Jesus and Lola
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
1,745
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
5
Views:
1,745
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Chapter 1
AN: Yeah, this is going to end up being a pretty short story, just a few chapters. I may do a sequel, but I\'m not sure yet.
*************************************
I’ll try to explain this to you. It’s not that I didn’t love Sheila. I did, I really did. Well, I think I did. Well, to tell you the truth, I most likely didn’t. But, she was nice…kind of. And, she wasn’t that overweight. Alright, enough with the bullshit. Here’s the truth.
I met Shelia in a bar, actually one very similar to O’Gradys. I had just lost my job and I only had 100 dollars in my savings account. I went home with her that night and I just never left. It was really a sweet deal. I got a home, food, clothing, and I got to fuck Shelia every night.
Sex with Shelia was hot. Well, it was okay. Let’s just say the sex wasn’t terrible. I did have one problem with our sex life. Not the problem you’re thinking of. I have never had a problem with getting it up. Well…except for that one time. But, that’s a different story. The thing is…I kind of have this thing for cock.
I’m not gay. Let’s get that out of the way right away. I fuck girls. But, boys are nice too. All of my previous relationships have been with women. But, I have had sex with men, usually one night stands, or fuck-buddies. So, I guess that would make me bisexual with a leaning towards straight. I really hate trying to label myself.
In my opinion sexuality is much more fluid than modern society assumes. I actually heard somewhere that less than 20% of society is completely straight or gay. But, I digress. I was speaking of Shelia abandoning me, and transvestites, and sex.
So let’s start at the very beginning of this story. About two months before the street argument, I was visiting a bar, not an unusual occurrence. This was a new hang-out for me. For the past two weeks I had been trying to avoid my usual hangouts. I didn’t want to run into Shelia or any of her nosy friends. I had just walked into the bar, sat down, and started downing shots of Daniels. After my third drink, I finally looked around a bit. I was in a gay bar.
I was on my fourth drink, when I saw a shock of blonde hair out of the corner of my eye. I turned to examine the blonde. Low-slung hip huggers, a lacey top thing, pale skin, pouty lips, blue eyes, and shoulder-length blonde hair pulled away the eyes with a blue barrette. Pretty. Very pretty.
I had never fucked a cross-dresser before. When I fuck men, I like to fuck men. But this he-she was pretty. I liked her.
“Hey, Blondie,” I yelled across the bar. She smiled and walked over.
“It’s Lola.”
“Lola? Hmm. Well, I’m Jesus.” It came out more like “a-zooz.” I was a bit tipsy.
“Mm. Jesus, our lord and savior,” she pronounced my name with a soft southern accent and gave a slight laugh. I liked her.
“So what are you into?” She gave this little laugh, her head tilted back a bit. I loved her laugh.
“Everything.” After a few moments of silence, Lola tried to engage me in small talk. The weather, what I did for a living, where I’m from. I wasn’t really paying attention.
In the background I could hear a familiar song playing. I leaned in to Lola and kissed her soft pink lips in mid-sentence. “What was that for?”
“The song.” She looked puzzled. I could see the realization set in as she strained to hear the words, “don’t talk, just kiss.” What can I say? I’m a closet Right Said Fred fan.
That was my first encounter with Lola. That night, I went home with her. And it was amazing. It was probably the best sex I had ever had. Later I found out she wasn’t a full time cross-dresser. She only did it every once in awhile. She said she was “expressing herself.” She was an artistic type. I really didn’t get it. I’ve never understood artists. Her real name was Drew.
I liked Drew. He was smart and funny. His accent was to die for. He was beautiful and kind. I could actually have an intelligent conversation with him, unlike the conversations about “Brad and Jennifer” I had with Sheila. Drew was sexy and sweet; he actually did volunteer work. And, on top of all of that, he was a great cook. He was perfect. Well, except for being a neat freak. But, other than that, Drew was definitely perfect. I started spending a lot of time with him. We always had a good time together. Whether we were just hanging out at his place or we were at some club and he was Lola for the night.
Things were going great for me for a while. I was living with Shelia and I was meeting up with Drew almost everyday. We actually did a lot together. We went out to dinner together, had picnics, walked in the park, went to bars and clubs, went shopping, saw plays, visited museums. We did everything. So if our relationship was a movie this would be the little montage with cheesy music. Everything was perfect.
