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  • Finding Myself Ch. 01: Julia

Finding Myself Ch. 01: Julia

12

!--My first ever story about a person testing their identity, who they have chosen to be, and of course sex with someone you picked up at a bar.--!

     The process itself had only taken about an hour. It was a large half room sized machine with a conspicuously human shaped cavity in the center adjusted specifically for my height, weight, and so on. Once inside the machine, there was only darkness then I awoke as a new person in a dimly lit recovery room, the anesthetics still making their presence heavily known. There were some simple tests, look at this light, temperature, urine sample and so forth, then three hours after my admission I was allowed to go. There followed a year of awkward physical and mental rehabilitation, or perhaps retraining would be more appropriate, followed by once weekly visits for three months with the physical therapist to ensure I would be able to proceed on my own.

     Now, nearly two years after I had stepped into the machine, I finally felt prepared. I examined my naked body in the mirror for a moment longer. Green eyes shone faintly from beneath my well kempt dirty blonde bangs. My face was, perhaps, average but nothing exceptionally so. My hair touched just upon the tops of my collar bones and let way to slightly broad shoulders, full C breasts (of which I was most proud), a narrower waist and finally filling out around the hips into my absolutely perfect legs. Am I biased? Certainly, but I felt that my body was everything a woman should be: neither too skinny or muscular, nor too flabby and undefined. I didn't like everything I saw, but every woman has her secrets, and it serves my purpose to let you think of me at my best and not concern yourself with anything less.

     I dressed carefully, knowing my audience and the effect I wanted. I chose black lingerie and my tight fitting black dress. I accented it with a simple diamond stud earrings, silver chain and pendant, a black leather clutch with silver clasp, and my sexy silver high heels that had straps which tied just above my ankles. It was an outfit that, I felt, delivered both class and sex appeal. I gave myself one final look over: touchup the makeup, a slow turn, adjust the hair. I exhaled in satisfaction, grabbed my coat, and left.

     The cab was waiting, probably had only just arrived. "Corner of 53rd and Clifton platform two," I said softly as I slid into the back seat. "No hurry and thank you for waiting." The driver smiled, shrugged, and undressed me with his eyes one more time before taking off. Nearly two years later, and those looks still thrilled me. As the taxi began its ascent over my childhood city, I wondered if I would ever get used to it; I hoped not. The short rough towers of Old Town fell quickly beneath me as the taxi rose higher and banked to the East. My nerves started. The taller sleek towers and lights of downtown swung into sight and dominated my vision. The sprawling metropolis seemed to out shine the heavens themselves on a cool fall night such as this, sparkling in its many colors far below. I tried not to let myself get anxious, tried not to think about myself imposed journey. I was excited and terrified all at the same time and it was becoming harder to ignore it.

     It wasn't long before the taxi descended to land on a platform just about halfway down one of the 'older' towers just on the edge of what most people considered to be downtown. I was trying not to panic and tell the driver to take me back. I carefully and purposefully got out of the cab, walked to the driver's window, and bending in the way only a woman can I gave him another free view at my cleavage and tipped him nicely. His hungry eyes still thrilled me and gave me the encouragement I needed to turn around and walk into the bar. Glenwood was tucked in the corner of the building and boasted a decent view of downtown proper. It was a bar that pretended to have a western theme; the façade was faux wood made to look like an old saloon and the 'O's of the sign resembled wagon wheels. Beyond that, there was nothing particularly 'western' about the place. The music was all controlled by one jukebox just to the right of the entrance and it varied as widely as the clientele.

     I smiled inwardly; it was just the sort of place Jake would like. Well, it was just the sort of place he did like. I quickly made my way to a dark corner booth, attempting to ignore the looks a couple of men threw at me, sat, and lit a cigarette. I was still early. The crowd was relatively thin and allowed me a decent view to the main entrance. I waited perhaps an hour before he finally arrived. Jacob Bower. Six foot one, shaven head, a neat goatee and beard, toned body, and loose fitting t-shirt and 'work' jeans. It had been over three years since last I saw him and I had to gasp. Last we met he was a bit more pudgy, and a little less clean, but those were different times. We'd been roommates in college together, but now we both had changed. I only hoped we hadn't changed too much.

