Tiny Tim free porn video

Much explicit sex here, of kinds some think perverse and others enjoy. Takes all kinds. But please, no readers of a kind too young to read it lawfully, nor any others so impressionable they think any of this is real. Reality is real, and fantasies are fantasies, right? Tiny Tim by Vickie Tern I shouldn't have trusted them any further than I could've thrown them, Kevin and Marshall, and both of them are way bigger than me and in great shape. I didn't trust them. But that didn't help. It was almost quitting time when they sauntered into my office, and Marshall leaned over my desk and said, "Hey, Tiny, I hear you're taking tomorrow off! Your birthday!" "My name's Tim, Marshall! That's right. So?" I was suspicious of those two, as always. We're all three of us Financial Service Representatives for the same firm. Managing investments for rich clients who don't want to bother. But I work alone, and they're some previous manager's newer idea, a team. That's how the company hired them, and we compete to see which way works better, that's how the company wants it. So from Day One they were out to out-do me, to build their commissions by building their client list any which way, including stealing my clients. "Nothing personal, Tim," once Kevin explained in that reasonable voice he uses on his client prospects. "Just business. We do it better. Or anyhow if we can persuade people we do it better that's good enough." So I'd return the favor and hustle their clients, and after a few years of this push-pull we were just about even. I had to watch them every second -- they were always looking for an edge. Competitive, tricky. They thought all's fair if it's "just business". It was habit for them -- when there was nobody else around they'd trick each other. I'm more a live-and-let-live, who-needs-the-hassle type. Steady and reliable. "Soft" is how they put it. But around them I was always wary. They started calling me "Tiny" maybe two years ago, because I'm short and lightweight I thought, then they kept it up when they saw it got to me. Once during a brief truce they made friendly noises, so we went together for an after-work drink at Charlie's, our local bar, and I asked them how come my nickname "Tiny." "After P. T. Barnum's midget?" I asked. "Or that old comic strip?" Kevin said no, it was after that fat flouncy singer Tiny Tim who used to sing old tunes like "Tiptoe through the tulips" in a high voice. "You got a lot of his mannerisms" he said smugly. "Sort of swishy. Your wife says you'd make her a better girlfriend than a husband." Kevin was as personable and persuasive with women as with clients. Handsome and unmarried, with enormous salesman's charm, and he'd go for anything in skirts, young or old, married or single. He went through the female office staff like a bowling ball and claimed he'd tumbled all of them -- married and single. He'd even bedded down Marshall's wife Ellen, once. Becky, my wife, told me she heard about it while showing a house -- she's in Real Estate -- and she knows Ellen so she asked her flat out and Ellen confirmed it. I could believe it. Ellen was independent, lots of inherited money and not much love for her husband. When she was young, Marshall's savoir faire overwhelmed her, but she soon learned that he'd married her for her money and not much else. Like Kevin he still played around, and gradually she'd reconciled herself to it. He managed the family portfolio because she had better things to do, and that was after all his job. Becky told me the word was, Kevin took her on to needle his partner, but Marshall told Kevin he was welcome to her, just keep her busy and off his back. So Kevin dropped her -- if a cuckolded husband doesn't care, what's the point? They were quite a pair. I was offended by their breezy attitudes toward both women and marriage -- I care about my wife and my marriage -- so I usually shut my ears to all of the office gossip. But you can't shut out everything. And now here was Kevin bringing my own wife Becky into our jousting. So I set down my drink and stared at him. "You wanna repeat that?" I asked him. Marshall quickly put on a sincere face, seemingly ready to apologize for his partner. "Hey, Tim, he's just making that up about Tiny Tim," he said. "He doesn't really remember why we call you 'Tiny.' All you've got in common with that pansy pop singer is long hair." Sure it was long. Becky liked it long. I kept glaring at Kevin, who didn't seem to notice, but I picked up my drink again. "The real reason," Marshall said, "is that 'Tiny Tim' is what your wife calls you when she's screwing me or Kevin. She says that if your dick was any smaller she wouldn't even be able to pinch it, just waggle it back and forth with the tip of her finger like a clit till you oozed a little and your voice went into an upper register to tell her 'thank you!' and then you turned over to go to sleep. That's how come she thinks you'd make her a great girlfriend!" Okay, they were guying me. I'm below average size, sure, a lot, but they didn't know that. It bothered me sometimes, but they didn't know that either. In fact, sometimes it bothered me a lot. It was a real problem for me. I worried if Becky felt cheated that now and then I couldn't even penetrate her at all unless she sat on it -- if I was on top of her and I did get in