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Size Queens

5-sep-2002

I was lounging on my pink comforter at home, feeling randy, when I remembered that I’d received a free pass for the phone lines. I dialled 911-horny and found a man willing to travel. I had described myself as tall and slim, looking for a fun, friendly guy. I neglected to mention my heels.

When A knocked on my door, I opened it with a warm smile only to see his expression drop and the words ‘skinny bitch’ flash across his face. I’ve seen the look a million times. Men scan my girlish figure like they’re wondering where all the muscle is. (Take a wild guess, Honey.)

In his plaid shirt and blue jeans, he looked vanilla-butch, meaning his clothes were masculine, but without a trace of personal style. Despite that, he was hunky. Uncertain if I really wanted to lift my skirt for him, I invited him inside, just to see.

Gingerly, he came in and sat down. We chatted about work, and The PumpJack, and the burbs where he lived. He was reluctant to say anything revealing, which either meant that he was shy and adorable or disinterested and soon to disappoint me.

Although he wasn’t much fun yet, he was friendly. I liked him. When I couldn’t stand my panties getting any itchier for him, I asked if he wanted to neck. He answered, “Sure,” with a shrug.

Okay, I’m not the hunk he expected, I thought, so thank god he’s hornier than he is discriminating. I jumped on top of him before he could change his mind. A half-hour later, after teasing, pinching and slapping him around, I was pinned to the bed underneath him. In a brief pause while we rested, he whispered in my ear, “Do you wanna role-play?”

“Sure,” I said, although I had never really played pretend in bed before. “What do you wanna do?”

“Daddy-son,” he answered.

As a joke, I asked, “What should I be?” His dick was in my ass. He weighed 30 pounds more than I did. It seemed obvious.

“Daddy,” he answered. Surprise.

We spent a good hour playing out our family history. I was shameless describing to him what his pubescent cock was doing to my drag queen daddy ass. He loved it. At one point, he asked, “How often do you role-play?”

When I told him I never had, he said he couldn’t believe it, then asked if Daddy wanted to screw him for a change.

“Oh, yes, sonny-boy,” I said, “you’ve been very disrespectful.” If it’s possible, he loved that scene even more. By morning, our asses were nearly as worn as the cliché: ‘It’s not what you’ve got, but how you use it’. I might be a stick-figure drag queen, femme as all get-out, but I’ll top any ass I set my mind to. And men who dress like urban lumberjacks were little boys once too. It was a great reminder for me that we’re far more varied than we appear.

Bi-line: Miss Cookie’s alter-ego, Michael V. Smith, will conduct a safe cruising workshop in the Gay Men's Health Fair and Workshop Series.