     I allowed myself to stare as I recalled that house. It had been me, Jake, Rob, and Jon; four crazy guys sharing a house together. The last time we spoke had been the night we all moved out. It has been a somber night of farewells and rehashed memories. We got drunk, very drunk, and sang songs until we couldn't remember the words or the music. Then, after long quite moments of sobering silence, we toasted each other and slept. The next day, we said stiff goodbyes, knowing that our farewells had truly been made the night before, and we parted ways. It seemed like it had been much longer ago than three years, so much had changed for me. Yet, I had known for some time it would be Jake. It always had to be Jake. Out of the three of them, Jake was the only one who would understand.

     "Hi," he said calmly in a low voice. It startled me from my reverie. "I'm Jake."

     "Hi," I said sheepishly. I had planned on approaching him, and now I was completely unprepared and felt like the cliché deer in headlights.

     "Look I know how this seems," he presented me with a beer than sipped from his own. "But I saw you staring at me as soon as I walked in."

     I didn't know what to say, I knew I had been staring but I hadn't noticed his gaze or his approach as I drifted into my own thoughts. I felt the panic start to rise in me again, I wasn't ready and beginning to worry that it was too late to start again.

     "I'll just be honest with you. I can either hit-on you and buy you more drinks or we can just talk and relax no pressure. It's up to you. Just remember: you were the one staring at me."

     I laughed, and relaxed a little. He clearly didn't recognize me; the machine had thoroughly changed me. "Staring? Me? Never." I sipped from the beer, trusting him from past experience not to have drugged it, though a small doubt remained in the back of my mind. "What's to stare at?"

     It was his turn to laugh. "Well let's be honest. I'm not a Chippendale, but I'm certainly good enough looking to catch the attention of a..." he stopped short and looked as though he was searching for words.

     "A...? Hot chick?"

     "I wouldn't have put it that way, but yes."

     "If this is how you hit on women," I began teasingly. "I think I'll just go for the 'let's be friends' option tonight."

     "Oh, low blow lady." He smiled broadly.

     "It's Julia," I smiled and extended my hand. "If you must know."

     We proceeded to talk and drink for a couple hours until, for almost no reason whatsoever and knowing it would catch him off guard, I kissed him. He was appropriately shocked much to my delight, but then he shocked me by kissing back. I recognized his cologne, but there was also a hint of something heavier, musky, that I didn't recognize. I felt myself blush, I could feel my heartbeat, I felt hot, and instantly horny. I hadn't experienced this before, but I found I liked it. I relaxed into his arms, enjoying the moment, but before long I felt a hand on my ass soon followed by one on my tit. I pushed him roughly away. I was a little angry at him, but more frustrated with myself. This was why I had come here in the first place, but now that it was happening I recoiled away. Why?

     "I'm sorry," I said and looked away.

     "What for?"

     I was at a loss for words again.

     "Hey, why don't we have a proper date?" He reached into his pocket and produced a pen and a receipt. "I moved a bit fast, and I get it. So, rather than drunken groping, call me. We'll have a proper date and get to know each other first." He slid the receipt to me, his phone number scrawled on the back of it beneath his name.

     I accepted it without argument, and he walked me back to the platform where I was fairly certain I could hail a cab. No longer distracted by bar scents, his cologne and that musky smell came to me stronger and I felt myself getting excited again. I realized then, that the other smell was him. It was the smell of him; his pheromones or sweat or whatever and it was wonderful. Before, when we lived together, I had never noticed it. Now it was an almost overpowering scent and I needed more of it. I pretended he wasn't there and did my best to act as though nothing had changed. Though I thought I was prepared, I felt more confused now than ever.

     In the cab I cried all the way home. When I got inside, I calmed myself, undressed, drew a hot bath and masturbated while thinking of him to try and relax. It was a short tense orgasm and did little to relax me. It was a very confusing night, and I blamed myself, my hormones, him, the cabbie, anything and anyone. I took a deep breath and tried to think rationally once more.

