Goldenrod Ch. 01

What I wrote in my paper was what I felt then: I like girls, I'm not attracted to boys; also that I want to be dominated (I'm very submissive) but I could never give up control. I'm too willful. That is the information that got to Mikaela, the T.A. for my psychology class. I didn't know it then but Professor Branning was making her grade all the papers while he taught the classes, and gave the students the impression that he would be the only one reading those things. I knew who Mikaela was but at the time I thought she was a male. I'd seen her conferring with Dr Branning at his desk before and after classes. She had short brown hair, thick glasses; she dressed like a boy, moved like one, and even talked like one you'd agree if you ever heard her. If you didn't look too closely you wouldn't notice her generous hips in her tight black jeans or her apple breasts in her black cotton jacket. At the time I had no reason to believe I needed to know anything about her (there were always random people milling around the professor) so her appearance completely fooled me. She however had learned something about me.

The papers were submitted anonymously, but with my handwriting all over mine it didn't take her long to figure out who wrote the things I'd written. Being really smart probably didn't slow her down either. Still when I got a request in my mailbox to meet her at the student theater at a time when all the actors, professors and crew would have gone, I was completely in the dark to what was going on. I thought at worst it could be some college prank and I was feeling up for adventure that night so I went anyway, hoping that Security wouldn't find me and throw me out before I found out what was happening. The front door was the kind you need a key to open from the outside, but it was held open by a leaning broom. I sensed that this was for me, and I let it slam shut behind me when I'd entered the building so that no one else could follow. This was when I realized we'd be totally alone, my mysterious messenger and me.

She was standing amidst some furniture on the stage. I recognized her instantly and also received the shock that she was female. When she noticed me in there she turned to the dark seats, and asked, "Tom, is that you?"

"Yes, yes it's me. I don't think we've met..."

"Yeah, sorry. I guess this seems pretty dramatic." I laughed at that. "Would you come up here on the stage with me, please?"

I crept through the aisles to the side of the stage and climbed the small steps there, then walked over to her at center stage in the light. We were standing between a big bed and a tall mirror. She was wearing her usual dark jacket, dark jeans, dark hiking boots, and a green sweater. She eyed me through her glasses with great pleasure that put me at ease. Her hair was just too short to be tousled, and there was no mistaking her presence which was one of pure masculinity. We were the same height and after sizing her up I had the impression that I was stronger than she was, but she watched me back like an equal. She introduced herself and we shook hands. Then she got to business in her honest manner.

"Tom, I want you to know first of all that we're alone here, and there's no chance whatsoever we'll be disturbed. I'm in charge of this theater now, and I've seen to that."

"Okay. I thought you were a Psych major."

"I'm doing a double major, and I hope to go into psychiatry after that."

"Impressive. And admirable." She nodded her appreciation.

"Tom, you don't mind me calling you that do you? I know we just met. Tom, I'm the one who read your paper for Dr Branning about gender identity."

"Oh," I said.

"You should know you can trust me completely."

"Alright. Is this an official visit?"

"That part's tricky. I'm not licensed as anything as yet, and there's really no way I could know it was you who wrote those sentiments, except of course I do know it was you. I figured it out."

"Smart." At that, she smiled.

"We're just two college students who I feel have similar interests, and that's the only way I should advise you to see this."

"Right, but we could be a trio if I mention this to Branning."

"I think you should listen to what I have to say." Her voice was smooth and low with authority and humor. I marveled at her confidence as she spoke. I don't know if I was attracted to her, exactly. If I was, it wasn't in the usual way that I wanted a girl. When she motioned for me to sit on the bed, I shrugged and obliged her happily.

"Tom, do you know anything about psychodrama?"

With that she began to explain what she'd brought me there for. After reading my paper, she told me, she'd come to the conclusion that she knew precisely what I needed. As it turned out, it coincided perfectly with what she needed. To make a long story short, without either of us really knowing the other at all, she'd brought me down there to perform a sexual act with her.

"It's expected that you'll agree. We can help each other, it's obvious. What do you say?"

"I still don't understand why it has to be here."

"You want to be used by a girl, but you won't let yourself go through with it. On this stage, you're not you, you're free of inhibitions. I need to be somebody else to do what I want, which is to take you. Mikaela the woman can't do it, but with a script, which I've prepared already, and which you won't need to see, I can function adequately."

"You seem pretty capable without it." This compliment, she ignored.

