The Golden Years free porn video

The Golden Years by Princess Pervette Ms. Abigale Tomlinson writes, "I have good reason to believe that female domination and male feminization is something that is particularly common in the `over 60' crowd...." And Helen wrote in, "...when my husband retired, he didn't know what to do with himself. He was moping around all day, not doing much of anything." Ms. Abigale, Helen, that was me, all right. I had taken early retirement at the age of 55 and just gone to seed. People would ask me, "What are you doing now that you're retired?" and I would always smile and answer, "Enjoying being retired." But I wasn't. Like Helen's husband, I didn't know what to do with myself and, yes, I moped around all day, not doing much of anything. Those words describe me exactly. I would have been a couch potato, in fact, except that I worked out at the gym three times a week, the same as I had when I was working. That kept me in shape and, I hoped, would hold off the encroachments of old age, which I dreaded. Otherwise, it was a quiet life, but a dull one. We rarely went anywhere, except when we went out to dinner or a movie, or when I went to the gym and when Diana went once a week to her women's club. Our sex life was pretty tame. It always had been, and...well, to put it bluntly, I was beginning to slow down. If it weren't for Diana, it would probably be even slower today, maybe quiescent altogether. But she, bless her heart, decided that it was time to do something to liven it up. **** One night, she came to bed wearing a silky, pink bra and a pair of silky, pink panties. She had never worn anything for sex, and her regular panties were just plain white cotton. She had clearly gone out and gotten these for a purpose. And it was obvious what the purpose was. We had never done anything even remotely kinky together, and this was a real eye-opener--in more ways than one! When she saw me goggling at her, her only remark was, "Well, Max. I thought it might be fun to... experiment a little." "Wow, Hon, that's terrific!" And it was! I couldn't remember a time when our sex together was as wild as it was that night. It's fun to undress your partner, but after a while it gets too time-consuming, and you want to get on to the Main Event, so you don't bother. But with the bra and panties, it went quickly and the fun was there. I remember her shudder of delight when I used my lips and teeth to pull the panties down and off. So that was the beginning, Ms. Abigale, simple as it was. From then on, she always wore sexy lingerie for lovemaking, and it did wonders for both of us. Another thing she did was to go to an adult store and buy sex videos. We would watch the couples in the videos and, well, get ideas, until we couldn't stand it any more and ran to the bed. That was the beginning of a new era in our marriage. I had no idea then how far it was going to go or how it was going to change our lives. Well, mine, anyway. **** It was some weeks before she took the next step. One night, when I had drawn her panties off, as usual, she pushed on my head and said, "Stay down there." I didn't understand, at first. But then she drew her legs up and presented her beautiful pussy to my view, I realized what she wanted. I had never tried oral sex with her. That had been a fantasy of mine ever since my teens, something I had always wished I could do. We saw this on the videotapes, of course, and I had wanted it so badly, but I had never dared suggest it to Diana, however, because I thought she would be offended at the idea. She had always seemed so conventional. I had never done this with any girl before. As I hesitated, she whispered, "Go on. Don't be shy." I put my lips to her for the first time and was enchanted. The feminine flavors and scents set my head spinning. Hesitantly, I put out my tongue and touched her clit. She sighed with pleasure: "Don't stop! Oh, Max, Max, darling, don't stop!" I ended up going crazy. I was shocked at my own eagerness. I licked, kissed and sucked as if the world were coming to an end. I washed my face in her juices. She sighed and mewled under my ministrations. And afterward, when I finally entered her, the sex was like nothing I had ever experienced in my life. The next morning, I said, "Diana, that was so wonderful last night!" "You weren't shocked, were you?" "Honey, I've wanted to do that all my life. But I...well, I felt funny about suggesting it. I couldn't see any way of bringing it up. I was afraid you'd be grossed out by it." She smiled. We were having sex more frequently now. For a long time it had been only once a week; now it was at least three times a week and sometimes oftener. Every time, she wore some kind of sexy lingerie. One night, after I had satisfied her orally, she took her panties and wrapped them about my cock. "See how soft & smooth & silky they feel," she said as she moved them slowly back and forth. "You like this, don't you?" And she rubbed me with them, with that miraculous satin, until I lost control and shot into them. She did that for me frequently after that. I remember the first time she blindfolded me with her panties, too. She wrapped them around my eyes and secured them in the back with a safety pin. With that soft fabric on me, she had me lie on my back as she straddled my face. What a luxury!