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THE DEVIL'S OWN
I remember the year it happened quite clearly. I was nineteen; the perfect
age to be as a Ontario Youth. Your young enough to do the things you want,
and in Ontario you could do anything as long as you had your ID with you!
You could drive, drink, gamble, smoke, go into bars; everything you always
wished you could do when you were back in highschool. Yeah, being nineteen
in Ontario, Canada, means your living the high-life.
I guess thats what got me into this mess. Well, not so much a mess now, at
least. But back then, when it all started to happen, I'd have preferred
death. You see, I moved out of my house in my seventeenth year. I started
working heavily after school, trying to pay my bills and rent. I lived in a
small basement apartment (but they were, actually, illegal in the city I was
living in [called Brampton]. I paid everything under the table). Life was
tough, but you know you can make good money being a waiter. You get tips,
plus your additional wage. Sure, it was minimum wage. But the tips! I was
making five dollars on every table. And if you work from 4-11 every day, you
end up waiting a lot of tables. I had enough cash to help fend for myself as
well as pay for my party lifestyle.
Yes, Party Lifestyle. Hey, Im a nineteen year old! What do you expect? I
could afford the booze for the parties I went to and such. I loved my
liquor, but my personal favorite was Scotch Whiskey. I could down more shots
than anyone I knew. I had to go to parties at least two times a week; I
tried limiting myself as to not drain my bank account. Besides, I had to put
away for college. OSAP student loans can't cover everything.
This semi-party-lifestyle was my downfall. Or upgrade. Whichever it is, I'm
sure you'll decide by the time I'm done ranting to you.
You see, there I was on yet another Friday Night after work. I got off early
on Fridays and Mondays, which I was thankful for. I had been nineteen for
four months and out of Highschool for almost the same amount of time - my
birthday was in early July. It was nine o'clock, and I was ready to go to
another bash held by this guy I knew, Keith. I was dressed in my Friday
Best; a wild Hawaiian shirt and khakis. My blonde hair was gelled in the
most crazy fashion like Tyler Durden from Fight Club - some say I even had
the look of a more feminine Brad Pitt. Now, Im willing to admit that I'm
feminine. My facial features aren't chisled or anything - they're rather
sharp and angular. Im fairly thin and in good shape. I run daily and do
endurance exercises to keep the fat off while not building bulky muscles.
Well, the plan was to get together at a club that night. Me and a few
friends. It sounded like a good idea, and besides; I really wanted to get
out. So I got out the door and got into my car. It wasn't anything special,
just an old Mini to be honest but I like adding a touch of my personality to
things (I had even painted flames around the front wheels, everyone thought
it was hillarious to see on a car like that).
I drove to the pub, which was actually for my university. It was a great
little place, with Kareoke, pool tables, even an old fashioned juke box. I
loved the place, and had spent many a nights there. The place was called
"The Devil's Own". A strange name, I admit, for a Campus Pub. But the logo,
a devil kissing an Angel, was quite catchy and everyone loved it. Besides,
the argument that it supported different cultures to come together won over
the committee assigned to naming the place.
Everyone was there, so I just came up and pulled up a barstool after
ordering a Scotch on the Rocks. Great stuff, it was. We all came to talking.
The time slowly started to tick away, and soon enough we were all just a
bunch of blubbering drunks enjoying the night. After about five glasses of
scotch, I was rearing and ready to go.
We played pool, and I was winning (as usual - the geometry of the boards is
so easy to figure out after a few games on it) with twenty bucks riding on
the game. Peter, a good friend of mine, was merely shaking his head while
knowing he was going to be out another bill. But I missed my shot.
How could I have missed the shot? It was Eight Ball, corner pocket. And the
set up was as if God himself came down and kissed the black eight ball. I
ended up hitting the soft green fabric, but I didnt even notice.
No, my mind was on the woman who just walked in the room.
And gods, what a woman! She had dark hair. I mean, black dark. Midnight
dark. It was absolutely amazing, the way it shimmered. Her hair had the look
of a tan colour, and I figured she had some Egyptian in her because of that,
somewhere in the line. Her eyes were large and the colour of honey, the kind
you could just fall right into. And then, of course, was the body.
