Hi Folks. Here I am with another tale of romance, betrayal, and woe with a few Mustangs and a bit of hope sprinkled om for good measure. I'm joined as usual by the incomparable Mikothebaby on the figurative red pen, crossing out my many grammatical and punctuation errors and giving you a story that is more easily read. The weird thing about it is that when she does a great job no one mentions her. But if we (usually me) miss one thing, it's a federal case. While you guys and you ladies too are reading this please consider the plight of the editors here. The only payment they get for their efforts come in the way of the very sporadic praise that readers sometimes give them. So this week let's all say something nice not only for my wonderful editor, but for all of the editors here and the moderaotors who make sure that the stories you read are within the website's guidelines and moral code. If they weren't here and doing a great job, you probably wouldn't be reading this. SS06

It seemed to be a slow night as I wiped down the bar for the fortieth of what would probably be four hundred or more times during the evening. There were probably only eight or nine women in the whole place when he walked in. He sat down at the bar with his head turned away but there was something familiar about him.

Every woman in the place turned to look at him when he walked in. We just don't get very many men in here. This bar caters mostly to a very select clientele. Most of our customers are women and the majority of them are lesbians.

I get hit on a lot here. That's probably why I stay. Everyone needs to feel that they're attractive to someone every once in a while at least. The problem is that the only ones hitting on me are gay women. I am decidedly hetero sexual. I have no interest in women at all. I'm not even bi-curious let alone bi. All of the women who hit on me are always telling me that I won't know whether I like it or not unless I try it.

When I explain to them that I was born with an innate love for the feeling of a dick pushing its way inside of any one of my openings, they look at me like I'm crazy. When I tell them that I love sucking one and that I definitely swallow, they walk away faster. When I yell to them that I don't even mind when a guy puts his dick in my ass, they run away screaming.

The problem is that though all of those statements are correct, none of that has happened for a very long time. My pussy is so dry it's dusty. It's been so long since something was shoved inside it that I'm as tight as a virgin again.

The problem is that I just don't appeal to men. My face is okay. I'm reasonably pretty. I'm not as pretty as I once was I guess. But tragedy has a way of marking you. It's especially bad when the tragedy is something that you're directly responsible for yourself. I guess my face, though it isn't scarred or deformed, just carries that sadness in its expressions.

My body, on the other hand, is the source of all of my problems. At twenty nine years old I have the curves of a ten year old boy. My ass is as flat as a plate of water. My legs have returned to their boney state too. And I'm a charter member of the itty bitty titty committee. My boobs have simply never grown. I have no hips either. When I was growing up, I couldn't hula hoop to save my ass. There simply wasn't enough curvature to keep the hoop up.

After a couple of minutes I see the guy raise his hand and wave at a couple of girls at a table in the back. They get up giggling and come over to the bar to get him. I wonder what the fuck is going on with that. I've seen those women in here a few times. Shit, we've had to practically hose them off a couple of times when they got worked up.

They just don't seem like the type to go both ways. I have seen some lesbian couples that occasionally bring a man in for variety. And lots of couples bring in a man to get one of them pregnant if they want a child and can't afford any of the typical medical methods.

But those two just didn't seem like the type to bring in a man for anything. The taller one of them linked her arm through his and hugged him. She seemed to be a little tipsy already. The shorter, chunkier one of the pair seemed to be a little more standoffish but she linked her arm through his open one and completed their lesbo/hetero sandwich. They dragged him off to their table as I continued to watch out of sheer curiosity.

He seemed to be a pretty decent looking guy although I hadn't seen his face directly yet. He seemed to be a little nervous about being where he was. Perhaps it was the fact that most of the women in the place were staring at him. Some of them did it on the sly, while others just glared at him openly.

If he'd been expecting the welcome wagon, then he was definitely in the wrong place. Then I saw one of the girls wave her arm. It was too early for any of the waitresses to be on duty, so out of pure curiosity, I went over to their table. Normally I'd have simply waited until one of them came up to the bar to order their drinks but I was dying to find out exactly what the fuck was going on here.