--lying there, completely relaxed (well, except for one part of me!) while she presented everything I could desire to be licked and kissed and probed. Then, while I was still lying there blindfolded, she put her lips to my cock and kissed it until I came. And swallowed for me, by God! "No reason why your mouth should have all the fun," she said afterward with a smile. She kissed me and I could taste my own semen on her lips. Not long after that, she had an extra pair of panties. "I don't think I should be the only one in lingerie," she said, handing them to me. Wow! That was really a wild idea! Trembling, I put them on. And wore then all through our lovemaking, just pulling the waistband down when I had to free my cock. And after that, we both wore panties for sex. I wasn't concerned with "slowing down" now any more; I was hotter than I had ever been, even when we were first married. I remember one afternoon we watched our latest videotapes until she took my hand and together we ran to the bedroom. But after we were done, when I was about to take my panties off, she said, "Why don't you leave them on? You look so sexy that way." Well, it was a hot day, so I didn't really need to wear anything else, and I spent the rest of the day and the evening wearing nothing but her panties. Ms. Abigale, I didn't think of this as feminization. I know now that Diana did, but to me they were just a sort of continuation of our lovemaking, a reminder. I would happen to look down and see them, and then I would think of what we had been doing together--my lips to her pussy or hers on my cock. Or my cock in her. In fact, I didn't just "happen" to look down at them; I looked deliberately, and I enjoyed seeing myself in the mirror, pantied just as I had been when during our bedtime frolic. Her next step was a bra. This seemed really strange the first time, and I almost objected. But Diana's innovations had been so rewarding for both of us that I simply put it on without a murmur. She stuffed the cups with some nylons, and in bra and panties, I nearly lost my mind during the sex that followed. Afterward, she didn't say anything about leaving the bra on along with the panties, but I thought it would be fun, and I was pretty sure she would be pleased, so I did. It felt like an affirmation of all the kinky things we had started doing, like a way of extending the kink beyond bed and into the rest of our day. As the weather cooled off that Fall, however, it got to be too chilly to sit around in just a bra and panties. At Diana's suggestion, I started wearing panties under my regular clothes. They felt softer and more comfortable than my own briefs. We made room in my dresser drawer, and I ended up with about a dozen pairs of panties next to my regular underwear. **** The amazing thing about Diana was that just when I thought the sex was as good as it could ever get, she would think of something to make it even better. One night, I had had a long, leisurely time at her pussy and she was sucking on my cock, when I felt her fumbling between my legs. The next thing I knew, she was pressing on my asshole, and shortly after that she put a finger in. As I felt her pushing into me, I came so powerfully that I thought I was going to pass out. "I understand that men find that exciting," she told me afterward with a shy smile. "I hope you didn't mind." "MIND?!! I thought I was going to go nuts!" I asked her to do that often after that. The only problem we had was with her fingernails, which were long; so she went to a sex shop and got me a butt plug--"The smallest I could find," she said when she showed it to me--and started using that to stimulate me when she sucked me off, working it gently in and out. I liked having it back there, and I started wearing it when we fucked, too. There was something about feeling it in me that just felt sooo good.... Up to this time, Diana had taken the lead in our explorations of kinky sex. But having that butt plug nestled so nicely in me felt so lovely (and yes, I sometimes left it in after we had finished, occasionally even wearing it all day) that I decided to take the initiative for once. I went to the sex shop looking for strap-on dildos. They were intimidating things...so big! Much bigger than that diminutive plug Diana had gotten. Finally, I selected the smallest size they had and, red faced and heart pounding, took it to the cashier. He rang up the sale with a bored look on his face. I guess in that business you see lots stranger things than just men buying strap-ons. I hoped Diana wouldn't be shocked. But Diana is unshockable; that was one of the wonderful things I was discovering about her. She was delighted when I nervously unwrapped it. "For ME?" she cried, her eyes lighting up. "Oh, Max, you *naughty* boy!" She laughed, and then said, "What a wonderful idea!" It wasn't so wonderful when we first tried it. We thought