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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2008.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  All rights reserved. Thank you for your 
consideration.
--------------------------------------------------------

The Girls/Boys Room
by Suzie Wilcox (address withheld)

***

A story of a boy who moves to Thailand and is surprised 
that his school is so welcoming of transvestite 
students. This story was inspired by news articles 
regarding the introduction of special bathrooms for 
cross-dressing girl-boy students in Thailand's Kampang 
High School, which you can read about by searching news 
websites. (mm-teens, youths, tv, cd, asian)

*** 

When my father broke the news that my family would have 
to move from Australia to Thailand, you could say that 
I was less than pleased. In my whole life, I'd only 
ever known the same thing – the one house my whole 
life, the same people at the same schools, even, and 
especially, the same group of friends. That was the 
ammo I used against my parents the most. But it was an 
argument that seemed to have been already lost when I 
started the battle. My dad had made quite a name for 
himself in the company he worked for, so it seemed 
unreasonable to me that he would have no say in the 
matter, but that was how the situation was explained to 
me. 

The parent company had decided that his position could 
be better maintained from their head office in 
Thailand, and, since he was so well respected within 
the industry and company, he was offered the 
opportunity to either move with his position in the 
telecommunications giant to the office in Thailand, 
with the offer of a hefty raise, or be politely made 
redundant. 

Of course, my parents told me they wanted to discuss 
the decision with me, but I had the feeling they had 
already stayed up many nights talking this through and 
come to their own conclusions. It had to be said, I had 
heard bits and pieces of conversations from other 
rooms, names of foreign cities, and how this could be 
good for the family, but never enough to put together a 
full story. In my naivety, and perhaps optimism, I had 
disregarded the overheard tidbits as facets of somebody 
else's life, and thought nothing of it.

As it was, when the plan was placed before me, I locked 
myself in my bedroom for a couple of days straight. It 
felt pathetic to me, since I'd never thrown that kind 
of tantrum before. I'd never had reason. But I didn't 
know what to do. For hours after the news was first 
broken to me, I lay on my bed, waiting for my parents 
to come knocking at the door to talk about it. I 
figured that is how parents such as mine would act when 
their child was locked in the bedroom, distraught. I 
was somewhat surprised when they didn't, but in 
hindsight, it was probably for the best that I wasn't 
disturbed in those first turbulent hours, since my rage 
needed time to settle. 

It had been years since I'd cried. Even when my 
grandmother, whom I loved dearly, had died a couple of 
years earlier, I felt somehow neutral, like it was 
meant to be. But this felt wrong. I picked up my mobile 
phone from my bedside table numerous times as the 
afternoon light outside my window dimmed to twilight 
and eventually darkness, flipping through the list of 
numbers to my best friend Tyson's details. My thumb 
hovered over the green 'Call' button, but I didn't 
press it that night. 

Although Ty was the person I most wanted to update on 
this latest development in my life, as we did all 
facets of our existence, I didn't know how I would 
begin if I answered. More than a couple of times I 
drafted entire SMS messages to him, before deleting 
them, thinking that 150-letters-or-less was not the way 
to break this news, and not like this. Through my 
racing thoughts, I couldn't even remember what he had 
said he was doing tonight. Had he expected me to meet 
him somewhere? Or did he mention a date? But who with? 
Eventually, all thoughts led back to the fact that I 
only had a few months left with the friends I'd made 
before I would have to start again. I seriously 
considered climbing out the window and running away 
from home that night, like they do in tacky Saturday 
morning children's movies. Eventually I fell asleep.

When I finally emerged from my room, it was apparent 
that I was out. I'd come out over the past few days 
only to use the bathroom and grab snack food and re-
heat the meals my mum had left on the counter for me. 
My parents were in the living room when I crept into 
the kitchen, and they noticed me immediately. They 
turned and looked, but didn't say anything, perhaps 
unsure of how to respond. I barely gave them a wave – 
I'm still unsure what I meant by it – and my father 
responded similarly, my mother showing a tiny smile, 
pleased that I was ok, returning, perhaps, to my normal 
self. 

Thankfully, they didn't expect comment or explanation 
for my absence, since I knew that if they did, I would 
return to the state of anger I'd felt days earlier. 
Also on the counter was a notepad, with my mother's 
handwriting. 'Nick,' it addressed, somewhat formally. 
'Tyson called, wants you to ring back ASAP.' Underneath 
was an addendum in my father's scrawl. 'Tyson called 
again,' followed by the date and time of the call, 
business as usual to him. I felt anger rising, but 
forced it back. They were only trying to help me, I 
tried to assure myself. I thought some of the phone 
calls I'd heard and ignored were probably Tyson, since 
they came only moments after I didn't answer his calls 
on my mobile phone. I was glad my parents hadn't 
disturbed me with the phone calls, but also wondered 
what they'd said.

