Epilogue One: The Date

"Oh my god."

"I know, right?"

"Jesus Christ, Ash."

"I know, right?!"

Isabelle shifts, the soft leather couch creaking and her arm still draped over your shoulder as she shoots you a look that's equal parts incredulous and impressed. "I don't know what's worse: that someone made that, or that you own it."

You can't help the smug quirk that comes to your lips. "Oh, it's absolutely worse that I own it." You let your eyes drift appreciatively down Isabelle's long, shapely legs as she lifts them in a quick stretch. "But I'm a bit confused over here. It almost sounds like you didn't get the film's message?"

Isabelle raises her thick eyebrows. "What, that marijuana is a gateway ****? To eating people?"

"It's just science, Isabelle."

"Oh yeah? And all that stuff about growing the head of a turkey monster?"

"Science, Isabelle."

The girl scoffs, slipping to her feet and into a full-body stretch. "Please; my parents have been baked since the Clinton Administration, and I'm relatively certain they haven't eaten anyone. Or become part poultry."

You lean forward, your heavy boobs squashing into your lap as you watch Isabelle wander over to the display rack of film canisters. "Can we ever truly know our parents, Isabelle?"

Your (official?!) girlfriend rolls her eyes in what you're choosing to believe is good humor as she idly runs her a finger across the name plates curating your collections of B-films. "So are any of these actually 'good'?" She immediately cuts off your first reply. "If you say 'they're all good' we are one thousand percent breaking up."

Haha, whoops. Caught you. "They aren't all tragically beautiful garbage fires or nightmarish fever dreams, no. There's real cinema in there! Actual no-joke art and stuff!"

Isabelle is nodding along until her eyes move past the section marked 'Ray Harryhausen'. "Wait a second. 'Russ Meyer'? Isn't that, like, porno or something?"

Well this has taken a bizarre turn. "Um, well it isn't porno..."

"So...it's 'or something'?"

You decide to choose your words very carefully. "Russ Meyer made films about powerful, sexual women; his films managed to wander backwards into empowerment! He just...had some preferences that he tended to, uh, prominently feature."

Isabelle glances back to you. "Preferences? Like what?" God, you should be mortified, but the sight of Isabelle standing there, head quizzically tilted to one side as the light from your film projector casts an almost ethereal aura around her...you're fucking into it. It took an actual fight for your lives and literal magic to bring you here, and you aren't about to let the weirdness of it all get in your way. So your response is to slowly arch your back and tuck your arms behind you, pointedly rocking your shoulders to send your enormous breasts wobbling majestically within the snug confines of your ribbed sweater. Isabelle blinks, the gears in her head visibly straining to turn as she gazes upon your jiggling abundance. Then she swallows and pulls a film from the rack, her ears and cheeks erupting in red as she holds up a can labeled 'FPKK'. "Can we watch one?"

Unreal.

What started out an embarrassed, giggly almost to the point of being tense viewing experience didn't take long to build into something much more. The still red-faced Isabelle clutches tightly to your side as she consumes the sordid tale of bad, busty women who go-go dance, race cars and kill men with something bordering on rapture. By the time the film has come to a close she's almost beside herself. "Oh my God, Ash, I loved that so. Much."

You couldn't hold back your grin even if you'd wanted to. "It's great, right?!"

"And fuck does that guy ever like tits!"

"Fun Fact: he actually had a mild heart attack when my mom appeared on screen at her first premier."

Isabelle lets out a peal of laughter at that, your smile spreading wider as your heartbeat flutters in delight. "Imagine if he could have seen you too, right?! He'd have had a fit!"

Your full lips quirk into a teasing smirk at that. "A 'fit'?" You performatively raise an arm, puffing out your oversized chest while flexing your toned bicep in a show of womanly power. "He'd have never survived me."

Isabelle's eyes roam up and down your brazenly displayed body, her breathing shallow as she lightly bites her lip. It's all you can do not to gasp when she reaches out a lays a hand on your firm stomach, your pelvis quivering in blissful torment as she meets your eyes with a look that is a little nervous, but mostly smoldering. "Are you trying to seduce me, Ashley?"

Somehow, you manage to muster the will to play it cool for one final moment. How'd the line go again? "I never try anything, I just do it. Wanna try me?"

The corners of Isabelle's mouth curve up in a little smile as she shifts in closer, her sweet breath already brushing your lips as her shaking hand begins to slip under your sweater. "You're such a dork."

