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Prologue This novel was written four years ago by Vickie Tern and Rhonda Wagram. It began when Vickie posted her story "Girls' Night Out," and Rhonda wrote Vickie suggesting how it might be continued. Rhonda is the author of "Baroness Gloria" and "Fashion's Slave," two superb TG stories. Her ideas stimulated a great deal of creative play as both of us sketched out story lines, assigned each other different chapters, and agreed to over-write each other's drafts. The tasking and enjoyable collaboration took a year, and resulted in the novel now posted here. The original story survives in stripped-down form as its opening sequence. We agreed to give readers of print fiction first access, and it was published by Mags Inc, one of the largest mail-order publishers and suppliers of TG and Domination magazines, stories, novels, and videos (www.magsinc.com). We knew that sooner or later it belonged on the Net with our other stories, freely accessible to any adult. Mark, the owner of Mags Inc, agrees that the time has come. So here is "Birthday Present" as originally written and published and still available in printed form. This novel contains scenes of eroticism, femdom, bondage, transvestism, and transsexualism, some of them quite graphic. Those who do not enjoy reading about such things should follow their own advice and not read about them. Those who are not legally or parentally permitted to read these kinds of stories also know what not to do. BIRTHDAY PRESENT (c) 1996 Vickie Tern and Rhonda Wagram Chapter One: Birthday Present (in which our hero becomes his wife's heroine) Chapter Two: Night Out (in which our hero is treated like the heroine he seems) Chapter Three: Awakening (in which our hero finds he has become what his wife thinks he should be) Chapter Four: Past and Future (in which the ladies persuade our hero to accept plans they think appropriate for a heroine) Chapter Five: Brave New Worlds (in which hero, heroine, and her wife shop for new clothes and then try them out) Chapter Six: Make-over (in which like it or not, our hero begins to look and sound more like our heroine than he thought she would) Chapter Seven: Honey's Weekend (in which our heroine learns to do what she's told) Chapter Eight: Bea's Weekend (in which his wife tells our heroine what she's done) Chapter Nine: Working Girl (in which our heroine learns to whore for her employer) Chapter Ten: More Proposals (in which the ladies arrange further ways to improve our heroine) Chapter Eleven: Prissy (in which our heroine acquires a new name and new household responsibilities) Chapter Twelve: Prissy and the Poet (in which our heroine finds it advantageous to be the heroine of her own story) Chapter Thirteen: Prissy and Steve (in which our heroine learns again that she is a woman with no desire to be liberated) Chapter Fourteen: Prissy At Your Service (in which our heroine is loaned out) Chapter Fifteen: Prissy Sells Out (in which our heroine facilitates the sale of her business) Chapter Sixteen: Death and Resurrection (in which our heroine learns she has run out of alternatives) Chapter Seventeen: Wedding Present (in which our heroine finally finds out why she is as she is) Chapter Eighteen: Life with Thor (our heroine's satisfactory adjustment to her new life) Chapter Nineteen: Another Birthday Present (in which our heroine learns it is more blessed to give than to receive, sometimes, and her story comes to a happy end) Chapter One: Birthday Present (in which our hero becomes his wife's heroine) It all began as something else altogether, a year earlier, and I didn't find out what was really happening until a year later, though now it scarcely matters. It was Bea's birthday, and the doorbell rang. I went to answer it while Bea finished dressing upstairs. "So, I see she did talk you into it! My God, look at you! You're gorgeous!" There at the door was Pearl, my wife's best friend, looking at me as I figured she would when she saw me, amused but also contemptuous. She stepped back and gave me that same relentless look of appraisal women use on themselves when they look into mirrors. Then she said, "Not bad! Not too bad! But how in the world did she get you to do it?" I was embarrassed, but tried to hide it. So I looked Pearl over equally deliberately. What I saw was the usual bright and brassy middle aged woman, dressed up for a big night out on the town. Packed into a green silk dress much too short for her, I thought. Matching strappy high heels and a clutch purse. Lacy black stockings. Pinned somewhere back of her blonde curls was some kind of small felt hat with a wisp of black veil. So she was green and black and lacy and sassy, and busy making me feel uncomfortable. "C'mon in, Pearl," I said. "Bea's almost ready. You look good too, you really do!" I was sincere -- for Pearl, she looked terrific. But especially I wanted to steer our conversation into compliments right away. I couldn't take her usual mockery, her sardonic put-downs. Not dressed the way I was when I came to the door. I was trying not to be too self-conscious about it. I wanted to be a good sport for this one night, to play it straight. To be a proper lady, one of the girls, the way I'd promised Bea. But with Pearl nothing ever comes easy. She overreacted like a Disney cartoon character. Her eyes flicked over my coiffure and then down my dress, Bea's choice for me for the evening, a little basic black with satin trim, and a cute peplum to hide my lack of hips, and a wide satin-trimmed collar to cover my now-noticeable breasts. Then she eyeballed my legs -- in plain sheer black stockings, nothing fancy -- and my high heeled black pumps. "Wow!" she said, wiping an imaginary haze from in front of her eyes. Her skirt flipped and she wriggled her hips, then planted her hands on them. "Hoo boy!" she said. "Aren't you something!" She squared her body and then gave me her ultimate once-over. I'd seen it before. Insolent and amused. Absolutely intimidating. In that posture she looked like a tart naming her price, take it or leave it, but managed to imply that I was the tart. "Henry, I don't know what to say. You're such a stunner! You'll knock 'em dead! How can you stand yourself?" Her irony was too heavy, and I began to wilt. But Pearl sensed it and immediately reversed field. She said, "No, really, I mean it! I'm impressed! That makeover is fabulous! You're really convincing! They must have spent the whole day working on you!" "Thanks," I said, "If that was a compliment. Come in and sit down." She stepped into the hallway like a dainty horse imprinting the ground, glanced at me again, and then let her high heels throw her hips into a seductive swish as she proceeded ahead of me into the living room. I got her message. I had to admit it, I couldn't have looked more swishy. "Yes," she said, "It was a compliment. A pretty girl should learn to accept compliments graciously. Just dimple, and curtsy, and say 'Thank you.' You know, when a girl spends hours or days getting ready for a big date, she should appreciate it when her efforts are noticed." "Bea told me you'd agreed to be one of the girls tonight, but I just didn't believe her." Pearl went on. She sat down, and carefully arranged her legs on our living room couch, skirt smooth, arms draped possessively across the back cushions, at her ease. "Frankly, Henry, I didn't think you had the guts. No offense. But how many men do you know would do this for their wives?" I followed Pearl into the living room, rocking a bit on my own high heels, and stood looking down at her. She arched her neck up and said, "Get me a drink, would you, Honey? I'd better start calling you 'Honey' I think, not 'Henry.' A 'Henry' who looks the way you do will start people talking, and I'm not sure you'd want to hear what they were saying." "Or am I looking at 'Henrietta,' Henry's