First Time Fuced Outdoors

I put the straw into my mouth, and sucked a mouthful of chocolate milkshake from the cup. It had been sitting long enough that the shake was finally easy to pull through the straw. I looked across from Chris across the booth, and smiled. My morning had started disastrously, but now I was feeling good again. I had something to look forward to.

It was my first of three days off, and when I woke in the morning to fix me a cup of coffee, I stepped into a quarter-inch thick puddle of ice cold water on the kitchen linoleum. The water was so cold that my heart skipped a beat or two, and I temporarily lost the ability to breathe. I stepped back onto the carpet, and peeled my soggy socks from my feet. My cold, wet socks made my feet feel gross. I stood there at the transition between the living room and kitchen, watching the large puddle move. The situation was getting worse. I dressed, and jogged down to the manager's office, but realized it was much too early. There was no one there. I had no idea what to do. I did not feel that a water leak necessitated a call to 911, but seemed too serious just to stand there and watch it get worse.

By the time I made it back home—merely minutes later—the water leak reached the living room carpet. I stated hearing some unusually heavy traffic from my neighbors above me, and I went out to front to see if I could find anything out. I could see my upstairs neighbor, Carrie, pacing—even more exasperated than I was. Carrie was drenched from chest to toe. I went up the stairs, and Carrie told me that her kitchen sink was leaking from below. For the first time in the five years we had been neighbors, I went into her apartment, and stopped short of the kitchen. The cupboard below the sink was open, and I could see her cleaning products stacked on the floor, in the growing puddle. I watched a steady geyser spraying from inside.

Carrie, a small woman my age, pointed at the water as though I had not seen it. "I tried turning the valve-thing under the sink and it broke off in my hand," she said, showing me a valve handle that looked as though it had been sent through an industrial shredder.

"Jesus," I said. "What did you do to it?"

"Nothing," Carrie replied, defensively. "I just twisted it. Do you know what to do?"

I shrugged. "I think I know just about the same about plumbing as you. Have you tried calling anyone?"

"I tried calling my boyfriend," Carrie replied. "But we've been fighting, and the bastard isn't picking up."

I subtly rolled my eyes, hoping I was not going to fall into a breakup rant.

"I just don't know what to do," Carrie said. She picked up a hoover carpet cleaner—only slightly larger than a vacuum cleaner, and started picking up water. In about five seconds, the tank filled up.

"Do you know anyone to call?" she asked.

I was about to tell her to call a plumber when I pulled out my cell phone. I initially thought about calling Derek—my sometimes boyfriend—before remembering that he was out of town. A cousin of his had passed away in Vermont. I had my phone out, and stared at my pathetically short contacts list of about ten people. One of those people was Chris, a man that I had a threesome with Derek once, and once been filmed by Derek having a good fuck session. I remembered that Derek said that Chris worked in maintenance of the plant he had worked. I thought that Chris liked me, and could help me out. Usually, I like to text, but thought that would have taken too much time. Chris picked up on the second ring.

"Chris," I said. "I hope you aren't busy. I need some help."

"No, I'm good," Chris replied. "I'm off Thursday-Fridays. What's up?"

"My upstairs neighbor has a leak," I replied. By this time, Carrie had dumped the water down the drain, and put the tank back in the carpet extractor. She resumed sucking water from her carpet. I had to step out of the apartment, the hoover was so loud.

"And it's getting into my apartment," I went on. "She tried turning the valve, but the handle broke in her hand. The apartment manager and maintenance isn't here yet. There's a lot of water."

"Okay," Chris said. "You're going to have to find the main water valve, and shut it off."

"Chris," I replied. "You might as well tell me to find the holy grail. I'm in an apartment, and have no idea where the main water valve is. I don't even know what to look for."

"Where are you at?" Chris asked.

"I'm at The Standard apartments off 51st avenue and Northern."

"51st avenue and Northern," Chris replied. "Well, I'm not far away. I'm getting gas at 35th avenue and Cactus. I can be there in five or ten minutes. What apartment number?"

"Well, I live in 136," I replied. "I'm currently in 236, dealing with this mess. Please hurry. You think you can help?"

"Well, I can get the water shut off," Chris replied. "Not a whole lot I can do about the water. I don't have an extractor."

"No," I said. "That will be fine. If you get the water shut off, maybe I'll buy you breakfast. How's that sound?"

