Johnny and Blair’s First Date

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Quick Note: There is no sex in this one…but there will be in the next. Just had too much fun with the characters and would rather keep the word count in bite-size chunks. Thanks readers! And please provide your comments and ratings, they are important to me!

Johnny and Blair’s first Date

“Do you wish I had bigger tits Johnny?” Blair said, as she tied off the bottom of her flannel shirt. It was a red-checked, traditional lumberjack style, but with a big, bedazzled sugar-skull sewed onto the back. She was wearing ripped black jeans that rose to just above her belly button. Her belt was a silver chain with a bleeding-heart clip in the front, and as always, she wore her Docs.

Since it was cold out today, she also wore a plain black stocking cap with braided pigtails hanging down over her shoulders. She looked, as always, stunning. Right now, she was holding her fists up over her chest, preening about as if they were her breasts. “Just some cute little b-cups? Something for you to nibble on?”

“Hmm…you are rather hideous…anything to distract me from that horrible face!” I covered my eyes in mock horror.

“Not everyone can be as perfectly cute as you are Johnny! Show a little charity!” Blair snarked back, jokingly, but I knew she did have some insecurity about her body being feminine enough, so I decided to change tactics.

“Sweetheart, you are perfect the way you are.” I led off, then; “But if you want to improve on perfection, and it makes you feel better about yourself, then sure!”

I was sizzing up my Carhart over my own matching (yeah…I know, aren’t we an adorable matchy-matchy couple…the things we do for love!) red and black flannel and pulled on a fitted Packers hat.

We were going on our first date today. So far, we hadn’t left the house since I’d gotten home. It was fall, and Blair wanted to go to the pumpkin patch. It was normally kind of a family and kids sort of affair, but she’d found one in the evening that had Bonfire Karaoke and a “Zombie Corn Maze” which Blair was super excited to check out. I was more looking forward to warm apple cider and watching my görükle escort girl sing, but I’d promised we’d try the maze for as long as my legs held out.

“Hmm…” she said, “Well nothing we can do about it right now. Tits are expensive Johnny! Neither of us has a job. Are you ready yet?!? How am I the quick one here!”

I grabbed the keys, “What are you waiting for?” and opened the door while answering her. “Well, we can dip into the money if you really want to. After all, maybe it’d help you get a job! Isn’t it liking that old play for dancers? ‘Tits & Ass’? You’ve got an ass to die for so all that’s missing to make the big-time….”

“You joke, but it’s not untrue…since my transition it’s been hard to find work. Nobody wants a flat chested girl with a bulge.” Blair said, as we climbed into my old truck.

I didn’t answer…one of the few ‘serious’ conversations we’d had over the last couple days was about money and jobs. Blair and I were both unemployed. And although I had what seemed like a pile of money now, it wouldn’t last forever, and Blair was determined not to “take advantage of my generosity.” As she put it, either.

I told her what’s mine is hers, but she had a fiercely independent streak when it came to self-sufficiency. Her family had been wealthy, and they’d cut her off completely when she came out. She’d been dirt-poor since, and had to scrape for every meal, giving her a new perspective that the world wasn’t going to take care of her, and she needed the skills and discipline to fend for herself.

I knew she’d never want for as long as I was around, but I knew better than to argue for now, but I was getting her those tits…she just didn’t know it yet.

“So, what are we going to do first when we get there?” I asked, changing topics, “Pumpkin patch before it gets too dark?”

“Petting Zoo!” she said, “They’ve got a whole room full of kittens!” she squee’d, “Then pumpkins. I want a big warty one!”

“Sounds like a plan!” I agreed, my allergies secretly dreading a room full of cats, but I’d be a trooper.

It took about 45 minutes to get out to the farm. We chatted and joked and bursa eskort sang along to the radio (karaoke warmup, Blair called it). My truck had a big bench seat, so Blair scootched over to the middle, legs straddling the gearshift, and I had my hand on her leg between shifts. I’ll admit, I got a bit wander-y with my hands…the rips in her jeans led to some very interesting places after all.

We arrived at the farm and, with one of the benefits of being semi-crippled, used my temporary disability pass to park right in front, avoiding the long walk across the empty field used for parking and saving my legs for more value-added walking.

We got tickets and went inside. Several of the workers seemed to recognize her, she’d worked out here a couple of years ago, I’d gathered. She proudly introduced me as “My boyfriend, Johnny.” to everyone we met. I shook a lot of hands, and even got a few hugs. Apparently, Blair was very well-liked out here but hadn’t had a reliable enough car to work here the last couple of falls, much to everyone’s disappointment. By the time we’d gotten through the gauntlet of introductions, I had a Styrofoam cup of hot apple cider, an apple cider donut in my mouth (my other hand was being monopolized by my girlfriend), and a packet for the corn maze tucked under my arm consisting of a blank map and some stickers to paste in patches of the map as we discovered them.

The next couple of hours were a blast. We spent about 30 minutes in the kitten shed. There were literally dozens of kittens in there, and Blair had to pet every one of them. When we came out, my eyes were puffy and itchy, but I managed to survive, and the kittens were cute. We took the hayride out to the pumpkin patch and got the biggest, warty-est pumpkin we could find. And we spent an hour in the corn maze, somehow completing it despite the fact that I was basically dead-weight. Blair even racked up a respectable 17 zombie ‘kills’ with the foam sword she’d gotten at the entrance to the cave. She screamed hilariously after each kill like a tiny emo William Wallace.

Finally, we got to my favorite part. We settled into some lawn chairs that Blair went bursa escort back to the truck for, drank cider, and enjoyed the karaoke. After a while Blair went up and did a song, “For her new man!”

I rolled my eyes at the first guitar riff, ‘Johnny B. Goode’ by Chuck Berry…of course. Blair put Marty McFly to shame as she sang, played stellar air guitar using her zombie sword, and generally crushed it on stage.

When she came down, she was overjoyed, flushed and glowing, and slightly breathless. Everyone cheered when she came over and planted a huge wet kiss on my face and cuddled up next to me. I was so proud of her.

Later in the evening, she started pestering me to do a song. I’m not much of a singer, but I can carry a tune, but I’m also not one to put myself out there. Finally, after pestering, I promised I would if she’d pick it out. “No ballads! And nothing long like Free Bird!” were my only requests.

When our turn came, she pulled me up to the stage. We grabbed our microphones, and I looked down to the monitor with dread.

“Oh geez…you didn’t make it easy on me, did you?” I asked.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fun!” she winked, as the initial beat kicked in. ‘Kiss’ by Prince was at least a song that I knew…and I suppose it was appropriate. I don’t know if it was the anxiety medication or the confidence I’d gained dating Blair, but I decided “Fuck it” and dialed up my falsetto.

Blair’s eyes opened wide, and her face blossomed with my first “uh!” I turned towards her and serenaded my Love with, “You don’t have to be beautiful….to turn me on! I just need your body baby! From Dusk till Dawn!”

When she realized I didn’t need her to support my singing (it wasn’t going to win any awards, but by god it was enthusiastic!), she broke out her dance moves, moving around me seductively as I sang to her, and then peppering my face and lips with the signature 5 “Kiss”-es at the end of each verse. Tunnel vision for my girl zoomed in, and there was nobody else but her and I as we worked through the song. Suddenly, voice raw from screaming and body exhausted from prowling around the stage after Blair, the song was over and there was a roar of applause from the crowd as Blair’s last “Kiss!” lingered for a solid 10 seconds.

We’d already been making beautiful music together for the last few days, but I guess today it was literal. Yeah, I’m a corny motherfucker, but you gotta forgive a guy for being in love.

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