My father was the first to look up when he saw me in 
the doorway of the living room. My mum's eyes followed. 
They didn't speak, however.

'I'm going to go and see Tyson,' I said, finally. I 
knew this was what I wanted to go, but felt I should 
give an explanation. In the end, I couldn't find one, 
and it wasn't necessary anyway. My mother looked as 
though she was about to form a suggestion against my 
plan, but my dad stopped her, putting his hand on her 
arm as she stared to lift it with the beginning of a 
protestation against my going out so late in the summer 
night.

'Alright Nicky,' my dad said, his hand still on my 
mother's. 'Call if you want me to drive you home or 
anything. Ok?'

I nodded, watching for further response only for a 
moment, then left. I felt unusual for the entire walk 
over, the same sensation I had felt each time I'd 
picked up my mobile phone to call Tyson in the past few 
days. I thought I may have been developing a cold when 
my nose started to run on the short walk over, but 
realised I was crying again, and self consciously wiped 
tears away on my arm, trying to hide the evidence from 
anyone who might have seen. I still didn't know what I 
was going to say when I saw my friend. What ever it 
was, I would have to decide soon, since I was almost at 
his house.

It took a long time for someone to answer his door when 
I knocked. I recognised the heavy footsteps of Ty's 
father, suspicious of someone visiting so late. It was 
only then that I really became aware of the fact that 
the last beams of summer sun was quickly disappearing 
behind me. Ty's father glanced briefly through the 
window beside the door and called to his son over his 
shoulder before opening the door, apparently surprised 
to see me. I guessed it was late. After his friendly 
greeting, and despite what I'd heard through the door, 
I asked 'Is Tyson home?'

Tyson's bare feet bounded down the hall quickly, and he 
reached out for me when we met in the kitchen in the 
centre of the house for what had become our signature 
handshake.

'Heyyyy!' he said. 'Where have you been? I've been 
trying to call you!'

'Hi,' was all I could manage, along with the handshake, 
without crying in front of his mother and younger 
sister, whom I'd waved to in the other room on my way 
in.

'Well come on in,' Tyson said, 'Tell me what's been 
going on.'

Often Tyson's mother would want an update on how my 
parents were, and to offer drinks and snacks. 
Thankfully, and probably since it was quite late, she 
didn't this evening. I followed my friend into the rear 
part of the house, a games room that diverged at the 
end into a hallway and he and his sister's bedrooms. 
Tyson was 16, like me, a few months younger but a few 
inches taller. He sported an athletic build, and an 
undercut blonde hairstyle that could have looked silly 
on anyone else outside of a teen movie from Hollywood 
in the '80's, but looked perfect on him. He currently 
sported a tan from a summer spent, often with me, at 
beach and pool parties, and which complemented his deep 
blue eyes. He slumped into the couch and I followed 
next to him. He asked again, what had been happening, 
and, after detailing a date he had been on on the night 
I'd considered calling him, I eventually fell silent.

'Dude!' Tyson said, sensing something. 'What's wrong?'

Finally, I just told him what had happened. I felt like 
I was speaking at a million miles per hour, and don't 
remember if I even let him speak. I told him how I felt 
about things, and didn't let him speak until I'd 
finished. Finally, when I had finished, I could feel 
tears in the corners of my eyes, but, surprisingly, 
with Tyson, I found I didn't mind.

'But...' he started. 'I mean... it can't be. I mean...' 
he said again. 'But your parents are cool. How can they 
do this? And... what about school and stuff?'

It wasn't until I told Ty that details had been 
confirmed, that my parents had shown me details and the 
merits of local schools that things seemed to sink in. 
He realised, like I had, that there was no turning 
back. This decision had been made, and was set in 
stone. There was nothing we could do. Tyson and I had 
known each other since we first started school, and had 
moved into high school together. We'd shared everything 
with each other and helped each other overcome all 
kinds of hardships, but had never been touchy-feely 
with each other. Despite that, when I fell into him, Ty 
returned my hug, and we held each other for... I don't 
know how long without it ever feeling unnatural. At 
some point Tyson stood up and went outside to talk to 
his parents. He came back into the room, and I was 
still lying on the couch where he'd left me. 