it would flop out of her when we began to move. Especially when she was all wet and passionate, I couldn't fuck her, she had to fuck me. I'd asked her a year or more ago if that was a problem for her. She'd just answered reassuringly, "Maybe for you, honey, not for me." I never asked her again. Now I was really annoyed that they'd mentioned Becky at all. I decided though that the better part of valor was to kid them back, keep it supposedly friendly. "You wanna check it out?" I asked them. "My dick? Either of you wanna grab hold of it with both hands and try to lift it?" "Well, Tiny," Kevin said thoughtfully. "That's my best offer so far today! Do you ask many guys to do that, take hold of it for you? You find it exciting? What do you tell them you'll do in return, suck them off? Or do you just ask your wife to do that for you?" That did it! "Listen," I said, as threateningly as I could. "You leave my wife out of this!" Marshall gave Kevin one of those 'maybe you've gone too far' looks, and Kevin shut up. So I left it at that. If they wanted to be obnoxious, I decided, let them. To avenge myself I called their whole client list the next day and made some deals and got a few to shift over to me. And that ended our brief truce. But now here they were in my office supposedly being friendly again, Marshall leaning over into my face. "Right, 'Tim' it is, your name's 'Tim,'" Marshall said as if feeling apologetic. "We'll just call you plain Tim, not Tiny Tim. Sorry, Tim. Don't mean to give offense. We hear that tomorrow's your big three oh birthday. Is that right?" "That's right!" I was still wary of those two. "Well, look, bygones are bygones, and a birthday's a birthday, right?" "I can't argue with that," I replied. What were they up to? "So?" "So how about after work we stop off at Charlie's and you let us buy you a drink in honor of your birthday?" I just looked at Marshall, still leaning over my desk. Then at Kevin, standing further back with his perpetual wise-ass look. Both of them trying to act civil. "Why?" I asked. "Look, Tim," Marshall said. "We been talking it over. All three of us've been wasting a lot of time and energy checking each other out, always suspicious, chasing each other's leads and all. This seems like a good time to quit doing that, bury the hatchet, quit trying to stick it to each other. I mean who needs it? You know. Life's too short. Here you are already thirty!" That sounded reasonable. I began to relent. "My wife expects me home," I said. "She's got something special planned. She wants this to be a birthday I'll never forget, she says. So I better call her." "That's OK, Tim," Kevin piped up. "We already did. Becky says what she's got planned won't really be till maybe the weekend, when you don't have to go to work. She likes the idea, you going out with your work buddies. She thinks it's great we want to make it up to you for all the crap we've caused you. That's what I told her we wanted to do. She says sure, wonderful, make a night of it!" "You sure?" I hesitated. "Call her yourself," Kevin said. "Look, buddy, enough is enough, right? How about it?" "OK," I said. "Five thirty at Charlie's. I've got things to do here yet." They were right. Life would be a lot easier if I could trust them, forget about them, tend to my own affairs. This could be the dawn of a new era. "Great!" they both said together, and left. Marshall turned and gave me a two-fingered wave as he reached the door and went through it. Maybe only one finger? First thing I did was call Becky to tell her I'd be a little late for dinner. And to check up on their story that they'd called her. Because Becky could be incredibly jealous. In our early days she'd act as if any glance I gave a good looking girl in some restaurant was an act of infidelity. The last couple of years it had eased, but still she always wanted to know where I was and when I'd be home, all of my time away from her strictly accountable. I didn't mind, it made me feel wanted. I never asked her where she was. A Real Estate agent's hours and places of business are always irregular. I asked her once why she assumed that girls were throwing themselves on me. "Because you're so sweet," she'd replied. "Any girl can tell at a glance that you're a nice guy, easy, accommodating. Suggestible. Too much so. Maybe available." "Thanks," I replied. I couldn't tell if that was a compliment or a criticism, but I decided to leave it alone. Lots of things Becky said tended to be unanswerable. That was an odd thing about her. She'd make up her mind, and then whether she communicated it or not, that was that. This time there was no problem. I told her about Kevin and Marshall's offer, and she replied, "Sure, honey, take all the time you need with them. That Kevin sounds real nice. Not at all what you've been telling me. Don't you think maybe you've been a little unfair?" I sat silent. Kevin was a terrific salesman, I knew, and obviously he'd done a job on her! This was one of those many questions Becky was always asking I couldn't answer one way or the other. She had a knack for it! "Maybe," I said finally. "Tim, look how often you've come home aggravated about those two, Kevin and Marshall, what they've been doing, poaching on your client list. Unable to eat dinner, sometimes unable to sleep. Sometimes for weeks! They want to try to make it