it would be best for her to begin by inserting it by hand, and this turned out to be the right idea. She had me blindfolded with a pair of panties, and as I lay there, helpless, on my back, it felt enormous. I cried out as she thrust it into me. I thought it was going to tear me open. "You're the girl now," she hissed. "Take it and don't squawk, Girl!" That was the first time she ever called me Girl. And the first time I felt like one. I wanted it so badly. I wanted to feel the penetration, even the pain. And once she had gradually worked it in and it hit my prostate, I knew that it would be well worth the pain. After she had gotten it all the way in and had fucked me with it by hand, she withdrew, strapped it around her waist, and fucked me properly. The words popped out: "O-o-oh, fuck your girl, Diana!" I had never dreamed I could ever say anything like that. I had never so much as thought of myself in those terms. Not even with the bra and panties. But the strap-on had its own magic, its own power over me. **** Then came Hallowe'en. Oh, Ms. Abigale, you know what's coming, don't you? We had been invited to a costume party, and Diana said I should go dressed as a girl. Well--at my age, I guess I should say, as a woman. I wasn't easy with the idea of appearing dressed that way in public, but of course I agreed. Diana was all business when it came to dressing me for the party. She took me to thrift stores where, to my embarrassment, we both prowled among the racks of women's clothing while Diana looked for something she considered suitable. It didn't make it any easier when she held a skirt up on me to see how it looked. What the other customers thought, I didn't want to contemplate. And finally, she sent me off to one of the tiny dressing rooms with two skirts to try on. I objected. "Honey, I can't do that!" "Don't be ridiculous, Max. There's a curtain. All the way to the floor. Nobody's going to know who's in there." "But they'll see me going in. And coming out again." "MAX! Do it!" Diana can be pretty forceful when she make up her mind to it. So I went. Then I heard Diana's voice outside the fitting room: "Let me see how you look!" "Okay, come on in." "I won't be able to see in there. Come on out." "Diana, I..." "If you don't want to attract attention, you won't argue." Going out of the fitting room in that skirt was out of the question. I drew the curtain aside and stood there so she could look in and see me. That seemed to satisfy her. "Okay. Now try on the other one." We left with both skirts. And with a couple of blouses. Then we stopped off at a couple of other stores for a garter belt and nylons. And heels. She got me a pair of real breast forms, too. No more stuffing. A week before the party, she said she wanted a dress rehearsal. "Dress" was the word for it, all right. "But the party is still a week off...." "I want you to be thoroughly used to that dress," she said. "You can't pass as a woman, but I want you to come as close to passing as you can. And that means feeling at home in your clothes." I stripped down. On went the garterbelt and hose. Then the panties and the bra. Black, smooth, and lacy. And the breast forms, which felt heavy in my bra. Then the blouse, the skirt, and the heels. And then I found she had bought me a wig--a glossy black one, coming down to just below my ears and covering up my gray hair completely. But when she had made me up and I looked in the mirror, all I could see was the same old Max dressed like a woman. She had been right: I wouldn't "pass." I hadn't expected to. "Well," she conceded, "it could be better. You should really get a makeover. But we'll make do with this, for now." You picked up that phrase, "for now," didn't you, Ms. Abigale? I didn't. She had called it a dress rehearsal, but then she insisted that I wear that same outfit all week long--"to get accustomed to it," she said. And I must admit that, over the next week, I did get accustomed to it. That doesn't mean I liked it, but gradually I was able to forget what I was wearing, unless I caught sight of myself in a mirror. How did the party go? Depends whom you ask. I thought it was a flop; Diana thought it was a great success. I was the only guy there who was dressed as a girl, and I didn't fool anybody. I felt silly, too, just as I had known I would. A week of wearing that getup had gotten me used to it, but not reconciled to it. You see, I had learned to like being Diana's girl in bed, but not dressing like a girl. I had to take a lot of ribbing from the other guys there, and from a few of the women, too. I caught sight of my reflection a couple of times and didn't like what I saw. I was glad when it was over and we left. And what a relief to know I wasn't going to have to dress up like that again. Wrong. **** The next morning, Diana said, "I loved the way you looked last night. That outfit was so cute on you. And you've looked so great in it all week. I think you should dress like that more often." "Er...I don't know, Diana. It feels sort of funny...." "It didn't feel funny when you were sitting around in a bra and panties all