He suggested I stay the night, since it was dark 
outside now, and I agreed, as I had innumerable times 
in the past. We switched on a video game on the TV in 
front of the couch, but never got around to playing it, 
instead talking about the practicalities of the future 
for us. We would email each other every day rather than 
either seeing or calling each other as we had for 
years. We would make phone calls, whether our parents 
objected to the bills or not, and, although it hadn't 
been discussed, I assumed I would be home for holidays. 
Still, the news hit hard. 

At some point, late, I realised I should notify my 
parents of my plans to stay over, and went into the 
dining room, where I found Ty's parents sitting at the 
table talking quietly and sharing a bottle of wine.

'Can I use the phone?' I asked. 'I just wanted to let 
my parents know I'm here.'

'Oh, Nick,' Tyson's mother started. 'I spoke with her 
all ready. Everything is fine. Don't worry!' She stood 
up and put her hand on my shoulder. Although we had 
always been friendly, this attention made me feel 
uncomfortable in my already delicate state. 'How are 
you, though?'

'I'm... ok...' I stammered. I didn't realise until 
later that when Ty had left me alone briefly in the 
room he had obviously spoken with his parents about my 
own parents decision to move to Thailand. I rejoined 
Tyson in the room, who was now switching off the game, 
and sitting in the arm chair opposite the couch. A 
decision was made between us that evening. Although we 
vowed to be friends forever, we maintained that this 
would be the ultimate summer. 

Since I wouldn't be returning to school after the 
holidays and would be completing my final two years at 
a Thai high school, not a day went by that I can't say 
wasn't spent well. I saw Ty every day, and attended 
parties of people from school, the various sports clubs 
we were involved in, and, a couple of times, things we 
just heard about when nothing else was on. A few nights 
before I was set to leave, Tyson threw a huge party 
with all my friends. I still look at the pictures and 
smile. It really was something to have everyone 
together.

A couple of days later and my family and I were at the 
airport. Ty and I had had an emotional goodbye the 
night before, but, to my surprise, he was at the 
airport, his dad having driven him. As they called 
final boarding for our flight, we exchanged that 
handshake one last time, and it quickly developed into 
a hug. I was so close to turning and shouting at my 
parents that I was going to stay in Australia. THIS was 
where my life was, and I wasn't ready to move. But I 
knew that it was no use. So I just said 'I'll really 
miss you, Tyson,' as I stood away from him. I think I 
was out of tears by this time, but I think I noticed 
him starting to cry for the first time. That may be 
what made me turn away and join my parents.

I simply stared out the window for most of the flights 
to Thailand, listening to the bizarre onboard radio 
program that seemed to repeat after too few songs for 
such a long flight. Everything on board seemed to 
trivial, and I felt like shouting at people, but 
didn't. A hostess asked if I'd like some water or a 
coke, and I almost screamed 'What does it matter?'

When we stepped into the warm air outside the Thai air 
terminal, all of those thoughts seemed to subside 
straight away. My mood changed, and I honestly can't 
say why. The streets were so different to anything I'd 
ever seen, and yet walking in them didn't feel 
'foreign,' as I'd expected. I wanted to email Ty almost 
every hour, but tried to save my thoughts for a daily 
run down, and looked forward each day to his news. 

After a couple of days, my parents and I went to a 
meeting with the principal of my new school, Kampang 
High, and I was surprised. I'd expected an awkward 
conversation since we spoke no Thai, other than the few 
key terms my father had explained, and I'd imagined the 
principal to be a sheltered man, for some reason. He 
was younger than I expected, dressed in a smart-casual 
suit and spoke fluent English, but with an odd accent 
that suggested he'd learned from a combination of 
American television and language training tapes.

'Most of the students speak English,' he assured me. 
'But we've set aside some time with a Thai tutor who 
can help you each week. You can have some intensive 
lessons this week.'

I felt I needed them, and came out feeling like I 
didn't know anything, but afterwards, when I was first 
introduced to my homeroom class, realised that I'd 
learned more than I'd thought, and that what the 
principal had said was true – most of the students knew 
enough English for me to be able to hold a coherent, 
and even interesting conversation with them.

