Gwen and the Virgin

(This is an independent story. But stories preceding it are "Gay Bottom Gets Gang Banged In Bar" "Crossdresser In Local Jail Has Fun" "Two Hot Young Trannies and Twenty Old Men" and "Leslie and Gwen at the Porn Shop.")

I'm Gwen. My lover and partner is Leslie. We're the only two twinks riding with a motorcycle club whose president is Leroy. Leslie and I have been dancing at a porn store for five weeks. Leory says it doesn't really generate a lot of money because it's word-of-mouth and the guys ogling us from the booths don't have a lot of friends. Leroy also says it's because we love the job so much that we're staying here instead of the usual moving on the club does.

It's the customers that Leslie and I love. The owner says our regulars only used to come in like once a week. But now they've been here every day that Leslie and I dance. We work five or six days a week, but only for four hours a day. Sure, there are a lot of different guys in the booths, new guys too. But we recognize our regulars.

Leslie and I basically walk around here naked. The customers love it! Business has doubled with us. But Leroy is right; besides a sandwich board sign out front with our pictures and schedule, he doesn't advertise because he knows we're transient workers.

Leslie and I have become very comfortable in the store area and the peep shows too. We like talking with the customers. But it seems most are more comfortable just looking at us. They can get very nervous otherwise. Still, we're, I'd say, not friendly but familiar with our regulars.

There's one I like to talk with, or talk at; mostly he just stares at my naked body. Anyway, I've made it obvious that he can hire Leslie or me for "a private show" after work. He doesn't respond. He just changes the subject. He likes asking me some pretty personal questions, which I always answer fully. I look forward to seeing him.

I ask Leslie about him, and she says, "Well, he's probably been with hookers. But besides that, I think he might be a virgin." I think about it. Leslie is so smart. I think she's right. He's 30 and never mentioned a girlfriend, even in his past. I've put his hands on me, and it's awkward. He gets very nervous. I guess I just feel for him. It makes me sad.

One day I wear some jeans and a tee-shirt. He's a little more relaxed, but not much. Keep in mind, he loves looking at me from his booth. He likes me with my cheeks spread, maybe even fingering myself. He likes when I turn around and grind my penis at him. He tips when I do stuff like that.

Leslie and I talk about him, and her attitude is that there's not much we can do. But I know we're going to be out of here in a couple of weeks, or maybe sooner. So, I ask him out to lunch, my treat even. He's nervous, but I convince him. I dress in an innocent-looking sundress. I get there, and it's obvious he's been waiting a long time, and I'm five minutes early! At one point, in the middle of our lunch, I just flat out ask him if he's ever had a girlfriend. Very reluctantly he shakes his head "no." I switch back to just talking about neutral things. I need him relaxed. I insist on paying the bill. He leaves a generous tip.

When we're outside, I hold his hand, and I don't let him pull away. I know he doesn't have plans for the rest of the day. I softly say. "I want to be your girlfriend for today. Please. I need it. I need you, just for today. Okay? Please." I'm crying a little; I cry a lot. At least he's not pulling away from me. After five more minutes of convincing, we're on our way to his apartment.

His apartment is small. A one-bedroom. It's extremely neat and tidy. I'd say anal. Everything in its place. Very clean. Fresh-smelling too. I compliment him. He just ignores it. Before we sit, I ask if I can get myself something to drink. He nods. I want him to relax. I want him to get used to me being here. Sure, it's just one day, but it's important to me.

I pour us both some juice. He's sitting on the couch, hands folded. He doesn't even look up at me. I don't sit next to him. I put the glass in front of him and sit in a separate chair. I just start talking, motor-mouthing. I know he's most comfortable listening. After a while he does relax, stretching his arm over the top of the sofa. I glance at it, and he doesn't move it. So, I just naturally move right under his arm. I grab his hand, making sure it doesn't move.

A couple minutes later we're kissing. He's a pretty good kisser. I like kissing. We just kiss for a long time. Maybe half an hour. Then I look deep into his eyes. He's so sad. So doubtful about himself. I kiss him on the cheek. I hug him. Hug him tight. I guide his hand around my waist. I say in an upbeat voice. "Hey, let me teach you how to dance."

I'm no dancer. Leslie is the graceful one. I'm kind of a klutz. But I stand him up. I nuzzle my head on his shoulder. And we just move our feet. I've never been in love with a boy. Leslie is my first love ever. Boys would cruelly tease me; some would even muscle me, beat me. Now, in his arms, just slow dancing, I realize why all this is so important to me: why he is important. I amuse myself with the fact that I am a virgin too. I can't wait to talk with Leslie about this.

We start kissing again. This time he initiates. I'm so happy. I melt in his arms.

Soon after, I'm ripping his clothes off. He's into it now. Caressing me more aggressively. He lifts my skirt and feels my crotch. I rarely wear panties. The first thing he does is goes to his knees and gives me a blowjob. The way he's doing it, I'm sure he's never sucked a cock. But it's still sweet, and as I gently guide him, it really feels good! Of course, I suck him. He really likes when I lick his asshole, not surprising given his anal personality. And he's not a bad fuck. We do it missionary. He lasts a good long time. When he finally cums it feels more like love than the sex I usually have with men. Coincidentally, his cock is the same length as Leslie's but much thicker. It's a nice size, very beautiful cock. A compliment he now accepts.

In bed now, just talking, he slowly opens up to me. He says at age seven he was abused. He doesn't specify, and I don't ask. But I can guess, and that explains a lot. I just hold him. Hug him. Tight. Later, I quietly suggest, maybe, some counseling.

We go for a second round of sex where he's even better. Then at some point, maybe out of honesty, he shows me all the videos he has of me on his computer. I didn't realize there were this many on the internet. Also, Leslie and I let customers use their phone cameras from the booth.

Finally, after a very sweet, very energetic third go-round, it's time to leave. We're kissing passionately. We'll see each other again, but it won't be like this. I don't tell him I love him, but I do in my way. I don't tell him why what just happened here is so important to me. I certainly don't advise him to go out and get a girl. He has to figure all that out on his own. I do explain that one day soon, he will go to the porn store and we'll be gone, so I give him my number and tell him he has a friend.