Pete's Vagina -39.1- Pool (Patreon)

Megan had to show me how, of course, but putting the thing up inside me was less trauma than I expected. The little plastic tube went in, you pressed the plunger and pulled the tube out, leaving the little bundle as a cork. And it had a convenient string attached when it came time to remove it.

“You’re giggling, aren’t you,” Megan accused.

I nodded. “Just remembering the last time I had something up there,” I said around a sour smile. “That thing…in the motel….”

“…the dildo,” she said, like I hadn’t known what it was called.

“…yeah… I almost lost my mind when you turned it on.”

Now she was giggling. “Oh, you meant the vibrator!” she said, maybe a bit too loud.

Beverly cackled from the doorway. We’d gone into a little den near the piano room, (Yes, they had a room just for pianos, two of them.) but we hadn’t realized it had more than one door. Joanna’s aunt, who couldn’t be more than five or ten years older than us, sipped her highball and chuckled. “Sounds like you girls know how to have fun.”

She winked at me, and I knew exactly what she meant by the gesture. Yikes!

“So, Megan, you and Gayle have gotten it on?”

“Call me ‘Pete’,” I protested, but she ignored me, now, watching Megan the way a rattlesnake watches a prairie dog hole.

Megan looked at me. “Uh yeah, I guess….” She trailed off, I wasn’t sure why. “But Pete was my boyfriend, before….”

“Oh,” I grunted. Maybe trying to tell people what actually happened wasn’t a good idea?

“Before you found out Gayle was a girl?” Beverly took another sip of her drink.

“Yeah,” Megan drawled it out as if trying to think faster than the speed of sound.

“Call me ‘Pete’,” I said again, drawing Aunt Busybody’s attention to me and off Megan. “That’s what everyone calls me.”

The ice in her glass clicked against her teeth as Beverly drained the last bit of whatever liquid it had contained. “Even your family?” she asked.

“Well, no,” I admitted. “They call me Hunter.”

Beverly stared at her ice cubes for a moment then looked up at me a little cross-eyed. Maybe she had started drinking well before we got to the party. I looked away, a little embarrassed, which was becoming a chronic condition for me.

“Hunter?” she said, making it a question and apparently shaking off a bit of blurriness. “Why the fuck would they call you ‘Hunter’?”

“It’s my middle name,” I said, just as Joanna barged in through the door Megan and I had entered by.

“Petey!” she shouted. “C’mon, Number 17, shake your skinny booty. We’re waiting for you at the ol’ swimming hole!”

Megan and I took the invitation to get out of there, following Joanna back to the pool room. It was a stupid conversation, anyway.

The head cheerleader broke into laughter as I got closer. “Look!” she exclaimed. “Pete’s a Chatty Cathy, too!”

I glared at Joanna, and Megan rolled her eyes. She traded a glance with me as if to ask if I needed that explained, but I had seen the commercials for the doll that talked when you pulled its string, so: No.

Joanna turned and sprinted ahead of us, almost but not quite tripping on the plastic rug near the French doors to deal with drippy people coming into the house. We followed more slowly.

Just before we got to the opening, something else occurred to me. “We’re naked,” I said to Megan. She nodded and paused in the doorway to let me catch up.

“Everyone else is, too,” she noted.

It was true. Joanna made a flat dive into the pool just then and several girls squealed. A quick count came to seven in the water, three more in lounge chairs under the skylight, plus Megan and I. A dozen skinny-dipping girls, most of them cheerleaders.

Would this have been a dream come true two weeks ago? Because it wasn’t now. I was looking at the other girls and… and… well, I felt something, but it wasn’t lust. They all seemed so comfortable just being who they were.

And hadn’t I just thought it? The other girls…. I guess what I felt was envy.

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