Legend of the Lost Thong

by Thongliona Thongberry

Part I: Before the Thong

My thong was just too stifling. So I … took it off.

Took it all off.

And it lay there, in a skimpy, lacy puddle between my feet, and, as I lifted my pristinely pedicured toes from the ground, my thong became lost in the carpet.

Oh, well. A single thong—even a special, made-to-order one that drips with diamonds and cost me $100,000—is easily replaceable. All thongs look alike to me. Lace, spandex, whipped cream, peanut butter—what’s the difference? There is none, as far as I can tell.

Oh, but I do so love the feel of a thong, wedged softly in between my butt cheeks. And the friction when I walk—oh dear God! It’s lovely, and amazing as well! It reminds me of the days when I used to be a man. A lesbian man. And let me tell you, the things I had wedged between my butt cheeks back then could in no way be called “soft”!

But then—no. In one day, everything changed. My life, my sexual identity, and my sex itself. One day took everything from me. Everything … including Antoine.

Oh, I remember it as though it were yesterday. The day I met Antoine, that is.

When I first saw him, I thought he was a little boy. Unwillingly, the lust began to boil within me; I grew hard, and untamed. I wanted to bend him over and let the cows cum right home!

It was quite a shock, since I had never been attracted to boys under 12 before. And he most certainly looked like he was under twelve! But, honestly, I guess that’s just his way. He has the face of an angel—a gay, child-like angel, to be exact. And when I first saw him … oh, the shivers that ran down my spine!

And when our eyes met, sparks flew between us. We both knew that we were destined to be together, for good or for ill. And although it turned out, in the end, to be for ill, I don’t regret a single moment of the time that I spent in the torrid embrace of my erstwhile lover.

I remember, too, the night we first made love. It was, in fact, the very same day that we met, only half an hour later.

The attraction had been instantaneous. Our eyes had met across the crowded room, and we had both felt the incredible effects. And so, we made our excuses, and excused ourselves into the next room—which happened to be a bedroom. Lucky us! And I mean that in the most literal way possible.

First, we looked at each other. And then he spoke.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anyone … or anything so beautiful…” he reached out and, gently, touched my face.

From that moment forward, I was his helpless love slave, willingly, oh so willingly. I fell to my knees at the exquisite feel of his caress, and leaned forward to bury my head in his crotch, nuzzling him through his khaki pants.

He moaned, and brought his other hand down atop my head to urge me on in my pursuit of the ultimate treasure.

With my teeth, I impatiently yanked the zipper down, as my hands slithered their way across his body to his backside, each hand caressing a single cheek, and then dipping inside the honey pot for a small taste of ecstasy.

His pants fell to the floor, and he stepped out of them, spreading his legs so that one was on either side of my kneeling body, even as I licked his thong, and the hardness within, with my eager, willing tongue.

He moaned, gripping my hair even tighter, urging me on. So, I ripped his thong with my teeth, found the fabled treasure, and began to suck on it.

It was the largest, longest, leanest piece of meat that I had ever tasted! And I loved every minute of it, reveling in my own sexuality, and his. As I struggled to take the entire thing into my mouth, he grunted, and gave me a soft encouragement with his hands on my ears, pulling in whatever direction he wished me to go.

And when I swallowed his sweet, mouth-watering load, I felt complete myself—although, inside my own pants, the bull was still in the stable.

Softer now, and less impatient, he slowly sank down to my level. When we were face to face, he smiled at me, and ran one hand through my luxurious dark mane of hair, even as the other caressed my cheek—the facial one—with the same softness and elegance that had so captured me in the first place.

He was like a young god, fresh-faced and curly-haired, and he was willing, oh-so-willing, to let me be in charge this time.

Slowly, seductively, he began to pull his upper body away from me, swaying softly in the breeze. His sleek muscles stretched and slithered, as he lay back, prone, on the floor, with a cum-hither look in his eyes.

And, boy, did I go-hither! I flew to him, as though drawn by some unseen force, and straddled him. Then, as I looked down at his face, my heart skipped a beat.

This wasn’t merely lust that I was feeling for this young boy.

It was … love.

And to show that it was about more than just the sex, that it was about love, I leaned forward, and pressed my lips to his.

He was surprised, I knew. From his look, I had assumed that he was used to prostituting himself on the street. And everyone knows that prostitutes are not allowed to feel feelings such as love. And lord knows their customers don’t give a damn about them.

But I was different. And Antoine … he knew that. He knew that I was the one. The one he had been waiting for his entire life. The one who would take him away from all of that.

In that one moment, with that one kiss, both of our fates were sealed.

But do I regret it?

No, not for a single moment, even though it did lead to Antoine’s death …

But no, that is another story, for another day. For now … oh, that kiss. I can still feel his lips. Warm yet cool, soft yet hard, willing yet hesitant, against my own.

And after the kiss … I pulled back, still straddling him, and watched his face like a hawk, waiting for any reaction.

He looked up at me then … and smiled.

Not the ironic smile of a skeptic, or the jaded smile of a cynic, but the fresh, beaming-with-pride, happy smile of a young boy who has just discovered the joy of beating his own drumstick (by which I mean, of course, meat).

And with that, I knew that the feeling was mutual. Not only did he want me; he wanted me in the exact same way I wanted him. It was the perfect beginning to a perfect relationship.

I, however, was still uncomfortably stiff, and in great need of him. So I lowered my body until I was pressing against him, from the tips of our toes to the tops of our heads. And then, slowly, I rolled onto my back, taking him with me, so that I was now the one being straddled.

He looked at me, questioningly, but I just smiled. And then I slid out from under him, and was atop him once more—back to front.

I could almost hear his beaming smile of recognition. And, reflected in the mirror which stood about a foot in front of his face, it was one of the most brilliant, beautiful smiles I have ever seen.

Watching our reflection in the mirror, I straddled him from behind. Since my pants had long ago been taken care of, I had no need to worry about them as I sought entrance into his Cave of Wonders.

And Wonderful, it most certainly was! As I filled him, we could both feel it, the magic that surrounded us—just the two of us—and made us one. And as I moved within him, I could feel everything he felt, and knew everything he knew. We were as one person, as we were meant to be. And in that moment, I honestly thought that I could never love him more.

Afterwards, we lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, his head resting upon my chest after our nightlong orgy of pleasure.

“By the way,” he mentioned casually, “I’m Antoine.”

I smiled, even though I knew he couldn’t see it—just as I knew that he knew it. “I know.”

I could feel him smile against my chest, and then place a kiss upon it. “I love you, Jamie.”

I smiled again. “I know that, too, Antoine. And you know how I feel.”

The smile against my chest would not go away. “Yes … I do.” And then he kissed my chest again, only this time I could feel his tongue dart out to give me that wet, wild sensation, and I shivered, and hardened, and begged him to do it again. And he did. Again and again and again. And that night, as we continued taking our pleasure of one another, and giving our love to one another … I knew that I would never be the same, ever again.

I was in love.