Makeout

His lips were a little chapped. Firmer than Autumn’s were. Manly, I guess.

I was just a little kiss at first, maybe an offer of something more. An opening bid. Regular Dave held still for a second. Maybe he needs some convincing. I reached up farther and let him know I was serious about the whole thing. Then he kissed me back, plying my lips with his. It was intimate and a little shocking to feel his tongue brush my bottom lip, and I suppressed a shudder of excitement. We played for a moment, and then he pulled his head back. He wasn’t breaking it off, I knew. He just didn’t want to get carried away in a busy coffee shop.

I put my finger to his bottom lip, like a tease, “We should go somewhere. Private.”

Out on the street, he leaned down to kiss me, and cupped my jaw as he did so. It made me feel small and delicate. Something that he had to handle tender and gentle. We walked to his truck, and I found that he’d put his arm around me while we walked. His jacket smelled like him. Cigar smoke and work grease. Tenderness and desire.

The meter still had 30 minutes of the hour he put on, and he walked me to my door. When I was in the seat I was the perfect height to reach out for his face, draw him close and kiss him again. His thin hair tickled my forehead and then he ducked away to get in the driver’s seat.

When he got in I kissed him again, seatbelt unbuckled and one leg curled beneath me. He laid his palm on my leg for balance, and I reached down to touch his hand. He took this as a signal to move it higher until it was around my waist and I realized that’s what I wanted all along.

He leaned away to start the truck, and I took a moment to zone out. I wasn’t going to think about what I was doing there. I wasn’t going to think about how this was something I never expected to do, in a long week full of that. I wasn’t going to anticipate. I was just going to rub his leg as he swung up to 14th and then ducked under the convention center. He pulled near the loading dock area, where an SUV had been parked after hours, and cleverly disguised us as someone who was supposed to be there.

He undid his seatbelt and reached across to kiss me some more. I was more urgent that time. Like the buildup over the last 20 minutes had suddenly turned into a flood. Our hands were suddenly everywhere. On his neck. On my neck. On his stomach. Flat and muscley. Why would that turn me on? On my thighs. On his forearms. I had never wanted to touch someone all of everywhere all at once, and the urge was dizzying.

He had his elbow on the seat-back over my shoulder, and had wrapped his upper body around mine. That kind of touch should have made me feel claustrophobic, but I felt wrapped up and…

Dominated.

That’s what this was. I wasn’t kissing him, I was being kissed by him.

With Autumn there hadn’t been any give and take. We switched back and forth, one kissing the other, neither in control nor out of it.

With this I was giving. Wanted to give. Wanted him to take. He was wrapping me up and making me feel nice, but that was the point. He was making me. Pulling it out of me.

Each kiss was me asking him to give me another. Each touch was asking him to touch me more. Until his fingers snaked up under my shirt. I put my hand on his arm, “Wait.”

He stopped kissing me for a moment, and I realized that his hand on my breast was actually what I wanted. I took my hand off, and kissed him again. Now I want you to. And he did. Fingers sneaking over my bra straps. Dipping in and running the backs of his fingernails over my bare flesh. I think I sighed into his mouth. Telling him what I wanted and knowing that he’d give it to me.

At some point he snuck across the console, and was kneeling half between the seats, half in front of me. It looked uncomfortable and I didn’t have the energy to take pity on him because he was nibbling at my neck while his hands teased over my breasts.

I had my hand woven through his hair when he undid my bra. His hands on my nipples were much more rough. I don’t think he even moisturizes. I wasn’t complaining. He cupped the right one, supporting it in his hand while his thumb teased my teat up and down. He gave it a little pinch and pull and I gasped “Gentle.”

“Sorry,” he licked the bottom of my earlobe and did it again, not trying to open a water bottle this time.

“Just—” I kissed him again, “just—” I gasped, “just—” I crooned.

“Why don’t I keep doing it just like this?”

I nodded, tried to giggle, and moaned instead.

I had slumped in my seat, legs and skirt akimbo. I scooted down a little farther so that he could keep doing more of what he kept doing, and he scooted in—

And my eyes snapped open as I was catapulted out of the moment. That was his dick. I touched another guy’s dick.

It was against my upper leg, not really my thigh. It was hard. It was arous—confusing. It was very confusing.

I tried to think my way through the confusion while his hands were busy turning me into putty. And then I remembered that I had decided to come here, and I had decided not to be confused by what happened.

I opened my legs, and he leaned the rest of his frame in between them.

Then I was there. And he was there. And there was a dick between us.

And I reached down and touched it.

I was of two minds, as I felt his cock through his jeans. Mind one thought, “Ew I’m touching another dick, this is gross.”

Mind two thought, “This is the first time I’ve touched a dick and I’m going to enjoy it.”

He was hard. Rock-solid hard. Sticking up at a very uncomfortable angle. We’ve been flirting all night. I can still be coy. “Let me help you out here,” I wormed him around, hands over pants, till he was sticking straight up. Then for good measure I ran my palm down to his sack and back up to his button fly (that’s not a euphemism).

Regular Dave stopped long enough to pant a little bit, and then lifted me up in the seat. My skirt pooled around my hips as he brought the two of us together. My panties were still on, his jeans were zipped and buttoned but there was a dick between my legs, and it wasn’t mine.