longtime girly other self? Have I at last found out your guilty secret? Have you always liked dressing up in frilly things? Do you really want to be a girl? Have a stiff drink yourself, hon. You're going to need it before tonight's through!" I took her advice, belted down a quick one, poured Pearl her usual whiskey on rocks and myself another, handed it to her, then sat down across from her. I clasped my drink in my lap with both hands, and crossed my ankles primly, just as Bea had shown me. Shoulders back, bust out, chin high, shake my curls to get her attention, then speak in a high but sweet voice, if I could manage it. "Don't, Pearl," I said. There was just a touch of pleading in my voice, for Pearl usually a signal to lunge in for the kill. I had better be more aggressive. "You know perfectly well that Bea has been getting me ready for tonight for months. In fact, what with her planning and shopping and rehearsing me, she's had very little else on her mind for some time. I've never seen her like this, not in all our twenty years of marriage. She's been so happy and busy. So don't mock me, because when you do, you're mocking Bea. And that's not friendly." My voice quavered just a little. Maybe it was pitched too high. "All right, Honey," Pearl said, her voice softened but not subdued. "I'll be gentle. You're one of the girls tonight, and that's that. Don't cry, you'll ruin your beautiful eyes." This time she looked at my face seriously. "They really are beautiful, in a way. Who would have thought it?" I felt a little mollified. "Well, Bea always did. Even before I was involved in this." Pearl's look was unwavering. "All right, Bea thinks you're beautiful. But tell me, my Honey, my lamb led to the slaughter. Whatever possessed you? Why are you involved? I know one version, but I'm curious what you know. Tell me what you think is going on." Pearl didn't seem to be taking this night seriously enough, so I opened up. It was a chance for me to practice my voice some more, anyhow. "You know full well how come I'm involved. Bea's had her heart set on tonight since last year. You know that. In fact, it was your idea originally. You remember, Bea's thirty-ninth birthday? How it hit her? Like a house collapsing on her? All that weeping, she was getting old and ugly, life was passing her by. Every day more depressed, popping more pills, then feeling even more miserable. Some days she didn't even bother to get dressed, and I was really worried. Then when I'd try to talk to her, to cheer her up, she'd just look at me and withdraw even further, run into the bedroom or the bathroom and then cry her heart out." "I remember that time," Pearl said, looking me levelly in the eyes. "It was exactly a year ago." "So I offered to organize a big party for her to help her celebrate her fortieth when it came around. Invite everyone we knew. Well, that was certainly a mistake! She absolutely forbade it! She ran into the bedroom and slammed the door, and then she really started wailing! I mean loud, agonized, just terrible! I felt awful! I still don't understand it." "I know about that time too," Pearl said, still looking at me steadily, and taking little sips from her glass. I remembered to do the same -- sips, not swallows, it's much more ladylike, Bea had told me. It felt more delicate. I wondered if my lipstick was smeared. "You missed the point, Honey dear!," Pearl went on. "A forty year old woman doesn't feel like celebrating. It isn't like a man turning forty." She set her glass down. "Look! A forty year old man is just coming into his prime, even if he isn't quite the stud he was at twenty. He still believes that 'You aren't getting older, just better' crap. Well, if he's any good at business he's starting to get into heavy money just about then. All those years of hard work begin to pay off. His kids are gone, or they don't need him, so he's free of his family. But his wife is no longer a bombshell, if she ever was one. So when a man turns forty he often decides he deserves better from life. And for once he can afford it. So he begins screwing around. Or, he dumps his wife of twenty years in order to award himself a trophy wife. Isn't that right?" In fact, that's just what Pearl's husband had done. He'd left her well-fixed enough, payment for their years of struggle together, and had gone off to do the Palm Beach and Palm Springs circuits with a new slim long-haired Princess of a wife, calling his broker now and then to ask how fast the money was coming in. I was forty last year, and I have to admit it now, I was thinking about doing the same thing. Life with Bea had gotten really dull. The sex was as predictable and boring as her cooking, and she seemed to approach both the same way. We shared lots of interests, but there was nothing new to explore. Evenings, she read her romantic novels and I watched television. But I still cared for her, in a way, and I didn't want to hurt her, so I never said anything about it. I wondered if Bea had sensed something anyhow, and had mentioned it to Pearl. "Well," Pearl went on, "With a woman turning forty it's different. She's nearly past it. Her kids are gone or don't need her either. Raising kids has been her life, and now it's over. She finds it's harder to stay in shape, and she lets herself go a little. Her dresses don't fit her any more, so she spends more of her husband's money to buy more of them, and they still don't fit just right. She logs more time at the beauty parlor. Her husband logs more time at the office, and less with her. There're still things she hasn't yet done with her life, and she knows time is running out, and she knows she's beginning to forget what those things were. That's why Bea didn't want your party. I'm sure she told you that right off when you proposed it to her. There's nothing to celebrate when a woman turns forty." "She did say that," I said. "I thought she was just depressed." Pearl looked steadily at me again, and then took another sip. I went on. "But I really am grateful to you and Kay. When the two of you cooked up these plans for tonight, her mood changed. Almost immediately! It was miraculous! I still don't understand it. My idea for a birthday bash depressed her, but yours gave her a new lease on life! I'd never have guessed it, that what she really wanted was an intimate night out on the town with just her two dearest friends. A fabulous girls' night out. Something she'd never done before. But that was what she wanted! Immediately she started humming around the house, telephoning and planning and talking and preparing. Weeks spent shopping for the very outfit she's putting on right now. All of today spent in the beauty parlor, sitting next to me the whole time, getting her hair and face and hands and nails and body worked over by any number of the women there." "Anyhow, for months she's been so excited! I'm not sure why. What does she expect? Dinner, a show, some drinks afterward, and talk, lots of hot gossip she's never heard, she says. Do things she hasn't done for years, she says, maybe never done. Bea said that you planned to stay up till morning, the three of you, making girl talk, telling each other racy stories, doing girl things, away from husbands or other such depressing people. If she liked the way it worked out, she said, then she'd do the same things with you girls more often. They'd become her things too. And that's what cheered her up! I suppose, for Bea it's a change. We don't go out much together any more, hardly at all. Not for years. I'm pretty much satisfied to watch television." "So I've heard," Pearl said. "Well, you've got the drift of it. Turning forty is a serious thing for a woman. Bea wanted to know how we've handled it, me and Kay. What we've really been doing since the big four oh. You're right. A year ago she was way down, and you weren't the only person worried about her. So we told