When we first kissed, I understood immediately that intimacy was a possibility for us. Oh my! What a soft and oh-so-kissable mouth. Tongue-to-tongue, French style, as we used to call it when we were in high school. I liked touching your face with my hands, and wondered if your hands were going to explore my body. But no, you indicated that we needed to talk.
Well, I could have used a cold shower to calm down, but it is very important to talk, and to listen. I had already confided in you that I was bi and that I had fun with men. You seemed okay with that, but I wondered if something might wrong.
"You're crying...poor dear!" I could only say as tears suddenly flowed down your cheeks.
"Illyana, I have to confide in you, but only if you promise we'll still be friends."
I tried not to roll my eyes at that.
"Of course, dearest!" I said in my most sympathetic voice. No matter what was going on, I didn't want you to feel unhappy. "Whatever could be the matter? Was it something I did?"
You shook your head. "No, no, it's about me. I'm...not normal."
"Jeez, neither am I!" I laughed, even though I knew you were very, very serious.
"No, just listen. I've been to see Dr. Charles Xavier."
"Xavier? He's an expert in mutant physiology. So you're a- a"
"I'm a mutant, Illyana."
Silence for the longest time. Finally I asked softy, "Are you all right?"
"Yes I'm totally healthy, but I'm different."
"You seem very normal to me!" I offered gently.
You started weeping again. And finally after several minutes you were able to blurt it out. "I have a shecock."
At first I didn't understand.
"I'm a futanari. A woman with a clitoris that grows and becomes like a male penis."
"Oh...so maybe being with me could be unpleasant for you?" I asked, worried that I might be unintentionally causing you pain.
"No, no, I want to be with you so much!" you explained. "I'm just afraid that you might get grossed out or scared."
"I doubt that," I replied steadily. "Jiminy Pete, I have two children, so you can assume I know something about cocks!"
That made you laugh, albeit a bit nervously. I laughed nervously also. I immediately understood how it must be frightening to be differently sexed. At the same time, I wished that you could read my mind, because then you would learn that I am just exactly the right woman for you.
"From what I know, futanarism is usually a very mild mutation...we'll just take it slow...becoming intimate with someone is never easy, and it is always hard to know how it is going to work out. In that way, we are not different than any other couple. We'll just take it slow...when you're ready." I was babbling, but I think it helped, didn't it? You could tell that I was not dissuaded from wanting to be with you, and if anything I might have been getting a little...hot.
"Sometimes I have felt like a mutant also," I went on. I babbled about what it is was like to be an extremely tall girl, over six feet tall in junior high school. That was tall even for Russia, where there were a lot of tall people. I used to be nicknamed the zhiraff (giraffe), and I felt like a freak. It was only in basketball that I started to build some self esteem, as for the first time I was actually cheered for being so tall. I also caught on that some people were ogling my legs when I played, and by the time I turned pro in America, I was a bit of a sensation. Well I don't know that that was very helpful, as there is a big difference in being unusually tall versus having a differently sexed organ, but my point was that some people might not be turned off by physical characteristics, while others might really be attracted to you. That seemed to help you calm down, and you spent the rest of the night sleeping like a baby in my arms. I was a bit restless, but eventually I drifted off to sleep as well. I dreamed about your pretty face and shapely hips and slender legs and firm breasts. I liked the fact that you were of average height but that you seemed to be okay to be with a very tall partner like me.
The next morning we had more hugs and kisses, but I was careful to make sure that I didn't press up against you too close, too soon. I wanted to make it clear that I was going to be supportive, but I did not want to push you too quickly.
You telephoned me the next night, and the night after that. And then we went out again, this time to a modern dance concert, and we sat way in the back so that we could chatter without disturbing others in the audience. We critiqued the music and the dancing, and-how naughty we were- chatted about the dancers' bodies. I like modern dance much more than ballet, because in ballet the dancers all look anorexic (yuck!). Modern dancers are much more sexy. You agreed, and pointed out one of the dancers who was taller than the others. That made me feel good, because I am well over six feet tall, and not everybody likes very tall women. But you made it clear that that was not an issue for you (yes I also have my own list of insecurities!). And yes, I am well aware that some people REALLY like tall women, and ESPECIALLY my long legs. I was already suspecting strongly that you were like that.
During the intermission we chatted playfully about the male dancers. Of course, dancers have to wear a special jock strap thingee, to make their crotches look right. I think you liked hearing me making silly irreverent remarks about male crotches, and their jock strappy under garments. And perhaps you realized that I might well get along with the right cock, be it male or shemale.
So you took me back to your apartment and you made up some herbal tea, and we chatted about choreography and set design and all sorts of wonderful things that go into dance performances. I sat across from you sipping tea listening to your ideas. I was wearing a clinging blue dress, and somehow it just "accidentally" rides up when my legs are crossed so that you can say about 90% of my thighs. Haha! Yes! I caught you looking! I had made up my mind that I was going to do my best to seduce you. Out of politeness, I tried to play it cool, but to tell the truth when I'm with the right person (like YOU, sweetie), I just feel totally irresistible and confident when I know my thighs are being looked at. After all, I am She With the 40 Inch Inseam!
You were wearing a pink dress, kind of elegant, as was suitable for a dance concert Your opaque white hose that made the whole outfit seem warmer and more cozy. We soon wound up sitting together on the couch, which was actually a Japanese style futon bed that folds up to become a couch. I liked it because it was big enough for a two meter sized Amazon, and it was the perfect place to cuddle you.
"Illyana I know my shecock wants you."
Your abruptness kind of surprised me, but I was going to be oh-so-cool. So I smiled sweetly, and said, simply, "When you're ready..."
Wowzers, you were so ready! "Illyana, mutant or not, whether you reject me or call the cops, I'm going to show you what I have."
Gulp! I swallowed nervously. Now you were lifting your dress for me. I could see you trembling as the dress revealed your white hosed kneecaps and your beautiful slender beautiful thighs. Oh goodness! Then I saw that you were wearing a special pantyhose, crotchless in fact. And there was your rich dark pubic hair, much darker than your strawberry blonde hair
" You look perfectly normal to me," I said simply. Was this mutant story all an error?