I'd imagined the class to be much different to what it 
was, too. I'd expected a discipline not present in the 
Australian classrooms I was used to, but found this 
wasn't the case. Students spoke freely in classes, 
teachers seeming to focus on those willing to take part 
and disregarding those passing notes. Also, there was 
no uniform, a concept unfamiliar to me. Despite that, a 
couple of girls dressed in provocative 'Catholic 
schoolgirl' imitation uniforms. One of them even winked 
at me after our homeroom teacher had introduced me to 
the class and I'd given myself a brief introduction. As 
the only white student in the room, and one of the few 
non-Asian students in the school, I was something of a 
curiosity, and found it easy to at least find people to 
speak with over lunch, if not find a group of friends 
to hang with.

Of course, it didn't take long for the main feature of 
Ty's daily email's to be 'So, what are the Thai girls 
like?' and, when I thought about it, there was one who 
stood out in my mind. A girl I'd only formally met 
once, but she seemed to be something of an outcast. 
We'd exchanged smiles across the room since then, but I 
felt like I was going where ever the popular students 
who had latched onto me dragged me. 

When Ty pressed for details about this girl I 
mentioned, all I could really do was describe her from 
afar. 'She's not what I usually go for, you know?' I 
wrote, wishing we could talk about it on the couch in 
his games room. 'Her name is Ada, and she is kind of 
punk, I guess, but in a pretty way. She wears lots of 
chains, and big shoes, and short, tartan skirts. Like 
mini-kilts!'

This idea grabbed Ty's attention and he wanted status 
updates on how I was going with Ada, but sadly, I 
couldn't give him the success story he wanted for me. 
We had a few classes together, and I said hello, but 
rarely more than that. It wasn't until a couple of 
months later, when we were assigned a history project 
to work on together that we first spoke properly. 
Students were divided randomly into pairs, and I was 
pleased when my name was dealt alongside Ada's. At 
first, I didn't recognise it on the list on the board, 
Ada being a nickname she used in place of her longer, 
Thai name.

'Looks like we're a team,' Ada said, coming up 
alongside my desk. 'I hope you don't mind,' she said, 
her voice a nervous rasp.

I smiled. 'Me? I hope you don't mind working with me! 
I've only been here a couple of months! What do I know 
about Thai history?'

Ada smiled broadly, perfect teeth showing. She had 
quite broad shoulders on display under her tank top, 
above moderately sized, but perfectly round breasts, 
and I wondered if they were the result of physical 
training. Maybe she was on the swimming team that I'd 
seen advertised. I considered asking about sports 
teams, since I'd been quite active at home, but was yet 
to register at Kampang, but hoped it would come up in 
conversation naturally. 

We arranged a time to meet in the library to work on 
the assignment, and on the way out of the room, one of 
the more popular girls said 'Oh, poor Nicky! You got 
the girl-boy to work with!' A few of her friends 
laughed, while others continued, straight faced. I just 
looked at her, uncertain how to respond to something 
that was quite clearly an insult to Ada.

In my email to Ty I told him of developments, and also 
of the three sets of toilets in the school – the usual 
two, marked with the male and female icons, and a 
third, in between, with a combination of both icons, 
drawn in stereotypical pink and blue. Ty provided 
encouragement on the Ada front, telling me I was sure 
to 'get her now,' and daring me to use the 'middle' 
bathrooms. As yet, I wasn't game, and was unsure how to 
ask other students about it in English or Thai.

I thought of Ty's email the following day while working 
on the history project with Ada. She'd arranged with 
the teacher to work on a special project with me, 
teaching the basics of Thai history for someone new to 
the country, as I was, and seemed to relish in being an 
expert on the topic. I told her I didn't know anything 
about the country, and suggested we maybe go out some 
time.

'I don't even know where to go shopping or anything!' I 
sighed.

'Oh, if you want shopping, I know where to go!' she 
laughed. When Ada spoke, it was usually a reserved, 
lilting drawl, but when she laughed, it was unusual – 
booming, verging on deep. 'We should go some time.'

I wondered if she would consider the trip a date. I'd 
mentioned Ada to my parents and they seemed pleased 
that I was making friends, but I wondered for the first 
time what they would think if I brought her home as a 
girlfriend. She was so unlike anyone I'd dated before, 
with her extremes of make-up and dyed red pigtails. We 
stayed late that afternoon, and on our way back to our 
lockers, Ada asked if I could hold her books while she 
used the bathroom. I obliged, and was a little 
surprised when she headed not, as expected, to the 
girl's room, but to the middle toilets.

When she emerged, I couldn't think of a way to ask 
about just what the middle bathroom was. I was 
surprised to find I doubted myself when I went to 
detail this development in an email to Tyson. I wrote 
explicitly about our plans for a shopping date, and the 
late study session in the library, but wasn't sure 
whether it was appropriate to describe Ada's bathroom 
preference. In the end, I just detailed exactly what 
happened: She went into THAT bathroom, not the girls.

