All that day, as I worked on my motorcycle, my thoughts circled like a whirlpool of conflict.Did my profound enjoyment of John's lovemaking mean I was...queer? The pretty girls on the beach still looked good to me and the boys didn't arouse any feelings of desire. I eventually guessed I wasn't a fag and that having my cock sucked just plain felt good, no matter the sex of the sucker.In bed that night I could no longer maintain the pretense that I'd slept through that awesome morning blow job. I. She was quite strict, and she knew her boundaries. I had no doubt she would give me hell if I tried to convince her to be more lenient. She had principles, and her standards of living were quickly becoming my way of life. Besides, she was pretty and had the hottest body of any girl I’d ever dated. I could fuck her for hours, and we often did. --- It was only a couple of weeks later when the transformation started. I was getting ready for work, having just showered and shaved. When I looked. More

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