Mark was a cute guy. Just ask Stephanie, his roommate and fag hag. She
hated that word and he made sure it was never spoken in her presence.
With her close-cropped strawberry blonde hair, curvaceous figure, and
pleasant face, she wasn't a hag. But she was the prototypical woman who
seemed to spend a bit too much time with gay men.
Mark was her polar opposite in some ways. Jewish with a furry, burly
chest, a lived-in face, dimples in both sets of cheeks, a fur-dusted ass
well-toned from his years as a gym owner. Mark was not a weak man. Anyone
who mocked the slight lisp in his voice or asked if his wrist could stay
upright was bound to lose a few teeth.
Mark was a witty and warm man whose neuroses only made him more
appealing. Sadly, Mark's boyfriend Pablo (a body carved from marble and a
personality to match) was never around. He played Ricardo Corcerone on
The Restless Range, and a rising young star certainly couldn't admit that
he was a great big Mary...or Maria. Stephanie knew that Mark was lonely.
He was, in many ways, as needy as she was, and Pablo had been gone to
Hollywood for months now.
In the shower that morning, Stephanie thought about Pablo and Mark
together. Pablo had always thrown an arm around Mark and hugged him tight
whenever Steph was in the room. He had a hot temper and also quite a hot
ass. Stephanie had spied on them once. Mary moaned as she realized two of
her slick fingers had entered her shaved pussy.
She hadn't meant to watch them that day- well not REALLY - but the
bedroom door was left half-open. There they were, Mark on his hairy, firm
belly, Pablo on top of him. His bronze, rock-hard ass pivoted in and out
of Mark's pale, supple cheeks. His penis was immense, slathered in
various juices and flavors of masculinity. She could hear Mark moan with
each thrust, saw his face clench up, could practically the foreskin
retracting his snug hole. She waited and waited for him to sit up, to see
his dick, the dick she'd watched flop in boxers and dreamt about tasting
and touching. But he stayed on his stomach as Pablo clenched and shot a
raw, raucous load into his compliant cheeks.
Her nipples were rock-hard in the slightly cool spray. She'd never let a
man fully explore the pleasures of her body. Only one man was for her.
Panting, she began to slide a third finger into her snatch when...
"Is anyone in here?"
"I'm taking a shower!!!"
"Sorry. I just..."
Stephanie could hear the heartbreak in his normally upbeat voice.
Squinting through the curtain, she gasped as she saw Mark in his snug
boxer briefs. *He must be upset, he's just about naked.* He had the
Sunday style section crumpled in his hand.
"That bitch is dating a bitch!!!! Pablo and some slut movie star. They're
all over each other on the front page! I HATE HIM. I knew he was too good
for me. I'm so ugly and fat and...oh GOD..."
She'd only seen Mark cry at really cheesy movies. And when his
grandmother died. Pablo wasn't there *then* either. Stephanie realized
that when he needed someone, she was the only one who was ever around.
Without thinking, she pushed open the shower curtain and held Mark in her
arms. His head fit so right on her bosom. Even the morning stubble was
only a light scratch against her milky-white skin. She sobbed into my
chest, his lips near her perky, swollen left nipple. She wanted him so
badly. She ran her hands in broad circles down his back. This was right.
Stephanie and Mark. A woman and a man.
He pulled his head up, his beautiful big puppy brown eyes welled with
tears. Knowing this was right, this had been right our whole lives, she
kissed him. She knew this was only the beginning...