Chapter #3"...a cute boislut." by: Yote   "You need to learn to relax. You need a cute little boy-slut."
"A what?!"
"You heard me. You need to sample some of the delights of this new trend. Observe."
He twists in his seat, leaning over to tap the shoulder of the girl sitting at the table behind him. At least, what you had assumed to be a girl from behind. She was sitting with her legs crossed demurely, her face turned away from you, one of her pink-painted fingers toying with the bouyant golden curls that adorn her head. The other hand circles around the rim of the cup of coffee. She is evidently a college student, dressed as she is in a scrap of a blue-and-yellow cheerleading outfit that displayed oodles of golden-brown skin. Her body is slight, her limbs slim but toned, and your eyes flit down to her firm, bare buttocks peaking out beneath the hem of the minute skirt. She sits opposite a guy in a dirty football shirt, who you take to be her boyfriend.
It is only as you tune in on their conversation that you realise they're both guys. Her... his voice is deep. "Bro, if you're serious about getting into this, you totally gotta up your reps. It's definition, not size you want. Lower weights, longer reps," the golden-haired cheerleader states.
"I don't know, Darren," the footballer says uncomfortably. "Strength training's been going really well for me recently, plus coach says-"
"Fuck what coach says," the cheerleader shoots back. "Look at me. I'm half the man I used to be, yet I'm getting double the pussy I was getting on the team. Dude, trust me, ditch the football and come cheer with me. Sure, it's weird at first, but the girls love it, they're queuing up to fuck me. And don't even get me started on what it's like in the changing rooms..."
The other guy's eyes almost pop out of his skull. "They let you change in the girl's changing rooms?"
"Sure," Darren gloats. "Hell, they let "girls" do whatever the hell they want. All you gotta do is flash a little skin and half the faculty'll let you do whatever. Well... the male half anyway."
As Nathan leans across and taps him on the shoulder, Darren twists in his seat. Face-to-face, you can see he is no woman. The uniform lies flat over his male chest, and his face, while not overly masculine, has been layered somewhat amateurishly with make-up. The foundation is thick, his cheeks are heavily rouged, and his lips stand out for the bright crimson lipstick slaked across them. His eyebrows have been tweazered to fine line, while the red burns of electrolysis still stand out around his upper lip and jawline.
"Sup, grandpa?" he addresses Nathan, and you catch sight of a silver tongue stud.
Nathan plucks a fifty from his wallet and waves it in the cheerleader's face. "Dude. Bro. I bet you totally don't have the balls to suck tongues with my friend here."
Darren arches one plucked eyebrow as he sizes you up. He snatches the note out of Nathan's hand with one manicured hand and smirks. "Yo, old man, get a video of this, will ya, so I can see how badly I beat you."
As Nathan pulls out his camera phone, Darren rises from his seat, smoothing down the mini skirt over his waxed thighs before striding purposefully towards you. Without further ado, and in full view of the restaurant, he climbs into your lap, straddling you, his tight buttocks crushing your member as he leans in, wraps his slim arms around your neck, and presses his mouth to yours. His waxy lips smear against you own, and his tongue plunges into your mouth, the silver stud rattling against your teeth as it slides between them. His mouth tastes strongly of the cappuccino he has been drinking, and you inhale his sickly sweet, flowery perfume as you're forced to breath through your nose.
Repulsed, you try to push him away, but find nowhere else to grip other than the toned, plucked flesh of his bare midriff. As your hands grip abut his slim waist, you admit there is at least something slightly appealing about his grotesque caricature of femininity. You find yourself kissing him back. It has been a while since you've done a college girl. Perhaps this is the best you can hope for these days.
Finally he breaks away, breathing heavily. He licks his lips and grins, before climbing demurely from your lap. Freed from his crushing weight, your erection springs to attention, and you shift uncomfortably, painfully aware that the entire restaurant is watching.
You and the footballer exchange shell-shocked expressions, while Nathan and the cheerleader excitedly watch the video replay on Nathan's phone. "Told you I could do it, old man, I've got balls of steel," he grins, grabbing the flat crotch of his panties. Balls of steel evidently tucked away elsewhere. "Wait until the girls see this. They'll totally freak. Can you send me this?"
"Sure, but I'll need your number."
As they exchange numbers, you rummage around your mouth, locating Darren's wadded-up chewing gum lodged between your teeth. The two college students leave, and Nathan pushes the scrap of paper with Darren's number on it to your side of the table.
"There you go. One mobile number of a dumb-as-shit, slutty fem-boy college cheerleader, willing to do anything you want him to do, just so long as you phrase it as a retarded, necknominate dare. You can thank me later."
Still with the taste of coffee in your mouth, you take the number...   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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