It's 2 AM when Mike's phone rings, and he groans while picking it up. It's one of those hot summer nights where a person can break into a sweat just by rolling over. Mike's pillow is hot and sticky, and his hair is matted in the back. He knows that ringtone, though, and realizes quickly that he has to pick it up.
"What's up, Christine?" He asks, using her full name to irritate her. If she's going to wake him up in the middle of the night, then, dammit, he's going to tease her about it. A sob comes through the line. It doesn't sound like Tina's usual voice. It's dark and gravelly and deep. Mike's breath catches in his throat. He's barely able to choke out a "What's wrong, honey?"
Five miles away, Tina is trying to verbalize what exactly the problem is. It's not that anything has gone wrong, per se. Just the typical nervous breakdown that she has every few weeks when she remembers that she's hiding the biggest secret a person could possibly hide from their significant other. Normally, it doesn't bother her too terribly. But every so often, the weight of the secret hits her like a punch in the stomach, and she simply breaks down. She remembers that she's on the phone with her boyfriend, that she called him in the middle of the night, so she should probably speak. "Just talk to me, Michael," is all she can say.
And he does, as he has a hundred times before. He speaks to her, in soft, strong words. He tells her about his day, about how much he hates waiting tables, but how it's the only way he can buy his new tap shoes. He tells her about his mother's clean bill of health from her last doctor's appointment, a relief to the whole family after her blood sugar dropped dangerously low last month. He talks about his father's ongoing quest to get him to go to Ohio State and study medicine or computers or whatever he had decided was THE career path this month. He talks and talks and suddenly the sun is coming up and they are both still awake.
Tina smiles at the rising sun and whispers into the phone, "I want to see you today."
Mike smiles at the happy tone of her voice. "I'd like that." He rolls over onto his back, staring into his popcorn ceiling. He realizes that's already half-hard, and begins to palm himself over his boxers. "Hey Tina," he whispers right before she can hang up, "Guess what I have in my hands."
She rolls her eyes, but can't help but smile. "Not now, Mike."
He whines, and she laughs. And then suddenly the words are falling out of her mouth. She's confessing and ranting and speaking her entire soul, and she can't stop herself. And then there's silence and the secret is out and it's nothing like she had hoped she would say.
"You what?" Mike asks weakly, his palm now behind his head instead of over his crotch.
"I'm intersex." She sighs, and tears start to well up in her eyes again. It's stupid, really. She just stopped crying what felt like ten seconds ago and now she's crying again. "I have a penis."
Mike's breath is ragged and his brow wrinkles in confusing. "But we've… I've never…" he can't quite put together words and phrases. They've made out hundreds of times in the year they've been together, and he's never felt anything strange. He's felt her breasts, kissed them, licked her dark brown nipples, and never thought twice about what was happening between her legs. He's laid on top of her, both their bodies drenched with sweat, but never noticed an erection so much at gracing his thigh. His body is hot, then cold, then hot again all within the span of a few milliseconds.
"I'm sorry." She mutters. "It was a mistake. I never should have—"
"No." He replies. "I love you, and that means every part of you, even the parts I've never know about."
She smiles into the phone. "You're sweet. But really, it's okay. I never meant to tell you over the phone anyhow."
He laughs. "Whatever. I have the house to myself tomorrow. Want to come over?"
She gasps a little bit, but catches herself before she can make any noise. "Are you implying what I think you're implying?"
He grins. "Absolutely."
The next afternoon, Tina arrives at his house exactly as his father's prized grandfather clock strikes 3 PM. Thirteen hours after she's confessed her deepest, darkest secret to him. He opens the door, shirtless, wearing only the pair of black skinny jeans she bought him for his birthday last year. She smiles and wraps her arms around his neck. He kisses her with a fierce passion, gripping her waist. It's as if nothing is wrong. He grabs her from behind the knees and carries her up the stairs to his bedroom. He's tickling that spot behind her left knee that he once found, and she's laughing as he drops her onto his bed.
