10 comments/ 27372 views/ 19 favorites Denise - New Beginning By: jclement Life was good. A couple of years out of school, I was working as a business software developer in the mini-silicon valley near the university. I was sharing a flat with a couple of undergrads. Unfortunately, both of my "roomies" were about to graduate. One was an ROTC type and would be going off to helicopter flight training in Alabama and the other, an education major, would be going to a teaching job across the state. Although I was making a respectable salary, I wasn't so enthralled with the apartment that I wanted to pay full rent on it. So, it was either try two new at least semi-compatible roommates or go somewhere else myself. My older sister, Margot, lived across town. In one of my infrequent conversations with her I mentioned my dilemma. "Oh," Margot responded, "Denise and I just lost a roommate, too." She paused, as if considering the situation, then added perkily, "Maybe you could move in with us, little brother. At least for a little while." Problem solved, right? Well no. Nothing is ever as simple as it seems. First of all, there's my sister who, in her own word, ls a "Flaming Lesbian." Seems like the only males she has ever been able to be more than passing civil with were our father and I. She is socially and, I'm pretty sure, sexually active. I've occasionally been exposed to her crowd at her apartment. She even dragged me to a PFLAG meeting and an LGBT group social. While I guess I can handle her orientation on an intellectual level, I was just uncomfortable being among people of those persuasions, other than her. If I were to move into her apartment, I'd probably have to force myself to wear a non-homophobe expression till my face ached. Then there was the matter of Denise. She used to be Dennis till she was about ten or eleven. Dennis' parents were wealthy an apparently more understanding than I could imagine, so they found a therapist for Dennis and a sympathetic private school that would accept him as a female or transsexual or what-ever. The therapist arranged for hormone treatments, and school enrollment was accomplished. Dennis disappeared and Denise came into being. However, she had never taken the final step and was still equipped with male plumbing. All this was probably more information than I needed to know. I understand that my sister told me so that neither Denise or I would suffer embarrassment if I were to try to hit on her. The part about the male plumbing would have sufficed in that regard. But since Margot considered it a wonderful story, she told me the whole thing and made me promise to never let on to Denise that I knew. Yeah, like that was gonna be easy. Thus, when she invited me to move in, I did not bump the idea to the top of my list of options. Unfortunately, since my list of options was quite short, it ended up near the top anyway. Eventually, after a search for either two new roommates or a place I liked in my price range weren't panning out, it floated to the top. Time for some heavy-duty soul searching and/or rationalization. How bad could it be? My name wouldn't need to be on the lease. I was sure that Margot would understand if, after giving it my best shot, I still wasn't comfortable and moved out. I decided it was time to talk to her. We agreed to meet at a fast food place for lunch. We had to spend a little extra time in the order line because Margot insisted on being in the longer line that had the cute girl working it rather than the nerdy-looking guy. When we got to the head of the line, I wasn't sure if Margot was silently hitting on her but there sure was a lot of eye contact, smiling, and even the occasional giggle or hand touching as she placed and picked up our order. Call me oversensitive or homophobic or whatever, but I was quite uncomfortable and starting to have second thoughts again. Anyway, as we were running out of french fries and small talk, Margot broached the subject of me moving in with her and Denise. "I really do want you to move in with us, Little Brother, but are you sure you can handle it?" She paused, looked me straight in the eyes and added, "You being a homophobe and all." I threw up my hands in defense. "Oh, come on. Isn't that a bit harsh?" "Oh, I know it is, but I know you're never really comfortable around my friends, especially when we start acting gay and silly." She looked thoughtful for a minute. "Lately, when you've been over, you've seemed just barely able to coexist with Denise in a slightly stand-offish sort of way." Since what she said was pretty much on target, I said nothing and intently munched a french fry. "Well?" she prompted. I found a patch of tabletop to examine. "Sis, on a logistical level moving in with you is a