Dime A Dance

Hey friends and neighbors. Got another one that finally ended itself. Futa/Male content. Enjoy!

Dime A Dance

A short story by jokermon

This is a work of erotic fantasy fiction. It contains explicit futanari (hermaphrodite) content. If that's not your thing, don't read it. If you are not old enough or otherwise forbidden to read this kind of material according to your local laws, don't read it. This story is copyright the author©2009

Corporal Jack Parmenter staggered off the troop transport at Ellis Island, drunk as a skunk. His ears still rang with the triumphant yells of his fellow soldiers. The word came through just before the New York skyline appeared: Japan had surrendered. Jack’s furlough was now permanent.

The transport’s Captain, misty-eyed with joy, broke with maritime regulations for the first time in his career and let the booze flow free. They celebrated their way into port. No more need to stay quiet. No more light-and-fucking-noise discipline. No more Nazi U-Boat paranoia. No more bastards you’d never met trying to kill you. Nothing but peace and pussy and the rewards of being a man in uniform at the victorious end of what they were already calling the Second World War.

By the time they docked, the whole ship was as liquored and riotous as a Mississippi casino riverboat.

Being on solid ground again threw Jack off balance. Once he got his land legs, the first thing he did was stand at attention and throw the Statue of Liberty his best parade-ground salute.

“Goddamn, it’s great to see you, you big ugly man-faced broad,” he slurred reverently, with tears in his eyes.

The next thing he did was lurch off to get laid. It was early evening, and he had a whole night to kill. The buses didn’t leave for the demobilization center in North Carolina until the next morning. His winnings from the onboard craps game were burning a hole in his pants, and so was his long-denied need for a woman.

It was a beautiful, warm summer evening in the big city. New York in August was hot, he reflected, but nowhere near as hot as Midway Island. The ubiquitous tall buildings, paved streets, hustling crowds and chipper, sassy New York girls almost made him weep for joy. Over and over, he caught himself standing still in the middle of the sidewalk, taking it all in. After the jungles of the South Pacific, the comforting civilization of it all intoxicated him more than all the cheap hooch he’d drunk getting here. It also gave him a big ole happy hard-on as rig