"It's not that simple. I promise we're completely alone and this building is private. You have all the facts, now. I need a yes or no." With that I was certain if I'd replied in the negative, she'd simply walk away and never mention another word about the evening to anybody, nor admit she knew about it if anyone ever asked her. That would be the end of it. I knew though that she was coercing me, perhaps despite my better judgment, and there was a strange sort of truth in what she'd said. Also there was something graceful and exciting about her. I couldn't refuse.

We agreed to each take a different side of the stage to get ready. While I was disrobing I felt the temperature of the air go up and I assumed she'd done it with a thermostat. I was back on stage first, back in the light. A quick nervous glance to the seats told me the place was still empty. In my boxers only, and with one hand clutching my other arm at my side, I sat down on the bed and waited for her.

She finally appeared smiling triumphantly, almost sneering really, with a bottle of lube in her left hand. She strutted out slowly in feet covered only by thick white tube socks with blue stripes, pulled way up to her knees. Her pale legs were simultaneously boyish and female, it's hard to describe. She wore a white t-shirt and still had her glasses on. Over a pair of white boy's briefs she wore a strap-on dildo harness with a large dick and balls the color of her skin. A little imagination made the penis appear to extend from the hole on the front of her undies, and the white bands holding it in place seemed to form a securely fastened jock strap around her hips. Her transformation complete, she was fully male now in both mind and body.

Mikaela stood by the bed, squeezed some lube into her hand, and dropped the bottle. The thud echoed ominously. With both hands she enthusiastically coated the shaft she was wearing, which seemed to pulse and spasm under the house lights. She smiled down at me, friendly and somehow very square. Aside from the fact that she was a girl who was about to fuck a man in the ass, there was really nothing eccentric about her personality. Clapping once and scraping the spittle off her lips with her teeth she commanded me to put my hands on the bed and present my rear to her. I obeyed her again without question.

"Let's see what's in here." While squatting, she dragged down my flannel shorts at both sides. Then she changed the speed of her movements to carefully remove them from each leg at floor level. She constantly alternated like that between urgency and clinical precision. In the mirror she looked assured and sporty as she stood up.

I heard her take a deep breath, savoring the moment. I felt her hands on my hips, clamping like claws and kneading. I adjusted the position of my own hands to more pleasingly display my ass to her. Before I even felt anything, she had lunged forward with her hands locked on my pelvis, entering me, suspending her shoulders above my back, and giving a long soft moan. I felt the cock like a fist inside me, and froze. She had frozen, too. For a moment I wondered if she had lost consciousness. Then the stockinged feet on either side of mine shuffled slightly, barely audibly, and a quick breath passed into her mouth followed by a ragged sigh. The penis pressed terribly, as my own timidly stirred to life. She'll make a great doctor, I thought, remembering a shot I'd once received while distracted from my fear of needles my a conspiring nurse.

Without further hesitation, she began rocking forward heavily about once per second, keeping the shaft buried all the way inside me to let it finish stretching me out. The bed squeaked in time with each lunge. Blood was rushing into my head and with what was happening I feared I might pass out, or freak out, but she kept fucking steadily, finally allowing the phallus to slip out a little each time she moved in reverse, so she could press it in again with every forward lurch. I sensed her looking down at it, taking in the sight as I was taking in the weight, and with a quick glance to the mirror which she'd placed there for this reason I saw myself being fucked in the ass by a star athlete. My reaction to that was to let my head sway below my shoulders lifelessly, and to concentrate on the sensation. It hurt but I enjoyed knowing it was pleasing her, and that was better than physical pleasure. My cock was now completely erect, and pointing at my face. She had straightened her spine and her long legs, and was leisurely swaying to and fro with her hands swinging my hips in opposite time with her own.

Again I caught sight of the mirror, and saw a simulation of gay sex: the white tube socks and white shirt mixing with her smart haircut and bright, serious face; the tyrannical, indulgent lapping of the long cock in and out of me; the veined length sliding menacingly; the consistent maleness of the image of the two of us together; the absolute surrender of my eagerly exposed ass to her; the bed shuddering; the strength and height of her trim frame as she worked; the relentless repetition of her sexy hips moving in, in, in, in, in. I watched as she leaned forward and slid her left hand under my left shoulder, and then I took my eyes off the mirror and leaned back at her as she grabbed my stiff dick with her right hand and began pumping it with insistent tenderness. Still she carefully drove her beautiful cotton-lined ass cheeks forward to run me through me with the latex baton, her aim perfect and her motion smooth as both of her hands immobilized me. I began crying out each time she forcefully pushed into me, and she withdrew her hands and straightened her back again.