great solution." I pulled in a deep breath. "I'd like to think I can handle it on a psychological level." "If I agree to try to make sure my friends behave civilized when you're around, and you try to at least act semi-sociable toward them, it might work." She paused until I looked up at her. "Oh, and I won't make out with my dates in the living room and I'll make sure Denise doesn't try to seduce you," she added with an impish grin. On that note we ceremoniously shook hands over the remains of our lunch. By the next weekend, I was moved in with Margot and Denise. ***** The first night in my new digs, Margot and Denise made supper for all of us. I had sat through a couple of meals with Denise before and had made it through with minimal discomfort, nut I hoped that they weren't planning to make this communal dining a regular thing. As I worked my way through a rather tasty pasta dish of some sort, I tried to inconspicuously study Denise. Like a lot of people I had my share of preconceived notions about transsexuals. They had been running through my head since I had begun to consider sharing an apartment with one. Like any other normal American male, I had first learned of transsexuals through adolescent Christine Jorgensen jokes explained to me by more enlightened peers. Then there were the usually unflattering portrayals of "she-males" or "trannies", often as prostitutes, on mainstream television and occasional exposure while surfing pornographic websites. The ones on mainstream television were usually obviously masculine, over-dressed, and had way too much makeup. Some of those on the porno sites seemed to be rather attractive and feminine as long as their nether region weren't exposed. Denise didn't fit either profile. She didn't really look like a guy in drag and her day-to-day behavior seemed womanly enough. In terms of physical appearance, she wouldn't have come close to lighting up the porn industry. She was bland with minimal makeup and a no-frills hairstyle. Her wardrobe, at least what I had seen of it, was generally frumpy. She had it all, pale complexion, not at all luminous, mousy lifeless brown hair, and no shape to speak of. She had plain, regular features and while her eyes were intelligent, they were not particularly lively or engaging. In all, she fit my idea of what a librarian should look like. What a coincidence! That's exactly what she was, the head software librarian for a major industrial firm in town. If my sister had been serious about Denise wanting to seduce me, I certainly didn't think there was even the hint of danger in that regard. As for me initiating anything illicit with Denise, I expected there was far less chance of that than me trying to do something incestuous with my bright-eyed, redheaded, button-nosed lesbian sister. And that was never going to happen except in uninvited fantasies. Actually, all that made my coexistence with Denise relatively easy. We actually had a lot in common due to our somewhat related jobs. She was willing to admit that software developers were indeed a notch or two above plant life in the overall scheme of things. I allowed as to how it was okay for software librarians to form enlightened opinions about software beyond just how to catalog it. Of course we both felt that my sister's job as a game and smart phone app designer was only slightly beneath contempt, though, as she was quite successful, we did both envy her free-wheeling work environment and exorbitant salary. As I settled into my life as a part of this all-geek trio, it occurred to me that my knowledge of transsexuals and their world was spotty and limited at best. Admitting that, I did what any red-blooded techie would do. I got on Google. By designing my searches carefully, I was able to significantly cut down on the porn site listings and get articles with substance. (Hell, I admit it. I may have checked out a porn site or two for strictly academic reasons.) Anyway, after discovering that the phenomenon is known as Gender Identity Disorder (GID) I did learn a lot, especially about real-life everyday transsexuals who risked or gave up a great deal to live life in the sex they felt they really should be. Apparently, a significant number of them did complete the transformation and lived happily ever after, one being Wendy Carlos, the synthesizer musician. On the other hand, I found that there were a very high number of suicides among transsexuals in the years immediately following the surgery. I also read up on the transition process as a whole, an alphabet soup of abbreviations in addition to GID, such as HRT (hormone replacement therapy), RLE (real life experience), and SRS (sex reassignment surgery, the biggie). I wasn't sure where Denise was in all this or what