Summer long, did it?" "Well, you know...that is...well, I kind of associated that with sex, you know, but this..." "Well, that's easy enough to take care of. Put on the outfit you wore last night. The whole works. And I'll give you something to `associate' that with." Well, I did. And she knelt in front of me, lifted up my skirt, pulled down my panties, and gave me the most fantastic blow job I've ever had. She toyed with me and licked me and tongued me and made it last and last, until I was begging for release. I decided wearing a skirt and blouse wasn't to heavy a price to pay for service like that. But I wasn't really happy in them. Shortly after that, all my male underwear disappeared. It was a little disconcerting to discover that it was gone. "Diana, what happened to my Jockey shorts?" "Oh, Max, you never wear those any more. And you're going to need space for your other things. So I threw them out." And I have to admit that I had come to like the panties, and I could at least put up with the bras. She started buying more women's clothes for me. At first, I flatly refused to wear them. "Hallowe'en was one thing, and wearing that skirt and blouse around here was okay, as far as it went. But this is out of the question." Without another word, she put the dress away. It was a pretty number in white with a floral print. But when we went to bed, nothing happened. I mean, there were no undies, no strap-on, nothing. I had left my panties on, anticipating our usual romps, but she just looked at them and said, "Take those silly things off." "But Hon, aren't we going to...well...?" She sat up on the bed. "Look, Max. I asked you to do a little thing for me and you said nothing doing. And now you expect me to do little things for you? It's give and take, Max." "You mean, that dress...?" "Of course I mean that dress. My God, when I think of the things I've done for you, the fun things I've introduced you to...I mean, helped us discover...and then you won't do this one little fun thing?" Suddenly comprehension dawned. Everything we had been doing since Summer took on a new meaning, the pieces falling, or snapping, into place. "Diana, this isn't just a `little fun thing,' is it? You aren't just having me wear a dress for fun. You're feminizing me! You're turning me into a...girl! Panties, and then a bra. And then that butt plug, and the strap-on..." "You were the one who bought the strap-on, remember." "Well...yes...but Hallowe'en...that was your idea, too. And now another dress. And breasts, by God. Every day something more. You're making me into a woman. Feminizing me." "Well, of course I am, Hon. You didn't realize that? What took you so long?" "But...well..." I was trying to find the words. "I mean...that's a really serious thing. That's more than just a little fun thing. This is a fundamental... You might at least have said something." She evaded that. "Look, Max. Our sex life has been like nothing you've ever experienced in your life before. Hasn't it?" "Well..." "If I hadn't gotten you into all these things, if we hadn't dressed you up, what would our love life be like now?" "Well..." "Max, think about it. Hasn't it been worth it? For the kind of sex we've been having, aren't a few dresses and undies worth it? Isn't it cheap at the price? If I want a girlfriend in bed, won't you indulge me? Considering what it's like for you? What I can do for you?" "But, damn it, I'm a man!" "I know you are, Max darling. You have been, all your life. But, you know...why not try something new? You're retired now. That's a big change. It's a whole new life. Why not make the most of it? Why not do something different? Why not *be* something different? You have years ahead of you. Do you want to spend those years just being the same old Max?" "But...a girl...!" "Look at it this way. Old people don't want to change. They get set in their ways. They want stability, sameness. Are you *old,* Max? Do you think of yourself as an *old man?* Too old to try something different? Too old for a new adventure? For me? To please me?" She had hit me with on all fronts: the appeal to my sexual desire and the appeal to my male vanity. No man wants to think of himself as old. The thought of old age...that was what kept me going to the gym. And that final, personal appeal: "For me." Taken together, they were irresistible. I caved in. "All right." "That's my girl!" "I'll wear the dress tomorrow. Okay? And now...?" She had been soft; now she was firm again. "Dress tomorrow, fun and games tomorrow. Until then, forget about it." The next day I wore the dress. And the next day, and the day after that... Diana had me wearing dresses all day, every day. She was really doing it--making me into a girl. I should have known she hadn't bought the breast forms just for Hallowe'en. Part II Diana had me take over some of the housework for her as well. Doing dishes and laundry, dusting, vacuuming, scrubbing floors when they needed it. Women's work. She got me a bib apron with ruffles on it, like a pinafore, and I wore it when I did the housework. "I think we need a girl name for you," she said