I rolled out of bed at the sound of my alarm clock 
playing a pop song I thought I recognised, but with 
unfamiliar Thai lyrics. I flipped open the screen of my 
notebook computer before getting dressed or doing 
anything else, and saw a reply waiting from Tyson. 
'That settles it,' he wrote. 'You HAVE to use that 
bathroom.'

At the end of the day I was meeting Ada again in the 
library, and had to stop off at the bathroom. I thought 
of Ty's email. What the heck? There was not many people 
around, they having rushed home as soon as the last 
bell sounded for the day. When I opened the door with 
it's pink and blue mascot, I almost jumped when a guy I 
thought I recognised walked towards me on his way out. 
He looked me briefly up and down, before continuing, 
straight-faced on his way. Inside, was not unlike the 
regular men's toilets, but smaller, and notably 
cleaner, presumably since fewer people seemed to 
venture into this bathroom. 

After a couple of basins and mirrors, along one wall 
was two urinals, as opposed to the many in the regular 
men's, and two stalls. Inside one of the stalls, a 
familiar figure was standing over the toilet, the door 
open. I recognised the figure immediately by it's 
fashion. It was Ada, but I was stopped dead in my 
tracks by what I saw – she was standing up to use the 
toilet, like a boy, and seemed to be having no 
difficulty. When she finished, she flushed the toilet, 
replacing her skirt, and gasped when she turned and 
finally saw me, and then I finally realised what I'd 
seen. Ada, the girl I'd been talking up to my best 
friend, was really a boy.

'Nick,' she said, and started to say something else, 
but stammered off.

'Sorry,' I said, and turned. 'I... um... didn't 
know...' I headed for the door. Ada called after me as 
I hurried out of the room, but I kept walking. We were 
supposed to have met in the library, but I headed 
straight for the bus stop to take me home.

I stared blankly ahead while I waited for the bus to 
arrive. How could I have been so wrong? I'd expected 
this society to be so... restricted, and uptight. Maybe 
I'd compared it too closely to Japanese or Chinese 
movies I'd seen. My train of thought was briskly 
interrupted by the clatter of chain against the tin bus 
shelter seat. I looked over and saw Ada, staring ahead 
too.

'Oh,' I started, and paused for possibly too long. 
'Hi...'

'Hi,' Ada replied.

We sat in silence for a minute, before I started to say 
something. But what? On the one hand, I felt I should 
apologise for not meeting her in the library as 
planned. On the other, I felt like I had been lied to. 
After all, I had been fantasising about someone that I 
now learned was actually a boy like me. But was she? I 
really didn't know what Ada was at all. I started to 
say something again, but stopped before it came out. 
She spoke before I could try a third time.

'You really didn't know...?' she asked, looking at me, 
a curious smile at the corner of her made-up lips.

I finally looked up at her, realising the possible 
absurdity of the situation just as the bus pulled up. 
'No,' I said. 'I really didn't.' Ada laughed that deep 
laugh, and we walked onto the bus, her leading the way. 
I took a seat next to her.

'I'm still not sure I understand,' I said, after more 
silence.

'You really are from out of town,' Ada smiled. 'I 
sometimes forget that.'

In the silence that followed, I realised that despite 
all that I'd seen in the afternoon, all the 
revelations, I still felt more at ease with Ada than 
anyone else I'd met since settling in this strange 
city. I was unsure how I felt about the physical 
attraction I'd previously felt to her, and whether it 
was still present.

When it came to her stop, Ada stood up, balancing 
awkwardly on her high shoes. She looked at me, and I 
only saw out of the corner of my eye, since I was 
looking ahead. 'You know,' she said. 'We could work on 
the project at my house, if you want. I mean... if you 
don't need to get home right away...'

She trailed off as the bus slowed to a stop, and, 
thoughts racing, wondering what people would think 
about me going to visit someone like Ada at home, I 
realised I didn't care what students at school might 
think. 'Ok,' I said simply, and stood up too, and Ada 
smiled broadly.

Ada's apartment was empty when we arrived, and she told 
me that her parents were working late, and wouldn't be 
home until much later this evening. She offered me a 
drink, and brought me a can of coke before I answered. 
She led me to her room, which I noted was much smaller 
than my room at home in Australia, and a little smaller 
than my new room here. I noted that the walls that 
weren't covered in posters for rock groups I'd never 
heard of were painted yellow, like parents who don't 
know if they are having a boy or a girl. 

