Chapter 2

I spent the afternoon and night raging at my clit. For the hundredth time I thought about surgery, but I couldn’t get away from seeing that as mutilation, and it had been explained to me it would be basically the end of sexual arousal or nearly so. I wasn’t ready to give that up. In fact that very evening I got myself off with the stupid thing half a dozen times after making an early night of it. Fantasising about Chloé, of course! About Chloé, and me with normal genitalia.

The next day I woke up thinking I’d been incredibly stupid. I could be friends with her, that would still be great wouldn’t it? Tell her I was straight or something. Or just be brave and tell her about IT. Better than tossing away something that ... well it was hard to deal with how badly I needed to be with her. And now suppose I couldn’t find her again, in this huge resort? What I’d done was risk giving it up in case she might want to give it up. It was just ... well stupid didn’t cover it.

So I explained to my guys I was going to get some serious skiing in early and I’d catch them a bit later, and was on the first chair up. I hovered round the lift where I’d met her, hoping she might at least check it out or just come that way. I went up and skied down, waited a bit, getting cold, then did the run again. No Chloé. I couldn’t believe what an idiot I’d been.

After an hour of waiting and circulating and looking for her I realised I had to join my friends again, so I called them and met up and skied the rest of the morning with them. Then at lunchtime we went to the same mountain restaurant as the day before, and when we walked in there she was! Sitting at a table with three other girls, Henri and another guy. She saw me straight away and looked at me, ready to smile...

I went over, a huge silly grin on my face. “Hello,” I said, in French automatically, “I was hoping to find you.”

Chloé was smiling back at me, looking as gorgeous and alive as I’d remembered. “I was hoping to find you too.”

God! There was no space at the table though and she was in the far corner. I looked across at my friends, who were queuing for food already. Henri came to our rescue:

“Jamie would you like to try a bit of slalom this afternoon? We’re going to set up some poles for some training, would you like to try it?”

The other girls were looking friendly and the other guy, a coach too I realised, was giving me the usual ski instructor once-over with a smile on his face.

“I’d love to, thank you!” I said. So they said where they’d be and I went and ate with my friends. I told them what I’d been offered and, as ever, they were brilliant.

“Wow fantastic,” was the gist of their reaction. They saw me keep looking at Chloé, which I couldn’t stop myself doing, and Chloé sometimes looking back.

“Have you met someone?” my best friend, Marie, asked. There was a twinkle in her eye and I realised it must be a bit obvious that there was a twinkle in mine! I was pretty sure Marie and the others wouldn’t be prejudiced against my going with another girl, at least. But I wasn’t actually going with Chloé, was I?

“Oh, well, she is nice,” I grinned lamely, “and an amazing skier.”

“She is stunning babe.” Marie grinned, and the others were on my side too, all smiling and nodding. True friends. I resolved to try.

But then, when it came to it, at the end of the fabulous afternoon of learning to ski round poles, with Chloé, I didn’t have the control I thought I was going to have. We arrived back in the resort all together and Chloé manoeuvred me slightly away from the others:

“What are you doing now?” she asked, “after your shower or this evening?”

It was intimate. Heading for more intimacy. Her face was close to mine. She was magnetic, gorgeous, charismatic, fun ... Christ. If we weren’t in public we’d be touching? Kissing even? Then in an instant our clothes would be coming off and she’d see IT. An engorged, massive sausage that didn’t belong on a girl...

I panicked.

“Oh, I ... I don’t know, Chloé, I’m so sorry, I’ll see you ... tomorrow,” I blurted, and I fled; ignominiously, stupidly and rejectively.

I rushed back and into my room on the verge of tears. Why couldn’t I just SAY: “Chloé, look I have a giant clit, I’m embarrassed about it but what do you think?”

It would be so simple, wouldn’t it? Then it’d be settled, one way or the other.

But I couldn’t.

In the shower I had to have a look at the horrid thing, to see if there was any way it might be acceptable. It wasn’t. I was a girl with a ridiculous little sausage between her legs. A sausage that so deserved to have a little pointed wooden stick shoved through it!!

But even without a stick it was quite sore, after the time spent around Chloé with it big and rubbing on my panties, so I put some body lotion on it. Suddenly - obviously - it was enormous and tingling and I had to stroke and squeeze it and lean against the tiles and cum like crazy. Chloé, Christ! I could still smell her fragrance, it seemed like. Imagine it was her fingertips...

I did my hair and dried, then looked at the bed. In a minute I was on the bed with face cream on my clit and was bucking around with another orgasm. God. Jesus Christ. My fingers were still on it and Chloé was still in my head. A bit more cream, some juice from my soaking pussy, and I was off again...