one morning as I was putting on a pink dress with lace about the neck and on the sleeves. "You don't look like a Max in that." "Oh?" My eyebrows went up. "I suppose you're going to start calling me Maxine now." "`Maxine?' `Maxine?' Oh, no. Melanie. I looked it up; means `black.' Your hair used to be black, and once you're made over, it will be again." I'm the kind of guy whose hair turns white instead of falling out. I mentioned this, and she said, "Yes. They say baldness is a sign of virility. Sort of fits, doesn't it?" That hurt. Here I thought my virility was better than ever after all our bedtime games, and apparently she didn't. Why not? I didn't learn until much later. **** She started having me take pills about then. "Vitamins," she said. "For your performance in bed," she added. You know that they really were, don't you, Ms. Abigale? I'll bet you can spot a hormone a mile off, no? Even after Diana had opened up about her feminization project, I was too innocent to suspect anything. Naturally, they didn't improve my "performance." But I did find myself more mellowed out and relaxed about things in general. I didn't associate that with the "vitamins" until much later. I remember looking in the medicine cabinet for the vitamins one morning when I was shaving. I couldn't see anything labelled "vitamins." The only new bottles were two with nothing but hand- written labels stuck on them: one saying "Est. 1.5 mg" and the other saying "Sp. 100 mg." Those couldn't be the vitamins, but the labels meant nothing to me. I shrugged it off. Something of hers, I supposed. **** Diana was turning out to be a wizard in bed. That should have told me something, but it didn't. I remember one night, she teased and tormented me mercilessly. The strap-on at my ass pucker...but she wouldn't put it in. Her pussy right over my mouth...but she kept moving away so I couldn't reach it. Her fingernails lightly grazing my erect cock...but she wouldn't let me come. Finally, when she could see I was wild with lust, she pushed the strap-on into my face. "Suck it." Ordinarily, I would have said nothing doing. But at that point she had gotten me so crazy I would have done anything she asked. So I licked my lips and opened my mouth, and in she went. "That's it, Girl. Suck on that nice, big cock. You want it, Girl, don't you?" I murmured an "Mmm-hmm" and kept on sucking. Finally, when she felt I had done it justice, she pulled it out and fucked my ass with it. Afterward, I thought of what I had done and was amazed. What was becoming of me, anyway? But I knew I had liked it and that I was going to want it again. It was about that time that she began to be interested in rope games. The first time, she produced some big, heavy, soft ropes and suggested that I tie her to the bed. I did, and I proceeded to do my best to tantalize her as she had tantalized me the night she first had me suck on the dildo. Whether I was as effective as she had been, I don't know, but she was whimpering by the time I was ready to fuck her. But that was the only time she ever had me tie her up. After that, if anybody got tied up, I was the one. I think she had me do it that first time just to get me interested in the possibility. To soften me up for when she would want to tie me. It was the same as it had been with the panties: she had worn them herself as a preliminary to getting me into them. And she did want to tie me. Not every time; she kept it as a sort of special treat. She would get me trussed up like a chicken ready for roasting, and then she would talk to me. "Girl, you're ripe for fucking, aren't you? I could do anything I wanted to with you now. Maybe I should spank that cute little ass of yours. Would you like that?" I shook my head No. "Well now, maybe you would like to get fucked? Yes, I think so. Which end of your alimentary canal"--she pronounced the words deliberately, with pedantic clarity--"would you like to have fucked? Or doesn't it matter? Is my little Melanie girl so hot she'll take it any way she can get it?" My head was spinning. Being in her power this way was so hot. Finally, I managed to say, "Yes. Any way. Your choice, Hon." Her choice, at first, was to have me suck on her strap-on again. "You give good head, Girl," she said as I kissed and slurped all over it. "You'd make some man a great wife." And then, almost before I knew it, she was poking my ass with it. I had come to love the experience, and I relaxed right away to welcome her in. "Hot pussy you've got, Melly," she panted as she plowed me. "I'll bet you could make some guy really happy with what you've got. Maybe one of these days I should find some nice man and bring him home for you." **** As the months went by, I noticed changes in my body. My beard had grown softer and seemed to be growing more slowly. I had taken to shaving only every other day, and later on I didn't have to shave my face any oftener than my legs. My pectorals had always been pretty big; now they seemed bigger. But softer, like breasts. I began to worry about how I looked. And I was having a harder time getting it up. Took longer, and didn't