A gay adult story: Hermia Aphrodite – Chapter 1 – by pANTSU,
This is a fantasy. I tried to throw in enough details to give it some sense of plausibility, to help with immersion, but I recognize that it probably can’t really work in reality. Probably better to just treat it like magic, or just ignore it.
I have included multiple binary and non-binary tags, although as the story mentions, Intersex would probably be more accurate. I want to apologize in advance to anyone who is transgender or transsexual, if I have misjudged the tone of the story.
I sat on the bed, and viewed the marvel before me, close enough to reach out and touch. A sweet oval face, framed by long blonde hair. Long blonde eyelashes too, around massive pale blue eyes, sparking with life and personality. A button nose. Thick, pink, kissable lips. Moving down, a slender neck, high collarbones, and oh, such breasts! Large – maybe the size of grapefruit – and perfectly shaped, hanging deliciously from a pale chest.
Further down, a smooth belly, tapered to a narrow waist, with the slightest wisps of the longest golden locks poking out to either side. Then wide, flared, feminine hips.
And just at the meeting of long, lithe, shapely legs, a proud, erect penis, mirroring mine a few feet away from it. Hanging just below the engorged member, the unmistakeable wrinkled skin of a scrotum, slightly distended by the testicles it contained.
I looked back up, from those male genitals, across the perfect feminine body, to those shining eyes. I saw the hope and fear at war there, the desperation, the entreaty. And I made my decision.
~#~
I had just come back from a holiday with family. It had been a great time, but really busy. We had been out all day seeing sights and taking in the attractions of our destination, coming home late, so I hadn’t had much time for anything else… and besides, with family around, you don’t think about the other stuff.
So I hadn’t really noticed, but I had actually been dry for a good week or so, and now that those distractions were gone, I had spent the entire journey back feeling pretty fucking horny.
With no obvious partner around, and not really having the liberty to find one, I had intended to satisfy myself over an evening in front of my computer and a couple of well-chosen porn streams. I had even gotten a bit of a head start, discreetly browsing my favoured sites on my phone as I rode the train and then the bus home. Building the anticipation and then letting it slip back can really up the final climax.
But then, just as I was settling into my desk chair, pants off and my finger hovering over the play button on the first vid, I heard a ping. It was a message from one of my friends, inviting me to the pub.
I tried to say I was busy, but my heart wasn’t in it. They were all there, and I hadn’t seen them in a while. They knew I had the rest of the week off, so I didn’t have any urgent business (so to speak). Besides, a bit more anticipation would only increase the buzz even more.
It turned out to be the kind of night where people bring their friends. There must have been a dozen of us in total. One guy had brought his girlfriend – who we had met a couple of times before, admittedly – and she had brought someone new, a friend called Hermy. Hermione, I presumed – she looked about 23 or 24, so probably the daughter of a Harry Potter early adopter.
And she was gorgeous. She looked like a fashion model, in a long dress that flowed and fluttered in folds around her body. You could tell all the attention was on her, especially the guys. Maybe it was my sex-starved condition, but I found myself focused especially on her. I tried not to stare, and hoped to god she wouldn’t notice – I couldn’t bear her finding me creepy or intense.
She didn’t say much though, and didn’t seem that interested in our usual subjects of conversation. She dropped in the occasional comment, but seemed mostly content to sit passively, like a classical painting by a Renaissance or Pre-Raphaelite master, and listen.
I was on the verge of giving up – I could barely admit to myself that I was trying, with a girl so far out of my league – but I gave it one last go. I asked what she was drinking. She said it was a gin & tonic.
I happen to know a bit about gin, so I asked what kind. Before I knew it, we were in deep conversation about the different types of gin, different mixers, and garnishes that suit them best. We went to the bar together, and came back to sit together with our G&Ts, chosen for interest and experiment as well as taste. The next pair, we shared. I tried not to think about her full pink lips on my glass, about sharing saliva by proxy.
The conversation moved on to more subjects, and we seemed amazingly in tune. Others tried to step in and contribute, but although she was polite, it seemed Hermy only had eyes for me, and they soon gave up. I tried to ignore the jealous looks I was getting as they made their excuses and went home – smugness is not my style.
The only exception was Mike, my best friend, a gold-standard wingman, and camp as Christmas. Hermy noticed my rainbow keychain and asked me about it. I said I considered myself an ‘ally’, and had been to a few Pride events over the years. That was when Mike chipped in to talk about the times we had gone to them together. Pretty soon the three of us were enthusiastically sharing stories of partying and the outrageous things we’d seen there. Gay clubs, drag and burlesque shows… We spent a while discussing RuPaul’s latest series and assessing the contestants -I had not followed it closely, but I knew enough to take part, and ask just the right questions.
Mike casually dropped in (he’s always been far smoother at that kind of thing than me) that guys had propositioned me, and he had ‘had to’ distract their attention to himself. So she knew I was open-minded but not gay. It couldn’t have been better.
As the expert wingman he is, Mike also knew how to read a room. Having established that the ice was well and truly broken, he made his excuses and stood to go, dropping me a sly wink as he left the two of us alone in our corner of the bar.
We kept drinking, and talking. We moved closer together. Her thigh almost brushed mine, and her hand touched mine when she wanted to emphasize a point. It was intoxicating. SHE was intoxicating.
I learned more about her. She knew Kate and Farron from university. She was visiting them while in town for a work event. She lived in a town fairly close, but had taken a room at a hotel because it was more convenient for the work event. She worked for a charity that advocated on LGBTQ+ issues, although her role was really just administrative.
Hold on, I thought. She goes to gay clubs, watches Drag Race, and works for an LGBTQ+ charity. Does that mean she is a lesbian? With regret, I began preparing to set aside any amorous intentions and shift gear to a more friendly Platonic interaction. After all, the last thing I wanted was to distress her by imposing on her when she wasn’t interested, and I could still enjoy her company on a purely social level.