Did this guy even know that he had a less than zero chance of scoring with one of those two? Maybe he was related to one of them. Maybe he was doing that whole, "I love you and will accept your lifestyle to keep you in my life," thing. Either way, I was as I said, dying to find out. Besides it was a slow night and I needed to do something to A) take my mind off of my problems and B) stimulate my brain to keep me from falling asleep.

I sauntered over to their table, as much as a woman with almost no ass can saunter. Then he turned around and those soft brown eyes bore into mine even as he started to speak. Suddenly it was as if I was falling down a long dark tunnel with no hope of saving myself or escaping. The past two years melted away as if they were nothing and all of the pain came rushing back as if no time had passed. All of those months spent in therapy had been wasted. It was like I'd been wounded and didn't get stitched up. I had simply placed a band aid over the top of my gaping wound and it had developed the thinnest possible scab over the wound. Seeing him was like ripping that band aid off and pulling the scab off completely. The gaping, still bleeding hole was exposed all over again and hurt just as much. I don't remember hearing what he actually ordered, but I knew what to bring him anyway.

He recognized me at the same time and his discomfort at being in the lesbian bar tripled. His face never moved except for the tiniest downward tilt in the corners of his mouth. His eyes also barely changed except for a slightly harder expression. The casual observer probably would have missed those tiny changes but to me they as obvious as the fact that he simply didn't belong here.

I turned and walked back to the bar, so flustered by seeing him that I forgot to even ask if the two women wanted anything. As I busied myself looking in the bar's cavernous refrigerator for his beer of choice, my heart started to flutter. I prayed for my sanity at first, because I realized then that none of it mattered. The years of therapy, the long periods of loneliness, none of it mattered. It was as if seeing him after all of this time gave me the chance to rectify the mistakes of the past and make my life the way it should have been.

It was as if I'd been exiled from existence for the past two years and now after serving my time in purgatory, I was being "Recalled to life."

Fate was giving me another chance, I thought as I picked up the coldest bottle of Dos Equis Amber I could find. This was no act of random chance. The forces of the universe had all aligned to give me another chance. Out of all the gin joints in all the world, he had to walk into mine.

As I looked across the slowly filling room, I knew that this might be my only opportunity to talk to him. Fortune favors the bold so I decided to go for it. After all what did I have to lose?

I went back to his table, beer in hand and as I handed it to him I whispered to him. "Rick, you're wasting your time. You're not going to get any pussy from either of these women. They're lesbians, but I on the other hand will willingly give you anything you want."

I went back to my post at the bar before he could answer. I felt his eyes stab their way into my back as I promenaded back to the bar. I wondered what would happen next. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him, watching me. And as I did this, I thought back on the events of the past that had brought us here.

I'd grown up in a small town, a happy and normal girl, until puberty hit that is. It seemed to hit everyone else around me, but for some reason it just glanced off of me. While all of the other girls were developing rounded hips and breasts, I just continued to shoot straight up like a fucking bean pole.

Even in terms of height though, I was short-changed. I topped out at five foot five. That was an average height for women of my day. All through high school, while others experimented, I just continued to do the things I always did. I had no interest in drugs or sex. The drug thing was probably due to the fact that my parents had instilled in me at a very early age the knowledge that drugs were bad. As far as the sex thing goes; I simply had no interest. In fact, at the age of sixteen, I was still more interested in collecting Barbie dolls than boys.

Four years later in college at the age of twenty; very late to say the least, my hormones kicked in with a vengeance and I started wearing out vibrators. I started putting on makeup and trying to make myself look better. It wasn't very hard because as I've said, I'm relatively pretty and also thin. But somehow it took me almost a year to lose my virginity.