"You love it."

And then she's kissing you, her questing hand fumbling at your the fortress-like barrier of your huge bra as you clumsily try to reach behind and unfasten it, the two of entwining in a confused tangle of groping hands and uncoordinated but spirited intentions. Eventually you manage to undo the final hook and slide the undergarment off, letting it fall immediately forgotten to the ground as Isabelle's hand cups your utterly thrilled breast. She whimpers into your mouth as your nipple throbs against her palm, breaking your **** kissing long enough to gasp out fragments of thought. "I don't know what to do--" She whines again as you cut her off with an even deeper kiss, your hand slipping down her inner thigh. You pause long enough to raise your eyebrows questioningly, the girl all but erupting in red as she quickly nods her consent. You grin, impishly flick the tip of her nose with your tongue, and then slide down Isabelle's already shuddering body to position yourself between her legs.

As you start to tug down Isabelle's alright damp shorts, it occurs to you that while this would definitely be Old Ash's first time, it might also be New Ash's first time. With a girl, that is. You've probably got no more of a true idea of what to do than your partner does. But the sight of Isabelle, sprawled out on your couch in just her soaked panties as she all but hyperventilates in aroused anticipation, neatly blasts any lingering self-doubt away. This is the girl of your dreams, at her most **** and giving herself completely to you. You're confident you can figure it out.

Isabelle giggles as you lightly kiss the inside of her thighs, hooking your thumbs into her now practically transparent underwear. She gasps as you carefully slide them down, her arms pressing deep into the couch cushions as she feels the first puff of your breath between her legs. You take a moment to look reverently on your girlfriend's flushed, quivering pussy. Then you carefully scoot forward and place a delicate smooch directly on top of her mons, Isabelle shuddering in a mix of laughter and expectation as you savor your first taste of her. It's the sharp tang of healthy exertion and feminine arousal, and now that it's filled your nostrils you're done for. Your enchantment must have been clear on your face, because when you finally notice Isabelle staring down at you, she meets your eyes with a mirrored expression of wonder. The two of you simply hold each other's gaze for a moment, smiles growing as you marvel at everything that had to happen for you to wind up here, together. Then you kiss the inside of her thigh again. "Let me know when, okay?"

Isabelle starts to ask what you mean, but her words trail off into a moan as you flatten your tongue out and press it firmly to the bottom of her mound. She arches her back as you slowly draw your tongue all the way up her delightful pussy, licking up and around her throbbing little button to start back down. She snatches up a pillow and buries her face in it as you start another circuit, groaning out your name as her thighs press in on either side of your head. Getting into your groove, you start to switch things up with different strokes, changing to side-to-side and then to a more focused up-and-down. It's when you try a wider circular motion that her groan catches in her throat, however. Ooo, that's a good sign. This one's the winner. You maintain the same motion for a blissful eternity, keeping a consistent pattern and pressure, snaking your arms up Isabelle's side to simultaneously caress her and keep her from writhing fully off of the couch. She seems to be reaching a crescendo just as your tongue reaches the top of her labia, and on a whim yourself in further to suck in her entire clitoral hood, pressing your tongue directly over her overjoyed nubbin. Isabelle actually bolts upright at that, shrieking in release as she splatters all over your face and sends the two of you toppling to the ground.

For a long while, Isabelle can seemingly only pant in wide-eyed exertion, even as you wriggle free from your tangled heap to more comfortable wrap yourself around her. You softly rest your head against her heaving chest, her pert breast rubbing the side of your cheek as you find her hand with yours. The two of you lie together, your shaky fingers tracing hers as her breath slowly steadies. It has been a long, strange journey. It's almost impossible to remember, but it wasn't all that long ago that you were staring at yourself in the school bathroom mirror, miserable and alone. Were you really that sad, scared boy? You can barely remember him now, beyond the deep understanding he left you for exactly how much you now have. You have the strangest feeling like this is a farewell of sorts, of Boy Ash waving goodbye out the window of a cobweb-strewn train to Transylvania as it finally pulls out of the station for the last time. Farewell, Spooky Boy. The New Ashley Price will make sure your dreams are well lived.

Isabelle must have finished catching her breath, because she's slipped her fingers into your shorts and has begun peppering your neck with her lips. "Can I try it now?"

You can only sigh in contentment as you start wriggling out of your clothes as quickly as you can managed. Well lived indeed.