seem to last. Diana could still induce real explosions in me, but most of the time now, I was satisfying her with my lips and tongue. But I never associated these changes with the "vitamins" I was taking. How dumb can you get? One afternoon at the gym, some guy kidded me about my chest. "Hey, Maxie, those your pecs or are you startin' to grow boobs?" I was embarrassed. They did look like boobs, and they tended to bounce about if I wasn't careful. I seemed to have less strength than I used to. Old age, probably, I thought. And I couldn't conceal my panties in the dressing room; I had to change in the john. It got to be too much of a hassle, and I began skipping gym occasionally. Finally, I reluctantly decided to give it up altogether. There were changes in my mind, too. Looking back, I don't know whether those were due to the hormones. I've never heard of hormones feminizing the mind, but maybe they do. Or maybe I was just getting to like the idea of being a girl. Certainly the terrific sex helped; every time I took another step forward toward femininity--the fatter strap-on, for example, or my first vibrator, or my first corset, or when I learned to tuck my genitals back so they didn't show in the skimpiest outfit--Diana rewarded me with a fantastic time in bed. That was probably what did it, rather than the hormones. **** Then came the time when she finally took me for a makeover. "Rita is a good friend. She said she'd take you in the evening after the close of business." I was dressing like a woman all the time now, and liking it. So pleasant. Nevertheless, I was a little queasy with the idea. Her friend, Rita, would see me dressed this way...what would she think? What might she say? She was very tactful, sympathetic, and kind. She didn't laugh or embarrass me. And she gave me the works. She plucked my eyebrows into a graceful feminine arch. She pierced my ears. She waxed my legs. I had shaved them only the week before, but she waxed them anyway. She trimmed and shaped my fingernails and put on a pretty red polish. She painted my toenails as well, and then she went to work on my face. "You don't really need a concealer for your beard, Hon," she said then. "Hardly any beard left any more, is there?" Then she put on all kinds of stuff that meant nothing to me at the time--foundation, blush, different colors and powders. And lipstick. And mascara and eye shadow for my eyes. She dyed my gray hair. Diana had brought my wig along, and Rita styled it for me. I wasn't using the breast forms any more. My boobs were now big enough to fit nicely into my bra. Then they let me look in the mirror. I didn't see a woman there, but the reflection was no longer just Max in a dress, either. My features were softer these days and Melanie was beginning to take on a visible reality. And for the first time I really liked the way I looked. I really liked what Diana was doing to me. We left with a generous supply of cosmetics for home use as well. I could see that makeup was going to be part of my daily regimen from then on. I sort of looked forward to that. "You'll make a nice girl for some man," Diana said as we went to the car. **** She returned to that idea the next day. "You've got real possibilities, Melanie. You've become a hot little slut, you know that? What do you think? Should I find some nice stud for you to enjoy? Wouldn't you rather have a real, warm cock in your mouth instead of just that cold piece of plastic? Wouldn't that be nice? A real treat for my pussy girl?" "No, it would not," I said, firmly. "I like being a girl for you-- you were right, it's a lovely experience, an adventure, and I'm so glad you got me started--but that's as far as it goes. I'm no fag. Never have been, never will be." She frowned. "Oh, but I'm not asking you to be a fag. That would be disgusting. I could never live with a fag. I'm just suggesting that, now that you're a girl, you should start thinking about your natural function as a girl. Your natural...destiny." I tried to speak calmly. "Diana, look. We all have our limits. And there are limits to how much of a `girl' I'm going to be, no matter how I'm dressed." It was difficult to say this while dressed in a pinafore and a billowing skirt, but I forged ahead: "Underneath all this"--I indicated the outfit with a sweep of my arm--"I'm still a man, you know." "But are you? It's not just how you're dressed; look how you're made up. Look at your titties, look at your earrings. You're such a sissy these days. My sissy maid, in fact, swishing around the place in her frilly apron. And what about your girl name? Max is gone now; you're Melanie. You're wearing a plug up your little pussy half the time, now. And you love to be fucked with my strap-on; you even love sucking it. You're a complete girl now; the anatomical details are irrelevant. What's the next logical step? It doesn't take a molecular biologist to work that out. You need a man. Fulfillment, my mother used to call it. Fulfillment by being, well, filled full." She grinned. I refused again. I didn't know it then, but that was the last time I was ever going to refuse