her agenda was in this regard. Somehow, it just didn't seem like the sort of subject I could bring up for light dinner table conversation. Things went smoothly for the next several months. I got so amazingly tolerant that Denise and Margot even began to introduce me to their friends, and told me the apartment was again feeling more like home than a dormitory. I dated some and had a couple fun-but-go-nowhere flings with girls who weren't into it for the long haul. Then Margot dropped her little bombshell. A company in game designer heaven out on the Coast wanted her. They were offering an even more freewheeling work environment and a more ridiculous salary. Naturally we went through the drama of her saying she was going to turn it down because she just couldn't bear to break up our merry little group and us saying she was crazy not to grab the opportunity. When this had played out sufficiently, she boogied on out to binary Nirvana. ******* So there we were, Denise and I, left in a three-bedroom pad. It had been right to encourage Margot to move on and seize a golden opportunity. However, she had been the catalyst for the survival of our trio of misfits. Things seemed to be getting increasingly awkward between us. Any family feeling was gone. As time progressed she gradually related her story of growing up transgendered. It seemed that Dennis had liked girlish things and had wished he had been a girl from his earliest memories. When he was in kindergarten, on a family visit to his uncle's home, he had persuaded his five-year-old cousin Sarah to show him her "little girl thing". Being a very polite child he showed her his "little boy thing". They decided hers was kind of cute and his was kind of ugly. Or a long time after that he prayed fervently every night that his ugly boy thing would disappear and he would be a little girl with a cute girl thing. He had visited Sarah's home often during his elementary school years. He really liked playing "tea party" with Sarah. She would dress up in fancy clothes, dress her dolls in feminine finery, and they would sit at the little table in her playroom. Sarah would serve pretend tea from with her little tea set. During a visit when they were both seven, one of them came up with the idea of not only dressing up her dolls but also dressing up Dennis in Sarah's clothes. They eagerly tried it and Dennis was thrilled with the experience. They laughed at the little bulge when he put on her panties. Dennis couldn't remember any time he'd been so happy. After that she always dressed him for their tea parties, letting him wear her fanciest clothes and prettiest undies. When Sarah came to visit at his house, she's sneak over a set of her undies for him to wear while they were playing. Somehow none of the family discovered what was going on till just after Easter when Dennis and Sarah were ten. Dennis was all decked out in the new outfit Sarah had gotten for Easter, including her flowered Easter bonnet. They had just seated themselves at the table when Dennis' mother walked into the playroom. Her jaw dropped. "Dennis, what in the..." Dennis and Sarah froze. As she studied him, trying to figure out what was going on, she couldn't help thinking how cute and happy Dennis looked. "Jim," she called to his father, "come and see how cute our daughter looks!" "Our daughter?" responded Jim as he came down the hallway. Like his wife, he did a double take when he caught site of Dennis. All the stock thoughts one might expect rushed through his mind, but they seemed to be overridden by the fact that Dennis, though obviously embarrassed, looked so happy with no sign of guilt or shame. Damn, somehow it just looked right. "You look very nice, ah..." To use the name Dennis just didn't seem to fit. Sarah picked up on this immediately. "Denise, she announced. "Her name is Denise!" "Well, so it is! You look very nice, Denise." "Thank you, Daddy!" said Denise with a big smile. She got up, ran over to her parents, and gave them both a hug. No one mentioned her changing clothes, so she wore the outfit for the rest of the day. Her aunt and uncle, seeing her parents going along with the transformation, went along also. They even let her wear it home. After they arrived, she went to the bathroom and checked to see if her little pecker was still there. It was, but she pulled down her panties, hoisted her skirt, and sat down to pee just like Sarah did. The next six months were a whirlwind of medical doctors, counselors, and child psychologists. He was still Dennis at school and church, but must of the rest of the time she was Denise. Her mom and dad let her build up a girl's wardrobe and she redecorated her room in a feminine way. In the end, all the professionals they consulted agreed that