellow door. If you come by in a few minutes I should be free. I hope you make it wort' my while." "I'll do everything I can to make it an evening to remember," I grinned. She turned away with a dignified lift of her tiny chin, then turned and looked at me as I rose. "Dat will be nice," she said, rather demurely. I watched her walk away, her little pink dress swaying seductively as she moved. ************************ I gave her ten minutes and then began making way way to the cabin Illyria had described. As I walked I reflected on how strange it was that in my entire conversation with Illyria there had been almost no sign of Cu Tran. Well, maybe the little flick of the cigarette butt. But other than that little gesture it was as if the boy had completely transformed himself. Or maybe it was Illyria who would sometimes transform herself into a card-playing boy. I found myself wondering who the real kid was, Cu or Illyria. There was something else. I did notice that, whereas Cu was a boy -- cursing, gambling, bantering -- Illyria was a woman, not a girl. Her restraint, her poised flirtation were not at all that of a teenager. I was making my way to the boudoir of someone with maturity and experience. Where had it come from? Wasn't she -- or he -- just 17? I shook my head. I knocked at the door of the little one-room cabin. "Come in," a soft voice called. I stepped in and beheld the girl reclining on a bed covered with a pink satin bedspread. Her face was expressionless, but one leg moved slightly, caressingly, against the sheets. She flexed her tiny bare toes. The room was dimly lit, and a soft pink glow from two shaded lamps suggested romance. "I like a little music, don' you? she asked softly. "Sure!" "If you unlock me I can get us some." "I'll unlock you, alright!" I grinned, as she handed me her phone. I entered the code I'd been given when I first arrived on the island and gave her the device back. Illyria's fingers flew over the keys, and I saw a glimpse of Cu in her dexterity. Soft, restrained jazz began playing. Where had a teenage Vietnamese cross dresser acquired such taste? She put the phone down and patted the bed. "Come on ober. No need to be shy." Her voice was suggestive, heavy now with desire. "Shy I'm not," I grinned, lying down next to her. I reached for her. "Let me prove to you I'm not shy." She melted into my embrace then and our lips met. I caressed her arm and stroked the back of he hand with my fingertips as our mouths twisted against each other. She was the most succulent kisser I've ever known. Her lips were like butter. As our kisses deepened she pressed herself more urgently against me. I felt the strange sensation of both a woman's soft nibbling lips and gentle touch and a boy's hard body at the same time. I slid my hand along her leg, drawing it slowly upward from her knee, feeling her silky skin, going more and more slowly as I neared her hips. Suddenly her hand stopped me. "Not yet," she murmured. She pushed me onto my back then, and I complied willingly. She drew one knee slowly over me, managing to rub it over my crotch, then draping her leg over mine as she began kissing me more forcefully. I slowly folded her into an embrace as we kissed, caressing her birdlike shoulders. The strangeness of the whole thing soon began to subside. I decided to just relax and make love to a woman. It had been awhile, but I guessed it was like riding a bike! For the next half hour or so Illyria and I enjoyed each other, wordlessly immersed in kissing and licking, touching and caressing. Eventually we began undressing each other. "Mm, yes," she murmured, and she lowered my boxer briefs and took in my erection. "It's been waiting a long time for you, baby," I murmured in her ear. "I been waiting for it too," she smiled, caressing my cock with amazingly gentle fingers. I couldn't resist her succulent pink lips, and I nibbled there again as she began gently stroking me. I caressed her neck with my thumb. "Now let me," I offered, as I unhooked her dress behind her neck. Illyria cooperated, shrugging off the little frock. She wore a lacy pink bra, and I was interested to notice she wore no padding under it. I caressed her belly and ribs and then drew a finger up under her bra until I found a hard little nipple. i rubbed it, and watched as her eyes narrowed a little in pleasure. "Let's get rid of this too, shall we?" I said, unhooking the garment. It dropped away and now, for the first time, the illusion faded and the reality replaced it. There was something in her face as she watched me scope out her boyish chest. What was it? I realized at once it was worry. It hit me that this cocky little Vietnamese boy was anxious that I not be turned off once the womanly mystery had vanished and her boyishness was revealed. I began kissing her tenderly again, as I did so I