Amelia
No one knew that Amelia Lowe was a shemale, not anyone on her cheerleader squad, not anyone in the college. She went to great lengths to obfuscate that fact. Not that you could tell. She always had a feminine appearance and was fairly good-looking. With lush lips, perky breasts, legs that didn’t quite, and an apple bottom ass you could bounce a dime off of.
Carson Black was the rising star, the town quarterback, and a skin-deep jock. He was tall, stocky, with wide shoulders, a barrel chest, and short, cropped black hair. You could pick his gaze out of a crowd. His dark blue eyes can seem almost black in the right lighting, giving his intense stare even more weight and menace. But no one knew the real him.
They were in her apartment, in her bedroom. He was leaning back in a wooden chair with a relaxed posture. She was leaning against a desk, making sure he had a good view of her ass, but unsure of his gaze, where he was looking. He had a predatory look, like he was going to devour her.
"Too bad they don’t want you to have sex before the big game. I can suck cock like a lollipop."
Their friendship had always been strange. Amelia tried to avoid getting close lest she out herself. So how did she end up with the quarterback in her room?
"How did I ever end up with you?" Amelia mused.
"I’m the one who's going to end up with CTE." Carson joked, watching her out of the corner of his eyes. He was trying to show dishonest disinterest. "Can’t you remember? I met you at the haunted house."
Amelia licked her lips. "My little serial killer."
"I think Jason is more of a supernatural predator," he refuted.
"Well, predator, are you going in for the kill!?" She didn’t think he would make a move, less fear, more not into former dudes. No shame, no blame. He was allowed to have preferences.
"I thought you liked girls," Carson stated.
Amelia's lightest brown eyes sparkled as they focused on him. "No, I’ve always been into guys." It wasn’t entirely honest. She dabbled on the side.
He shrugged so subtly that she couldn’t tell if he was stretching. "Sorry, always assumed your body was skin-deep."
"No, I’m a girl all the way to the marrow, makeup, hair, and cute stuff."
"So you're into me," he said, arching an eyebrow. "This is a judgment-free zone."
"You are one of the hottest guys in our college, which girl isn’t?"
"Well," he said. "Why don’t you come over here?"
Amelia spread her legs and sat on his lap, the frills of her skirt falling over his knees. His hands were under her shirt and then under her skirt.
She got close to him, her lips hovering dangerously close to his. "You know you're sending me one hell of a signal."
He squeezed her soft breast under her shirt. It was too damn much. Her nipples were getting hard, and her cock wasn’t too far behind. She locked lips with him, play-fighting. She stood up momentarily, long enough to get onto her knees. Amelia was pulling down his gym shorts when he started playing with her hair. It was the strangest, sensual thing.
"Mix signals," she said.
Carson grabbed her by the chin. "I choose what this is. You just bend over when I ask. You leave the rest to me. Now beg me to take you, to ravage you, then to take you to dinner."
She looked definitely at him, fighting his grip. "I don’t kiss and tell."
He held his grip firm. "You're my whore. Now beg." He tucks a loose strand of her brown hair behind her eyes.
"Please," she begged sarcastically. "Make me a dirty girl."
Carson leaned forward and gently bit her ear. "You were already a whore. I’m going to make you a woman."
Now Amelia was hungry, and he was on the menu. She pulled his pants down and paused.
"You're packing," she said, trying not to sound surprised. She always had a bad poker face.
"You're impressed by this," he said, straight-faced and deadpan.
Amelia felt a shiver of anticipation run up her spine. She took a deep breath and took him into her mouth. She was suddenly dealing with a lot more than she was prepared for. He got hard faster than anticipated. When he felt her withdrawing, hesitating, he forced it deeper. They had a rhythm, and it got easier, until she stopped to catch her breath. He hadn’t lost any inches. If any, he gained a few.
"This isn’t anything?" she asked.
He ran his hands through her hair. "That’s not for you to decide."
Amelia stood up and leaned against her desk. It didn’t take much time for Carson to get the hint. Her panties were around her legs before her ass could tell her brain. He was slow about going into her. It didn’t take long for her body to catch up to that fact. Her labored breathing turned into heavy pants. His hand completely enveloped her breasts.
What preceded was a relentless assault on her prostrate. All the while, he stroked her nipples, kissed her neck, kissed her back, and nibbled on her ear.
It turned out Carson was a master of edging, pulling himself back from toppling over the edge, mainly dangling over the precipice, to her great annoyance. She managed to grab her cock as an orgasmed overcame her, scooping up her cum and massaging it into her hard nipples.
Then, a few minutes later, he finally let himself topple over the edge. There was enough volume of fluids that she actually felt it inside her. The moment he pulled out, it flowed into her panties. She didn’t bother cleaning up. There was something to feeling him inside her. But she did change her clothes. They only cuddled for fifteen minutes afterwards. It was criminally short. But he had practice.