it would probably be less harmful to allow her to live as a girl than to force her to live as a boy. After much debate and soul-searching, she had been started on early hormone therapy. As a result, her puberty had been more female than male. Her voice hadn't changed perceptibly, she hadn't developed much body hair, and her breasts had developed. Though they were small, she was happy with them. "My boobs are me," she once quipped in a lighter moment. She felt great gratitude to her parents for supporting her. And thankfulness that they could afford the expenses associated with preoperative transition. They had been able to send her to a supportive school that had allowed her to attend as a girl. She had even had a date for the prom. Good grades had gotten her a full ride to the state university that didn't care about her sexual persuasion. Surgery was another matter. It would have been terribly expensive. As she felt shouldn't place any further burden on her parents and opted to postpone it indefinitely. She had settled into a job she really enjoyed with a good company. I knew she was somewhat socially active in the LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transsexual) community. As to whether she had a sex life, she didn't tell and I didn't ask. So life was pretty comfortable with my intelligent, appreciative, possibly celibate, preoperative transsexual roommate. We enjoyed each other's company and made no demands on one another. I admired her strength and courage. ******* A new phase in our relationship launched when Denise's birthday rolled around. Her parents had missed her birthday last year because of her dad's work, but they were going to come up this year to help her celebrate. She was really excited. I was looking forward to meeting people who could be such loving, supportive parents. My parents had been good to me and loved me. I would like to think that they would have reacted as Denise's mom and dad did, but I had never confronted them with anything near the magnitude of a gender identity problem. We spent the week before their arrival tidying the place up and preparing Margot's old room for them to stay in. Fortunately, Margot had left her "so last year" bedroom furniture behind, including a queen size bed. As their arrival on Thursday approached, I began to feel a little trepidation. After all, theirs was a tad beyond the typical relationship and my relationship with Denise wasn't what you'd call normal. I knew I would have to expend every effort not to commit a major faux pas. Oh well, I would put on a happy face and do my best. I was not surprised to find them a pleasant attractive couple in their late forties, easy to talk to. Jim was vice president of a large accounting firm and Martha was assistant director of the public library system in their city. While they relaxed from their drive, Denise prepared one of her signature pasta dishes while I whipped up a salad, set the table, and poured the wine. Dinner went well. Denise and her parents did a lot of catching up. Jim and Martha asked me a few non-intrusive questions about my background and job. I relaxed and had a pleasant time. After dinner mom and daughter continued to chat as they cleaned up while Jim and I went into the living room to catch the end of a college football game on TV. When the game was over Martha and Denise came back in the living room. We all sort of looked at each other. It was after ten o'clock, and everyone allowed as how he or she was tired, so we hammered out a bathroom schedule and a time for breakfast in the morning. As we headed toward our respective rooms, Martha asked casually, "You will be joining us tomorrow evening, won't you?" "Tomorrow evening?" "Yes. We're going to Stephan's for Denise's birthday dinner," Jim informed me. Stephan's was an exclusive supper club in the affluent part of town. "We really do hope you'll come!" added Martha. "Oh, I wouldn't think of imposing." I was mentally scrambling for a plausible excuse. Our code was nothing together outside the apartment at night. I caught a glimpse of Denise. She seemed as surprised as I was. "No imposition at all." "Mom!" interjected Denise. "I really appreciate you including me," I said, moving quickly to avoid any potential unpleasantness. "I'm honored and I'd be delighted to join you." I hoped I was sounding sincere and not laying it on to thickly. "Good!" said Jim. "We'll sort out the details n the morning. Goodnight, Tony. Goodnight, Princess," he added nodding to Denise. He turned toward their room before he could see the look of exasperation on her face. "Good night, Daddy," she managed to say in a near normal voice. "Good night, Mom." "Good night, Darling." Was that a hint of a grin on her face? I took a glance