And we all know how long perfection lasts.
*************************************
I’ll try to explain this to you. It’s not that I didn’t love Sheila. I did, I really did. Well, I think I did. Well, to tell you the truth, I most likely didn’t. But, she was nice…kind of. And, she wasn’t that overweight. Alright, enough with the bullshit. Here’s the truth.
I met Shelia in a bar, actually one very similar to O’Gradys. I had just lost my job and I only had 100 dollars in my savings account. I went home with her that night and I just never left. It was really a sweet deal. I got a home, food, clothing, and I got to fuck Shelia every night.
Sex with Shelia was hot. Well, it was okay. Let’s just say the sex wasn’t terrible. I did have one problem with our sex life. Not the problem you’re thinking of. I have never had a problem with getting it up. Well…except for that one time. But, that’s a different story. The thing is…I kind of have this thing for cock.
I’m not gay. Let’s get that out of the way right away. I fuck girls. But, boys are nice too. All of my previous relationships have been with women. But, I have had sex with men, usually one night stands, or fuck-buddies. So, I guess that would make me bisexual with a leaning towards straight. I really hate trying to label myself.
In my opinion sexuality is much more fluid than modern society assumes. I actually heard somewhere that less than 20% of society is completely straight or gay. But, I digress. I was speaking of Shelia abandoning me, and transvestites, and sex.
So let’s start at the very beginning of this story. About two months before the street argument, I was visiting a bar, not an unusual occurrence. This was a new hang-out for me. For the past two weeks I had been trying to avoid my usual hangouts. I didn’t want to run into Shelia or any of her nosy friends. I had just walked into the bar, sat down, and started downing shots of Daniels. After my third drink, I finally looked around a bit. I was in a gay bar.
I was on my fourth drink, when I saw a shock of blonde hair out of the corner of my eye. I turned to examine the blonde. Low-slung hip huggers, a lacey top thing, pale skin, pouty lips, blue eyes, and shoulder-length blonde hair pulled away the eyes with a blue barrette. Pretty. Very pretty.
I had never fucked a cross-dresser before. When I fuck men, I like to fuck men. But this he-she was pretty. I liked her.
“Hey, Blondie,” I yelled across the bar. She smiled and walked over.
“It’s Lola.”
“Lola? Hmm. Well, I’m Jesus.” It came out more like “a-zooz.” I was a bit tipsy.
“Mm. Jesus, our lord and savior,” she pronounced my name with a soft southern accent and gave a slight laugh. I liked her.
“So what are you into?” She gave this little laugh, her head tilted back a bit. I loved her laugh.
“Everything.” After a few moments of silence, Lola tried to engage me in small talk. The weather, what I did for a living, where I’m from. I wasn’t really paying attention.
In the background I could hear a familiar song playing. I leaned in to Lola and kissed her soft pink lips in mid-sentence. “What was that for?”
“The song.” She looked puzzled. I could see the realization set in as she strained to hear the words, “don’t talk, just kiss.” What can I say? I’m a closet Right Said Fred fan.
That was my first encounter with Lola. That night, I went home with her. And it was amazing. It was probably the best sex I had ever had. Later I found out she wasn’t a full time cross-dresser. She only did it every once in awhile. She said she was “expressing herself.” She was an artistic type. I really didn’t get it. I’ve never understood artists. Her real name was Drew.
I liked Drew. He was smart and funny. His accent was to die for. He was beautiful and kind. I could actually have an intelligent conversation with him, unlike the conversations about “Brad and Jennifer” I had with Sheila. Drew was sexy and sweet; he actually did volunteer work. And, on top of all of that, he was a great cook. He was perfect. Well, except for being a neat freak. But, other than that, Drew was definitely perfect. I started spending a lot of time with him. We always had a good time together. Whether we were just hanging out at his place or we were at some club and he was Lola for the night.
Things were going great for me for a while. I was living with Shelia and I was meeting up with Drew almost everyday. We actually did a lot together. We went out to dinner together, had picnics, walked in the park, went to bars and clubs, went shopping, saw plays, visited museums. We did everything. So if our relationship was a movie this would be the little montage with cheesy music. Everything was perfect.
And we all know how long perfection lasts.