Ada slumped back on the bed, holding her feet upwards 
towards me. I felt it was appropriate to wait in the 
doorway for a formal invitation to enter. She made 
nodded and pointed to her boots, and when I didn't get 
the message, said simply, 'shoes.' That's when I 
finally went into the room.

I kneeled in front of the bed, and carefully untied the 
laces of her heavy boots that reached almost to her 
knees. Once they were both untied, I delicately removed 
the shoes, and put them alongside the bed, taking her 
socks with them. I'm not sure whether it was curiosity, 
but as I dragged off her second sock, I let my palm 
feel the inside of her calf. I wondered, would it feel 
the same as mine? Certainly, it was muscled in much the 
same way, but, in the modest experience I'd had with 
girls, I hadn't paid too much attention to their lower 
legs. Unlike me though, Ada's legs were perfectly 
hairless, and when I came to her feet – maybe larger 
than mine, but with painted toenails – I became aware 
of myself and tossed the socks aside.

Ada was smiling at me on the bed when I looked up. 
'That's better,' she said. 'I couldn't wait to get 
those off!' She reached into her bag, and took out the 
books we'd checked out of the library for the project 
previously.

'Ada?' I asked, bravely. 'Why do you do this? I mean... 
dress like this, and all? Don't people make fun of you? 
Where I come from...'

'Sometimes they make fun of me,' Ada sighed, looking 
from her feet slowly up her legs, then back to me. 'But 
this is just how I am. I don't know why I want to dress 
like this, but... I do... I hope that makes sense to 
you.'

'I don't know...' I said, honestly. 'Maybe. I've never 
really met anyone like you before.'

Ada laughed again, and leaned forwards toward me, 
planting a kiss on my cheek. 'Ha!' she said, 
afterwards. 'And you never will again!'

Although it had obviously been a natural reaction, I 
was taken back by Ada's sudden move. She seemed to 
realise. 'Oh,' she stammered. 'I'm sorry, Nick.'

After a moments silence, I looked back into her eyes, 
the most honest I'd encountered since moving to 
Thailand. 'No,' I said, putting a hand on her cheek, 
letting it run through her hair. 'Don't be.'

I'm not sure what came over me, but I leaned forward, 
and kissed Ada in return, on the mouth. She opened her 
mouth after a moment of the same shock I guess I felt 
when she kissed me on the cheek, and returned the 
gesture passionately, before I felt her fingernails on 
my back, through my t-shirt. I surprised myself when I 
went further. I let my hands run from Ada's face, down 
her sides, to her stomach, then under her own shirt, 
which I pushed up and off. 

I wasn't sure what I'd find underneath. The body below 
was dark, like her face, and toned. I let my eyes, and 
hands run up, towards her chest. I saw now that Ada's 
bra was artificially padded with phony breasts. She 
watched me, perhaps awkwardly as I unclipped the bra 
and put it aside. Ada had a solid chest beneath the 
padding she wore, and, I found that despite the fact 
that, as I looked over the body in front of me now that 
was unmistakably that of a male, complete with a tent-
like protrusion now trying to escape from under the 
mini-skirt, I still thought of Ada as 'she.'

Ada sighed as I let my hand run over the protrusion, a 
distinctly feminine sound. I searched the skirt for a 
fastening, but in the end she unclipped it and took it 
off, along with her underwear, and she sat before me 
naked. I let my flat palms run over the planes of her 
body before I swallowed hard and let one hand run 
around Ada's scrotum and then a single finger along her 
shaft to the tip. When I reached the head she made 
another small sound.

'I've never done this before,' I whispered. 'I mean...'

Ada cut me off before I had to explain, reaching out to 
me with her hands, but unable to touch me, since she 
was lying flat, and I was sitting up over her. 'Neither 
have I,' she said. I kissed her fingertips lightly, as 
I began stroking her up and down, imagining just how I 
would like it done to me. As the strokes intensified 
the sound from her lips was not unlike those I'd heard 
when I'd made love to girls in the past. As Ada's 
muscles tensed, I knew that she was close, and when she 
reached climax, the sound she made was distinctly 
masculine, the kind of sound I could imagine coming 
from my own lips.

I sat in front of my computer for over an hour trying 
to decide what to include in my email update to Tyson. 
In the end, all I wrote was 'Remember that girl Ada I 
was telling you about? Well, I got her!'

END

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world 
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per 
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 57