at Denise. I could tell she wanted to talk, but we couldn't just hang back here. And I was sure that she didn't want her parents to see us going into the same bedroom together any more than I did. We retreated quickly to our own rooms. Just after I closed my door my cell phone rang. It was Denise. "Tony, I'm so sorry! I was as surprised as you were." "Not to worry. I like your folks and it seemed they were pretty set on including me." I paused. When she didn't respond, I added, "I hope you don't mind that I accepted..." "It's not that. It's just we..." "I know. But hey! What good is a birthday if you can't break a rule or two. How old will you be, anyway?" "Very funny! Thanks, Tony." "G'night, Denise." "G'night, Tony." Somehow I managed to get a little sleep, but all sorts of strange thoughts were playing bumper cars in my mind. I believed that Denise was really as surprised as I was. Did her parents assume that there was more to our relationship than the coexistence we had hammered out? Did they want there to be? Maybe it was simple gratitude for my staying in the apartment so Denise wouldn't have to find new roommates, or for agreeing to let them stay in the apartment? Perhaps I was a token outsider to make it seem like more of a party. No idea emerged as a front runner. Denise - New Beginning Damn! I'd probably be expected to wear a suit and tie. We would be going to Stephan's after all. Well, I'd just have to try my best not to spill soup on myself and try to keep up with the conversation. And try to look at Denise as if she was actually my friend and not just a roommate. Hell, I just love a challenge. The next morning Denise seemed pretty much her usual self, happy to have her parents there. On their part they looked well rested and ready to face the day. Martha made us all a nice bacon, eggs, and toast breakfast. Martha announced that she and her daughter were going to have a girls' day out with lots of shopping and a light lunch somewhere nice. Jim said he had meetings lined up with a several business contacts in town. I decided to spend the day at work. That evening, while I was trying to make myself look presentable for the respectable part of town, I heard someone tapping on Denise's door and Martha's voice. "Would you like some help, Dear?" "Mom, I'm an adult now." Exasperation, then, in a gentler voice, "Thanks, Mom." A little later, Jim and I found ourselves in the living room glancing at our watches. Then at what seemed the same time mother and daughter emerged from their rooms. I'm sure Martha was wearing something, but at that moment I wouldn't have noticed even if she weren't wearing anything. I was seeing Denise for the first time, just as her father had first seen her years ago at Sarah's house. Yes, she was lovely, but more importantly she was radiating happiness. "Hi, Denise!" was all I could think of to say. "Hi yourself, Tony!", she responded with a beautiful smile I had never seen before. She had been permed with a hairstyle that really suited her and her makeup was fantastic, delicately and deftly applied. She was wearing a medium-dark blue satin dress with a scoop neckline and short sleeves. The dress fit her form, which till now I had never seen in her day-to-day wardrobe, and reached to the top of her knees. Her hose were a light blue and her moderately high-heel shoes matched her dress. Around her shoulders was a kenti cloth stole or shall. The green, yellow and orange of the Kenyan material should have clashed with the blue of her dress, but somehow it worked. I was just beyond awestruck. "You look great!" I said. I had the presence of mind to take a picture of her with my cell phone and send it to my sister. With considerable effort Martha and Jim managed to herd us into the taxi and get us to Stephan's. The maitre d' showed us to a table at the edge of the dance floor. On the bandstand a Milleresque group was playing light swing. The lighting was subdued and a candle flickered on our table. The maitre d' seated mom and daughter. I sat across from Denise and Jim sat across from Martha. The dinner was a blur in my memory. I was lost in Denise. A flood of trite analogies coursed through my mind. Ugly duckling to beautiful swan. Caterpillar to dazzling butterfly. And on and on... After our server cleared the main course, he reappeared with a small birthday cake. The beam of a spotlight fell on our table. Taking the mike the bandleader announced, "It's Denise's birthday!" and started the band on "Happy Birthday". Everyone in the crowd joined in, then applauded wildly as Denise blew out the candles. As the applause died down, the band began to chant, "Birthday dance! Birthday dance!" As those on the dance floor cleared a spotlit circle, Denise, Jim, and Martha