"Give me five minutes."

"Go through the first gates," I said. "Go past the second dumpster, and park anywhere."

I hung up the phone, and watched Carrie dump another gallon of water down the drain. A hundred pound woman with a small hoover, I watched the water creep and build as though it was a slow moving tsunami.

Chris was true to his word. In less than five minutes, I heard car door slam, and I got a phone call.

"I'm here," he said.

I walked out, and leaned over the railing. "I'm up here," I said, waving my arms so he could see me.

Chris jogged upstairs, with a pair of channel lock pliers in his hand. I lifted my hand to the door, and followed him in.

"Carrie, this is my...friend Chris," I said. "He's here to help shut the water off."

Carrie shut the hoover off, and turned to Chris. "Oh," she said, smiling, and looking Chris over.

I felt a slight sting of jealousy, hoping that Chris would pay no attention to Carrie. If I had not been directly involved in Carrie's flood, I may have tried to direct Chris away from the apartment.

Chris took a step in side and saw the water on the floor. "It's worse than I thought," he whispered. "Okay. Give me a second to find the main."

I stepped back to give Chris some room. He walked out of the apartment, and jogged down the steps. I stayed upstairs with Carrie. In the matter of moments, the water slowed and stopped completely. I breathed a sigh of relief. Not a total sigh, because I didn't know how bad the damage downstairs had gotten. But at least I had a light at the end of the tunnel.

Chris jogged back upstairs. "Did that do it?"

"Yes," I replied. "The water has stopped."

"Good," Chris replied. "Where's your apartment."

"Downstairs," I said. "Right below this one. If it's not in worse shape than this one, it probably soon will be. Christ, I really don't want to deal with this right now."

The damage to my apartment was not yet as bad as I had thought. The puddle seemed to stop at the carpet, but I knew there was still a lot of water upstairs that would leak down to me. There was no point in panicking or getting upset. I was insured, and nothing personal had been affected. I hung around for the apartment manager to come; Carrie's neighbor had the man's cell number, and he came promptly. Within a half hour, a water restoration team was on site, but I did not have a need to stick around and watch them work. My apartment was not at a total loss; just needed some drywall and the carpet removed. Meanwhile, I decided to get lost as the water team started the cleanup.

Chris had stayed with me the entire time; I wondered whether it was because I had promised a free breakfast, or maybe he had wanted something else. After the morning I was having, I wanted a little something as well.

Chris drove me to a Denny's not far from my apartment, and we ordered breakfast. It was late enough in the morning—slightly late for breakfast, but too early for lunch—and the Denny's was not busy. Aside from me and Chris, there were perhaps a half-dozen patron sporadically seated. We had some space to ourselves. I was still bummed about my apartment, and indulgently ordered a chocolate milkshake. Through breakfast, me and Chris had the first actual conversation between us. Up until that point, in was almost entirely genital between us. Turned out he actually had things to say; he was curious about me, and not afraid to ask. He started off asking about me and Derek, before moving to the more personal questions.

"I've always been curious," Chris said. "Why doesn't Derek ever take care of you? And you never asked me to."

I sipped from my milkshake and swallowed. "In what way?"

"You know, take care of you," Chris said. "I believe the word is reciprocate."

"Because I'm weird," I replied, smiling. "I guess the short answer is that when I'm looking for fun with men, I'm not looking for that kind of fun."

"So you like women, too?" Chris asked.

"Well, mainly men," I replied. "Very mainly men. Kind of hard to explain. I don't associate that kind of sex with men. I don't know, I guess you can say that I like being manhandled. I like pleasing men. I think that it is hot to get—" I lowered my voice. "—fucked like a girl."

'So, what do you get out of it?" Chris said. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I know that sex is good, but I don't know. I want to get mine. You know. I don't want to sound shallow, but without getting mine, there wouldn't see much of a point in sex."

"Oh, I get mine," I replied. "More than one. First the thrill of pleasing a man, and then I'll take care of myself later. It's just something that I do. I'm totally okay with that."

"But you would never want to let a man—take care of you?"

I smiled. "There's only one way I want a man to take care of me. Unless the other really wanted to. But it's not really something I'm into. Is it something you were thinking about?"

Chris shook his head. "No. Can't say that I have ever given much thought to it. But I've always been the giver, you know."