her that on her fortieth birthday, tonight, we'd show her that life begins at forty. We'd tell her all our secrets." "I'm forty-two now, you know. That rat of a husband of mine left me four years ago. Well, for a year I mourned like a schoolgirl, which is what I still was despite everything, I suppose. Then for another year I thought about the rest of my life, how to take charge of it. Well, since then I've been doing OK. Got me a job to keep busy, started to meet new people -- you don't know the half of it. So I've got lots of good advice to give Bea. I've given her lots already." "Kay too. Kay told her some things right off that surprised even me, about that husband she still lives with. That Tomcat stud, what's his name, Steve. I've known for years that he's been sticking his prick into anything in skirts the way other people shake hands. But I didn't know he went for anything in pants too. He swings both ways. Did you know that? The man is an animal." I didn't know that. I'd never met him, but he was a legend around town. I'd heard about his women. We were all maybe a little jealous. That may be why wives and ex-wives always seemed to be so protective of Kay, always inviting her to parties and dinners and sleepovers when her husband was out of town. But he was bisexual? That I hadn't known! "Why does Kay stay with him?" I asked. "She's a doctor. She's got her own practice. She's been our family doctor for years, and she's a good one. Bea trusts her. Kay doesn't need Steve." "You really are an innocent!" Pearl said. "Because Kay's got her own men too. And her own women. They swing together. They're swingers. That's how they first met, at some swingers' convention, from what I hear." Pearl leaned forward. "But Honeybuns, you haven't told me yet how Bea talked you into joining us for this fabulous night. To do whatever we do. Especially looking the way you do, like one of the ... uh ... girls. What happened? Does Bea have something on you? Did she catch you slipping into her little silky nothings, and then shame you into wearing more of them? Do you have your own panty collection? Are you also a secret swinger?" Pearl lifted her face toward me, waiting for some dishy confessions. "Well..." I began. But Pearl was on a roll! "And how'd she get you into that beauty salon? Celeste did a fabulous job, really, Honey! Those are long fingernails, longer than mine! And that is a perm they gave you, isn't it? I suppose it really took guts! Or was it blackmail, or a bribe? Though I must say, you do look terrific. You look ... well, feminine. I don't think there's any doubt you'll pass." "You know, don't you, that this night has cost you your manhood, as far as I'm concerned, and probably Kay. Maybe even Bea. I don't know how feminized you are inside, but you are certainly emasculated up front. In my eyes certainly. That's quite a sacrifice! You must have known that would happen. So why did you do it? We are never again going to be able to think of you as Bea's dullard husband! You're just too cute-looking! Now we'll spend all our time thinking about fixing you up with cute guys! Maybe even other cute guys in skirts! How in the world did Bea ever get you to agree to this?" Finally, Pearl leaned back, looking at me cooly. She'd spoken her piece. She handed me her empty glass, and gestured toward mine, and pointed to the bar. I stood up. "Pearl, the way Bea did it was, she asked me, and that's all there was to it," I said, a little too grandly. Pearl had finally gotten to me. And then Bea's voice came from the doorway. "That's right, I asked him!" Suddenly, there was Bea. "I decided early on that I wanted Henry with me tonight, but not as Henry. And that's why he's here. I have my own reasons, Pearl." We both turned to look at her. Bea had really gotten herself ready for this special girls' night out, there was no doubt about it! She looked awesome! My God, what a costume! Short tight black leather miniskirt, and thigh-high boots with incredibly long, thin spike heels. A short stretch of exposed thigh, between her boot tops and her skirt, encased in black nylon. Those thighs looked like dark tubes, inviolable, strong enough to crush any man who dared put his head between them. A black silk blouse thrust forward by bare, jutting nipples, apparently she wore no bra, and then it flowed down and over her arms to be gathered at her wrists, and to billow down to her waist. A collar of red necklaces surrounding her neck like chain mail, and large red drop earrings dangling under her black hair, which was teased way up around her head as big as I could ever imagine it. Eyes outlined in black, and a slash of red across her mouth. Absolutely sensational! I swallowed hard, and almost sat down again. Next to Bea I was a sweet, shy wallflower, in my pretty black cocktail dress. If there were any feelings of manhood left in me, that I was a guy wearing a skirt because his wife had asked him to, they were gone. There could be no men in the vicinity of Bea's outfit. Only varying kinds of submissives, until she gave one of them permission to try to service her like a man, if he could. I suddenly felt utterly helpless. I tried to compliment Bea, but my hands only waved in the air, and nothing came out of my throat but some high-pitched squeals. She saw at once what she had done to me, and smiled delighted. Her eyes sparkled. "My God, Bea," said Pearl. "Talk about taking charge of your own life starting tonight!" "That's what I'm doing, Pearl." Then she turned to me, still standing and staring anxiously at her. "Don't worry, dear, this isn't for you. It's partly for me, and partly to help me keep some other people in line tonight, maybe. You'll do only what you want to do, no matter what I may ask you to do. I wouldn't want it any other way. Did I tell you upstairs that you look just lovely? Really, that dress is adorable! I knew that satin collar would be flattering once your breasts were large enough to hold it away from your body a teeny bit." And Bea came over to me, and we held each other's arms gently for a moment, and we pressed our cheeks together, so as not to smudge our makeup or wrinkle our dresses, and then we looked at each other silently for another moment. It was a kiss, woman to woman. I don't know why, but it felt heavenly. I felt a sudden surge of love for her! And at the same time, I felt serene, so wonderfully at peace with myself. "Whatever you do tonight," she said to me in a low voice, "Is for me. I want you to know that. I want you to know I want it that way. And I love you for it." I looked at her gratefully, if a little confused. "Dear, would you get me a drink," she asked me. "And take care of yours and Pearl's too." I flounced over to the liquor cabinet -- those first drinks were beginning to have their effect -- and I poured us each a double. Pearl looked at hers and set it aside for the moment. I handed Bea hers, and she sipped it, carefully, than set it aside and straddled the back of a chair like a pirate, legs spread on either side. For some weird reason I felt a surge of pride that I was part of her life. "Here's how it happened, Pearl. A month after you told me your plans, Kay called to tell me she couldn't join us tonight, that she was had to be out of town, some medical convention or other. Well, I was crushed. Henry couldn't cheer me up at all. I told him how terribly disappointed I was. But I didn't need to. He already knew how much this night out with the girls meant to me. He could see the gleam going out of my eye. He felt terribly sorry for me, and he thought about it some. Didn't you, dear?" I looked at her gratefully again, but I still couldn't talk. There was this enormous lump in my throat. "When Kay had to beg off, that left just the two of us, you and me. It didn't seem ... well ... festive enough. Then the more I thought it through, the more it seemed right