There I was, twenty one years old and a budding pincushion wannabe. The problem was that there weren't a lot of guys who wanted to pin the cushion. I did hang out at parties and found the occasional drunk who'd give me what I wanted. But I noticed right away that for all the talk about how great sex was, it just wasn't great for me.

During that same time, just from me hanging out at parties, I was meeting people. One of the people I met was a person that I'd already known. There was a family from my home town, the Ens family.

They only lived a mile away from me. I'd known him and his sisters and brothers since I was able to walk. The funny thing was that I'd never really taken a serious look at him. He was the youngest of the Ens kids. Strangely enough, we'd gone through school together and had probably gotten to the college at about the same time but we'd never spoken to each other.

His family had a tradition of naming male children after their paternal grandfather who'd been among the first settlers of our town.

Charles Ens or Charlie Ens as they called him had been the first to do everything in our town. He was the first settler. He ran the first business. He bought the first gun. He had the first farm. He built the first church and the first schoolhouse. Charlie Ens was a legend among the Swedes who settled our area.

My Charlie like most of the men in his family was called by his middle name. Some people called them by both their first and middle names to differentiate them. His cousin was Charles Robert Ens and was called Charlie Rob. His name was Charles Richard Ens the third, so everyone called him Charles Richard and his friends called him Charles Dick Ens.

I just called him Rick and from our first meeting I knew that there was something different. I guess I'd grown out of my desperate for sex phase that I'd started at age twenty and was looking for something more. There were a lot of guys that I was casually acquainted with. There were more than a few who I had sex with from time to time on the down low. But there had never been an actual relationship. Trust me; it wasn't that I hadn't tried. I'd gone from subtle hints like telling a guy that I really liked him, to flat out telling them after sex that if they were my boyfriend they could fuck me whenever they wanted. I just had no takers.

On a college campus where even some of the fat girls had boyfriends, no one wanted to be mine. That is until Rick came along. From the very beginning, I was attracted to him and the feeling seemed to be mutual. Being with him was very freeing. I felt no fear at all. I mean there were two things that put danger in meeting a man for a woman. Either he might kill me, or he wanted to fuck me. I could tell by looking into his eyes that he would never hurt me. And I wanted to fuck him at least as bad as he wanted me. He'd brought back that sexperation that I'd thought was gone.

The only thing keeping us from getting horizontal was him. We met at a party. We sat there on the couch for hours just talking as people came and left. After the first hour or so, I wondered when he'd make his move. I did have kind of a reputation at those parties. When he finally pounced, I was frustrated and flabbergasted, but intrigued all the same.

He'd asked me for a date. It shocked the shit out of me. He actually wanted to spend time getting to know me. The next evening we met and went out to eat. After dinner we went for a walk along the lake. It was wonderful. I was sure he'd fuck me after that. He'd spent money on me and spent time with me. Shit, he had a right to something in my opinion. But he settled for holding my hand. After a few dates, I was becoming desperate. But at the same time I wasn't calling anyone else. As a matter of fact, a couple of my usual buddies had called me and I'd turned them down.

When it finally did happen, it was amazing. I'd shown up at his apartment, to ask if we could go out. He smiled and nodded his head. The problem was that neither of us had a car and it was snowing outside. We decided to stay in and order a pizza. We watched a movie on cable that neither of us had seen before. It was a scary movie and though I didn't like those movies, there was no place I wanted to be more. He held my hand during the scary parts. After a while, I found myself wanting there to be more of them. As it got colder and later he pulled out a blanket and we snuggled on his couch.

The snuggling made me feel so warm and so good I couldn't believe it. He started kissing me and we forgot about the movie. It was incredible just trading kisses; long, wet, gentle kisses without any ulterior motive. Most of the guys I'd been with had simply gone for the gold right away and didn't bother kissing me or anything like that. What I'd done was simply physical sex with no emotional attachments. There was nothing wrong with it. It was just healthy young people taking care of a biological imperative. But this was something else entirely.