all looked expectantly at me. I suppose I should have felt trapped, duped, set up. Even a few hours ago I might have been angered if I known it was going to happen. Now I was happy that it was. "May I," I asked, starttng to rise. "Yes," she answered with her most radiant smile yet. There was polite applause as I led her to the center of the floor. The band launched into "Moonlight Serenade". I held her in a Catholic school approved dance posture and we began to dance. "Where is Denise and what have you done with her?" I asked with a stern expression. "I'll never tell, and you can't make me!" she replied mockingly. I was definitely lost in the moment. By the crooner's second chorus, her cheek was touching mine and I could sense her breasts lightly pressing against my chest. Everything seemed magical. We danced a couple more numbers then returned to the table, busy returning the smiles of couples we passed. Martha had cut and served the cake. "Sorry we kept you waiting," I said as I held Denise's chair. "Not a problem," Martha smiled. "I did actually manage to get Jim out there for one number." "You guys looked great out there," Jim added. I started to say "I took..." when Denise broke in, "...ballroom dancing..." I jumped back in with "...for PE..." and she finished "...in college." Everyone laughed. When we had finished our cake, Jim asked Denise to dance with him. Martha and I watched them dance for a bit. "Thank you for helping us make this special, Tony. I hope you don't feel too set up." "No. I'm beginning to see that I just needed a little help to get me pointed in her direction," I responded. "You know, even before tonight," Martha mused, "things had turned out so much better for Denise than they could have. But the vibrant girl that left home for the real world was becoming a spinster. Through you sister, she developed some friendships in the LGBT crowd, but nothing that seemed to amount to anything. I want her to see that she can be an attractive and joyful person. She says she's happy with her life, but she could have so much more, be so much more..." After Jim and Denise returned, we enjoyed aperitifs. Jim announced that he and Martha would need to get an early start in the morning, as they had an important commitment back home on Sunday. I asked Denise for a last dance. It turned out to be "Moonlight Cocktails". Although we were not painted onto each other, there was no significant air space between us. We were forehead to forehead, and I was lost in her eyes. As the band hit the last few bars, I resisted the urge to kiss her. On the last note, she kissed me lightly on the cheek and whispered "Thank you!" Back in my room I just crashed, fully clothed, on my bed, still unmade from the throes of last night. What the Hell was going on? I had always assumed I was sort of a poster child for polite homophobia. Yet I had just had what was arguably the best evening ever dancing cheek to cheek with a preop transsexual. She had even kissed me on the cheek and whispered in my ear. And my only regret? That I hadn't kissed her on the lips first. This picture was oh so wrong in oh so many ways. I finally fell into a fitful sleep, waking several times to replay the issue in my head. I woke at dawn. Giving up on any further idea of sleep, I shaved, showered, and got dressed. When he came out of his room, Denise was heading into the kitchen. She was wearing baggy sweats and fuzzy slippers. "Gotta get Mom and Dad fed and on their way," she said with a smile. "Wish they could have stayed a little longer." Denice made french toast and bacon. When Jim and Martha came out, we all sat down to to eat. Conversation pretty much revolved around the previous evening: what a nice place Stephan's was, the food, the band, the whole birthday to-do. Her parents apologized profusely for having to leave right away. Jim and Martha were on the road by nine thirty. After waving goodbye to them, we returned to the apartment. Denise looked a little down. "It's always the pits when your parents leave after a visit," I said sympathetically. "It's not that," she responded, tearing up. Uh oh! "What's the matter? Can I help?" Yanking down her sweatpants, she sobbed, "This is the matter, Tony! Can you make it go away?" Her hands flew to her face as sobs racked her body. There it was, her penis. Small and underdeveloped, it was nestled in a small patch of brown pubic hair, limply lying against small testicles. I froze, transfixed by the sight. My razor-sharp mind went into lockdown mode. Finally, I managed to go to her and gently pull up her sweatpants. I whispered, "It's all right, Denise. It's all right," taking her in my arms. She pushed away. "No! It's not all right. It'll never be all right!" Crying openly now, she