     I liked him, and there was no denying he liked me so why did I stop him? I replayed the night in my mind once more. I stopped him because I was no longer in control. I had planned everything. How I would approach him. How I was going to seduce him and get him to take me home, take my cherry, and fuck me silly. The flaw, of course, was that I hadn't planned on him being, well, a person. I couldn't just expect everything to turn out exactly as I planned, especially since I had been fantasizing about this night for nearly two years.

     I smiled and finally found myself able to relax. I closed my eyes and tried to remember his scent and the feel of his hand on my breast as I rubbed myself to climax again, and again, and again.

     We set a date for a few days later, and once again, I dressed simply but seductively in a red affair this time with black accents and no panties; confident I wouldn't let anything keep me from my goal. I met him at a small restaurant in just on the outskirts of old town, within walking distance from my apartment. We talked, and laughed, and everything went well. He picked up the tab and offered to call me a cab.

     I leaned in close to him fully inhaling as much of him as I could while letting my tits rub against his arm. "The night is young," I said, hoping he would get my hint.

     "Well," he looked at his watch and shrugged. "About the only things open now are bars, and I'm not much in a drinking mood."

     "You told me you play guitar," I held onto his arm. "Show me."

     He looked at me for a minute, deciding what to say. I could tell he still wasn't sure. I could tell he was trying to figure out if he was going to score or if this was just a giant waste of time.

     "Well actually," he began as he led me down the sidewalk. "I play bass."

     I pretended that I didn't know what the difference was and allowed him to explain as he guided me to his apartment. I knew it was near where I lived (part of the reason I chose the Old Town) but I hadn't realized how close he was. It was less than a five minute walk from my apartment.

     Once upstairs, reminding myself that I wouldn't let my expectations ruin anything again, I let him take the lead. He showed me to his room, he played his bass for a while, then he sat next to me on his bed and we talked. I basked in it all. Everything seemed drenched in that scent and I began to get wet. A few years ago, I would've found it mad that a smell could have such an effect, and even writing this now I feel like it sounds mad, but the machine had changed me at a very basic level and the only explanation I've been able to come up with to this day is pheromones. Regardless, I was losing myself as I sat at his desk, mind wandering as my eyes played about his room.

     With little warning, while I was in mid-sentence, he cupped the back of my head in his hand and pulled me to him. Kissing me softly. I was stunned again and my heart jumped to my throat, only this time I didn't stop it. He slowly began kissing down to my neck and I began to feel weak. Without stopping he eased me down on to my back and continued to kiss me. I held onto the back of his head and released a quiet moan.

     Feeling encouraged he put his free hand on my tit again and kneaded it through the dress. My nipples began to get hard and rub against the inner fabric of my red lacy bra. Without my ever noticing it, he had removed his hand from the back of my head and now I noticed it was on my leg. I could feel my own wetness on my thighs and knew that when he discovered it, there would be no turning back. His hand slowly inched up my inner thigh as he bit gently at the nape of my neck and continued smashing my tit through my dress. I didn't even care that my nipple was starting to hurt, I tingled from his rough handling, spread my legs a bit so he could reach further up my dress. I moaned a little louder when his hand slid through my wetness on my thigh and found my lips. Still holding his head like some sort of handle bar I humped eagerly at his hand, his rough fondling of my chest abated for the moment as we both focused on my crotch. Even after all this time I was still amazed at how hot it could feel, and how hot I was becoming. Not once, however, did he allow his fingers to enter me. He teased me like this for a few minutes until I finally pushed him up.

     He slowly stood up, wordless and uncertain, but trusting me. I stood up and kissed him again. I kicked off my heels and for the first time realized I was now shorter than he was. Before, we had literally seen eye-to-eye. Now I was at staring at his chin. I had to look up to him and I felt humbled; somehow this aroused me even more. Then, in mimicry of his performance, I began kissing his neck while at the same time I began unbuttoning his shirt. His chest and stomach were nearly hairless except for one small strip beginning just below his belly button; his 'happy trail'. I licked each of his nipples in turn, now working on his belt. Knowing where I was heading, he put his hands gently on the back of my head, resting there, anticipating.