Clad in a black onepiece spaghetti strap dress that was rather tight around
the bust and ended an inch above the knees, it showed her absolutely lovely
figure just wonderfully. She had an ass that would make Jesus blush, and
breasts that seemed so firm and perky...
I was brought back to reality by my friends jeers at my loss. Peter came up
and picked up the twenty after shooting his remaining striped ball into one
of the center pockets and sending the eight ball back into the corner. I
shook my head in shame.
"Got me there." I said, downing my next drink. Peter just chuckled and
teased me about my loss before going to get another beer.
Soon enough, the Pub started clearing out. It was near closing time. And
before I knew it, there was all of five people left in the place. The
bartender (a burly man to say the least), a couple in the corner, myself,
and the girl with the raven locks.
I had just finished my seventh Scotch on the Rocks. I was fairly gone. I
didnt even know what I was doing when I walked up to her.
She looked at me and smiled with those absolutely full lips. "Hey there."
she said. I didnt even get to say the first words.
What a woman, may I say again!
I said my hellos, and discovered soon enough that I was talking to a lovely
looking woman named Nadine. She didn't go to the college, but she came here
often enough for company and good drinks.
"Besides," he said. "They don't overcharge college students." she winked
once more.
I was in Heaven. A land of unearthly delights.
Eventually I convinced her that I'd drive her home. She didn't even notice I
was drunk, by the looks of things. So I lead her to the old Mini, and she
laughed and called it cute. I opened the passenger door for her and did my
most regal bellboy bow for her.
"After you, Madamoiselle." I said with a grin, a posh, snotty touch to my
voice. She laughed, and I got in on the other side.
I can't quite remember past that.
All I remember is that I woke up in her home, in her bed. I smelled the
scent of her hair, and felt the afterglow of sex. She wasn't beside me, that
I could see. The Alarm clock hadn't been set, but it was blinking 8:04. Like
hell thats what the time was, though. The moon was only going below the
horizon, from what I saw. Likely approaching a nice Autumn Dawn.
The door opened and I saw her walk in.
Oh my god.
Oh... my... god.
She wore the most beautiful thing. A silk teddy, barely covering her bits
and pieces. But from what I saw, they were extremely nice bits and pieces.
"You said you were ready... are you ready this time?" she asked me. I
blushed. Sex. I would remember it this time.
"You bet..." I mumbled, half-asleep but my mind was totally awake.
She grinned very wickedly and approached the bed. "Lay on your stomach." she
said in an absolutely husky voice. I could only comply.
There I was, laying face down on a bed of silk sheets, done in purples and
lavendars, I noticed.
Absolutely gorgeous, it felt. So soft against my skin.
She pulled the covers and started to rub down my back. She massaged with her
soft hands, the small digits making deep circles in the muscles of my back.
I let out a sigh of delight, enjoying every moment of it. The alcohol still
had a firm hold of me, mind you. I was feeling quite giddy, as you can
expect. Everything was blurry in my awakened mind.
Then I felt something... different.
Her soft fingers were probing at my hole. I moaned, self consciously.
Then I felt a finger submerse itself in my flesh. She was stroking my
prostate gland.
Needless to say, pleasure flared through me like a thousand volts of
electricity. My soft member, sticky from a previous experience, woke up and
immediately stood at attention. I was squirming under her ministrations,
moaning in absolute delight. My mouth uttered things like "Oh fuck yes" and
"oh baby, do it more..."
Her finger pulled out.
I pouted.
Then I felt something different press up against my ass. I raised an
eyebrow, grinning drunkenly.
"Oh, whats that you got there, hmm?" I asked as she started to fondle my
balls. "Cause' I certainly can make Christmas cum early." Very annunciated,
the word cum.
I didnt hear anything, not even a mild chuckle.
I did, however, see a flare of pain in the darkness of my closed eyes.
She had shoved something fairly large into my ass.
I squeeled, but before I could throw her off me I found myself handcuffed to
the bed. She had done all that without me even noticing; likely during the
massage. All my thrashing just aided in her deepening the cock that pressed
deep into me.
I knew it was a cock, of course. I felt the hardened ribs glide all along
me, the vein, the bulbous, plum-shaped head. And the pain increased.
She thrusted hard into me, and I could feel her balls slapping against mine
with every deep and powerful thrust. I whimpered into the sheets, my tears
staining my cheeks. But slowly I began to feel pleasure.