He ground into me while I tried to process everything and it was…

Why didn’t I think I would enjoy this?

Well because if you had asked I wouldn’t have thought it would be enjoyable. Part of the heat was knowing that his dick was right there. That it was hard, and it was in the general area. Part of it was knowing that he was in control of what happened to me. The base of his dick was right at my entrance, and my lips were squishing all over the place as I hoped and prayed he’d manage to open them up. I didn’t want him inside, I was still a mess down there, come to that; but I knew that getting his rod right over my clit was going to be—

Oh that got it.

Holy hell.

It was nothing like fingers, even gloved fingers. It was a hot drippy mess of firm flesh, and it was bumping me exactly where I needed to be bumped. Twisting me around.

And we’re still clothes on.

My breathing was fast and loud, and at some point had become moans. It was a girl thing to do, and I didn’t want to stop.

Then my phone rang with a text. I fumbled for it, dropped it between the seats. Regular Dave hunted it up for me without taking his focus away from kissing my shoulder.

When I turned the display on, and got it up to eye level, I dropped it again because he’d pulled half my right tit into his mouth and was sucking.

I put my hand on the seat, straining, I don’t know what for; found my phone again, and gasped in shock.

Regular Dave took that as encouragement and went a little too hard. I was glad because it kept me from really encouraging him, “My mom just texted, I’m late home!”

Regular Dave and I didn’t talk on the way home. His hand was on my leg, and mine was on his. We were tracing little swirly patterns around. Around the exit onto Mississippi I reached up to brush my hair behind my ear. My hair must have been a mess. Oh god, she’ll know. I pulled the passenger eye shade down to get to the mirror, and then did my very best to get my hair put back together into it’s band.

It was salvaged—in that I had got it moving under it’s own power—but it was unmistakable that something had happened.

Regular Dave dropped me at the curb, where my mom was sitting on the porch. He leaned in and I brushed him off, “I’m still in the closet with her.”

Regular Dave took a moment to compute our respective genders and came up with a syntax error.

“She knows about Autumn, but I think polyamorous bisexuality is a coming out I’ll wait to have until Christmas. Twenty years from now.”

“You know we aren’t poly—”

“Yeah, we just like to fuck, but I’m still working on decoupling that.”

It was too much therapy talk for Regular Dave, “Text me, doll?”

“You got it, daddy-o.”

I walked up the steps and tried to brush it off, “I’m sorry I’m late, we got caught up with something.”

“Autumn has a new truck.”

“Yeah well her parents—”

“And she’s a guy now too? Which one of us are you lying too?”

I sat, then slumped, next to her on the porch swing, “I was hoping you.”

“I think that’s a grounding offense.”

“No, please? It’s just this guy, and you saw me get all dressed up. I didn’t want to get dressed up, but I did want to get dressed up, but I didn’t want—and then I did want—”

“Did you and Autumn already break up?”

I found myself crying, and my mom took me in for a hug. I remembered that lying and being found out would get tech taken away from me, and that Autumn would very definitely be coming over again. “No, we weren’t really together.” Something about that was confusing and sad. A half sad. I put my head on her shoulder.

“Oh, dearheart.” She put her cheek on my head, “You’re just throwing yourself down this hill before you’ve even put on your skis.” She rubbed my shoulder, “Did he like my boots?”

I sniffed, “Yeah.”

“I suppose having a daughter I should have know my wardrobe wouldn’t be my own anymore.”

I was still high on the make out session and kissing a guy, and being a girl, but I still said, “Mom!”

“Just keep the boots and say thank you, honey.”

I changed my tampon before bed. This one looks like the Mouse King during the French Revolution. Just a little bloody neck stump.

I put on fluffy pajamas.

I crawled into bed.

I texted Autumn, “Just made out with Regular Dave”

“You go girl! Better than me?”

“Nah. Slightly bigger penis though”

“I’m so embarrassed. The pills haven’t been helping.”

I had discord on my phone, and I messaged Regular Dave a “had a great time :) goodnight”

I thought for awhile as I went to sleep and conclude only one thing: I wasn’t Ashley anymore.

Maybe I never had been. Maybe Ashley was just a dream that Aisling had dreamed. No, there were records. And memories. Mostly good memories. Ashley was isolated, maybe that was it. Aisling wasn’t isolated, that much was certain. Maybe Ashley would have found out he was gay eventually. Or bi. Or whatever.

I wasn’t even sure what sexual orientation I even was at this point. Regular Dave was a nice guy, who I wanted to hang out with. Ashley would have liked him. Ashley would have wanted to be his friend. Aisling wanted to suck his dick.

Why?

I didn’t have an answer for that. Something in me wanted to be more like Rachel, and be able to…please (?) him. Something in me wanted to… I guess I just wanted to make him feel good. If we were guy friends I’d game with him, and we’d go to movies, things like that. As a girl I had other ways of making him feel good.

If I was being truly honest with myself, my motivation was more basic to evolution than anything else. I’d seen something I wanted. I wanted it to be mine and I wanted it to want me. I had a way of doing that. With my mouth and that thing’s throbbing cock.

And I wanted control. Regular Dave made me feel out of control. Of my emotions, my inhibitions, my body. I could regain some of that control by taking control of him. And by making him feel out of control.

Sometime around that thought I fell asleep.