up to you now? You really can't turn down an offer like that!" "No, I guess not," I said. "I won't wait up," she said. "Enjoy yourself." And that's how come I was still leaning over the bar at Charlie's at nine o'clock at night and I was four sheets to the wind, not sure I could even turn my head without falling over, my new buddies Marshall and Kevin on either side of me propping me up. We'd been drinking steadily for nearly four hours. To me! To birthdays! To the number thirty! To women! To all our customers! To the company! The Sox! The Knicks! To getting pie-eyed and shit-faced! Which I surely was! "Time to move on," Marshall said, sort of slurring. Or that's how I heard him. "To what?" I asked, looking straight ahead. "More fun, old buddy. But first, one more for the road." "Kay!" I said. I drank down a glass he handed me. Bitter water this time. "No more booze?" I asked. "What's this?" "To straighten you out!" he said, then paid no further attention. "I'll drive him," he said to Kevin. "I'll get him there. You two follow as soon as you can." "Right," Kevin said. "I called about ten minutes ago. She's ready. She said she'll be there when I come by." Who knew what they were talking about? They helped me stand and get out the door and into Marshall's car. I slumped and almost immediately fell asleep. A while later I woke up and we weren't home yet. We were downtown. A fancy old part of downtown. Renovated residential. Big old houses. Fell asleep again. Woke up, more of same, they were pulling around the back of one. "What's here?" I asked. "A nice bed, Tiny," Marshall said. "You don't want to go home in this condition. We fixed you up. You'll like it. Happy birthday!" Somebody came to help him half-carry me into a house. Big old house. Odd. A huge living room with deep carpets and soft chairs and couches all over and lots of girls walking around nearly naked. Great-shaped bodies exposed to everyone, lacy bras with big ripe breasts bulging out of them, teeny crotch bikinis, long lacy black stockings and garter belts. Some of their bodies with long thighs and plump curves, some of them thin and willowy. Takes all kinds. A few women wore those shiny satin fancy robes that showed the high points of their nipples, or they wore black lace you could see through, peignoirs Becky once told me they were called, she had one. And all of them sitting or standing and chatting with each other, shoulders back and heads held high, all that skin exposed and not one of them ashamed! But the really odd thing was, from the neck up they all looked the same! They were all of them wearing the same doll mask, a face like on one of those life-size blow-up dolls, big wide blue eyes staring straight ahead in all innocence, big, round, red-lipped, cock-sized mouths permanently open and looking surprised. "Oh!" all those faces said, "Oh, let me suck your cock!" And all the women had the same long blonde hair, wigs attached to the masks I guess, wavy hair that fell full around their faces and tumbled down to their shoulders. Creamy white naked skin everywhere! Two of these doll-faces came over and pressed their bodies against mine, soft, warm tits, and one of them said "Just hold me around the waist here, honey, and we'll get you upstairs and into bed." Which I did. I was all the way asleep before my head hit the pillow. When I woke up, I could make out dim early morning light in a big window across the room. I stretched my arms far back for a big yawn, then found I couldn't get them down. I tugged, and realized that they were tied to the bed with something soft way high overhead where I couldn't see. I squirmed and wrestled, then quit for fear the knots around my wrists would get too tight and cut off circulation. I felt my legs tied together too, the same way. Was this some practical joke? A warm yellow light suddenly snapped on, a bedside lamp. There sitting beside me was some woman wearing one of those wide-eyed cock-sucker masks. Her long blonde hair fell all over a narrow leather bra that thrust her boobs high up and way out and straight at me! They came toward me until they filled my field of vision as without a word she climbed onto the bed and over me and sat down straddling my crotch! No panties. I could feel her slit naked and damp and hot against the undefended underside of my bare prick. Bare! I'd been stripped as naked as she was! And I felt myself growing hard under all that warm, moist pressure. Her cunt pressed against my flat tool and seemed to wriggle just a little! She leaned forward, and both of those fabulous breasts fell out of her bra into my face, the leather lifting them to my mouth from underneath. She rubbed a nipple against my lips and let out a moan. Oh, God! I opened my mouth and then closed it again on that fat nubbin, then began to suck, suck, pulling the whole engorged peak of that generous breast into my mouth, closing my eyes and pulling it deep inside and licking and tonguing away at it. "That's it, baby," I heard her whisper from behind her mask. "Suck me! Lick me! Make me excited!" I was only half-awake, but as my erection swelled I came more and more aware that her hot wetness was now sliding up and down on my cock, pressing it snug against my belly, making me as moist and slick and yielding and eager as she was! "More! Suck more!" Now her whisper was a low growl. I