Unfinished Story

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 considerin