I was tingling all over and I couldn't help myself. We were naked within minutes and he was still kissing me. He surprised me even more then. When he started licking my pussy it was almost like my head came off. No one had ever done that before. He was so gentle and I could tell that it was important to him that I enjoy what we were doing. I suddenly understood that for some reason I mattered to him.

I pulled his head up and started kissing him again. I pulled him on top of me and grabbed his dick. My pussy was so wet I had no trouble fitting the head of his member inside of me. He pushed and I pushed back at him until my pubic bones were touching his and his balls rested against my ass. Then we started fucking in earnest. I just lost control. I wanted to give him anything and everything I had. I wanted to try to make us one being. All of a sudden it all made sense. There was no need for words or anything. I knew then that I loved him.

From that moment on I never went back to the dorms. Unless one of us or both of us were in class or at work, we were never apart and so began my life with Rick. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times ... you get the picture. Anyway, I was madly in love with him. There was nothing I wouldn't do for him. We graduated, got jobs and eventually got married. We didn't have to move in together because from that first night that we'd made love we never slept apart again.

Like most young couples we had a bunch of friends that we hung out with and socialized with. And I guess that was part of my problem, both before we got married and afterward. Rick had this gang of friends that he was very close with. I could tell that these were the kind of friends he could hold onto for a lifetime. I could see them hanging out and playing their video games and sports now and later on in life they'd play cards or golf together. I was glad that he had friends. But they didn't like me.

Early on it was more a case where they just nodded and smiled. After a few dates, they'd begun to ask him why he was spending so much time with me. When they discovered that we hadn't slept together and we were actually dating, they began to question his sanity. They also pointed out my deficiencies and other girls who were better endowed that were available and who according to their girlfriends liked him.

They had several colorful ways of describing me. They often told him that my body looked the same going or coming. Or they asked him how he could tell if he was stroking my back or my front in the dark. But Rick silenced them all by telling them that not only did he love me, but he loved all of me, just the way I was.

I remember almost bursting when he told them that. If I'd loved him before it became near worship after that. The good thing about it was that his friends accepted his choice and left me alone after that. Sure there was the occasional suggestion when one of the other girls they knew broke off a relationship, but for the most part we were left alone.

Rick surrounded me in love. He never just fucked me, it was always special. When we were together, I felt like I was the luckiest girl on the planet. My favorite time of the day was always when we went to bed and he wrapped his arms around me before we fell asleep. He always seemed to end up with one hand on my tummy or my pussy and the other on one of my breasts.

"Rick, Honey, there's nothing there to grab," I'd say. He'd smile and lick my tiny tit until the nipple got harder than a diamond and stood up. He always made my nipples so hard that they were about to squirt milk at a bullet-like velocity.

"Two things," he said. "First, if there's nothing there what's this?" Then he'd either tweak my nipples again or just thump one of them. My breasts weren't anywhere near large but my nipples did stand up and they were as sensitive as hell. Rick could sometimes make me cum just by sucking on them.

"What's the second thing?" I asked with my voice choked up with lust.

"Whatever is there ... is mine. And I like them," he said seriously. He would have me all worked up and just turn and walk away. Then he'd have me right where he wanted me. He'd have me so worked up by sucking on them that I would do anything he wanted just to get off.

"Rick do ya wanna?" I'd asked whining.

"Nope," he'd say. "I'm pissed at you."

"I'll do anything..." I'd say. " ... Anything you want." We both knew that I would anyway but it was part of the game. The first time we'd gone through that had been the most shocking. He looked at me with a crazy expression on his face. I thought he was going to make me let him fuck my ass or something. I wasn't prepared for what he did to me.

"Repeat after me," he said seriously.

"I like my body," he said.

"I ... like ... my ... body?" I repeated, without conviction.

"Rick loves my body," he said firmly.

"Rick ... loves MY body?" I parroted.