And then they're there. There's no question anymore. There's an elephant in the room, and they need to discuss it.
"We don't have to do this." Tina mutters, turning away from Mike.
At the exact same time, Mike mumbles, "I'm totally okay with it."
They look at each other and laugh. Mike flops down onto his bed next to her, caressing the side of her face with the back of his hand. He looks at the way her cheeks curve out when she laughs. He smiles at the slightly off-color tooth she has that she once confessed was fake after an adult tooth never grew in. This is the same thing, really, something about her that makes her different, but in the most beautiful of ways.
She notices him staring at her and sits up. "I'm sorry." She mutters, burying her head into her hands.
"Stop apologizing," he sighs, moving his head up onto the pillows. "I'm fine, really. I did some research after we talked last night, and I'm totally cool with it."
She stands up to face him and flops her arms to her sides. "No you're not. You can't just be cool with this kind of thing in the course of one night. That's not how it works."
He throws his hands up. "Fine. Truth? I'm a little freaked out, as anyone would be to find out that their significant other is intersex. But I'm also curious. I'm intrigued. And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit excited."
She laughs. "Excited? How on Earth are you excited?"
He blushes a little bit. "I do musical theater. I've thought about the possibility of… that. And I was always curious about it."
"What do you mean, 'that'?" She asks, her voice dropping to its normal range.
He turns a deep red and covers his eyes. "You know… guys. Cocks. Touching them. Tasting them. I wondered what it would be like. But, I was with you, so I could never…"
She sits down on the bed and grabs hold of his ankles. "Do you still want to? I mean, it's different because I have both parts, but you could still…" She trails off, and watches as his face returns to its normal color. Not in a million years did she ever imagine that her boyfriend, Mr. Masculinity, had thought about a cock anywhere near his mouth. But then, he had probably never imagined that she had one in the first place.
He nods, then shakes his head no. "I want to, but only if you're okay with it. I want… I want to be with you, Tina. All of you. But mostly, I want to make you feel good. Happy."
She looks at him, and bursts into tears again. It's embarrassing, really, how crazily in love she is with him. And then he's next to her, kissing the tracks of her tears, telling her how much he loves her. She pushes him away, trying to gain her composure.
"First," she chokes out, "I want to answer any questions you have."
He nods. "Just one. When we… you know… do you ever get excited? And how come I could never feel it?"
She laughs, wiping away her tears. "That's two questions. And yes, I do. A lot, actually. But I tuck, so you could never feel it."
He grimaces. "Does that hurt?"
She nods. "Like hell. But it makes me feel… prettier, I guess. More feminine. When everything is tucked away, I don't have to think about it. I feel like I'm all girl."
They're silent for a minute. Finally, Mike mutters out the only thing he needs to say. "You're all girl to me. Always have been, always will be." And with that, he pulls her down next to him and presses kisses into her cheeks, her temples, her lips. He wipes her tears away with his thumbs and kisses the dry trails they've left. He presses his lips into hers, curls his tongue behind her teeth. Their tongues duel, and he can feel the heat radiate out of her body.
He plays with the fabric of her shirt, and she nods, granting him all the permission he needs. With a few quick moves, she's topless, and he's hovered over her breasts again. They really are perfect, he thinks to himself. Perfect little mountains with cinnamon peaks. He desperately wants to sink into them, to take those perky nipples into his mouth, but he holds back. He wants to savor the sight for a moment of his perfect girlfriend positively writhing underneath him. She shifts, and her breasts jiggle.
"What are you thinking?" she asks nervously, and he sees the worry in her eyes.
He smiles, and she realizes that it's going to be okay. He has a smirk, really, that he does when he sees her breasts, that only comes out right then. "Thinking about how beautiful you are." He growls—actually growls—and sinks his lips onto her nipple.
And she's wet and dry and hot and cold all at the same time. She groans, arching her back as his tongue flicks back and forth over her breast. He teases the other one with his callused thumb, watching from his peripheral vision as it hardens more.