With her hands on my waist she walked us both forward like two people in a horse costume. My knees came in contact with the bed and slid onto it. Her cock held inside me easily, she followed me up onto the mattress so that we were both completely off of the floor. Roughly, her hand bent me down by the back of my neck, and then both were gripping my hips again. Her lean white thighs rubbing warmly against mine, she began thrusting dynamically to orgasm. If I weren't approaching the throes of my own explosion, I might have watched the mirror in shock as she lost control. The animal locomotion of anal sex grew in speed and power, and in yet another way -through sheer physical vigor, this time- I watched her transform herself into a boy. Intent only on the pursuit of her pleasure through the haze of lights and the odor of her moistening gym clothes, she railed me determinedly, her eyes pointed down to watch the dick piston in and out with increasing frequency.

"Ah! Ah!! Ah!!!" she cried as it happened, but I came off a moment before she could, and as I bucked and spurted I sent the dick that was lodged inside me churning back into the frothing mound in her Y-fronts, reverse-dildoing her until spasms seized her and her head flew back open-mouthed to send choked screams up into the night. She collapsed on top of me and sent the storm of vibration returning through the dildo to my ass, where it shook the strength from my limbs and sent me onto my belly, and her along with me. Still floundering as though electrocuted we became a tangled mass of limbs and sensations, cries and gasps escaping us for entire minutes afterward like bubbles of prehistoric gas breaking on the surface of a tar pool.

The next time we did it we kissed as lovers and let our hands explore every soft, shapely curve and rounded plane of each other's bodies (maneuvering knowingly around our erect cocks) with a sudden and irrevocable familiarity between us. We took turns penetrating each other's asses for hours, but despite the new intimacy that was guiding us she never slackened nor slowed her thrusts when she was nailing me. I tried to give as good as I got but she was a true artist with the strap-on.

Toward the end of the night, I was a mess and so was the bed, and I was sprawled on it. I watched her standing in profile as she beamed that bright smile down at me again, one of her socks bunched around her ankle, the glow of her rigors making her sweat glisten, her hand lubing up the rod for the finale.

"Feel good?" she asked.

"I didn't know I could be this happy," I said, anticipating her reentry.

"Next time, you see, we won't need the theater."

She climbed up onto my back, and directed the head of the dick to my asshole. With her fists on the mattress at my shoulders, she rolled her hips forward to slide the thick cock inside me once more. She shivered momentarily with excitement, and started pumping raucously so that the worn out bed creaked loudly yet again.What I wrote in my paper was what I felt then: I like girls, I'm not attracted to boys; also that I want to be dominated (I'm very submissive) but I could never give up control. I'm too willful. That is the information that got to Mikaela, the T.A. for my psychology class. I didn't know it then but Professor Branning was making her grade all the papers while he taught the classes, and gave the students the impression that he would be the only one reading those things. I knew who Mikaela was but at the time I thought she was a male. I'd seen her conferring with Dr Branning at his desk before and after classes. She had short brown hair, thick glasses; she dressed like a boy, moved like one, and even talked like one you'd agree if you ever heard her. If you didn't look too closely you wouldn't notice her generous hips in her tight black jeans or her apple breasts in her black cotton jacket. At the time I had no reason to believe I needed to know anything about her (there were always random people milling around the professor) so her appearance completely fooled me. She however had learned something about me.

The papers were submitted anonymously, but with my handwriting all over mine it didn't take her long to figure out who wrote the things I'd written. Being really smart probably didn't slow her down either. Still when I got a request in my mailbox to meet her at the student theater at a time when all the actors, professors and crew would have gone, I was completely in the dark to what was going on. I thought at worst it could be some college prank and I was feeling up for adventure that night so I went anyway, hoping that Security wouldn't find me and throw me out before I found out what was happening. The front door was the kind you need a key to open from the outside, but it was held open by a leaning broom. I sensed that this was for me, and I let it slam shut behind me when I'd entered the building so that no one else could follow. This was when I realized we'd be totally alone, my mysterious messenger and me.

She was standing amidst some furniture on the stage. I recognized her instantly and also received the shock that she was female. When she noticed me in there she turned to the dark seats, and asked, "Tom, is that you?"

"Yes, yes it's me. I don't think we've met..."

"Yeah, sorry. I guess this seems pretty dramatic." I laughed at that. "Would you come up here on the stage with me, please?"

I crept through the aisles to the side of the stage and climbed the small steps there, then walked over to her at center stage in the light. We were standing between a big bed and a tall mirror. She was wearing her usual dark jacket, dark jeans, dark hiking boots, and a green sweater. She eyed me through her glasses with great pleasure that put me at ease. Her hair was just too short to be tousled, and there was no mistaking her presence which was one of pure masculinity. We were the same height and after sizing her up I had the impression that I was stronger than she was, but she watched me back like an equal. She introduced herself and we shook hands. Then she got to business in her honest manner.