broke out of my embrace and ran into her room, slamming the door behind her. "Denice!" I called futilely, stepping to her door. Knowing it wasn't locked, I weighed the option of opening it and going to her. But somehow that didn't seem like the right thing to do. I retreated to my room, but left the door open. I flopped down on my bed again. Damn! This time it was finally obvious to me. I was in love with a person named Denise. That person was in love with me. Yet, due to the generally customs and mores of our society, three inches of flesh, muscle, and nerves were keeping us from sharing that love. Now it no longer seemed to matter that expressing my love openly for her as she was would hang the label of gay on me. I wanted her as my lover, my soulmate, regardless of what form our physical love might take. Relief flooded over me. I had wrestled with my demons and overcome them. But there was still the problem of getting in sync with Denise, getting her to realize we should be, needed to be, together as lovers. Like that was going to be easy! I knew I had to act quickly before she could fully reenforce her protective barrier. I did not want to have to mount a siege. We would have to consummate our love, our spiritual union, today. I believed that there was still a window of opportunity, that if I could just get her out of her room and make physical contact with her, things would fall into place. Suddenly an idea hit me. It was so weird that it just might work. I found my cell phone, logged onto my music service and did some downloading. After creating a couple of playlists I was ready to to start things rolling. I went in the living room to plug my cell phone into the mini-stereo. I jacked up the volume a little, then started the first playlist. The driving beat of Randy and the Rainbows spilled into the room. "Oh Denise, shooby doo I'm in love with you, Denise shooby doo." As the song continued, I pushed some furniture out of the way to make a postage-stamp dance floor. And stood by her door, waiting patiently. The playlist was one song, set for continuous play. On the third go-around, when the group got to "Denise, Denise, oh, with your eyes so blue Denise, Denise, I've got a crush on you" her door opened. Her eyes red with crying, she looked at me uncertainly. "They're playing our song!" I half shouted over the music. Grabbing her hand, I led her to our little dance floor. I didn't have to say more. We were already moving to the beat, dancing as we probably hadn't since we were teenagers. Her smile was back. After dancing the song through I don't know how many times, we collapsed, laughing and exhausted, on the sofa. I leaned over and put my lips gently on hers. We stayed that way for a long time. Finally, pulling away and standing, I switched to the second playlist and lowered the volume. Percy Faith's "Theme from A Summer Place" flowed into the room. "May I have this dance?" I asked. She had a serious, thoughtful expression. "Tony, are you trying to seduce me?" "As a matter of fact, yes." "Well, in that case..." Smiling, she rose into my waiting embrace. Our bodies fused together and we began to sway to the soft melody. When I brought my lips to her waiting mouth again, I let my tongue invite itself in to play with hers. She responded without hesitation. Our hands roamed over each other's back from neck to upper thigh. My raging erection, which was tight against her, was killing me. I sensed a response from her in that area. She leaned back from the waist, keeping our pelvic regions tightly against each other. Her expression turned serious. "Tony, are you sure this is what you want? Are you really okay with it?" "Denise, I love you. I don't want your sexual situation to stand in the way of our love, or come between us." "Oh, Tony, I do love you, too. But maybe we should take it slow...let you get used..." "No! I wouldn't have let things get to this point if I weren't committed to you. I need you to know that." I reembraced and we fell into another deep, long kiss. When we came up for air, she smiled at me. "I'm yours, Tony." With that she pulled of her sweatshirt. Her breasts were magnificent, not large, but perfectly formed and crowned with light pink puffy areolae and large nipples. I was awed by the sight. "I've been saving them for you," she whispered. Reverently I touched them, hefting them, savoring their firmness. I bent and took her right nipple between my lips, nursing lightly as I teased her left nipple with my fingers. They firmed to my touch. A soft moan escaped her lips while an expression of pleasure spread over her features. She pressed herself against my willing hands as we kissed again. During the next breathing break, I quickly yanked off my tee shirt and her breasts