Something Is Missing

I swallow one last time and then I move forward, wrapping around this next cock and starting to stroke it when I hear a grunt from behind me and turn, seeing another cock ready in the other hole.

But it's more what I don't see that strikes me, that stands out, because what I do not see anywhere in this tiny little space is Rachel.

I stop and I breathe and I think and I remember. My hand falls from the cock in front of me and I hear a grunt of impatience, but even that doesn't make me take action.

I'm remembering,. Things that happened in the background. The feel of Rachel falling back against me and swallowing, clearly done with her man. The sound of a knock at the door with a specific odd rhythm, clearly a code or a signal. Rachel leaving my back and the sound of the door opening and now, if I listen close, I can hear feminine giggling from out in the hall and the sound of footsteps receeding.

I'm alone. She left me. For someone else.

And though I have questions about where she is and what she's doing, really the only one I need an answer to is who she's doing it with. And besides all that the far more pressing concern is the rather uneven math that I'm staring down the face of.

Two cocks. One little old me.

What's a girl to do?

I'll tell you what a good girl does. She gets to work.

Pushing aside any questions remaining about Rachel I reach out for the first cock, the one I had already touched. I take it in hand and start to stroke while my other hand raises, moving towards the other side of the booth.

Two cocks. One in each hand. Stroking them both in perfect time as I smile to myself, musing about just what it is that I'm doing hear and just how unlike myself it is.

God I've really changed. To think that only a few days ago I was this buttoned up guy, decades older than I am now and decidedly straight or at least thinking that I was.

In a flurry of changes not just my gender had changed and not just my sexuality but really my whole personality. I barely even recognized myself anymore but I can say with absolute certainty that all of those changes are for the better.

I love myself.

Not just like myself. Not just at peace with myself. Not just accepting myself with all of my follies and foibles. I really and truly love myself and I love what I'm doing, even if it is positively indecent.

There is just something so freeing about not giving a fuck anymore. Giving in to my base impulses and just letting them be my guide instead. Letting what I want dictate what I have as I indulge in the carnal delights of this body.

This body that I love too. I mean that jealousy of Rachel is still there but I think that's a part of me as well and I think I love it too. Nothing can ever be perfect, but it's the imperfections that make me strive for something better. It is in seeking to be better that we become better, and while the jealousy around Rachel is around something innate that I cannot change I don't want to either.

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