"Tom, I want you to know first of all that we're alone here, and there's no chance whatsoever we'll be disturbed. I'm in charge of this theater now, and I've seen to that."

"Okay. I thought you were a Psych major."

"I'm doing a double major, and I hope to go into psychiatry after that."

"Impressive. And admirable." She nodded her appreciation.

"Tom, you don't mind me calling you that do you? I know we just met. Tom, I'm the one who read your paper for Dr Branning about gender identity."

"Oh," I said.

"You should know you can trust me completely."

"Alright. Is this an official visit?"

"That part's tricky. I'm not licensed as anything as yet, and there's really no way I could know it was you who wrote those sentiments, except of course I do know it was you. I figured it out."

"Smart." At that, she smiled.

"We're just two college students who I feel have similar interests, and that's the only way I should advise you to see this."

"Right, but we could be a trio if I mention this to Branning."

"I think you should listen to what I have to say." Her voice was smooth and low with authority and humor. I marveled at her confidence as she spoke. I don't know if I was attracted to her, exactly. If I was, it wasn't in the usual way that I wanted a girl. When she motioned for me to sit on the bed, I shrugged and obliged her happily.

"Tom, do you know anything about psychodrama?"

With that she began to explain what she'd brought me there for. After reading my paper, she told me, she'd come to the conclusion that she knew precisely what I needed. As it turned out, it coincided perfectly with what she needed. To make a long story short, without either of us really knowing the other at all, she'd brought me down there to perform a sexual act with her.

"It's expected that you'll agree. We can help each other, it's obvious. What do you say?"

"I still don't understand why it has to be here."

"You want to be used by a girl, but you won't let yourself go through with it. On this stage, you're not you, you're free of inhibitions. I need to be somebody else to do what I want, which is to take you. Mikaela the woman can't do it, but with a script, which I've prepared already, and which you won't need to see, I can function adequately."

"You seem pretty capable without it." This compliment, she ignored.

"It's not that simple. I promise we're completely alone and this building is private. You have all the facts, now. I need a yes or no." With that I was certain if I'd replied in the negative, she'd simply walk away and never mention another word about the evening to anybody, nor admit she knew about it if anyone ever asked her. That would be the end of it. I knew though that she was coercing me, perhaps despite my better judgment, and there was a strange sort of truth in what she'd said. Also there was something graceful and exciting about her. I couldn't refuse.

We agreed to each take a different side of the stage to get ready. While I was disrobing I felt the temperature of the air go up and I assumed she'd done it with a thermostat. I was back on stage first, back in the light. A quick nervous glance to the seats told me the place was still empty. In my boxers only, and with one hand clutching my other arm at my side, I sat down on the bed and waited for her.

She finally appeared smiling triumphantly, almost sneering really, with a bottle of lube in her left hand. She strutted out slowly in feet covered only by thick white tube socks with blue stripes, pulled way up to her knees. Her pale legs were simultaneously boyish and female, it's hard to describe. She wore a white t-shirt and still had her glasses on. Over a pair of white boy's briefs she wore a strap-on dildo harness with a large dick and balls the color of her skin. A little imagination made the penis appear to extend from the hole on the front of her undies, and the white bands holding it in place seemed to form a securely fastened jock strap around her hips. Her transformation complete, she was fully male now in both mind and body.

Mikaela stood by the bed, squeezed some lube into her hand, and dropped the bottle. The thud echoed ominously. With both hands she enthusiastically coated the shaft she was wearing, which seemed to pulse and spasm under the house lights. She smiled down at me, friendly and somehow very square. Aside from the fact that she was a girl who was about to fuck a man in the ass, there was really nothing eccentric about her personality. Clapping once and scraping the spittle off her lips with her teeth she commanded me to put my hands on the bed and present my rear to her. I obeyed her again without question.

"Let's see what's in here." While squatting, she dragged down my flannel shorts at both sides. Then she changed the speed of her movements to carefully remove them from each leg at floor level. She constantly alternated like that between urgency and clinical precision. In the mirror she looked assured and sporty as she stood up.

I heard her take a deep breath, savoring the moment. I felt her hands on my hips, clamping like claws and kneading. I adjusted the position of my own hands to more pleasingly display my ass to her. Before I even felt anything, she had lunged forward with her hands locked on my pelvis, entering me, suspending her shoulders above my back, and giving a long soft moan. I felt the cock like a fist inside me, and froze. She had frozen, too. For a moment I wondered if she had lost consciousness. Then the stockinged feet on either side of mine shuffled slightly, barely audibly, and a quick breath passed into her mouth followed by a ragged sigh. The penis pressed terribly, as my own timidly stirred to life. She'll make a great doctor, I thought, remembering a shot I'd once received while distracted from my fear of needles my a conspiring nurse.