her anything. Because, even as I was saying No, something in my mind was thinking, I wonder what it would be like.... I hoped she wasn't going to use sex as a weapon again, the way she had when I had refused the dress, but my fears were apparently groundless. The next night, I lay there, tied and spread-eagled on the bed, stripped down to my teddy, while she descended on my face, fully clothed except for her panties. In the scented darkness, I possessed her sweetness with my lips and tongue. And then her lips all over my cock, driving me wild and making me explode. And I caught myself wondering again--what is it like to do that for a man? Two weeks later, I found out. It was much the same as the night after my refusal; she had me trussed up, legs almost up to my neck, my butt exposed and vulnerable. Bra and open-crotch panties, garter belt and fishnet hose. She toyed with me, playing with my cock and my nipples until I was desperate for relief, panting, begging her. It was what she had done that first time she got me to suck her strap-on. But this time, suddenly, there was a man in the room. He must have been waiting outside. "So this is the little lady," he said. "Little slut, tonight," Diana corrected him. "No lady." Then, to me: "Okay, Melly, this is Bert. I've decided you're ready. He's going to make a woman out of you." "Making a woman" out of someone, for Pete's sake--that old cliche! But I knew what was coming, and I was helpless. But the amazing thing was that, in spite of all my protests and the panic that was rising in me, I was aroused, too. I was going to find out what it was like to be a real girl. "Just a minute," Diana said. She got some kind of funny rubber fixture--some kind of dental appliance, I guess--and put it in my mouth so my jaws were forced open. Not wide, but just enough so I couldn't shut my mouth altogether. "Don't want her to bite, you know. She might want to, this first time." I was out of my mind with desire, and the sudden appearance of this strange man hadn't been enough to quench that. At least, that's how I rationalized it later on, but I don't know...maybe I wanted this to happen. Maybe I was more of a girl than I was admitting to myself. I wanted to say, "You don't need to force my mouth open," but all that came out was something like "Hoo ho hee hoo...," and I gave up trying to talk. Diana blindfolded me with her panties then. "Much sexier this way, don't you think, Melly?" Black, silky panties over my eyes as well as on my butt. He presented his balls to be toyed with. I kissed them and licked them and took first one and then the other in my mouth and sucked each gently. Then... "Okay, sissy girl," Bert said, "girly food." And he pushed his cock into my mouth. The fixture in my mouth wasn't too big for me to close my lips about him. He was warm, just as Diana had said, not cold like the strap-on. Hot, in fact, and soft--and yet hard underneath. Like a bar of steel encased in soft, tender flesh. I pressed my lips about him, as well as I could, and used my tongue. Knowing what were the most sensitive parts of my own penis, I used my tongue. And I realized I was being a girl. A real girl, with a real man in her mouth. A real girl, hot and eager to please her man. Tied up as I was, with my mouth immobilized, there wasn't much I could do, but everything I could do, I did. Bert talked to me while my lips and tongue played on his cock. "That's it, girly girl. Ooh, those lips are sweet. Rosy lips. And a hot tongue. You like that, Girl, don't you?" I managed to say, "Hmm hmm," which I hoped he would know meant Yes. He thrust his hips at me in time with my own movements. I thought to myself, "I'm a girl. A girl. A real girl...." Then Bert suddenly gasped, "O-o-o-oh, Girly, here it...comes..." and filled my mouth with his semen. Diana had always swallowed for me. I swallowed for him. She removed the blindfold, and the dental fixture or whatever it was, and smiled at me. "Good?" she asked. "Better than the old strap-on?" I smiled up at her. "Delicious." "Fine. Next week I'll have two studs for you to enjoy." But Bert wasn't finished with me. I was amazed: when I've come, I'm spent. But not Bert. Diana had me tied so that I was presenting my butt to him--a perfect target--and the next thing I knew, he was pressing me there. Relaxing was no longer a problem with me after all those months with the strap-on, and in a moment he had pushed into me and was fucking me grandly. There was an aftermath, too. The next night, when Diana and I were going to watch sex videos, the first tape she put on showed me and Bert. She had rigged a concealed camera and gotten the whole thing on tape. I was appalled...yet fascinated and excited as I watched what I had done. "See how good you look! What a nice, slutty girl. You sucked him like a real pro. You were enjoying it, too; don't say you weren't. Look at your little dickie." And intermittently, amid all the action, I got glimpses of my "little dickie" and could see that I had indeed had an erection. Being Bert's girl had been wonderful. Diana had said, "This first time," which