Less is Morgan (light, feel-good, high-story futa fun)

Story by SecretSideOfKate

Masturbation, futa/female oral (both ways), and a sprinkle of exhibitionism​

Hello, FP! It's been a long time. Three years, in fact!

For those of you who don't know me, my name is Kate and I wrote a story that was pretty popular here a few years back, which you can find right over here! For reasons unknowable, I've recently been struck with a long-forgotten desire to write porn. And not just any porn, either. Porn about girls with penises! I've been revisiting an unfinished fantasy mega-story I had in the works here back then, which I'm hoping to turn into a full-fledged futanari novel, but until then, I give you the coming-of-age college drama hit of the year, Less is Morgan.

If you are familiar with the Life of Emily Reed (and even if you aren't), Less is Morgan is kind of meant to be its spiritual sequel, and you may notice many of the same themes I visited back then. For those of you not familiar with my work, you'll find I tend to have a lot of story and build-up before sexy times happen, so if that's not your thing you have my permission to skip right to the sex. It's usually relatively close to the end of each chapter (I apologize for my girly approach to writing erotica).

Comments are totally welcome, as are suggestions for what you would like to see in the future! I tend to write to my own tastes and fetishes (which I admit are pretty vanilla) but I am still open to ideas. Finally, I know I'm a bit rusty when it comes to writing smut, so I hope you'll all bear with me and that you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it.

So without further ado, have a first chapter, on me! Available in PDF form and in a spoiler tag, for those of you who like to be spoiled.

PDF CHAPTERS

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SPOILER TAG CHAPTERS

Chapter One (scroll down)

Chapter Two

“The lie is that you play soccer.”

“Right! I actually play basketball.”

It took every ounce of effort I could muster to not roll my eyes. Icebreaker games are the worst. It’s awkward enough getting to know people normally, but then you force a big group of strangers to say a bunch of stupid shit about themselves and nobody even listens to anyone else, because they’re too busy thinking about what they’ll say when their own turn comes up.

“Okay, next?”

This game in particular is my least favorite icebreaker. You know, the one where you have to tell two truths about yourself and a lie, and then everybody else has to guess what the lie is. Almost everybody either picks something really obvious as the lie, or something so benign it takes forever to guess but isn’t interesting at all.

“Um, next?”

And then you have the sadists that deliberately pick a lie that’s hard to figure out. Or tell more than one lie. Was this game not bad enough for you? Do you enjoy social torture?

“Hey, are you listening?”

Some guy next to me tapped me on the shoulder. I looked up, and around the circle. Everybody was looking at me. Shit.

“Uh, yeah, sorry,” I muttered.

“It’s fine,” the orientation leader said. Rebecca was her name, I think. “Just say two truths and a lie, but don’t tell us which is which!”

Wow, can you explain the rules again? Just one more time, I don’t think my tiny brain can understand them.

“Right, okay. Let’s see… I’m a natural redhead, I still use Myspace, and I have a penis.”

The last one got a few laughs, but Rebecca just frowned at me and shook her head. The guy next to me, who tapped me on the shoulder before, scoffed.

“Obviously the last one is a lie. You’re not supposed to make it that easy.”

“Right,” I said. “You got me.”

Actually, that was a lie. So was the Myspace thing. Nobody still uses Myspace. That should have been a dead giveaway, right? But maybe I’m getting too far ahead of myself.

My name is Morgan McClellan. I am a nineteen year old girl entering college for the first time. I am a natural redhead, I do not use Myspace, I have a slight overbite and a ton of freckles that I can’t decide if I love or hate, and I have a penis. Don’t get me wrong, now. I know I said I’m a girl, and I stand by that one hundred percent. It just so happens that I’m a girl that was born with a penis. Everything else is where it’s supposed to be on a normal, healthy girl of nineteen years, and it all works like it should. But there’s also a penis in the mix. The penis is also fully functional, sadly.

I really, really try not to let it define me, but it’s kind of tough not to. At least I’m hiding it well enough that a circle of strangers couldn’t guess it at a glance. So I guess I can

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