"When you're fifty and all of the women you're jealous of are fat, you'll appreciate your body," he said, taking me in his arms and starting to undress me.

"Do I have to repeat all of that or can we just Fuuuuuugggghhh!" I screamed out the last syllable as his mouth clamped onto my nipple and his fingers gently rubbed my exposed clit. Rick knew exactly what I liked and he didn't mind doing it at any time of the day or night.

As the years went on and we settled into our careers, it became obvious that we'd always be comfortable but we were never going to be Bill and Melinda Gates. We were solidly in the middle of the middle class. We never had to struggle to put food on the table and we always paid our bills on time, but there were few extras and we didn't have a lot in the bank.

It was a sudden windfall that both thrilled us and lead to the destruction of our idyllic life. We often stopped for coffee at a Seven Eleven on our way to our jobs. It was on the road that just before Rick turned left to go north and I turned right to go south. We always bought the same thing every day for breakfast. Rick got black coffee and a cinnamon roll; I got an espresso and a bagel. On one particular morning though, Rick bought a lottery ticket. He didn't understand why he'd done it. Both of us laughed at the people who wasted good money for those things every day. I actually think he did it to be an asshole. He'd just pointed out the futility of the people we saw buying them day in day out and never winning.

I often told Rick that they were mostly paying for the dream, not the ticket itself. They'd spend the whole day thinking and dreaming of what they'd do with the money if they won. Rick pointed out that over time if they saved the money or invested it they'd have even more money and probably still be able to get whatever it was they'd dreamed of. So I really believe that he was just being an asshole or making fun of them when he bought the ticket.

The funny thing about it was that it wasn't even a ticket for the Giga Millions or whatever the big retardedly giant lottery was. It was just our local state lottery and it had been previously won the week before so the prize was a paltry hundred thousand dollars. We didn't even react when he saw it on the news the next day. It was a couple of days later when we heard that the winning prize hadn't been claimed. We just shrugged our shoulders and declared that the person who won it had to be stupid or something. A few days after that we found out that the ticket had been purchased from our Seven Eleven and we began to wonder which of the morons that bought tickets there had hit.

We hit upon a brilliant strategy to determine which one of the morons it was. We'd watch them to see who among them had stopped buying tickets. We then noticed that they were all still clinging to the dream of someday winning so we decided that it had to be someone who bought their tickets at a different time of the day. They had those winning numbers posted in the store as if it was a badge of honor. Rick was cleaning out his car and throwing away the old receipts and junk he had in there when he noticed his ticket that he'd thrown away in his ashtray as soon as he'd bought it.

When I looked at it with him, the numbers seemed familiar. We'd been about to throw the ticket away with the rest of his in-car debris when we noticed that he had all of the numbers. We looked at each other and started screaming. We screamed for only one second before we got paranoid and started to look around. Anyone of the people around us would probably kill us for the ticket. Rick wrapped his arms around me and kissed me. The bastard actually stuck his hand under my skirt and rubbed my pussy.

"Why'd you do that?" I asked him pulling my skirt back down. I have to admit that I was pissed but more intrigued by it.

"Obviously doing that brings me good luck," he said. "I rubbed your pussy the morning I bought the ticket too, remember." I started laughing.

"Rick, you're always rubbing on me," I smirked. "But don't worry I like it."

That evening on his way home from work, Rick stopped by the state lottery headquarters. He had his picture taken as a winner, but they didn't make a lot of hullaballoo over it because it really wasn't that big of a prize.

When we got home Rick revealed to me that after taxes we had sixty grand. "How much money do you want?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Lucie, there isn't enough money here to really impact our lives," he began. We can't quit our jobs or buy a bigger house or any of that shit with this amount. So we're going to save some for a rainy day. But I think that we should each buy one thing, no matter how expensive that will make our lives better in some way. One little dream," he said. "I already know what I want, so how much money do you need for yours?"