sucked more! I nursed passionately! A faint flowery perfume arose from her breasts, and I filled my mouth with the exquisite flavor of her skin! And those long, swollen teats filled my heart and soul, and my groin filled with a marvelous craving, a yearning for more, and I pushed my hips up toward her voluptuous open cunt to increase its pressure on my prick. I was now rock hard, painfully swollen! Then, suddenly the pressure ceased. My cock felt nothing. My mouth suddenly was empty. I opened my eyes. There she was, this wide-eyed, blonde princess with the perpetually open round mouth, risen up on her knees, my swollen penis aimed straight toward the middle of that mysterious dark space between her legs. It's helmeted head almost touched her slot and strained to get closer. I saw that her whole pussy area was shaved. The tips of her breasts jutted out, dark nipples and areolas poking at me. I couldn't help myself! I lunged my midriff up as high up as I could to push myself into that sweet spot, to enter her, bury myself in her! She lifted herself just high enough to evade the thrust, and then she traced a long, dark-painted fingernail across my chest. It lightly scratched a nipple, and I cried out an ecstatic "Ohhhhh!" "You wanna fuck me, baby?" Her voice was now hoarse, tense, the whispering gone guttural. Strained! Lusty! "You wanna put that hard, hot pole into me?" "Yes!" I said. I could see my prick straining toward her, erect beneath her. "Oh yes! Yes! Yes!" "How much? How bad?" "Oh! More than anything!" "Beg!" "Please! Please let me fuck you!" "Please?" I remembered a ritual of childhood. "Pretty please!" "With?" "With sugar and honey!" "Sugar and honey? How sweet! Whose is it?" I didn't understand. "Whose cock is this!" "Mine!" I cried out. "My cock!" "No," she said. "Wrong answer!" I caught on. "Yours!" I said. "It's yours! It's your cock! Take it! Make it all yours! Please!" "All right," she said. "It's mine. It belongs to me now!" And she sat down on it. I slid in and her body surrounded her cock, enveloped it in the sweet wet warmth of her quim. Then when it was fully inside her, all hers, my pelvic bone pushed against hers and she began to writhe on it. Ohhhh, bliss! Bliss! I thrust up and up into her mindlessly, blindly. In a few minutes she was in orgasm, lifting her masked face to the ceiling and crying out a breathy, rhythmic "Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhh!" to the air over me.. And I did the same thing a few seconds later, lifting my hips into her and holding myself high there, my back arched like a bow. And then I came. Buckets and buckets! And more buckets! Then with our crotches still tightly clamped together, my prick still swollen and impaled inside her as deep as it gets, she slumped over me. I could still smell the perfume on her breasts. I could feel the full weight of those breasts on my chest. Those hands with their long, dark, red-tipped fingers came forward and clutched my head on either side, covering my ears, taking possession of it, and she leaned the forehead of her mask against my face. Becky liked doing that too sometimes when she was coming down from an orgasm, just after we'd just finished making love. Becky. My wife. Making love. My God! OH my GAAAAHD WHAT had I DONE? What had I just done! I'd just fucked another woman! A whore! This was a whorehouse! I'd been inside a whore! I'd cum in her! For the first time since our marriage I'd been unfaithful to Becky! To my sweet, trusting Becky! My jealous, suspicious Becky! My cock immediately shrank and slipped out of this woman. Now it was a worm too small to close off the opening of her cum-filled cunt, which was still clamped tight against my groin. Warm wet fluids begin to trickle out of her onto me. "No!" I cried. "Get off me! I don't want this! Get off me!" She sat there a moment, those wide, blank, blue eyes staring innocently at me. That mouth saying "Oh!" in silence. Then she suddenly whispered, "You didn't want this?" "Please," I said. "Get off me! Untie me!" "You said 'Yes!' You begged for it! You pushed up for it, to put it into me! You gave it to me, your cock! You told me it was mine! You couldn't wait to put it into me!" I lay there, silent. She seemed to be getting increasingly hostile, angry with me for some obscure reason. Her anger building in some crazy, irrational way! And I was still tied up! Now I was afraid of her. With what I had just done, she could destroy my marriage. Just by telling Becky! Oh, God! How could I have been so stupid!" "You said it ...! You ...! You!" she said in that same hoarse whisper, but now incoherent, irate. Furious! Was this woman insane? "Please!" I said helplessly, near despair. In reply she shinnied up my body on her knees, leaving a wet streak of slimy warm cum on my belly and chest and neck, and then she lifted up her pelvis and she sat down on my face. "You want this?" she said. 'Oh, God!' I thought to myself. 