I looked down, and smiled. "Yeah, I picked that up about you. But what about you? Is it primarily women or men?"

"Primarily women," Chris said. "Much for the same reasons. Like I said, I don't want to sound messed up, but I don't get much out of the other parts."

"I'm obviously fine with that," I replied.

"But, I'll say one thing," Chris said. "Now, I haven't been with a lot of guys, but the sex is much more...intense with guys. Not just on their part. Here is my thing, and it may be another messed up way to look at things. I'm a man, and I know how much men like sex. But the thing is, I'm not sure I'm sold that women like it as much as we do. I think they get short changed more often than not. But when I'm with a guy, I look at him and know that he would not be here in this situation unless he really wanted to be. And regardless of what kind of sex you're having, it is always better when you believe the other person wants you there."

"That's an interesting take," I replied. "And I think that I am pretty much the same way. Now, I have been with a few guys in my time. And I knew that I was wanted—lusted after—every time. You have no idea how good it feels to be lusted after. Just that alone is hot."

"I bet," Chris said.

The waitress came by with the little checkbook in hand. She initially tried to hand it to Chris, but I intercepted it before he had a chance to reach for it. After all, I had promised him a free breakfast.

"How was everything today?" the waitress asked.

I pulled out my debit card, and slid it in the little pocket of the checkbook. "Good," I replied. "Everything was good."

"Well, that's good," the waitress said. "You can feel free to pay up front whenever you want. You want me to clear these plates for you?"

Me and Chris scooted away from the table, giving the waitress time to stack the plates, and take them with her. I waited until she walked away before speaking.

"So," I said, "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"Honestly," Chris said. "I didn't have much planned. I was going to wash my truck—but that was as exciting as my plans were. I'm actually glad that you called."

"You were?" I said, looking down again, and taking another sip of chocolate shake.

"Yes, I was," Chris replied. "With Derek out of town, I didn't have much of an outlet. Probably was going to spend most of the day on Call of Duty. But there are only so many wars you can fight. What about you? Day off?"

"Day off," I replied. "I was just going to hang out myself. Probably read most of the day. I'm kind of glad I called you, too."

"So, what did you have in mind today?" Chris asked.

I could not help but blush—all the things that rushed through my mind. "Oh I don't know. We can think of something. I'd invite you back to my place, but you know my situation."

"Yeah," Chris replied. "And my asshole roommate his home all day. Worse, he has his girlfriend over with her two kids. They aren't bad and all, but basically just hang out on the couch and watch TV."

"Yeah, that can be awkward," I said.

"Especially when she and my roommate go to the room," Chris replied. "They will just leave me out there with the kids. And while the kids are young—pre-teens—I'm sure they still know what is going on in that back bedroom. Yes, I was planning to wash the hell out of the truck today."

"Well, maybe I can help you," I said.

Chris thought for a few seconds, "Oh, I think we can do better than that."

"I think so, too," I replied. "You're up to having some fun?"

Chris nodded. "I'm always up for that."

"Then, what do you want to do?" I asked. "Get a hotel room?"

Chris did not answer for a few seconds. "I don't know. I was thinking of trying something...new."

I leaned forward. "I'm all ears. What do you have in mind?"

"Well, you know getting filmed was hot," Chris said.

"You want to do it on camera again?"

Chris shook his head. "At some point, yes. But I was thinking about something else. You ever have sex outside?"

I shook my head, and pulled away from the table. "No, I haven't. It's pretty scary, you know? We live in a place that will put you on a sex offenders list for peeing in public."

"I know," Chris replied. "I know. But I have an idea. There is a place that I used to hiking off Cave Creek. It doesn't get a lot of traffic. And there's this place I know of, it's kind of nestled down into the hill. There's a pretty good view of the city there. But it's not a place that's easy to get to. It'll give us some space."

I traced the lip of my glass with my fingertip, and sucked it clean. "Sounds risky. Risky, but fun. I'm not really the hiking type, though."

"Come on," Chris said. "It's not hard to get there, I promise. No rock climbing involved. Let's go take a look, and see how it feels. If it feels too weird, we'll turn back and get a hotel room."

I grabbed the receipt, and stood up. "All right. Let's do it. You should drive though. You know where we're going."

Chris pulled his keys from his pocket, and jangled them. "Let's get out of here."