reflected on how odd it was that, although she knew perfectly well I knew who she was, she still felt anxiety about my seeing her boyish body. I wondered if she really felt herself to be a woman. Was she just a cross-dresser, or was she actually transgender? A kind of compassion flooded me as, for the first time, I could feel the fragility of this -- boy? woman? "You're a beautiful woman," I murmured in her ear. She said nothing. I drew back a moment and could see emotion in her face. I kissed her tenderly. "I want to give you the loving a woman like you deserves. Are you ready?" I could see she was too overcome to speak, and could only nod. I drew my hand slowly down over her hard little belly, then slid it over the front of her panties. I felt no cock there, so I knew it was covered with something to give her a female appearance. "I want to be inside you," I whispered, nibbling her little ear. "Let me get ready for you." She smiled now. "You're so big I need some . . . " "Some assistance?" Although I actually wasn't that big at all I was hardly going to argue with her. She pursed her lips demurely, slipped off the bed and headed to the bathroom with a quick, dainty little walk. I eyed her cute panty-clad butt. A few moments later the bathroom door swung open. She stood in the doorway, naked. Her posture tried for confidence, but I knew she was scared. I rose and walked to her. I put one hand gently on her shoulder, gazed deeply into her eyes, and with my other hand slowly stroked down her flat belly, into her pubic hair, and closed around her soft little cock. I squeezed as I kissed her. "You sexy little girl. I want you more than ever now." I embraced her and felt a little tremor run through her as she embraced me back hard. I pulled back and held her eyes with mine again. "Most men you're with -- they don't ever see you naked, do they?" I guessed. "No. Dat's not -- my style," she replied, trying but failing to regain her cool. "It's different with me." "Yes." "You can have a hot cock and still be a beautiful woman. It doesn't change anything." She looked at me a moment, her face unreadable. Then she dropped to one knee and, without further comment, sucked half of my erection into her mouth. I could feel gratitude in the determination with which she sucked me. Before long I was almost there, and this was definitely not how things needed to end between us. I bent, grabbed her under her hairless, damp armpits and slowly raised her up. "That's wonderful, baby, you do that so well." I wasn't lying -- she was a very skilled cocksucker. She smiled at me and moved back to the bed. I noticed her cock had gained some hardness. She lay down, snuggled herself into the satin coverlet, and looked up at me expectantly. As I lay down beside her I said, "I want this to be good for you, baby. How do you want me?" "You wanna know what I want?" she smiled languorously, her composure returning now. "Yeah." "I want what you want. That's what I like the most. Giving my man what he needs." Reminds me of me, I thought to myself as I smoothed her long, lustrous hair. Maybe I was a tranny in another life! I caressed her body with long strokes. Then I drew my fingertips over her cock and gently caressed her balls. Finally, I grabbed her behind her knees and slowly bent her legs back. Her eyes narrowed and she gave a satisfied smile. "My favorite," she murmured. "Mmmmm," I smiled, kissing her tenderly. "Lemme taste this cute little pussy first," I grinned, ducking down and bringing my tongue to her cleft. I slurped up and down a couple of times and then centered on her little pinkish bud. I scarcely touched it with my tongue tip and it blossomed open a good half inch. "Mmmmm," I murmured in appreciation as I stuck half my tongue into her bowels. I wormed it in and out, gently at first, then more and more forcefully as she gasped softly. After a few moments of this my jaw began to ache, the curse of those of us who love to eat ass. I rose to my knees and bent her legs farther apart and back. Her hairless anus gaped open. This was going to be good, and I was determined to take my time. "Stick that pillow under me," she said, and I complied, positioning one of her pillows under her mid-back. "Comfy?" I asked. "Not as comfy as I'm gonna be with that big cock in me," she breathed seductively. "Well let me get you REAL comfy then! Got some lube?" "Your spit's enough. You'll see." Fair enough, I thought. I spat repeatedly into my hand and coasted my cock as best I could. Then I nosed my cockhead against her, and gathered myself. "Here we go, baby." I began pressing. She rolled her hips slightly and opened effortlessly for me. My cockhead went into her immediately. "Mmmm," she murmured, eyes closed, a small smile on her lips. "That is so good," I whispered. "Shall I go easy or hard?" She just looked at me. "Oh