Prom Night

by Cal Y. Pygia

 

"You look lovely," Drake told his date as they walked hand in hand to his Mustang, parked at the curb in front of her house.

Sharon was wearing a frilly lavender prom dress made of silk and satin, lavender heels, and a string of pearls she'd borrowed from her mother. The dress was tight around her ample bosom, and it was tight across the front and rear as well, hugging her curves. She'd pinned the white carnation corsage that Drake had given her to her breast. She carried a tiny lavender silk bag, about the same size as Drake's scrotum. Her hair was swept up in a blonde mountain of tightly coiled tresses, and her blue eyes were accentuated with lavender eye shadow. A touch of blush made her cheeks a soft pink, to match the pale pink lipstick that highlighted her full, sensuous lips. "So I'm passable?" she said coyly.

"You're more than passable; you're beautiful. I can't wait to see you naked."

She pouted. "After all the time and trouble I went to?"

"You look fabulous," he replied, "but you look even better naked."

She chuckled. "Flattery will get you everywhere."

 

The drive to the high school gym was a short, but romantic one. The night was bright with a full moon, and the black vault of heaven glittered with stars.

Inside, a local band was playing soft, syrupy music. The prom committee had gone all out to decorate the cavernous interior of the gym. Crepe streamers dipped in graceful crescents from the rafters. Helium-filled balloons floated beneath the ceiling and were moored to the bleachers. Totem poles stood on either side of the entrance, and the punch bowl, cups, plates, cutlery, napkins, and refreshments were set on surfboards supported by other, shorter totem poles. The band wore Hawaiian shirts and cut-off jeans. A mural showed surfers braving huge waves as bikini-clad girls waved to them from a golden beach.

"Let's dance," Sharon suggested.

"Now? We just got here. Besides, I'm starving. Let's get some refreshments first."

"Dance now, eat later," Sharon insisted.

Reluctantly, he placed his right hand against the small of her back and held her right hand in his left hand. He moved to the music, Sharon following his lead. He was a good dancer, as was she, and they enjoyed the feel of their hands clasping one another. Sharon closed her eyes, laying her cheek against Drake's strong, broad shoulder. She could smell his cologne and feel the heat of his body. She loved his tall height, his muscular build, and the strength of his body. With him, she felt safe and secure. With him, she felt happy and complete.

As they danced, she thought of their year-long courtship. Seldom had they exchanged angry words. After all, her submissive personality was a perfect fit for his dominant demeanor. She acquiesced to his sexual desires without question or complaint, not only sucking his cock but swallowing the nectar of his warm, salty seed and taking his thick, hard organ up her ass so that he could spill his semen deep inside her bowels. He was like a wild man when it came to sex. He'd made her learn to repress her gag reflex and open her throat so he could fuck her in the mouth, driving his prick back and forth inside her esophagus the same way he drove his prick back and forth inside her rectum when he pounded her in her ass. He didn't make love; he assaulted her¾ and, she had to admit, she liked it that way. Their fondness for rough sex was one of the shared interests that sealed their love. As far as Sharon was concerned, Drake could hammer her ass anytime or thrust his prick down her throat whenever he wanted. She was up for it as much as he was. As she thought about his long, thick, hard cock jutting from his groin, inches from her face, and the purple glans kissing her lips, before the shaft, entering her mouth, its sleek, rigid length sliding over her tongue and past the inner walls of her cheeks, shoved past her tonsils and into her throat, she felt the familiar, tickling sensation in her loins. Her nipples came erect, and she pressed herself more tightly into Drake, letting him feel her excitement and the warmth of her breath against his neck.

Drake's cock began to stiffen. He frowned. An erection wouldn't be welcome at his high school prom, he thought, imagining the shocked expressions of the girls and the angry glares of their dates, should he exhibit a hard-on at their graduation dance. He couldn't picture anything more mortifying. Fortunately, his anxiety caused his stiffening prick to soften. It went limp again, wilting inside his pants. He breathed a sigh of relief. If girls only knew what guys went through, he thought. A prick had a mind of its own. More than a few times, his own recalcitrant penis had decided to engorge itself with blood at the most inopportune time, causing Drake to hold a notebook over his groin or place a book on his lap to hide the offending erection. At least, this time, his penis had decided not to embarrass him.

The song ended, and Drake escorted Sharon to one of the surfboard tables for punch and hors d'oeuvres. On the way, girls stared at them, horror-stricken looks on their lovely faces. They pointed, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, murmuring to their dates. The boys turned hard looks on Drake and Sharon.

What the hell were they so aghast about? Drake wondered. He knew his erection had subsided. Was he unzipped? No, he remembered distinctly having closed his zipper when he'd dressed this evening. He'd made a point to check. He shrugged, pouring a dipperful of punch into a cup for Sharon. As he turned from the punchbowl to offer her the beverage, his own eyes snapped wide and his mouth gaped. It was true, he didn't have an erection¾ but his date certainly did!

The prom dress was tight, fore and aft, as it was across the bosom. It emphasized her high, full breasts, her shapely round derriere¾ and the thick, long, hard erection bulging beneath the taut satin that covered her groin! As a shemale, she never should have worn such a tight-fitting dress, he thought. She looked lovelier than any of the other girls at the prom, even with the prominent bulge in her gown, but the swollen penis proved, beyond a doubt, that she was a shemale.

Drake felt mortified. He blushed furiously, angry at Sharon for wearing such a tight dress to the prom. Then, he laughed. What the hell did he care what the losers at his high school thought of him or his date? He and Sharon were graduating; they could leave this sorry town. They'd planned to go to New York or L. A. Sharon wanted to be a model or an actress, and he'd agreed to be her agent. They had their whole lives head of them, and they'd show these small-minded, small town bigots! Besides, Sharon, even with an erect cock plainly outlined by her tight-fitting prom dress, was the best-looking girl at his high school.

Drake was aware of the music playing faintly in the background.

"I'm sorry," Sharon said, a tear trickling down her sleek, rosy cheek.

He kissed the tear away and smiled at her. "What for?"

She dipped her head toward the offending erection. "This."

"I'm not," he assured her. "I love you¾ every inch of you."

She smiled. "You do?"

"Inside and out."

"Thanks."

He held out her hands to her. "Would you care to dance?"

She stepped into his arms; the music swelled.

  

  

  

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