August 15th

Again, futanari/dickgirl having sex with a guy. Do note that the characters are 16 and that this is a flashback.

---------

Sixteen is a momentous age. When Nevada and I were sixteen, we went through changes, as much as any other sixteen year old. But the change to us was not the same as getting that first car.



It was late evening, the setting sun turning the sky orange and basking the woods in that amber glow. Nevada sat across me on the other side of the campfire, holding a stick with several marshmallows stuck on the end of the end.



Upon my insistence, she did clean the stick with soap and fresh water.



We had just finished a meal of a fish she caught; unfortunately not the one she hit me in the face with two days ago though. We had brought hot dogs to eat, but we kept getting turned on by the other person playing with and eating them alluringly, so I threw them out.



The day had been fun. Did a little fishing, hiking and laid back in the sun. It wasn’t as exhausting as an average day on these trips tends to be. Looking through the wafting smoke, I could see why it might not have been so exhausting.



Nevada had been pretty quiet today. She wasn’t completely lifeless, but it certainly seemed like some if it had been drained outta her. Maybe I had been too busy and having fun in the first two days of this camping trip to notice her mood.



A sullen Nevada was not an natural one.



“Your marshmallows are done.” I pointed at the stick hovering above the fire. The white, soft cylinders were growing molten and brown.



She pulled them back from the fire, but did not attempt to eat them, probably because they were molten, but that kind of stuff didn’t stop her from burning her tongue in the past.



“Uh…” What would make her cheer up? “Maybe we can go for a late night swim together. My hand feels like it might have a mind of it’s own…and stroke anything it can get a hold of in the water…”



She frowned.



If swimming and a handjob didn’t cheer her up, I would have to resort to a desperate measure. Hated to resort to it though. “Ah!” I exclaimed. “Forgot to ask you how it’s been with…you know, that guy.” I didn’t forget, I just didn’t like the subject. “You know, Mumbly Joe or something.”



“Johnny?”



I nodded. “Ah yes, Mr. ‘I Look Dreamy in a Baseball Uniform’” Johnny Moon was her boyfriend at the time, and I would be lying if I said I liked him. Maybe I was a bit overprotective of Nevada as of late. Although it could be because he‘s a pretty boy with a pretty sour attitude toward anyone he deems as competition. I was no pretty boy, but I was perceived as a threat when he and Nevada started going out. But as much as it annoyed me, she did have a crush on him. “Took you to that splatter movie few days ago didn’t he?”



The day before she left with me on this camping trip this year, she had went out with him.



“Did you hear about that transvestite that got attacked a few weeks ago?”



A few weeks ago, a teenage transvestite, a man dressing as a woman, was attacked by a group of peers. He survived, and the group was arrested a few days later. The trial had been a minor local news story for the last few days. “Yeah.”



Her face tightened up. “I was going to the bathroom in his house before we were gonna leave to the movie. I could hear the news on the TV.”



An odd little part of me thought about seeing her take a piss, if only so I would find which way she pisses, but I held that thought inside the back of my mind for now.



“I heard…” Nevada looked distressed. “He snorted, and said that the defendants should be given ‘a fucking medal for what they did to that freak.’”



Years of knowing her gave me insights into Nevada’s moods. This was not going to end on a happy note.



“He, he…” She looked at me, right in the eyes through the smoke and fire. They were eyes I have seen before, eyes that I did not wish to see ever again. “He said that…that ‘the pervert should be put in jail’…”



Her eyes, her eyes were the same as I saw two years ago. They said it all. Once again she looked at me like she had been backed into a corner. She saw an hostile army behind me.



“…and that he should have…it cut off. ‘It was fucking…disgusting.’”



Before my eyes, Nevada started to cry. Hot tears ran down her face as her voice and breathing broke into sobs. I knew why she cried. I had only seen her cry before once, when I found out about her penis. She tried to hurt herself that time. In months and years afterwards, I tried to learn about why she is the way she is, and people like her. People would be astonished at the amount of research a 15 year old boy would do at the public library. What I learned I told Nevada.



But not amount of knowledge can prepare one for the terrible facts that face someone that does not fit in the world that decrees uniformity with the two genders. Nevada was imperfect, undesirable. Even those that she thought she might trust are people that may be able to hurt her dearly.



She had never been rejected by someone because of her nature before.



Tears poured down her face, the sound of her sobbing echoed in the woods. The sun had just set a moment ago. It was dark. She was hurt. She was in pain. She was suffering.



But there was nothing I could do. I could do something last time, but I was powerless against a world that was cruel, and that I was a welcome part of.



Nevada got up, and stepped past the fire to me. Her cries were louder, and she sounded weaker. When she sat down next to me, her cries were a wail.



I looked down at her, I had no words.



She looked up at me, and she had words. “I…” She took a breath, to be able to say it without breaking into sobs. “I am a lesbian.” Tears continued to pour down her cheeks, down her face and onto the space between us.



Words came to mind, but the words were not anything I could say. They were loud noises of desperation. Why? The words screamed in a language I did not understand. Nevada was in trouble, and I couldn’t say anything to alleviate it. The sounds of her sobs echoed in the forest, the voices in my head screamed. Her declaration was loudest of all, like a gunshot.



There was no calm silence. In an act of desperation, I kissed her. I had only done it once before, the last time I saw her in tears. Last time I had kissed her like a child would kiss another, it was crude, it was an act of mildest and simplest affection. This time I kissed her like a parent would kiss a child. It was an act to try and comfort and reassure her.



“I…I don’t want to be alone.” Her hand held lightly to my shirt.



With those words, we never slept in separate tents again.



That night, I became intimate with Nevada. Maybe I fooled around with her. Or maybe I just had sex with her. I don’t know what it was. Up until that night, we had used our hand and our mouths to please the other, but sex was a taboo. Neither of us had tried to make a move on the other, nor did we discuss or even allude to it.



Nevada and I gave each other handjobs and then blowjobs. Our hands and tongues were skilled, intimately familiar with the other’s body. It was both of our first time at sex though. It was crude, it was awkward and it was pathetic. We were teenagers, blindly grinding against each other in search for pleasure.



It hurt. She didn’t bleed, her hymen likely broke long time ago, with her active lifestyle. But she winced in pain as I moved, a part of me within her. Maybe I was too fast, rough or maybe she wasn’t properly aroused. I don’t know.



It’s not an experience I look back with fondly. The chaotic, piercing shrieks of my confusion and her declaration were silent while I was intimate/fooled around with/had sex with Nevada. The only sound that remained was her sobbing. She didn’t stop crying during sex. Nevada did not want me to stop, she told me to continue, she closed her legs around me and prevented me from stopping. But nothing I could do or say could make her stop crying.



When I made Nevada into a woman into, as much of a woman as I could make her, and came inside her, she had run out of tears.



Shortly after we had finished, she wedged her way in between my arms and didn’t let me leave until sunrise.