Pain for pleasure. Thats a true saying, to say the least.
Eventually in this drunken state of mine I began thrusting my ass back at
her, feeling her cock burrow deeply into me with each and every thrust,
feeling her piston like strokes, her firm breasts (yes, she did have
breasts) hard against my back. I moaned loudly, screaming for more as she
spreaded my insides with her love missile.
I didnt even care. It was feeling so intense, the pleasure, that I could
have cared less had she been a woman with a strapon or a man with a real
cock. I got a bit of both, I observed later in a sober state.
She continued this ravaging for about ten, fifteen good minutes. The sound,
the smell, and the feel of sex radiated from us two, and I loved every
passing second. My only disappointment was when she pulled her slick cock
out from between my cheeks. She hadn't cummed, not yet at least. I could
still feel my asshole wide open, air rushing through the tunnel and giving
me a ticklish feeling. I frowned, and moaned for more.
I got more than I bargained for.
Before I could blink, a cock was pressed between my lips. Without thinking,
my lips opened and I was sucking on that piece of meat. I sucked on it as my
tongue circled it, tasting my ass while I tasted her. Precum slathered out
onto my tongue as I heard her feminine gasps. She was gripping my hair with
her pianist fingers.
Before I knew it, she came. And oh, what a load. Made me jealous, it did.
Her cum slathered all around my mouth, coating it in a sticky layer. I
swallowed every drop as she thrusted into my mouth with each rope that she
gave me.
I drank from that cock. I treated it like a goddess that just bestowed the
most marvelous gift on me.
That was about three years ago, I think. That drunken night, though, was the
best that ever happened to me. You see, I moved in with Nadine and we spent
almost every night making love. I even fell in love with her. My parents
were happy that I was settling down, though they could never know our
secret; that Nadine was really Nathan by birth.
She even has me drink my own cum, which I've come to love (pardon the pun!).
Every night we spend in each others arms is a night well spent.
Nadine and I intend on getting married in the Spring. I think the only
challenging decision that will arise from that will be who gets to wear the
wedding dress.
I remember the year it happened quite clearly. I was nineteen; the perfect
age to be as a Ontario Youth. Your young enough to do the things you want,
and in Ontario you could do anything as long as you had your ID with you!
You could drive, drink, gamble, smoke, go into bars; everything you always
wished you could do when you were back in highschool. Yeah, being nineteen
in Ontario, Canada, means your living the high-life.
I guess thats what got me into this mess. Well, not so much a mess now, at
least. But back then, when it all started to happen, I'd have preferred
death. You see, I moved out of my house in my seventeenth year. I started
working heavily after school, trying to pay my bills and rent. I lived in a
small basement apartment (but they were, actually, illegal in the city I was
living in [called Brampton]. I paid everything under the table). Life was
tough, but you know you can make good money being a waiter. You get tips,
plus your additional wage. Sure, it was minimum wage. But the tips! I was
making five dollars on every table. And if you work from 4-11 every day, you
end up waiting a lot of tables. I had enough cash to help fend for myself as
well as pay for my party lifestyle.
Yes, Party Lifestyle. Hey, Im a nineteen year old! What do you expect? I
could afford the booze for the parties I went to and such. I loved my
liquor, but my personal favorite was Scotch Whiskey. I could down more shots
than anyone I knew. I had to go to parties at least two times a week; I
tried limiting myself as to not drain my bank account. Besides, I had to put
away for college. OSAP student loans can't cover everything.
This semi-party-lifestyle was my downfall. Or upgrade. Whichever it is, I'm
sure you'll decide by the time I'm done ranting to you.
You see, there I was on yet another Friday Night after work. I got off early
on Fridays and Mondays, which I was thankful for. I had been nineteen for
four months and out of Highschool for almost the same amount of time - my
birthday was in early July. It was nine o'clock, and I was ready to go to
another bash held by this guy I knew, Keith. I was dressed in my Friday
Best; a wild Hawaiian shirt and khakis. My blonde hair was gelled in the
most crazy fashion like Tyler Durden from Fight Club - some say I even had
the look of a more feminine Brad Pitt. Now, Im willing to admit that I'm
feminine. My facial features aren't chisled or anything - they're rather
sharp and angular. Im fairly thin and in good shape. I run daily and do
endurance exercises to keep the fat off while not building bulky muscles.