could only have meant that there were going to be more times. And I knew I wanted there to be more times. And, true to her promise, the next week there were two men. Bert and another big guy named Harry. She didn't bother to tie me up this time, and she didn't bother with that dental thing in my mouth; she knew I would be willing. Enthusiastic, in fact. Eager for them. Whether it was the cumulative effect of her months of training, or the fact that I had long since agreed to be a girl, or maybe the hormones, I don't know. But I wanted those two guys very badly. They had me lie crosswise on the bed, with my head hanging over the edge, my mouth agape. Bert took my butt and Harry stood at the side of the bed and fucked my face. Just before they started in on me, I grinned and said to Diana, "You're getting this on tape, I hope." She smiled. So there was little old Melanie, being had at both ends. Then they shifted me so my head was back on the bed. Bert had me lick his cock clean, which was a bit hard to take, but not too bad. Kind of nice, in fact. Things stay reasonably clean if you lie on your back to be fucked, I've learned. Then Harry took my ass--I was amazed that he still could--and Diana sat on my face. And in the midst of this, Bert knelt behind my head and Diana leaned forward and took him in her mouth. Then Diana took me with her strap-on while Harry and Bert took turns sitting on my face and having me lick their asses clean for them. Finally, Harry fucked Diana, and then Bert fucked her, and she had me clean her out when they were done. Licking their cum out of her pussy...nothing like it! I was being a girl for them all. A girl in every possible way. A girl through and through. Their girl, their girl, their girl...the words whirled through my mind. **** Spent, we went to the living room. My nylons were in tatters and my lipstick was smeared; I must have looked as slutty as I felt. Diana had me pour drinks. She put on the tape and we enjoyed the replay of our orgy. Then, as we sat there, relaxing over our drinks, she explained. "Harry and Bert are two of the members of my `women's club.'" I stared at her. "You were slowing down as you got older, Melly, but even in your prime you were never quite enough." In response to my hurt look, she said, "Oh, you were good. Very good indeed, and many women would have been completely happy with you. But I need sex. Lots of sex. So I started my club. I called it my `Women's Club' for obvious reasons, but it was really the Fuck Diana Club. It's been going on for about ten years now, and whenever a member"--she grinned at that word, "member"--"moved away or had to drop out for some reason, I insisted that he find me a replacement. Referrals were essential. The main requirement for membership, as you saw for yourself tonight, was plenty of prowess. I needed men who could keep going and keep going. And keep going. "But my men--there are five of them in all, and you'll meet the other three soon--said they would like a little more variety. I gave them lots of variety, believe me. All the things I've been doing for you I had been doing for them. For years." So that was why she had been so skillful with me. "But they thought it might be fun to bring my sissy husband into the game as well. The only problem was that I didn't have a sissy husband. So I set out to provide myself with one. I started training you, working on your attitudes to sex and clothes and sex roles, and fucking with your mind generally, and you took to it better than I would ever have imagined. That time when you left the bra on without any prompting from me, I was pretty sure things would go the way I wanted, and the day you bought that strap-on for me to use on you, I knew we were home free. That argument about my turning you into a girl was just a last-ditch struggle. The job was essentially done by then. You're a real natural, too. I suppose I might have realized that sooner, but you used to do all that body building.... "Yes, I'm afraid I misled you, at first. And in the case of the `vitamins,' I must confess I lied to you outright. Those pills are hormones. Estradiol and Spironolactone. One is an estrogen and the other a testosterone suppressor. That's where your pretty titties came from. You know, you're so much nicer a girl now that those hormones have helped you. So much sweeter. And next week, when we have those balls of yours off, you'll be able to drop the Spiro. "Melly, you aren't just my sissy servant any more. You've been promoted. You are now a member in good standing of the Women's Club. Two women and five men. Or five men, one woman, and a sissy sex toy. Plenty of fun for all. And believe me, you're going to love it!" She was right. You're right, too, Ms. Abigale, when you write that a husband can be seduced into feminization. Now that I'm in the Women's Club, with our schedule stepped up from one meeting a week to two, and sometimes three, I am *really* enjoying my retirement. For the first time. People talk about the "Golden Years"; these are my golden years. I wish they would never end. Princess Pervette July, 1999