'She's going to make me eat her cunt!' Early in our marriage I'd given head to Becky often, enjoyed it enormously, and I'd thought she enjoyed it too. But a couple of years ago she decided it was wrong, perverted. Who knows why? One night when she'd been working late and we'd finally gotten into bed and I made my muff diving moves as a preliminary to our regular lovemaking, she'd said, "No, Tim, I want the real thing!" Then when I finished giving her the real thing and was surprised to find I still wanted to go down on her, she'd said, "No more! I'm messy, you wouldn't like it!" The same thing the next time. And the time after that. So after a while I'd quit trying. She'd made her choice, and I chose to go along with her. Marriage was compromise. A phase of our lives was over, that was all. But this masked whore gave me no choice at all. Her soaking cunt clamped down tight on my nose and mouth and immediately I couldn't breathe. My eyes peered up at her, past her bare mound, past her belly, past those monumental breasts now hanging pink-tipped high over me, peered up at that implacable, wide-eyed, innocently surprised expression on the mask on her face. And I couldn't breathe! She twisted her snatch down onto my face almost cruelly, smearing my jaw and cheeks with my own cum mixed in with hers! My nose and mouth buried even deeper into her slit. I heard a sucking, sloshing as my head twisted back and forth trying to free up a way to air, but I couldn't find an opening anywhere! I was drowning in cum! Airless, about to die, asphyxiated in a whore's cunt! I looked at her masked face helplessly! For a moment she lurched onto my jaw and my nose was uncovered, and I sniffed in quickly, as deeply as I could, filling my lungs before she slid back and buried my nose again between the lips of her slit. That one gasp didn't last long! My eyes turned pleading! Hers looked down on me unperturbed! "Oh dear!" her mouth still seemed to say. I suddenly realized that she wanted to kill me! To choke me to death! Then she leaned way forward toward the head of the bed, up where my arms were tied, and that lifted her buttocks a little and freed my jaw. I could gape my jaw open! I opened wide and gasped air, sucked it deep into my lungs! Then she rocked back and clamped down again and tensed her belly, and my open mouth filled suddenly with hot, bitter, salty, slick gloop from inside her. What was it? What else could it be? Our mingled cum now squeezed out of her deep cunt into my gaping, gasping mouth. Then she rocked forward again against my nose, which sank even deeper between her fleshy labia, clamped closed. My mouth was free again, but to breathe in through it I had to swallow those phlegmy excretions! I did just that with all my heart, and managed to gasp air once more before she sat back again, and again I felt her muscles tighten as she squeezed more of my sperm and her own fluids out of herself and into my mouth! Then again she rocked forward again! I swallowed again, then gasped air again! It was as if she were spoon-feeding me! I realized that while I was gasping and swallowing, tonguing and gasping, my nose was pleasuring her clit, rubbing it gently through the slick lubrication. Her breathing grew short, and her rocking grew faster, until she began to make those same "Ahhhh!" cries to the ceiling all over again, over and over! Her pussy spasmed, more glops of sticky cum squeezed out of her, and more, and I swallowed them all! And as she permitted me, sucked in air. Then she leaned back once more, at her ease now, and wriggled. Again she buried my nose against her clit. But this time it was as if establishing who was helpless and who was in sole charge of my life. I looked up at her silently, my eyes pleading for mercy! Her wide blue mask eyes with those pursed "Oh" lips stared back down. She said nothing. I whimpered in my throat with the last of my spent air, my lungs now empty, exhausted, and I closed my eyes, prepared to die for my sin, suffocated to death inside a strange woman's cunt. "You bastard!" she suddenly said. No doubting it. She was insane. This was my last moment on earth. "You really don't know who I am, do you?," she said in a hiss. "Do you?" And suddenly she lifted up her whole body and sat her bare bottom down heavily on my chest. My face was free! Despite her thumping weight on my ribs I was able to suck in sweet air, and I gasped and gasped, my chest rising and falling even under the weight of her buttocks, until I could again speak. "Who?" I said. "What?" A terrible premonition now began to grow below my fright, something deeper and more ominous than my recent certainty that I was about to die tied to this bed, my body eventually tossed by the whorehouse caretakers into some dumpster, there to be squeezed and compressed and buried with cast-off garbage peelings and used cardboard cartons. "What?" That hiss was familiar! It was an anger I knew. But now not just angry, but a choking paroxysm. livid fury! Who? Not my secretary, she was never angry, though often stressed out and exasperated. Never angry at me, anyhow. Who? "They didn't tell you, did they? Your friends. Your so-called friends! I was still terrified. "Tell me what?" I gasped. "You went ahead and did it anyhow, didn't you? With a total stranger as far as you were concerned! How could you! How could you!!" A pause. Then with a cold contempt yet heated fury, "How often? How often before this!?" Baffling! What did this woman want? I started to babble excuses at random! "My friends brought me here," I said. "I didn't want to come here!" "But when you were tied up here you were all set, weren't you! You were more than willing! You wanted to fuck me, didn't you?" Then in a calmer, clear voice, "You begged to