Well, the plan was to get together at a club that night. Me and a few
friends. It sounded like a good idea, and besides; I really wanted to get
out. So I got out the door and got into my car. It wasn't anything special,
just an old Mini to be honest but I like adding a touch of my personality to
things (I had even painted flames around the front wheels, everyone thought
it was hillarious to see on a car like that).
I drove to the pub, which was actually for my university. It was a great
little place, with Kareoke, pool tables, even an old fashioned juke box. I
loved the place, and had spent many a nights there. The place was called
"The Devil's Own". A strange name, I admit, for a Campus Pub. But the logo,
a devil kissing an Angel, was quite catchy and everyone loved it. Besides,
the argument that it supported different cultures to come together won over
the committee assigned to naming the place.
Everyone was there, so I just came up and pulled up a barstool after
ordering a Scotch on the Rocks. Great stuff, it was. We all came to talking.
The time slowly started to tick away, and soon enough we were all just a
bunch of blubbering drunks enjoying the night. After about five glasses of
scotch, I was rearing and ready to go.
We played pool, and I was winning (as usual - the geometry of the boards is
so easy to figure out after a few games on it) with twenty bucks riding on
the game. Peter, a good friend of mine, was merely shaking his head while
knowing he was going to be out another bill. But I missed my shot.
How could I have missed the shot? It was Eight Ball, corner pocket. And the
set up was as if God himself came down and kissed the black eight ball. I
ended up hitting the soft green fabric, but I didnt even notice.
No, my mind was on the woman who just walked in the room.
And gods, what a woman! She had dark hair. I mean, black dark. Midnight
dark. It was absolutely amazing, the way it shimmered. Her hair had the look
of a tan colour, and I figured she had some Egyptian in her because of that,
somewhere in the line. Her eyes were large and the colour of honey, the kind
you could just fall right into. And then, of course, was the body.
Clad in a black onepiece spaghetti strap dress that was rather tight around
the bust and ended an inch above the knees, it showed her absolutely lovely
figure just wonderfully. She had an ass that would make Jesus blush, and
breasts that seemed so firm and perky...
I was brought back to reality by my friends jeers at my loss. Peter came up
and picked up the twenty after shooting his remaining striped ball into one
of the center pockets and sending the eight ball back into the corner. I
shook my head in shame.
"Got me there." I said, downing my next drink. Peter just chuckled and
teased me about my loss before going to get another beer.
Soon enough, the Pub started clearing out. It was near closing time. And
before I knew it, there was all of five people left in the place. The
bartender (a burly man to say the least), a couple in the corner, myself,
and the girl with the raven locks.
I had just finished my seventh Scotch on the Rocks. I was fairly gone. I
didnt even know what I was doing when I walked up to her.
She looked at me and smiled with those absolutely full lips. "Hey there."
she said. I didnt even get to say the first words.
What a woman, may I say again!
I said my hellos, and discovered soon enough that I was talking to a lovely
looking woman named Nadine. She didn't go to the college, but she came here
often enough for company and good drinks.
"Besides," he said. "They don't overcharge college students." she winked
once more.
I was in Heaven. A land of unearthly delights.
Eventually I convinced her that I'd drive her home. She didn't even notice I
was drunk, by the looks of things. So I lead her to the old Mini, and she
laughed and called it cute. I opened the passenger door for her and did my
most regal bellboy bow for her.
"After you, Madamoiselle." I said with a grin, a posh, snotty touch to my
voice. She laughed, and I got in on the other side.
I can't quite remember past that.
All I remember is that I woke up in her home, in her bed. I smelled the
scent of her hair, and felt the afterglow of sex. She wasn't beside me, that
I could see. The Alarm clock hadn't been set, but it was blinking 8:04. Like
hell thats what the time was, though. The moon was only going below the
horizon, from what I saw. Likely approaching a nice Autumn Dawn.
The door opened and I saw her walk in.
Oh my god.
Oh... my... god.
She wore the most beautiful thing. A silk teddy, barely covering her bits
and pieces. But from what I saw, they were extremely nice bits and pieces.
