But I didn’t want to suck a dick. Was it gay to suck your own dick? What if you’re currently a woman and suck a dick that belonged to you? But I was in a woman’s body that wasn’t my own. Was it wrong to suck a dick then? But what if you had permission, or in fact was forced, by the rightful owner of that body to suck a dick that belonged to you? Was THAT gay?
“I suggest a counter proposal,” I said to Susan. “I’ll agree to your terms IF, if, in addition to sucking your dick (that is, in fact, MY dick) you eat my pussy (that is, in fact, YOUR pussy).”
Susan, in my body, thought for a moment. “Fuck it, why not?” (s)he responded.
We both stripped down. Susan’s body that I occupied was a toned work of art. Meanwhile, Susan (in my body) removed her clothing, revealing a disgusting, hairy, and flabby body.
“So this is what it’s like to have an erection,” (s)he said.
“For fuck sake, let’s get this over with,” I replied.
I, being the woman this time, climbed on top while Susan, the man, laid beneath me. I placed this exquisite looking vagina onto Susan’s face while I shoved this pathetic penis into my mouth.
Honestly—getting your pussy eaten—pretty good experience. Almost made me forget that I was blowing myself.
“I’m about to come,” Susan, as a man, screamed.
Oh shit, I thought. I wasn’t prepared to swallow semen.
“I wanna bust in that pussy (that is, in fact, MY pussy),” she said.
Relieved, I stood up and (s)he bent me over the couch and shoved in the full 4.5 inches. At first, it occurred to me that size indeed DOES NOT matter.
“Damn it!” Susan yelled. “Your dick sucks!”
(S)he started to speed up until finally pulling out and blowing semen in between my butt cheeks.
“Gotta say,” Susan said, “it’s better to orgasm as woman.”
I laid down on the couch and covered my naked body. Was it worth it? Sure, I rationalized to myself. Too bad I didn’t come though.
After Susan washed up, she put on a suit and tie. She made me look the best I ever looked.
“Alright,” (s)he said, “let’s go find that warlock.”
Then she kicked me in the nuts with her pointed toe stilettos.
As I writhing in pain on the floor, Susan stood over me and said “I’m getting that job you limp dick bastard! Not you, not the board, not anyone can stand in my way!”
Susan stormed off and all my coworkers stood around. “I’m fine,” I said. “She barely knicked my ball sack.”
I crawled back to my office and shut the door. I took the bottle of vodka out of the refrigerator and placed it on my crotch. Bob Dickenburg came in laughing.
“Susan’s a firecracker isn’t she!” he said.
“To put it mildly,” I replied.
“Look, don’t worry about her,” Bob continued. “The board loves your work. You’re definitely getting that job.”
“I better. I’m gonna have to pay for scrotal surgery soon,” I said. I then lifted the bottle of vodka to my mouth.
“Well, we’re gonna announce the promotion on Monday. Go home, enjoy your weekend, and don’t worry yourself over it.”
I nodded to Bob as I swallowed the vodka. I didn’t get much work done that Friday afternoon. I got too drunk.
As I roared my Ferrari back home, almost hitting several motorists, I accidentally plowed my vehicle into a hooded figure. I grabbed my beer and exited the car to check on the person.
The figure laid on the ground, body parts were completely mangled. I kicked his side.
“Hey buddy, are you alright?” I asked.
The figure sat up and snapped his limbs back together. It was disgusting. Finally he stood up and removed the hood.
The man appeared to be blind. I figured that’s why he was standing in the middle of the road. He was ancient, like a warlock.
“You shouldn’t drink and drive,” the man said.
“Oh it’s okay, I’m rich.”
He then lifted his hands to my face and began chanting something in Latin, Greek, or some bullshit I didn’t understand. After standing there for a few moments, he lowered his hands and slowly wondered off.
“You don’t want any money out of my wallet?” I asked.
He didn’t reply.
I finished driving home. I stripped off my clothes, climbed in between the sheets, and fell fast asleep.
When I awoke the next morning, I wasn’t hungover. I also didn’t have rock hard morning wood. Something was amiss.
I sat up in bed and didn’t recognize the room. It was a woman’s room.
A nude man with a rubber mask came crawling in on all fours. He stood up, his partially erect penis inches from my face, and he handed over a cock cage.
“I’ve been a bad boy mommy,” he said.