fuck me, didn't you? You gave me your cock in exchange for me to let you fuck me!" That last sounded horribly familiar when finally spoken in that clear tone of voice. Horribly! I was stunned. It was my wife's voice! "My God! Becky! Becky! Oh, God, Becky! What are you doing here?" ii. Her shoulders slumped, and suddenly her voice sounded pitiable, near weeping. "This was a surprise! A birthday surprise!" she said. "You didn't figure it out? You didn't know? They didn't tell you?" The full meaning of the last half-hour began to dawn on me. My face was coated with stiffening cum. I didn't dare move. She still straddled my chest. I was still tied up, trussed outstretched to the bed. I couldn't move anyhow. "Instead, you surprised me! Have you done this often before? How often?" "No, Becky, no! Never!" I was appalled. "I can't ever know that now!" "Becky, you've got to believe me! "No, Tim, I don't have to believe you. And in fact I don't believe you! You just fucked another woman, didn't you! A total stranger! Didn't you? You couldn't wait to stick it into her! You were eager! You ...! Well, you just wait here!" All this in my wife's voice, Becky's voice, spoken through the surprised, cock sucking mouth of the blonde whore sitting on my chest. She suddenly dismounted, got off me and the bed, and disappeared from my line of sight. Completely naked, still wearing that mask, she left the room. I heard the door slam. I strained at my bonds. Nothing. I felt awful! How could I be in this terrible situation? How did she get here? How did I get here? Was this her idea? Whose idea was it? I felt terrible. And it came to me. No, it was not her idea. It was Kevin and Marshall's idea! They'd put her up to it! They were out to ace me once and for all! Out to ruin my life, my wife, my marriage, my career. They'd set me up, and set Becky up too! But what could I do? Where was she? The dim light outside the window grew a little brighter. Maybe an hour passed. Maybe more. I heard a door slam, and I looked up to see Becky walking toward me, walking strangely, her thighs tightly closed and rubbing together. No mask, and a determined expression on her little-girl face. With a sudden swift move she mounted my face again. "Your friends tell me that my husband is an old customer here," she said. "That you come here often and boast about it at the office." She clamped her pussy onto my face again. "That's it, baby," she said in that hoarse whore's whisper I'd heard earlier. "Suck me! Lick me! Swallow it all down!" Again there was a warm bitter salty trickle, but then globs and blebs and rivers of gummy stuff began to pour out of her and into my mouth. Again I had to swallow to keep from choking or drowning in it! My God! Cum! It really was cum! But this time not mine! Some other man's? Whose? Again her rhythmic rocking as she rubbed her clit on my nose became a writhing, and she began to shriek "Suck! Lick! Swallow, dammit!" into the air and finally up at the ceiling. Once again she tensed rigid, and more massive gouts of viscous gloop squeezed out of her, slid from her pussy into my mouth. And then more! She orgasmed and orgasmed! Again I swallowed everything that came out of her, all of it, and I gulped air and then more cum! Then again she relaxed and slumped over onto me. The enormity of what I had just done dawned on me. My "friends" she called them. Kevin? Marshall? Still here? Their cum? I'd had to swallow their cum or else drown in it? I felt enraged and humiliated simultaneously. They'd beaten me! No, it was worse! Their cum had been inside my wife's pussy! They'd fucked my wife! And then I'd swallowed everything they'd pumped into her, as if I approved! Almost as if I'd sucked cum directly out of their cocks! Only worse! They'd cuckolded me! She shifted position onto her knees, and settled back down and squeezed yet again, and more of their excretions trickled into my mouth. It seemed to be endless, that pouring and dribbling and dripping and glopping! But what could I do? I sucked and licked and lapped and wiped and swallowed and felt grateful to breathe. It no longer seemed to matter. Finally one last time she opened her thighs and I gasped air. My face was now coated thick, my eyelids and mouth sticky with fresh and partly dried, gummy cum. There was cum in my ears, and a thick pomade of cum clotted my hair. I saw that she was looking down at me dispassionately. Her own face looking down at me. Not that obscene mask with its feigned wide-eyed innocence, but Becky's own face, and I saw that her expression was now ... relaxed. Quite comfortably ... calm! She handed me a towel. I reached for it and I realized that now I could, my hands were free. She must have undone my bonds during that last frenzied smearing and squashing of my face under her slimy bottom. "Here, wipe your face and get dressed, Tim. Time to go home! Your clothes are over on that chair." "What have you done?" I asked her, appalled. "It's what you've done, mister. And I'm not done yet! Don't think otherwise for a moment!" "Who were they? Those men? Were they...?" She was silent. Then "Yes. Your friends. The two men who came here with you. Who else?" I got even more fearful! "They set me up! I was drunk. They were supposed to take me home!" "And now you're taking them home, little man, aren't you! All that sperm spewed into me and dripped into you, all that semen I squeezed out of their pricks is now swallowed down snug and safe and warm in my Tiny Tim's tummy. You're taking the most essential part of them home to share our bed with us. The rest of them left about ten minutes ago I'd guess, when I told them the fun was over for now." I was shocked, still. "For now?" "You heard me. And don't let me hear excuses like that again, 'they set me up.' You did what you did all by yourself!" It struck me -- "Why did you call me that?" She glanced at me and said nothing. "That name. You called me 'Tiny Tim'!" "That's what they called you. Your two friends. While we were warming up your snack." "But why did you just call me that?" I dreaded to hear her answer. "Just now! 