Chris merged into traffic, and I told him that I wanted to stop off at the store before we get where we were going.

"What for?" Chris said.

"A couple things," I replied. "I want to pick up some KY, and something more comfortable to wear."

Chris nodded, and pulled into a Walmart along the way. He made no motion to get out with me, and I was fine with that. I did not plan on leaving him out there for long. He offered a twenty-dollar bill to me, and I declined.

All told, I left him out in the truck seven minutes. I shopped quickly, and for the first time in my life, I used a self-checkout. I did not want anyone critiquing my purchases—I had bought more than I planned for.

I tossed my bags into the truck, and Chris hooked a finger in one of the loops, and pulled a bag open. "Well, what do we have here."

I climbed in the truck, and yanked the bag away from him. "Just some things," I replied. "One thing led to another in there."

I pulled out my main purchase, it was a denim skirt. Chris nearly drove into a parked car realizing what it was.

"Don't get the wrong idea," I said. For some reason, I was unable to look at him while he eyed my skirt. "I bought this for practical reasons."

"Practical reasons," Chris replied.

"Yes, practical reasons," I replied. "In case someone comes across us. Look, no matter how we do it, I'm going to be more exposed than you are. With this thing, I can stand up, and straighten it out quickly. I'd rather someone see me in a skirt than scrambling naked."

Chris nodded. "I see. And what's with the other clothes?"

I sighed, and pulled out the rest: A woman's white camisole, and pair of silk panties that matched the shirt. "The rest is basically for cosmetic reasons. I wouldn't look right wearing my regular shirt and boxer-briefs in the skirt."

"I can't wait to see it on you," Chris said. "I'm sure you're going to be hot."

"I don't know," I replied. "First doing it outdoors, and I'm basically doing it full tranny."

"You've never gone full dress up?" Chris asked.

I shook my head. "No. Not really my thing. Occasionally, I'll wear a pair of panties, but that's as far as it I'd go. And again, it is for basically cosmetic reasons."

"Cosmetic reasons," Chris said.

"Yeah," I replied. "Don't want it to sound like I'm stuck up or anything, but a good pair of panties make my ass look amazing."

"I'd have to agree with you, there," Chris said.

"But the rest is not really my thing," I said. "First off, up until about three minutes ago, I didn't think that I'd ever be able to walk into a store and buy women's garments. I wouldn't today, if I wasn't so horny. Secondly, I know I usually wear a top during sex, but I don't really feel there's a point to go all out with clothes. I don't see a reason that I have to dress the part. Yes, I like to get fucked like a girl, but it doesn't take a dress and makeup to achieve that, you know?"

"Obviously," Chris said.

"Why?" I asked. "Would you like to see me go all in? Clothes, and makeup?"

"Not really," Chris said. "I'll take you just the way you are. But I am a bit curious to see how you would look made up."

"Hmmm," I said. "Maybe we can arrange that. You dangle that penis of yours at me, and you could get me to dress up as an Oompa Loompa."

We were driving down an isolated stretch of road, and there was two cars a few lengths ahead of us, and one car directly behind us. But it was a lowered Civic, and could not see much if they wanted to.

Chris then unzipped his fly, and pulled his cock out. Within a couple strokes, it was fully erect. Again, Chris' cock was not the largest, but was the most perfect cock I had ever had. It's color, symmetry—even size was perfect. He had the cock of a porn star, which was one of the reasons why Derek filmed us.

"How's this for dangling?" he asked.

"Very nice," I said. I leaned over, and grabbed his penis, stroking it for him. "I love your cock. It's the best cock I've ever had."

I then looked both ways—gauging the distance of the cars behind and ahead of us. I leaned across his lap, and started licking the head of Chris' cock.

"Just keep your eyes on the road and maintain your distance between cars," I said, wrapping my lips around his cock, and bobbing my head.

I nearly stopped when I heard the tires bump over the center lines as Chris veered softly to the left.

"Sorry about that," Chris said. "I've never done this before."

"I never have either," I replied. "Just drive, and let me do the rest, will you?"

I blew Chris for another mile, until we came to a red light. His precum was stating to taste strong—and I knew he would have cum if I went on much longer. But I didn't want him to cum yet. We had a whole day ahead of us, and I did not want to spend him too quickly.