"I already have mine dumbass," I snapped. "I have you. You make me happier than anything else in life ever has."

"Well think about it," he said. "And then just go out and get it."

Rick came home the next night with the biggest smile I'd seen on his face since the day I'd said yes to his marriage proposal. He'd bought a shiny glossy red 2009 Mustang GT. The car was loud and aggressive and it had always been his dream car. Me personally, I'd have gotten a convertible, but guys always want the hard top.

"Your turn," he said smiling. "I love you Lucie Manette. Do something to make yourself happy."

"My name is Lucie Ens," I told him. "I took your name when we got married. And there is just one little thing that I kind of want."

Actually, I'd been thinking about it for a long time. I didn't tell him what I was going to do. I just told him that I'd probably be gone over night and that I'd be different. "You're going to Paris to go shopping at all of those stupid stores you're always talking about, right?" he asked.

"Honey, as much as I'd love to. I can't go to Paris and shop and be back over night," I said. "Just let me surprise you. My dream is as much for you as it is for me. And I think you're going to like it."

I made my appointment that morning and went in for it on Thursday. I came home on Friday morning and from the second I got out of the cab I needed to pop pain killers. I told Rick that he'd have to take the cab back and bring my car home for me then I went to bed.

"Are you drunk Lucie?" he asked.

"Nope," I smiled. "I'm just in a lot of pain. I'm trying to wean myself off of the pain killers. The scars should fade in a few weeks."

"What scars?" he asked.

"Honey, just go get my car. We'll talk when you get back," I said. I had on a bulky coat that disguised my figure so he couldn't tell.

When he got back, he was so concerned that I had to tell him. "Rick, sit down Honey," I said. He sat right where I told him to and looked at me. He was afraid for me and then I didn't think it was a big deal but I realize now that his concern was warranted.

While he'd been gone I'd put on a loose bathrobe, but to tell you the truth I intended to take it off as soon as possible. He looked at me strangely and I think that even before I took off the robe he knew. When the robe came off, he could see that I'd had my breasts enhanced. And I hadn't just gone up a cup size. I had genuine almost stripper sized DD boobs. When they were revealed he went through a lot of different facial expressions. I'd expected him to say,"Whoah," or "Shit." But what he actually said was, "Why?"

His face was a mask of concern. I realized then that I had severely underestimated the depth of Rick's love for me. He was concerned about everything. He wanted to know about the health risks. He wanted to know about possible rejection of the foreign tissue. He wanted to know about infections and complications and whether or not the implants would irritate the muscles and tissues they touched. Would they freeze in the winter? He asked me hundreds of questions and he never even really looked at them. His eyes never left mine.

Then he went back and asked me his first question that I'd never answered. He wanted to know why I'd done it. We sat down at the table and talked about it. I tried to explain to him that for most of my adult life, I'd had body image issues. I'd never been proud of my body. I'd never been comfortable in my own skin. It's the same type of thing that makes some people choose sexual reassignment surgery. He looked at me like I was crazy.

"And then there's you," I said.

"I've never wanted you to have casaba melons on your chest," he said.

"No Honey you haven't," I explained. "But I want you to be proud to walk down the street with me."

"I always have been," he said.

"It's different Rick," I told him. "You're proud of me because you love me. It's the same reason that you drove and took care of that old Toyota for so many years. It was dependable transportation and we didn't have a choice. But as soon as we could afford it, you bought that Mustang and you actually love that car and you're proud to drive it. I've noticed that you actually volunteer to drive when you go places with your friends now and you never did before." He nodded.

"Well, Rick, I'm yours too and I want you to be proud to walk around with me. I want to be the human female version of your car. Instead of farting around in a crummy old Toyota, you're jetting around in a Mustang. So instead of farting around with that woman who's built like a boy, I want you to be the guy who's married to that woman with the big tits. I want all of your friends and everyone we meet to be jealous of what you get to play with every night."