touched my now bare chest. She tightened our embrace in response, resting her head on my shoulder. I felt tears on my skin. "What's the matter, Love?" "Nothing. I'm just so happy! I've never felt so wonderful." The Moonglows were crooning "Shoo-Do-Be-Doo" as I glided Denice into my room and to the edge of my bed. With more coordination than I knew I was capable of, I dropped to my knees and brought down her sweatpants in a single movement. Her small penis was erect before me. Although I had felt sure before, I knew now for certain that I wanted it more than anything in the world. I took her softly and gently into my mouth. Her hips responded, thrusting as I began to suck her. Her hands clutched as my hair as mine held her ass cheeks. The tempo increased and, after what seemed like a few seconds, she screamed, "Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, Tony, I'm cummmmming!" Her release, while not voluminous, felt warm and nice in my mouth. I savored it for a moment then swallowed. We were one now, sealed by her sperm. While keeping her shrinking member in my mouth, licking and teasing it, I looked up at her face. "Oh, Tony, my Darling," she moaned, smiling down at me with a rapturous expression. "I love you so much!" My own hard-on continued to rage, threatening to erupt at the slightest provocation. I rose and sat beside her, taking her in my arms. "Come to my room, Tony?" We stood. She kicked free of her sweatpants, which had bunched at her ankles, while helping me shed my jeans. Naked and caressing each other, we somehow made it to her room. While I stood uncertainly by her bed, she went to her nightstand and removed a tube of lubricant. She placed it in my hand, then she was suddenly on the bed, resting on her elbows and knees, her ass in the air in front of me. "Please, Tony, take me..." Her bed was quite low, so I knelt on the floor, drew her hips toward me and spread her cheeks. For a few seconds I studied her delicate, puckered hole before leaning forward. She must have guessed from my movement or my breath on her crack what I was planning to do. "No, you don't have to do that..." she protested. But it was too late. I was already licking from the base of her scrotum to her treasure. For a few seconds I circled her hole with my tongue, causing her to moan softly. Finally I pushed my tongue into her. She bucked excitedly. I'm not sure what I expected, but her taste was not unpleasant or disgusting. She was enjoying it and so was I. Sensing that the moment had arrived, I opened the lubricant and put some on my cock and my other hand. I put the container down and, very carefully, made sure the lube was spread generously. Having put a little more on the tip of my index finger, I slipped the finger into her tight orifice, pushing firmly but slowly until it was at full penetration. After putting some more lube on the middle finger, I poised to slip it into her also. In response to her moans, I asked, "Are you okay?" "It feels wonderful, Tony. Don't worry!" As the second finger entered, she began slowly, rhythmically pumping against my hand. "Oh, yes! Oh, yessss!" she moaned. "Our first time, I want to see your face, Love," I whispered, withdrawing my fingers. "Me, too, my Darling," she responded. When she had rolled onto her back she grabbed a pillow and placed it under her. My hips between her thighs now, with my penis against her hole. I looked down at her radiant smile and beautiful eyes. "Ready?" "Ready!" Slowly I pushed the head into her. For the briefest moment, a look of pain or discomfort flashed across her face. Then her glow returned. "You're inside me. You're really inside me..." she whispered. "I love you so much, Denise." "I can't tell you how much I love you, Tony." I felt the warmth of her enveloping my dick as I continued to work it inside her. As if by some signal passing between us we took up the rhythm of intercourse, slowly at first, but quickly increasing in speed and intensity. Shifting my weight to my left hand I began to fondle her left breast with my right. Then I began to stroke her resurrected cock. "I love you! I love you!" she screamed. "Fuck me! Fuck me!" Almost before I sensed it approaching, my climax erupted and her hips bucked. I felt her cum on my hand. Her eyes were brimming with tears. "That was so wonderful! It was more than I had dared hope." she said softly. I let myself slip out of her and lay down beside her, embracing her as our lips met. We stayed that way for a long time. That was the first day of forever. We lived together as husband and wife, making it official when our state finally legalized same sex marriage. Martha and Jim gave us a lovely wedding with all the trimmings. Denise was the most beautiful bride of either sex ever.