     I finally managed to get his belt undone, and in one movement I hooked his boxers and pants in my fingers and yanked them down. His cock bounced up out of the waistband and struck at my waist. I looked down at it somewhat surprised. When I had lived with him before, it was always just us guys, so of course I had seen him shirtless. And to be fair, we were pretty crazy, so I had even seen him naked on many occasions, but he had always been limp and I hadn't paid that much attention. Now, a solid eight to nine inch monster was stabbing at my waist. My finger and my thumb couldn't touch when I grabbed him in my hand.

     Now new fears entered my mind. I hadn't anticipated it being so big. How could I fit this in my mouth? Let alone in my pussy?

     "This is my first time," I said suddenly.

     "First time giving a blow job?" He sounded shocked.

     "First time anything with a man." I looked up to his eyes, his cock still in my peripheral vision, and watched as he smiled broadly. "But don't worry," I added hastily. "I know more than you might think. That's why I want you to blow your first load in my mouth. That way when you take my cherry, you can fuck me for a while before you have to cum again."

     "Hmm, where'd you get such a silly idea like that?"

     "A girlfriend told me," I lied. "That if you don't let a guy cum once before you have sex with him, he'll cum almost immediately during."

     "Okay," he laughed. "Believe what you want."

     Then I found myself kneeling before him, his hands holding the back of my head, my hands nervously holding his cock and pointing it directly at my face. I hesitated, and began kissing his thigh, moving towards his balls stroking his cock all the while. As I got closer and closer to his crotch his musk became stronger driving me forward. I tentatively licked at his balls and he sighed loudly. Encouraged I repeated the action; he gripped my hair and moaned quietly. Then, I lifted his balls with my nose and angled my face upwards. I nearly came right there as his scent attacked me full force. I licked under his sack and tasted it; sweet, salty, bitter, wonderful. I licked and licked until I could feel his impatience. I stuck my tongue out and drug it over his balls and across the bottom of his cock. This got his attention once more. I begin licking up and down his shaft, all around, circling my tongue around the salty head and tasting his precum.

     Finally, taking a deep breath, I put the head of his cock to my lips and slowly pushed my mouth down his shaft. I realized I only had maybe the first two inches in my mouth, so I began stroking his shaft with my hand and cupped his balls with the other. I feared trying it, but his moaning and hip thrusts inspired something in me. I opened my jaw wider and forced myself to slide his dick into my throat. I gagged and pulled him out of me.

     He only smiled and pushed my head back to his cock. It took three or four more tries and I found my lips in his pubes, my tongue licking back and forth across his balls, and my hands on his hips ready to push him back so I could breathe. It was an amazing feeling. I couldn't breathe at all, not just like the feeling of holding your breath but more like choking but it wasn't. And the heat from his dick radiated into my throat and I could feel his pulse through his dick. It was wonderful and terrifying at the same time.

     I pushed his hips and he pulled back. Before I let him pop out of my mouth though, I took a deep breath and rammed it all the way into my throat again. Now I was holding onto his ass cheeks and bobbing up and down, breathing when I could and catching more of his musk before I shoved him back into my throat. I guessed he was close to coming because he had removed his hand from the back of my head and was holding his own head. His abs tensed and he bent forward slightly, his toes began to curl, and at last I felt the throbbing in his dick. I pulled him mostly out of my mouth keeping my lips sealed around the head of his cock as I fondled his balls. The first jolt of cum hit the back of my throat and I struggled not to cough. Swallowing quickly, the second shot was weaker and covered my tongue. It was the second that I really tasted, the second that I remember the most. The odd gooey consistency and the feeling of it spurting from the tip of his dick is both indescribable and unforgettable. The taste, while not the best part, was not the only part of a blowjob and still has very little bearing on why I love to give men blowjobs. I swallowed what I could and the rest seeped out of the sides of my mouth. I licked at it and him until I was sure I got everything I could.

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