I stood up and looked in the mirror. And there she was: her tall slender frame, small perky breast, and that stern resting bitch face.
I was Susan.
Or, more precisely, I was in Susan’s body. And presumably she was in mine.
“That fucking warlock,” I thought. “I hope Susan doesn’t look at my penis.”
I looked over to the nude man. “Sorry bro, I ain’t gay,” I said. I then threw on some clothes and sped over to my own apartment, expecting to find Susan in my body.
I stormed into my room, and there was me, or rather Susan as me, sitting prim and proper and drinking coffee.
“Look Susan,” I said, “I know that all of this is weird. But we can undo this. There’s a warlock I know that can put us back into our own bodies. Let’s go!”
“Why would I want to do that?” she, as me, asked.
“Well you’re me. I’m you. You know….”
“But I know that you’re the one getting that promotion. Or rather…I’M the one getting that promotion.”
“Susan, we don’t have time for this shit. We need to be looking for this warlock.”
(S)he took a drink of the coffee and slowly put the cup down. “I’ll cut you a deal,” (s)he said. “I’ll help you find this warlock, but first we should take time to appreciate this situation.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve done fellatio before, sure. But I’ve never had MY dick sucked…” (s)he said.
My heart began to sink.
“Will you suck my dick?” (s)he asked. “Or rather…will you suck YOUR dick?
“It’s hard being a gay man in the old west,” Mr. Ree said.
“Word. Wait…you’re gay?” I asked.
“Well I wouldn’t say I’m gay. But I exclusively have sex with men.”
I took a sip of whiskey. My mind was on other things.
We were in Montana. I reckon the year was 1879. Mr. Ree and myself have been stuck out of time, out of place, for the last two years.
Time travel does strange things to a man. For one, it strips you completely naked. Mr. Ree and me were found in San Francisco, ass to ass, behind a brothel on Haight Street when we emerged from the plasma ripple. But it does something else: you realize that everyone, and everything, you’ve ever known is out of reach.
I’ll never see Miriam again. Or my unborn child that I left back in another timeline.
But Mr. Ree maintained hope. “We might as well get filthy fucking rich,” he said. The gold mines in California were stripped by 1879. Resigned to our fate, we travelled to Elkhorn, Montana to start a new life.
As we sat in the local tavern, townsfolk glared at us. One burly man came up to our table.
“We haven’t seen your kind ‘round here before,” he said.
“We don’t take kindly to strangers. I reckon y’all better drink your whiskey and ride out before sundown.”
“Why don’t you mind your own business buddy?” I said. “We ain’t bothering you. How about you ride your fat ass back to your table?”
“Them are fightin words.”
“Damn right pal! You don’t want none of this!”
“Now gentlemen,” Mr. Ree interjected, “there’s nothing here that can’t be settled by a good old fashioned duel.”
The burly man nodded. “I’ll see you outside.”
“The fuck are you doing Mr. Ree?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about it. You got a Korth 357. You’ll blast his ass into the future,” he replied.
“Ree, this is 1879,” I said, “they don’t make bullets for this gun yet. I gotta conserve my ammo. Besides, wouldn’t I be disrupting the timeline?”
“Nah. According to J Robert Oppenheimer, this is a new timeline, remember? We can do whatever the fuck we want.”
I just shrugged and walked outside. The burly man was standing in the street. The townsfolk all stood around.
“Alright,” I said, “fastest draw wins, or however this bullshit works.”
The burly man opened his duster, exposing his six shooter. “Ready whenever you are,” he said.
We had a stare down. The townsfolk stood around nervously, waiting for the fireworks.
Suddenly he reached for his six shooter. I drew my 357. The sound thundered from my gun, echoing across the town and down through the mountains.
I shot off the burly man’s suspenders. His pants fell down, exposing his ass and penis.
I twirled the 357 and placed it back my holster.
Suddenly a shotgun blast went off. The townsfolk scattered. Out of the shadows appeared a man dressed in black. His spurs jingled as he walked towards us.
“I won’t have this nonsense in my town,” the man in black said.
I recognized the face.
“I’m James,” I said. “And this here is my partner, Mr. Ree.”
“I know who you are,” he replied. “And if you fire that gun again, I’ll shove this shotgun right up your ass.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a threat,” I said.
He stepped a little closer.
Could it be?
“I’m Oppenheimer,” he said. “SHERIFF J. Robert Oppenheimer.”