that Henry should help us make up our original threesome. In fact, the more I thought about it, the better I liked the idea. Henry must certainly know what some of the men in town do with some of the women in town, so he could tell us some real hot stories too, I was sure, things he's been too proper to tell me, once we got into the right gossipy mood. It might be fun." "So the next night I asked him if he'd take Kay's place, so I could still be with my dearest friends, the way we'd planned it. Then I wouldn't have to think about him sitting at home while we were all out together having fun. I told him this would be his gift of love to me, my fortieth birthday gift, a gift I wanted from him more than anything else in the whole world. Well, he told me he'd do it. He didn't think he knew any gossip, but it was enough that I wanted him by my side. So he agreed." Pearl leaned back into the sofa. "Let me get this straight, if that's the word for it," she said. "And maybe you'd better keep working on your drink, Honey. I think maybe you'll want to begin this evening a little tizzled. Let's see, Bea told you that Kay would be out of town tonight, and that she wanted you to fill in? And you agreed?" She looked me up and down again, and picked up her own drink. She took a swallow. "Dressed and made up the way you are? A real foxy lady, just like Kay?" I was a little bewildered that Pearl had a problem with this. "Well, not right away," I began. "I didn't realize at first that she wanted me to go all out as one of you girls, to become one of the girls myself, so to speak. To fill in for Kay in every respect. I thought she just wanted me to come along as her husband. But a few days later I realized she meant more than that, when she took me shopping and bought me some brassieres and things. By then I couldn't disappoint her. Pearl, I just couldn't! So I decided I had to go along with it. And that's what I've done." "Wait a minute," Pearl said, glancing at Bea, who got some kind of message and remained silent. They'd known each other a long time. "You say 'brassieres'. Plural. How many brassieres did you buy that day?" "Well, actually, seven or eight" I replied, wondering why she should ask. "A training bra and some A, and B cups, and then a few more B cups, different kinds of lacy patterns and colors. Underwire," I added, thinking maybe that information would solve whatever was Pearl's problem. Bea smiled reassuringly at me. "I see," Pearl said, glancing again at Bea. "And you're wearing one of your B cups tonight?" "Yes," I said. "After a month or so wearing each of the smaller sizes, they no longer fit me. I kept spilling over." "I see," Pearl said again. One of her odd grins was forming on her face again, and I didn't understand why. "Bea, by any chance have you been taking Honey here -- I'm calling him Honey now, because I'm getting the message that Henry is not long for this world -- have you been taking Honey here to see Kay, for vitamin supplements or something?" "Why of course, Pearl," my wife answered quietly. She glanced at me. "Honey had to ask Kay lots of questions about filling in for her. And while they were chatting she wrote him some prescriptions for various of his problems. Not that he has any. But just to be on the safe side. He's been very diligent, taking his pills and showing up regularly for his shots. You can see how healthy they've made him. He's in wonderful shape." "Yes, that's certainly true," Pearl said once more. "Ummm, Honey, how many new dresses do you have upstairs, besides the one you're wearing?" "Only a few," I replied. "But one of them is pretty much worn out, because we've used it as a practice dress for months, smoothing it when I sat down, and straightening it whenever I got up from sitting on the toilet to pee, and so on. I wore it all the time, put it on as soon as I came home, and most weekends. My other things, my skirts and blouses and heels and flats and so on, are all still pretty much new. I have a whole closet full, so I don't have to wear any one of them very often. Bea thought it might be useful for me to have them, just to fill out my wardrobe. To get used to wearing what women wear. So I wouldn't feel self-conscious when I was learning how to move the way women move, and how to hold myself, and everything. Why do you ask?" "No reason," said Pearl. "Another question. A long shot. My idle curiosity, no more than that. This one's going to sound very odd, but I don't think Bea will mind my asking. Did Bea ask you to clean out your bottom today? Just before you started to dress? Or to do anything else down there, anything exceptional?" I got annoyed. "Pearl, that's rather personal! But since you ask, no, nothing exceptional at all. Months ago Bea asked me to take an enema daily before I put in the suppositories Kay gave me, and that's what I've done. For cleanliness. And today she asked me to put in a tampon when I'd finished flushing myself out, so I'd stay clean all evening no matter what, and not leak accidentally onto my new dress. So that's what I've done. Any more questions?" By now Pearl was grinning broadly at Bea, and Bea was looking back at her mildly. Somehow they both looked very satisfied with themselves. Women, I thought. Who will ever understand them. "Well, just one last question. Isn't it time for us to go to dinner?" Chapter Two: Night Out (in which our hero is treated like the heroine he seems) . Dinner turned out to be the least of it. It was Bea's big night, but it was mine too, the first time I ever left the house looking like a woman. Despite my months of practice I was rather nervous. But we linked arms walking to Pearl's car, and we giggled about something, and some kids walked by without even glancing at us. So I felt better about it. Walking on my heels was no problem after all those months of practice. When we reached the car, Bea reminded me to fluff my hair with my finger tips now and then. "It's a very attractive gesture, dear." Pearl drove us. When we got to the restaurant's Valet Parking a boy opened the door for me and stood watching, and I was grateful for Bea's lessons how to get out of a car in a skirt -- twist, swing my legs out, straighten my skirt, stand up. The Maitre D' led us to a corner table, and we settled our purses on the floor by our chairs, and read the menus. Bea ordered for me -- clear soup, and a small warm salad. She cautioned me against nibbling on the bread and butter. "Your figure, dear," she said. "Later you're going to feel stuffed, I'm sure, so you don't want to eat too much now." Pearl let out a guffaw, but didn't look up from her menu. She ordered a bottle of Chardonnay, and we finished it, feeling even more tiddly than at the house. Things went very well. I ate teeny bites, and patted my lips now and then. It was just like all those practice dinners at home. Even Pearl began looking at me with admiration. "You're very good, Honey," she said. "It's as if you were born to it. Do you think you were? Are you a woman in a man's body?" "Pearl, cut it out!" I said. Bea interrupted. "No, Honey. Say, 'Pearl, please stop teasing me, or I'll start to cry.'" I tried again. "Pearl, please, don't!" I said. I really felt hurt. Bea looked satisfied, and Pearl eased off. "No, tell me. I'd like to know. This is the night for confessions, remember! I asked you earlier if you'd ever done this before, dressed up like a girl, maybe secretly, and you never answered." "You never gave me a chance, Pearl. Did I try on my mommy's panties when I was little? Yes, I suppose every boy does. Out of curiosity. Did I feel some special charge or satisfaction while doing it? No, nothing, so I did it only that one time." Pearl leaned back. If she hadn't recently quit smoking, she would have lit a cigarette. I could tell she was about to say something she actually meant! "Honey, it's no secret that I didn't think you'd