yeah, that's right. Whatever your man needs! Right?" She gave a small, satisfied smile. I carefully pressed into her, ready to stop at any tension or sign of discomfort. There was neither, so i just kept going until, most of the way in, a little frown crossed her face. I stopped immediately and waited. "OK?" She frowned, shifted a little, and then smiled. "Go for it. Gib it to me!" I smiled, withdrew almost completely, and then, gripping her tiny shoulders firmly, I pushed slowly and steadily in, in, in until finally I had buried all seven inches in her little body. Eyes closed, she murmured something in Vietnamese. I caressed her hair back from her forehead and kissed her tenderly for a minute while still buried completely in her. I slowly pulled out then, and, looking down, I noticed she was still soft. Taking her little cock in my fingers I began teasing and manipulating it, and as I did so I pulled back out and then drove in again. As I did so I swear I could feel her cock expanding in time with my thrust. It was at least a half inch longer now, and thicker too. Had to be my imagination. I pulled out and drove in again, and again a surge went through her cock, and it became noticeably harder and a little bigger. This was weird, I thought. I deliberately waited, and kept playing with her organ. It neither grew nor shrank, but when I fucked into her again it lengthened again! "Sweetie, do you realize . . . " I didn't quite know how to say it. "It really turns me on when a man fucks me," she explained softly. "Yeah, but --" Illyria pulled me to her and kissed me hard, grinding her ass against my hips. Well, OK, who was I to question a cool oddity of nature? Now that I thought of it, I wouldn't mind if every thrust of a guy's cock into me got me harder! Maybe if it did I'd get more into being a screwee rather than a screwer! I broke our kiss, pulled as far out as I could without my cockhead popping out, and then thrust back in harder than I'd yet done. "Mmmmaaaaah," she gasped, in obvious pleasure. "Good?" "Yeahhh," she sighed. "OK, here we go, then," I began screwing Illyria now with long, steady, firm strokes. With every thrust she raised her little ass up to me in welcome, and I noticed her cock got harder and longer until it was about four rigid inches long and quite thick. Her cumtube bulged out so much it was almost like a round cord attached to the underside of her organ. Her little body was like a furnace, and as I fucked into her over and over, feeling how light and fragile her body was, my excitement rose higher and higher until suddenly, without warming, it hit me. ""YAAAHHH!!" I cried, spewing spunk into her. "Yes!" she cried, rolling her hips and clutching my elbows spasmodically. "Yah!! Yah!! Aaahhh!" I cried, feeling like I was cumming so far up into her she'd be able to taste it. "AAAhh!" I felt one more shot fire into her and then I was done. After a moment's recovery I pulled slowly out of her. "Fantastic," I murmured, kissing her tenderly. She said nothing, her eyes hooded with passion as she looked at me steadily. I looked down and saw she was still rigid, and obviously hadn't cum. "Your turn," I said, and dove for her cock. It didn't take long. Less than a minute later she was arching up from the bed with a keening yowl, me gripping her clenching, suddenly iron-hard butt, she clutching spasmodically at my hair as I sucked her. Then a thick bolt of slightly sweet jizz blasted the roof of my mouth, then a second and a third. I kept lashing her cockhead frantically, trying to whip as much pleasure out of her little cock as I could. "Ahh, oh yeah!" she blurted with a girlish gasp, snapping her hips against me one more time before collapsing back onto the bed. She lay panting, eyes closed. Her rapidly deflating cock glistened with spit and cum. I tenderly kissed and licked it until she pushed me off. I pulled her to me and enveloped her in a strong embrace. "I loved making love to you, honey." I muttered in her ear. Then I pulled back, and with a grin decided to take a risk. "You kiss and love like a beautiful woman and you cum like a hot boy! It's the best of both worlds!" How would she handle me putting together two identities, two worlds, that she seemed to want to keep apart? Illyria sometimes tried to veil her emotions, but most often she was an open book, I had noticed. Now I could see feelings chase themselves over her pretty, slightly sweaty little face. I held my breath. I didn't want to distress her. Finally she couldn't help but grin a mischievous but tremulous grin. "I hab a split personality!" I felt relief. I stared at her a long time. There were tears in her eyes, but her smile was a proud one. I stroked her hair. "Well, you know what?" I said. "I really like both sides!" We both beamed at each other and then melted into a long, sweet kiss.