'Tiny Tim!' You've never called me that before!" A faint look of annoyance. "Oh, don't be obtuse, Tim! You know perfectly well why! What's just happened! I've just been fucked by two men ! I wanted to cram your infidelity to me down your throat, and for that I needed cum, and your Kevin and Marshall were delighted to oblige! I'm very familiar with the size of your penis, how it barely gets into me! Well, I happened to notice their sizes while I was harvesting their cum with my pussy! A girl can't help but notice the difference! I mean, it took them longer just to slide all the way into me than it takes you to poke in, jiggle, cum, and then flop out! I was near despair! "Do you know something, Tiny? I had to use both hands on those things to get them aimed toward my opening, and then I had to force them in! Slowly. They were thicker than my wrist, both of them! When they were finally crammed into me I couldn't move! And long? When those massive things began to push in and pull back out, my God how it felt! Did you know, when they were buried in me crotch to crotch, I could feel them bump and rub on something way deep inside me I didn't even know was there! A glory spot where you've never been! I got this intolerable yearning for more, and it drove me wild until I got more! I got more each time they slid out and then pushed back in!" There was nothing I could say. "So do you really want to know why now I call you 'Tiny', Tiny Tim? I don't think so, honey! Are you ready to go home now? Or do you want to wallow some more in your humiliation?" I felt utterly defeated. Somehow as guilty as she thought me. Grasping at the stair railing as we descended to the now-deserted reception room with the thick carpets and all those soft chairs, where I'd seen all those masked, scantily dressed women lounging about. Becky must have been one of them -- and saw me come in. Out we went into the early morning light. Out to the car, Becky's car. She'd driven it here herself. How did she know to come here? Grasping at straws, I asked "They didn't recognize you, did they? Kevin and Marshall? I mean, did they know you were my wife? Not one more whore? Did you keep your mask on?" Her glance was contemptuous. "Kevin brought me here! I followed his car! Of course they both knew who I was! They set up this little birthday treat for you last week, and they clued me in and swore me to secrecy." "They didn't tell me you'd be here," I said lamely. But I realized that in her eyes that only made it worse. Me whoring around while I thought my wife was home. "Sure, when I came into their room to reload my pussy I still wore my mask. The rubber lips on those masks do save wear and tear on your lips when you're warming a man up, getting him stiff with a preliminary blow job." I grasped at the thinnest of straws. "If you were wearing your mask, how did they know who you were when they were fucking you? And did you tell them what you meant to do with their cum? I mean, did they know you meant to sit on my face?" I stopped, then went on. "To make me eat it?" "Oh God, Tim, you're pathetic! Of course they knew! I fucked them gladly, gratefully, and barefaced -- I had to take off my mask when I was cramming and squeezing them into me, so I could see what I was doing with those massive pieces of meat! Of course they knew who I was! In fact when I told them why I wanted their semen, why I wanted each of them to fuck me twice so I'd be really juicy, they thought it was hilarious! Laugh? While they were waiting to recover for the second round they made up all sorts of jokes about you. Like, it was a whole new way for someone to get sloppy seconds. Like, if you got pregnant you'd never know which of them was the father! I think that gave them a little extra incentive, so they got harder faster. You know how it is!" I could say nothing. I swallowed. Their taste was still in my mouth. She seemed to forget who I was for a moment as we stood alongside the car. "You know, Tim," she said meditatively, as if I were some girlfriend she was confiding in, not her husband at all. "They really were great, those guys! They're enormous -- I've never felt so full in my whole life. But their moves are so completely different, did you know that? One's of them does quick probes, in-out-in-out, slamming into me over and over real fast. The other one moves so slowly, like a trucker backing a semi into a loading dock, then pulling forward to drive in again." She looked at me meaningfully. "You could learn a lot from those two." She paused. Then added, "And believe me, you will." "What do you mean by that?" I asked