do this. You're not a gung ho macho man, like that asshole I married, but you are a straight arrow, and not a very sharp one. If you'll pardon my words, you have always seemed to me to be an unimaginative lunkhead, someone who was repressing Bea's natural high spirits without even knowing it. I have often thought that a divorce from you would be a good thing for Bea. But she wouldn't hear of it. Not ever. And now look at you. Never would I have conceived it, that you'd be sitting here tonight in a dress nibbling on a small salad. Looking very much like a lady. I feel like comparing menstrual symptoms with you, you look so believable. And you even sit down every time you go to the bathroom, is that what you said earlier?" "Yes, that's right. It was Bea's idea, for the practice. It seemed to please her, so I do it all the time now. It did solve all those problems married people have, about leaving toilet seats up or down. So now that's my gift to her too. I sit down for everything." "Yes," said Pearl thoughtfully. "You may soon have no choice. But tell me, dear, if you weren't born with ... er ... transvestite tendencies, how do you feel about wearing women's clothes now?. How long is it since Bea bought you those first brassieres? When you wear them, do you feel ... ah ... different? Is it ... nice? And you've been retraining your whole body to be more ladylike. Does that feel ... nice? Confession time, now." "I guess it's like you to ask those questions, Pearl," I said. "Because the answers are a little embarrassing." I glanced at Bea, and saw her nod, almost imperceptively. "OK. At first I just felt silly, a man putting on his training bra every morning. Bea's fortieth was nine or ten months away, and it made no sense. But Bea said that learning to act like a woman is like learning to play the piano, an art that expresses feelings, and that I needed the feelings as well as the techniques, and that it takes a while to develop them. I spent a lot of time imagining how women feel, about themselves, about each other, and about men, which at first was a total mystery to me. Then as my nipples got hard lumps behind them and my breasts started to grow, she helped me with my feelings. Every night Bea would caress my nipples, or tweak them gently, until they got hard. Like Bea's now." I looked at those finger-thick nipples poking Bea's blouse, a mature woman's nubs outlined in black satin, and again felt proud to be married to Bea. Also, inexplicably, a little jealous. "Every night when Bea caressed me it felt more and more marvelous. So soft, and feminine, and delicious, and attractive ... well ... never mind. I got so I couldn't wait for my skin to get smoother, and my breasts to swell up more, grow into bigger globes that needed bigger bra cups. When I went to the office, wearing my bra, maybe covered by a slip or a Teddy, I was so happy with them I'd often push out my chest, and they'd swell through my shirt on either side of my tie, and my suit jackets would fall back and frame them, so anyone could see who'd bother to look. Just the way women's suit jackets do when they're unbuttoned. I began to feel delighted with my figure, almost as much as Bea. I guess I didn't care who noticed. No one did, that I know of. That disappointed me, sometimes." "I told Bea, and she said that was my feminine side beginning to express itself, and that I should give it more freedom. So I began turning most of my office work over to my partner, and doing more business by phone. Bea suggested I wear panties, or pantyhose, all the time, and women's blouses and shirts, and women's jeans and slacks whenever I went out, and of course when I was home, skirts, and my practice dress. And I took to moving the way women walk, naturally but with a grace I've always loved in women. You know. Bea has it. Even you have it, when you want to. You sort of float. I like pretending I'm graceful and pretty in my own way, and Bea says I really am now. And more and more, I've been feeling the way I imagine women feel all the time about things, little enthusiasms and sorrows rising up all the time in my heart. Bea was so pleased, the first time I cried for joy at some silly television drama. We cried together, and it was such good fun." "One by one Bea put away my men's things, and bought me more women's things, and taught me how to wear them, and how to combine them with each other. Now I love them. Even my mens' clothes now are really women's clothes, man-tailored. They feel just ... well ... right. I feel ... complete in them. And waking up every day and choosing my wardrobe is a whole new adventure for me. I love waking up each day!" Pearl seemed to be overwhelmed by what I had said. "So for months now," she said, almost disbelieving, "you've been wearing women's clothes at home full time, practicing walking in high heels, and fixing your lipstick, and letting your wrists hang free, and things like that, because Bea wants you too, and you like it, and it feels good?" "Yes. At first mainly because I didn't want to disgrace Bea. For fear that when the big moment came tonight, I would give myself away as a man, and be ridiculed by whoever saw me. But you're right. It does feel good. Nowadays, all I have to do is put on a bra with my breasts gathered up in each cup, and my nipples protruding way forward, and I get the same delicious feminine feelings Bea brought out by caressing me. Then I want to do more things that girls do. Bea and I cuddle a lot together. And today in the beauty salon was such a treat! I love the way my hair came out! You shouldn't mock me about these things, Pearl. That's the way I am, for tonight. And it's how Bea wants me." "You're right, Honey," Pearl said. She set her fork down and looked at me, and said softly. "I'm sorry. I had no idea things had proceeded this far. I guess I thought Bea had duped you, not that she'd converted you, or discovered you. Maybe you always were a transvestite, or a transsexual, but never knew it." Then Pearl suddenly straightened up, and said in a sprightly way, "but now you're one of the girls, just in time for tonight. That's just fine! Tell me, dear, these feminine feelings, do they include feminine feelings about men?" Bea interrupted, her voice a trifle sharp. "Let me set the pace here, Pearl. Henry is married to me, and while Honey lives inside Henry she will be as true to me as Henry has been. Henry has never cheated on me, he says, and I believe him. And I'm married to him. That's why it's important that whatever we do tonight, we do it together. Especially tonight. If Henry decides tonight to let Honey be herself, I don't say that Honey shouldn't feel free to find her own way in the world, and to make her own commitments. My obligations are to Henry, the way Henry's are to me. Do you follow me? That's why I'm so delighted that tonight, it's Honey we're out with, that she's one of the girls, not Henry. She'll do whatever she feels like doing, tonight. The way we all will." I was lost. I didn't understand a word of what Bea had just said, but Pearl nodded slowly. She was obviously impressed. Bea and I then went together to the Ladies' Room together, my very first visit to any Ladies' room anywhere, and my dear companion my very own wife, while Pearl stayed behind to pay the check. We primped and fussed and chatted, and I combed my hair out a bit, and only when we were leaving did I realize that I had gone into a booth to pee, and sat down to pee, and wiped myself, and risen to adjust my dress, all without thinking about it at all. It was now second nature to me. Maybe even first. Next we went to a concert, a string quartet playing Mozart and Schubert, Bea's favorites. The pieces they played were all gentle, and beautiful, and some of them terribly sad. At one moment when the music was especially unhappy, Bea leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, very