"You said you were ready... are you ready this time?" she asked me. I
blushed. Sex. I would remember it this time.
"You bet..." I mumbled, half-asleep but my mind was totally awake.
She grinned very wickedly and approached the bed. "Lay on your stomach." she
said in an absolutely husky voice. I could only comply.
There I was, laying face down on a bed of silk sheets, done in purples and
lavendars, I noticed.
Absolutely gorgeous, it felt. So soft against my skin.
She pulled the covers and started to rub down my back. She massaged with her
soft hands, the small digits making deep circles in the muscles of my back.
I let out a sigh of delight, enjoying every moment of it. The alcohol still
had a firm hold of me, mind you. I was feeling quite giddy, as you can
expect. Everything was blurry in my awakened mind.
Then I felt something... different.
Her soft fingers were probing at my hole. I moaned, self consciously.
Then I felt a finger submerse itself in my flesh. She was stroking my
prostate gland.
Needless to say, pleasure flared through me like a thousand volts of
electricity. My soft member, sticky from a previous experience, woke up and
immediately stood at attention. I was squirming under her ministrations,
moaning in absolute delight. My mouth uttered things like "Oh fuck yes" and
"oh baby, do it more..."
Her finger pulled out.
I pouted.
Then I felt something different press up against my ass. I raised an
eyebrow, grinning drunkenly.
"Oh, whats that you got there, hmm?" I asked as she started to fondle my
balls. "Cause' I certainly can make Christmas cum early." Very annunciated,
the word cum.
I didnt hear anything, not even a mild chuckle.
I did, however, see a flare of pain in the darkness of my closed eyes.
She had shoved something fairly large into my ass.
I squeeled, but before I could throw her off me I found myself handcuffed to
the bed. She had done all that without me even noticing; likely during the
massage. All my thrashing just aided in her deepening the cock that pressed
deep into me.
I knew it was a cock, of course. I felt the hardened ribs glide all along
me, the vein, the bulbous, plum-shaped head. And the pain increased.
She thrusted hard into me, and I could feel her balls slapping against mine
with every deep and powerful thrust. I whimpered into the sheets, my tears
staining my cheeks. But slowly I began to feel pleasure.
Pain for pleasure. Thats a true saying, to say the least.
Eventually in this drunken state of mine I began thrusting my ass back at
her, feeling her cock burrow deeply into me with each and every thrust,
feeling her piston like strokes, her firm breasts (yes, she did have
breasts) hard against my back. I moaned loudly, screaming for more as she
spreaded my insides with her love missile.
I didnt even care. It was feeling so intense, the pleasure, that I could
have cared less had she been a woman with a strapon or a man with a real
cock. I got a bit of both, I observed later in a sober state.
She continued this ravaging for about ten, fifteen good minutes. The sound,
the smell, and the feel of sex radiated from us two, and I loved every
passing second. My only disappointment was when she pulled her slick cock
out from between my cheeks. She hadn't cummed, not yet at least. I could
still feel my asshole wide open, air rushing through the tunnel and giving
me a ticklish feeling. I frowned, and moaned for more.
I got more than I bargained for.
Before I could blink, a cock was pressed between my lips. Without thinking,
my lips opened and I was sucking on that piece of meat. I sucked on it as my
tongue circled it, tasting my ass while I tasted her. Precum slathered out
onto my tongue as I heard her feminine gasps. She was gripping my hair with
her pianist fingers.
Before I knew it, she came. And oh, what a load. Made me jealous, it did.
Her cum slathered all around my mouth, coating it in a sticky layer. I
swallowed every drop as she thrusted into my mouth with each rope that she
gave me.
I drank from that cock. I treated it like a goddess that just bestowed the
most marvelous gift on me.
That was about three years ago, I think. That drunken night, though, was the
best that ever happened to me. You see, I moved in with Nadine and we spent
almost every night making love. I even fell in love with her. My parents
were happy that I was settling down, though they could never know our
secret; that Nadine was really Nathan by birth.
She even has me drink my own cum, which I've come to love (pardon the pun!).
Every night we spend in each others arms is a night well spent.
Nadine and I intend on getting married in the Spring. I think the only
challenging decision that will arise from that will be who gets to wear the
wedding dress.
