Unfinished Story

Story by ojcme622

Inspired by the folks over at the F3 forum, I decided to share an unfinished piece of mine. It's not finished, and I didn't really think I would ever share it because the accent, I think, comes off way too strong. But some people over there seemed to like it, so maybe you guys will too! :)

Please give me comments and criticism. I can't grow as a writer unless you do.

Southern Comfort

(I left the comment in at the beginning just for posterity)

So this story started out as me trying to stay away from just writing postmodern fan fiction, which I've gotten tired of, quite frankly. Instead, I'll be concentrating my efforts of not only improving my writing ability, but providing LONGER STORIES (my major weakness)

Moonlight beamed into a beat up old Ford Pinto, illuminating the entire enclosure, replete with two lovers, awkwardly sitting to either side, both anxious and nervous. One was me, just a simple high school loser. I had never anticipated ever being able to experience what was coming. Our sweat was cascading off our skin, as the fans in the car were off, and it was a damp, warm night in a typical southern bayou. She was perfect, her black dress only accenting her pale complexion, and the beads of sweat were like diamonds forming and moving down her body in the most poetic of ways. Her breasts were watermelons, jutting out from her body and constantly threatening the complete destruction of her dress. Everything about her was something that any man would dream of, and me, a nerdy little loser, actually got to even touch her. She was a goddess. Her name was Trish.

I didn't deserve her, and I knew that from the very get go. I'm the only one she would ever be comfortable with in doing this. Her dress bulged at the cleavage, for growing between those enormous bosoms resides one of the largest cocks I've ever seen.

Thick and long, I remember seeing it once before in our childhood. Of course, back then, she acted like a boy. I remember her talking as if she was one of the guys, and doing all she could to hide the fact that, deep down, she was a hermaphrodite.

One day, we were playing typical kid's games, like “Show me yours and I'll show you mine” and I caught a glimpse of what would later be my obsession. She thought she was a boy at that time, until she found out boys don't have vaginas. Ever since then, I only would glimpse it bulging her clothes, only possible to see if one was looking in the right place. Who else would suspect such a beautiful woman had such a large cock? It was like some kind of secret that both of us shared. Something that would bond us forever.

I had gotten the surprise of my life later on. I saw her again, when she began budding. I was amazed that she was growing breasts. It was absolutely mind bending that the buddy that I grew up with, my childhood friend, would turn out to be a buxom lady.

Southern belle? Nah, she hated that term. It always seemed too typical for her, and considering we both knew what was under her skirt, she was anything but typical. Her beauty defies all Earthly description. She was truly amazing.

She was growing impatient at my constant awkwardness. Her skin flushed, as waves of hormones must be surging through her body, confusing her at every turn. She bit her lip and looked down, showing she was just as unsure as I was. “This was a mistake” she said, with her angelic voice.

“Wait,” I uttered, barely over a whisper. Why was it that your voice always seems to loose itself whenever you want to say something important? “Don't go” I beckoned. I had waited for this for a long time, and I didn't want to stop it. This night isn't just about me, anyways. It's about both of us. This would be beneficial for both of us. It would help us emerge out of our shells, and start to really enjoy life, or so I hear.

I could never have sex with any other woman, because they would lack all the boyish qualities of this beautiful woman. But I could never date any ordinary man, for they would lack all the girlish qualities that she had. She was a strange mix, a hybrid. She was unique in that she was a convergence of two different sexualities.

Before I could even think about what it was that I was doing, I reached over and touched her erection, pressed tightly against her stomach. “I love you” I told her, finally saying something that I never thought I'd be able to say. Her face only got redder and more flushed. I squeezed her cock in my hand, finding it to be hard as a rock. “We can't do this, Nicholas.” She said. Oftentimes, she would use my full name when she was disappointed or angry at me, but I could tell in her eyes that she was just hesitant. She was uncertain of what she would do, or what she might find herself doing. She was scared of herself.

“Please,” I said, in my pathetic, whiny voice. I could barely even manage to say that, and my voice began to get raspy and unclear again. Needless to say,

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