sweetly. I looked over and saw she had tears in her eyes. I took her hand and held it tightly. "What's that for?" I asked in a small voice. "Nothing," she replied. "You'll see." Then she said, "Oh, I do hope everything works out the way I've planned it. I do hope so!" I couldn't ask her what she meant by that, but I noticed that she held my hand tightly in both her hands through the rest of the concert. I remember how satisfying it was, each time I looked down into my lap, to see our newly manicured red fingernails all tangled and coiled together, looking so elegant. Afterward we went to a night club, one with hot but also dreamy dancing alternating very loudly in one section, near the bar. Stretching for what must have been a city block were rooms and cubicles one after another for drinking and for noisy or quiet conversation. As we settled down in a booth, and our drinks came, and we started sipping them, I glimpsed someone familiar coming toward us. I got the shock of my life! It was Kay! I half rose in surprise, but then I remembered I was a lady, and settled back down. She came straight over to our table, and Pearl and Bea moved to make room for her. They both were delighted to see her. Neither looked especially amazed. "Kay!" I said. "I thought you had to be somewhere else tonight! Why are you here? I mean, it's wonderful that you're here, because now you can help us with Bea's birthday. But weren't you supposed to be somewhere else? Isn't that why I'm here?" "Yes, I was supposed to be elsewhere," she said. "But I changed my mind. I figured I'd be more useful here tonight. Hello, Henry. You are Henry, aren't you?" She peered more closely at me. "My heavens, look at you! It's amazing! Those treatments really did their work, didn't they? You look absolutely ravishing, Henry! I love it! You look good enough to eat!" "Tonight, Henry is Honey, Kay," Bea said. "The way we discussed it. That's the way it should be, and that's the way Honey wants it to be." "Of course. Honey! You are a real stunner, Honey! I'd invite you home with me, if I didn't know you have other plans. Sorry, girls, I've been drinking, waiting for you to show up. Well, anyhow, I'm here, and now we're all here, all of the girls, including our newest girl." She smiled at me charmingly. I smiled back. She leaned forward. "Well, since there are no men here, let's tell each other dirty stories. Let's say about having sex with men we aren't married to? Honey, you go first. Tell us your favorite infidelity." "Honey hasn't had any infidelities yet, Kay," Pearl said. "She's too new. She's still a virgin. And Bea just told me that Henry hasn't had any infidelities either. I don't think he's a virgin, though there's some question whether he's ever done anything memorable. Anyhow, Henry's not here tonight. He isn't one of the girls." So they just ignored me, and started talking. Kay had an open marriage with Steve, her husband, and had slept with lots of men after their marriage. So in fact had Steve -- he was bisexual, and really couldn't decide which sex he preferred, so he slept with whoever seemed most immediately available. When Pearl asked her, she couldn't remember for a moment when the two of them had last slept together, with each other, that is. In fact their marriage was a convenience for organizing swinging sessions -- other couples felt better about trading partners with other partners. She talked about tall and short men, round and thin, big and little. "It's a good thing you've decided to be a woman, Henry," she said. "That little thing of yours is not especially impressive. That's my official opinion as your physician. Speaking as a swinger, I've got to tell you that it's downright pathetic. You'd never get invited again to any of my sessions. But it'll make a terrific clit, when you get around to it. No offense, mind you." I glanced at Bea. For some reason she wasn't offended by Kay's remark. In fact, she was amused, and merely took another pull at her drink. So I figured what the hell, that was just Kay trying to get my goat. So all I said was, "I'm Honey, Kay, not Henry. For tonight, anyhow. That's what I promised Bea. And I haven't decided to be a woman except for tonight. No way! And as far as my equipment goes, it's good enough for me and for Bea, so it's good enough." "That's right, Kay," Bea broke in. "You weren't here earlier, so you may not know what Henry knows and doesn't know, and how he understands what he knows. So let's leave it for now, shall we?" A puzzling remark, but I was getting a little tipsy, so I let it pass. The three women exchanged glances. More drinks came. I was beginning to feel a bottomless place under me, and that I was teetering on the edge of falling into it. So I didn't notice, until Pearl pointed it out, that the next round of drinks came from three interesting looking men sitting together not far away. They were a bit gray in the temples, two of them, and one had a well- shorn black beard. All were nicely dressed, and rather handsome in fact. Probably professional men. It seems Pearl knew one of them, and she went over to thank them and to chat. She came back. "They were wondering if we cared to dance, any of us. I told them certainly, but that we wanted a little more time to talk together. Just us girls. I've told them our plans for tonight, Bea, and they've offered to help out in any way they can. I told them we'd see." "Sounds good to me, Pearl," said Kay. Then Pearl started talking about the men she'd fucked after she found out that her husband was cheating on her regularly. There were quite a few. All of them, to hear her tell it, men she could dominate and really put through their paces. Talk about the five 'F' -- find 'em, fool 'em, feel 'em, fuck 'em, forget 'em -- Pearl was the champion in the women's division. No feeling for any of them. Wear them out and throw them away. Then things got a little blurry, then a lot more blurry. The three guys came over, and we had a few more rounds of drinks. Kay told them what we'd been talking about, and they each of them told their own stories of one night stands on business trips, hot sex with willing partners, with every anatomical detail described. They each referred to their own pricks as heavy, or huge, or frightening to their ladies at first. Pearl questioned this, and they said they were willing to bet her they were all three exceptionally well-endowed, put up or shut up, her choice. Pearl just smiled to herself, and took one of the men by the hand and led him off to the dance floor. I didn't see her again that night. Then my wife Bea spoke to the nicest of them, I thought, the quiet, confident, gray-haired man called Bob. I was a little looped, but I noticed that her voice with him was different from her voice with me. She commanded him, almost. She said, "Well Bob, if you know how to dance, ask me to dance." Bob looked at her, surprised, but he didn't say anything. Then Bea stood up on her spike-heeled boots with her legs spread apart, and she twisted her pelvis slightly, and she put her hands on her hips, and she leaned forward. Her breasts pushed out into her black silk blouse, inches from his face, and the tips of her nipples were practically in his mouth, which fell wide open. "Didn't you hear me, Bob?" she asked him. Bob leaped to his feet, "Yes Ma'am!" "Then what do you say?" "Uh, would you like to dance, please, mmm...ah..mmm....?" He couldn't finish. Bea smiled. She seemed to know why he couldn't finish. "'Ma'am' will do quite well for now," she said. "Later I'll expect you to follow your instincts when you address me!" And off they went to the dance floor. I lost sight of them for a few minutes, but when I next looked they seemed awfully close. Bea had thrust herself up against him, and was looking up into his face with an imperious smile. He seemed to be in a daze, and I noticed that one of his hands