And it's there. Poking into the side of his ribs. She's not tucked or hiding. She's right there underneath her jeans. She's hard. Hard for him, hard for his mouth. He groans, letting her nipple fall out of his mouth. He can't really help it.
She blushes, realizing that her boyfriend—her perfect, wonderful, bi-curious boyfriend—just groaned at the feel of her cock poking him in the side. And she wants to laugh, but he's unbuttoning her jeans and sliding them over her thighs and she's kicking them off. He's perched above her groin, looking her deep in the eyes, just asking permission to pull off her panties. She nods, and that's all he needs.
He stops. She's there, open, naked for him. He can't say he's completely sure what he's supposed to be doing. Her cock is straining up against her stomach, a tiny bit of precum already leaking out of the tip. Meanwhile, her pussy is glistening, wet, aching to be filled. He looks at her eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, and follows the trail of her skin down past the valley of her breasts, and back to the spectacle before him. And he's confused, but excited, and his cock is straining against his jeans, and it's just… she's just…
"Beautiful." He mumbles, barely audibly. Tina wants to ask him what he said, to make sure that he's still okay with everything now that it's here and he still has the chance to turn back. She opens her mouth, but before she can speak, he licks the underside of her cock, and a moan comes out of her lips instead. She wants to say something, anything, but now his tongue is swirling around the head of her cock, and he's popped it into his mouth, and it's wonderful, fantastic, better than anything she's ever experienced. She's sure that nothing can ever, ever, top the feeling of Mike's mouth on her cock.
And then he touches her.
It's nothing really. Just the accidental brush of his thumb against her pussy as he tries to get a better grip on her cock in his mouth. But the way her back arches and forces an extra inch or so of cock into his mouth makes him positively writhe against his bedspread. He does it again, and she makes the same noise, arches her back the same way. He rubs soft circles against her entrance, feeling as she drips onto him. He can't hold back, and he presses his entire thumb into her. She all but shouts out from the feeling. His thumb is wide, coarse, unlike her own dainty fingers. He's drawing circles inside her, touching every square inch he can reach. And then the retracts his thumb and inserts two fingers instead, trying his hardest to feel every square inch of her that he can. She moans as he curls his fingers upward, hinting at something she's always heard could be found, but never actually could find herself.
"Left." She groans. "A little to the left."
He laughs, the vibrations reverberating through her cock and driving her wild. He follows her instructions, and, sure enough, he's there. She shifts her weight a little and thrusts into his fingers. He laughs again, thrusting back. Now he's humming onto her cock and fucking her with his two rough fingers and she's sure that her whole body will explode into a million little pieces and there will be nothing left of her ever again. He can sense that she's close, and makes one last thrust with his fingers, rubbing them against the spot he's found inside of her.
She screams out a series of vowels that he's pretty sure are supposed to be his name, but he can't be positive. He feels her pulse around his fingers just as her cock squirts into his mouth. He's surprised by the feel, the hot stickiness of it, but not completely disgusted. He can't bring himself to swallow it, though, and discretely wipes his tongue on a t-shirt that's laying a few feet away from him. He withdraws his fingers from her pussy, pulling them apart gently as the sticky fluid she's cum on them tries to keep them together. He tastes them experimentally, and quickly sinks them into his mouth. This is Tina. This is what she tastes like. She's sprawled out, spent, hair mussed and sweating from every pore.
He crawls up to her lips and kisses her, letting her taste the deliciousness he has on his tongue. She smiles into the kiss, and reaches for his jeans.
"No, really, I'm fine." He mumbles, and realizes that his erection is gone. She goes ahead and unbuttons them anyway, and they both gasp when they see the splatter that's poking out of the top of his boxers.
He came somewhere along the line, although he hadn't even realized it. Came with his girlfriend's cock in his mouth—he still couldn't get over that one—and fingers in her pussy. He groans, remembering the feel, the taste, the sound of Tina thrusting into his mouth and onto his fingers at the same time.
"Beautiful," he mumbles again, and this time Tina hears it.