Without further hesitation, she began rocking forward heavily about once per second, keeping the shaft buried all the way inside me to let it finish stretching me out. The bed squeaked in time with each lunge. Blood was rushing into my head and with what was happening I feared I might pass out, or freak out, but she kept fucking steadily, finally allowing the phallus to slip out a little each time she moved in reverse, so she could press it in again with every forward lurch. I sensed her looking down at it, taking in the sight as I was taking in the weight, and with a quick glance to the mirror which she'd placed there for this reason I saw myself being fucked in the ass by a star athlete. My reaction to that was to let my head sway below my shoulders lifelessly, and to concentrate on the sensation. It hurt but I enjoyed knowing it was pleasing her, and that was better than physical pleasure. My cock was now completely erect, and pointing at my face. She had straightened her spine and her long legs, and was leisurely swaying to and fro with her hands swinging my hips in opposite time with her own.

Again I caught sight of the mirror, and saw a simulation of gay sex: the white tube socks and white shirt mixing with her smart haircut and bright, serious face; the tyrannical, indulgent lapping of the long cock in and out of me; the veined length sliding menacingly; the consistent maleness of the image of the two of us together; the absolute surrender of my eagerly exposed ass to her; the bed shuddering; the strength and height of her trim frame as she worked; the relentless repetition of her sexy hips moving in, in, in, in, in. I watched as she leaned forward and slid her left hand under my left shoulder, and then I took my eyes off the mirror and leaned back at her as she grabbed my stiff dick with her right hand and began pumping it with insistent tenderness. Still she carefully drove her beautiful cotton-lined ass cheeks forward to run me through me with the latex baton, her aim perfect and her motion smooth as both of her hands immobilized me. I began crying out each time she forcefully pushed into me, and she withdrew her hands and straightened her back again.

With her hands on my waist she walked us both forward like two people in a horse costume. My knees came in contact with the bed and slid onto it. Her cock held inside me easily, she followed me up onto the mattress so that we were both completely off of the floor. Roughly, her hand bent me down by the back of my neck, and then both were gripping my hips again. Her lean white thighs rubbing warmly against mine, she began thrusting dynamically to orgasm. If I weren't approaching the throes of my own explosion, I might have watched the mirror in shock as she lost control. The animal locomotion of anal sex grew in speed and power, and in yet another way -through sheer physical vigor, this time- I watched her transform herself into a boy. Intent only on the pursuit of her pleasure through the haze of lights and the odor of her moistening gym clothes, she railed me determinedly, her eyes pointed down to watch the dick piston in and out with increasing frequency.

"Ah! Ah!! Ah!!!" she cried as it happened, but I came off a moment before she could, and as I bucked and spurted I sent the dick that was lodged inside me churning back into the frothing mound in her Y-fronts, reverse-dildoing her until spasms seized her and her head flew back open-mouthed to send choked screams up into the night. She collapsed on top of me and sent the storm of vibration returning through the dildo to my ass, where it shook the strength from my limbs and sent me onto my belly, and her along with me. Still floundering as though electrocuted we became a tangled mass of limbs and sensations, cries and gasps escaping us for entire minutes afterward like bubbles of prehistoric gas breaking on the surface of a tar pool.

The next time we did it we kissed as lovers and let our hands explore every soft, shapely curve and rounded plane of each other's bodies (maneuvering knowingly around our erect cocks) with a sudden and irrevocable familiarity between us. We took turns penetrating each other's asses for hours, but despite the new intimacy that was guiding us she never slackened nor slowed her thrusts when she was nailing me. I tried to give as good as I got but she was a true artist with the strap-on.

Toward the end of the night, I was a mess and so was the bed, and I was sprawled on it. I watched her standing in profile as she beamed that bright smile down at me again, one of her socks bunched around her ankle, the glow of her rigors making her sweat glisten, her hand lubing up the rod for the finale.

"Feel good?" she asked.

"I didn't know I could be this happy," I said, anticipating her reentry.

"Next time, you see, we won't need the theater."

She climbed up onto my back, and directed the head of the dick to my asshole. With her fists on the mattress at my shoulders, she rolled her hips forward to slide the thick cock inside me once more. She shivered momentarily with excitement, and started pumping raucously so that the worn out bed creaked loudly yet again.

goldenrod

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