was pressed between their bodies. She said something, and he actually took hold of one of her breasts! Her pelvis seemed to be stroking his. She said something else, and he leaned forward and buried his face in her neck. I turned to tell Kay what I thought I had seen, a little disturbed. But Kay had something to say to me first. "Here's someone who wants to meet you, Honey," she said. "Treat him well and he'll treat you well. Here, let me freshen your drink." A rather tall, thin man with blonde hair across his forehead sat down next to me. He looked at me for a moment, then gazed into my face and said, "I've been wanting to meet you all evening, Honey," he said. "You are absolutely lovely." He was very personable, the kind of man that women find attractive at first sight, I'm sure. He had an odd appeal even I could sense. He took my hand, and I looked down at my hand in his, and I was happy that Marge had made my nails so beautiful. I hoped he wouldn't realize what I really was. I wondered what would happen if he did. "Thank you," I said. If I had been standing, I'm sure I would have tried to curtsy. Instead, I bobbed my head at him and smiled, and hoped I looked appreciative. This was the first pass anyone had ever made toward me, and the first compliment I had ever received from a stranger. My heart welled up. I knew that given who I was, what I was, really, I should keep him at bay. My purpose tonight was to keep my wife company. That was my purpose. But she was off dancing with another man right now. It would be fun to flirt with this man, I thought. "Here you are, Honey. Bottoms up!" Kay handed me a glass filled with a straw colored beverage and a few ice cubes. I drank it down in four swallows, before I realized that her advice was not good advice. "I should sip, Kay," I said, feeling further distanced from myself than I knew myself to be. "That's what Bea told me." "You should always do what Bea tells you, Honey," Kay said. Then she and her own gentleman, the dark bearded one, disappeared. My new blonde friend hadn't moved from my side, nor had he let go my hand. "I'll get you another drink, Honey, one you can sip," he said. He snapped his fingers in the air. There was another drink in front of me. I sipped it. He said something I couldn't quite hear, and when he repeated it, he came very close to me, and I felt his breath and his lips on my ear. I blushed, and tried to push him away, but teasingly, because he was really such a lovely man. But I almost fell off my chair. Then he was sitting on the other side of me, and I was resting my head on his shoulder, and he was telling me something, and I was listening, and smiling, and nodding. I felt very content. No idea why. I closed my eyes. Then I don't know. He was dancing me backward, and I was in his arms, following his steps, looking into his eyes and smiling. I thought we passed Bea and her gray haired friend, but I couldn't be sure. There were billowing black sleeves around some man's neck, and a glimpse of her big hair maybe. But their faces were absorbed in each other. Were they kissing? I couldn't see, with my eyes closed. My blonde man kissed my closed eyes, tenderly, and I responded! I kissed his face. I could feel a man's bristles on my lips. He was such a lovely man! I put my arms around his neck and I kissed his mouth. Just like Bea. I felt a lot like Bea. If it was Bea I had seen, her black sleeves. But my arms were bare, and smooth. Bea had insisted I use lotions all over my body. I felt bare, and smooth. I pulled him closer. His tongue kissed my mouth. We danced with his tongue in my mouth, or mine in his, and I put my lips softly on his lips. He tasted so sweet! Had I said aloud what I thought I had seen? Bea kissing? He kissed me again. To the table, another whiskey. A slow romantic dance, and I was plastered against him, I was part of him, so we could dance together. His hands felt my breasts, fondling my little nipples, cupping me and lifting me. They are real breasts I thought. Bea made them for me. They feel very nice. His hands feel very nice. My eyes were closed now. We danced around the table, and his penis pressed into mine and I was feeling strangely excited, as if I were melting into him. My heart melted into him. More music from somewhere, but my eyes were closed. I felt very good. I held him tightly around his neck. Such a very lovely man! "They're gone," my man said. Who? "I'd better take you home," he said. "I know where you live, don't worry, dear." All right. We'll go home. I picked up my purse. There were no other purses near the table any more. As he steered me out the door, I heard a voice, was it Kay's? A woman's voice. Bea's? Not my woman's voice. I heard "Don't forget to take out your tampon, Honey. Have fun!" My first fun. Where am I? A parking lot. No, I am home in my bed, and it's my bridal night, and I am kissing someone passionately, and I am wrapping my legs around him, and I am moaning in delight, and he is wrapped around me. He is sucking on my tits. I am suckling him. I fold his head in my arms. My love! Oh, my love! He is entering me, and I open my whole body wide to welcome him in. Chapter Three: Awakening (in which our hero finds he has become what his wife thinks he should be) I came to consciousness of early morning light in the windows. Dawn. I was lying on our big king sized bed, in our bedroom, Bea's and mine, but my head was turned to the foot of the bed, and tucked in snug. My arms were wrapped around bony buttocks, not Bea's round, soft pillows. Someone's boneless finger was deep in my mouth, and I was nursing on it. Deep inside my crotch I felt a yearning for something hot and wet and snug and soft, and I pushed into more wet velvety softness. The finger in my mouth began to rub on the slick insides of my lips, and I could feel it was growing bigger. I sucked on it and opened my eyes. I saw my nose was buried in a leathery sack, soft and hairy. Someone's balls. That my mouth was wrapped around someone's prick, half-engorged. That I was pulling my face into someone's crotch by hugging his hips with all my strength, and not letting go. That my own prick was growing into more wet, warm, comfy velvet. I moaned and hugged the pillows even tighter. His buttocks. They rolled a little. I was a comma inside a comma, and a luscious feeling grew deeper between my legs. My mouth slipped up and down on some man's dimpled prick, with its royal purple head, like a gladiator's helmet, his lovely, lovely cock. I licked and sucked it while it grew larger, and mine craved to be buried deep in his mouth. "Oooohoooooh!" I heard a woman's throat vibrate richly, luxuriantly, purring, and I realized that the throat was mine. I thrust my nose deep down, and I pulled his cock deeper into my face. He did too, sucking on my meat, holding my rump firm, lovingly. Rumpled sheets. I woke up completely. I was in bed with some man, and we were in a sixty-nine embrace with each other, probably because we had slept that way much of the night. Yes. I could smell cum in his pubic hair, someone's, mine or his, and still taste it salty in my mouth, though his sweet cock was still growing in my mouth, and mine in his, and I was sucking vigorously on his. Finally I got up on my elbows and devoted full attention to lapping and kissing his beautiful smooth tower while a sweet tension grew deep behind mine, and I pumped his face. I fucked him, down his throat, which clung to my cock, until I cried out "Ahhh, ahhh, ahhh, nnng" and I came into him pulsing. The most delectable feelings flooded me inside his face. I could feel him swallowing me. I am on my bed, I thought, and a man has just given me a great blow job, and I am giving him the best I know how. Why am I here? I noticed that my bra and my slip were rumpled around my shoulders, the bra unfastened but the straps wrapped on me. He was licking me off, sucking on me still, until I was small, and clean, and wet. A boneless finger. "Wait, Honey!" His voice was soft, musical, gentle. I took his tower into my hand, to assure that it would be there when I turned my mouth back toward it, and I saw my lovely slender red fingernails wrapping around it. Then I lifted my head and looked back along his legs up to his chest and face. My body was smooth and soft, hairless, I could see. I remembered how Bea had showered me with a pungent cream before I went off to the beauty parlor, and had rinsed it away to reveal my soft, woman's body. It occurred to me that my hair must be a mess, and my face. But I didn't dare touch them. His body as I looked along his legs was hairy, my white skin lying against his. Between my legs, there I saw my friend from last night, with his short, blond, tousled hair, resting on one of my thighs, still caressing my balls and my own softening prick with his tongue, still licking up my own cum. We weren't dancing together any more. He smiled at me. "It's daylight. One more for the road," he said. I didn't know what he meant. He wriggled out from under me, and turned, and gently straddled my legs. I felt deprived of him. Where was that beautiful velvet penis now? I felt a prodding between my buttocks, and without thinking I humped my hips high into the air to receive it. The soft tip of his rigid cock pressed on my anus, my cunt. He'd been there before, I realized. My body was welcoming him into me again without giving it a second thought, and I was already slick and wet, slippery between my cheeks. Cum from an earlier fucking? No doubt of it, though I couldn't remember. How many times fucked? No knowing. A few, at least. I realized that my cunthole was well- stretched out, that my ass would have no problem taking him in. And in fact his prick, now fully extended, slid into me like an old friend settling into bed. "Oooooh!" I said in deep satisfaction, and I wiggled my ass into him to sink his prick even deeper. I wanted him to plunge all the way into me. "Ooooh, lovely! Fuck me, you sweet man. Oh, darling, please, fuck me!" Was that me, saying such things? It was! I must have been saying such things for half of last night, they came so easily out of my mouth. I felt so feminine, so ripe, so complete, so fulfilled inside me, so ... just ... well ... just ... lovely. Just lovely, once his meat was deep inside me. His hands came around and grasped my breasts, my beautiful soft mounds, and he cupped them with the palms of his hands, and his fingers touched my dainty tips. My beautiful nipples. My whole body felt such divine longing! I felt so happy that his hands were full. That I could fill his hands. Bea had been so loving when she had trained my breasts out until they hung down from my chest, into the cups of my bigger bras, into his hands where hers had been, where hers were playing with my engorged nipples so deliciously. As always, I felt so feminine, so loved. It felt just...so...wonderful! I loved the feeling. I loved that he was holding me in both his hands, my pussy wrapped around his cock. I embraced his tower with my buttocks, and we began to move. Faster and faster we probed and thrust into each other, over and over. His hands and his body possessed me! All of me! I was near fainting with the pleasure of it. Then I felt him swell up into me, and deep inside I could feel his hot jism pumping into my bowels. It was so incredible! I squealed again, even louder! As I came down to earth, I realized I had cum again too, that my prick was now sticky wet, pressed into the mattress, having spurted without even getting hard! He pulled out of me, and kissed the back of my neck, and got off the bed, and started to get dressed. I just lay there dreamily, and looked at him. He was thin as well as blond, with a rangy build, well- proportioned, no sagging anywhere, and he smiled at me as he stepped into his pants. What was his name? "Will I see you again?" I asked him, still euphoric. What a question! I felt like a one night stand picked up in a singles bar, But that's what I was! It felt so good! I was a deeply satisfied woman, and that is what a satisfied woman asks when her man leaves her bed! I loved that the words had come out of me so naturally. Like his cum now oozing out of my ass, I could tell by the slippery feel when I squeezed my buns together, as if his prick were still somewhere safe there inside me. "That depends on your wife, Honey," he said gently, with a wry little smile. "Tell her 'Hi!' for me when you see her. And tell her thanks for the use of her husband." He slipped on his undershirt and his loafers, and picked up his shirt and tie and jacket, and headed for the door. "Time to leave," he said. He paused at the door. "You're just great, honeybuns! You have lots of passion down under there, waiting for someone to bring it out. And you have lots of talent for making love, when you're aroused. But be careful! Fucking and sucking the way you do it can be habit-forming." He reflected a moment. "It was a real privilege to take your cherry last night," he said. "I wasn't sure you even knew, though you were certainly responsive enough, and grateful enough afterward. Each time! Anyhow, you sure knew what we were doing just now! Welcome to the club! Honey, you are something very special!" He kissed the tips of his fingers at me, and went out the door. I got off the bed, and my rumpled slip fell down over my rump where it belonged. I felt like such a slut, and now my ass began to ooze cum down my legs. Who knew what my face and hair looked like now? But I didn't even know his name! I followed him out the door. When I got to the top of the landing, I saw Bea just coming in. She still looked sensational, though I noticed she was walking carefully down the front hall toward the stairway as if limping on both legs. She'd been out all night! Where had she been? Doing what? My own wife! With another man? My blond lover nodded to her as they passed, and she nodded back, not even bothering to turn around. "G'morning, Steve." "Morning Bea. Is Kay home yet?" "I wouldn't know, Steve. I don't think so, though. When I left our motel there was still moaning and shrieking coming from her room. I don't know how she can keep that up all night!" "Oh, there are ways." Steve grinned at her, and cast a glance back at me. "G'Night, Honey. It was really beautiful. You're really beautiful. Any time at all!" He let himself out the front door. Bea paused on her painful voyage up the stairs, and leaned on the bannister below me. "Well, Henry, are you Henry again, or are you Honey now, now that you know the joys of being Honey? Is there anything you want to say to me, or shall we get to bed!" I was utterly addled. "No, Bea, for God's sake, I ... we... it was..." "Yes, it certainly looks that way. Well, Henry, let me relieve your mind, right now, before you have a stroke. You've just had a lovely time with Steve, I'm sure. Pearl and Kay and I have just had delightful times with our guys. Mine was just scrumptious. When we left you with Steve we went back to their motel rooms, just the way Pearl and Kay arranged for us. And we've been with them ever since. All night. Fucking their brains out. And vice versa. My special birthday treat! Bob was my special birthday treat! A surprise for me. The girls brought him in from out of town, can you imagine? A marvelous stallion, plunging into me, and I rode him bareback. By God, huge, and such powerful thighs. And yet so sweetly submissive when I ordered him around. I could make him do anything! Anything at all! Even when I tied him up! Well, later we'll compare notes. I'm too tired now. And too sore. I need a night's sleep, and that's where I'm headed." I just stood there in my rumpled slip, my unhooked bra still hanging from me, speechless. She kissed me as she stepped past me, then paused again and lo