her. She was talking crazy. How should I know how those fuckers fuck? Why should I want to know? "I mean don't think this is the end of it! It's only the beginning. You ready? Get in the car. I'll drive." This all seemed so unfair! We drove in silence for a while. Then came my outburst. "Becky, I didn't do anything! I didn't mean to do anything! I was drunk! They brought me here! I was tied up! And anyhow I've only had sex with my own wife and with no one else! You think you're the injured party, but you've just had sex with two other men! Think how I feel about that! How humiliating it is! And you've humiliated me even more by making me ... eat them! And they know! I can't ever face them now! Think of the gloating! Think how they'll crow about it, tell everyone! How can I face anyone ever again? I'll have to quit and find work somewhere else, that's punishment enough for my not doing anything! I'm thinking that maybe I should leave you for what you just did! But dammit, It isn't your fault! They tricked you too! Tricked you to get at me. And they even got to fuck you in the bargain!" She pulled off the road and turned off the engine, and then turned to stare at me. I stared back at her. She waited a moment. Then she spoke in steely, measured tones. "Let's leave out what they told me, that you're a regular at that ... establishment. Let's forget who's responsible, I'll check that out. Let's just stay with what I saw. What I saw and what I know is that you were unfaithful to me as far as you were concerned and you loved it! Don't deny it, I was there! I came in to give you your birthday surprise and there you were all primed and ready and eager to fuck the first woman who came along! I thought at first you knew who I was, that you'd gotten into the spirit of it! I thought maybe you were helping me make the scene so we could both have fun!" She stopped a moment and looked away, trying to catch her breath and control her rising indignation. "But you didn't! That isn't how it worked out! You just lay there like a plucked rooster and you gave your cock to the first naked female to climb aboard! To a whore! You begged for a whore to fuck you, a total stranger! I wasn't your wife then, and you know it! You wanted to fuck that whore! And you did fuck her! You sinned in your heart and mind and will and act! And it was a sin of desire! You wanted to, badly, oh how badly! Don't deny it, I was there!" She glared at me, her eyes now white hot! I couldn't deny it. Any of it. "As for me going into their room and fucking them, your Kevin and Marshall, you think that was for your reasons, because I wanted to? Because I was hot for their bodies? You think I let them stretch out my cunt just for the thrill of it? You think I wasn't furious with you, blind with rage, absolutely determined to get even? For all you know, I didn't want to, I had to! You made me! And maybe that even increases my resentment of what you've done, because look what you made me do! Right? Doesn't it? Shouldn't it? Answer me!" Her voice had picked up, fueled now by angry recollection of deep injury. This was not a moment to oppose her. "Yes," I said, dispirited. "You want to leave me, good! Go! You're a loser! You're so gutless you want to quit your job just because two men played a little practical joke on you. Because they outsmarted you! Right now I wouldn't mind at all if you walked out on me! I've got a whole new feeling about what's out there for me when I'm not bound to you any more. Vastly bigger cocks, much more interesting men attached to them. Different moves! Better lovers! Smarter men -- they sure outsmarted you, that's what you just told me!" From me, not a word! "In fact, Tim, since you threaten to leave me, let's understand this! I'm taking you at your word! All this coming week I'm going to check out what it would be like if you left me. If I didn't feel bound to you. You first? Well, now it's my turn! I want to know what it feels like not being married to you, not feeling obliged! Feeling really free! Then we'll both see what we'll do!" She paused and considered what she'd just said. Then she added, "That's what I mean to do. You've had your turn, so you stay married. I'm a single woman this week! If you don't want to go along with that, go do what you like!" She restarted the car and we drove in silence for a while. As so often when we quarreled, whenever I defended myself I made a bad situation worse. Now I had to think. From her point of view she was justified, I could see that. She felt deeply hurt. I'd hurt her badly, never mind that I didn't mean to, didn't even know it. I'd been unfaithful to her and all the while she was right there watching it happen! How must she have felt? This was something she had to work out of her system. As for my leaving her, I certainly didn't want to end years of our marriage, our previous good years and our potential future good years, all because of only one night. Because of one night's trickery by my supposed colleagues -- that would really declare them the winners. Or even only one week out of a whole lifetime, if she really means to be a free agent for a whole week, to take a week to unload all her accumulated resentment. I tried to say something conciliatory. "I appreciate it, that you wanted to give me oral sex again, Becky. I really do appreciate it. It was a wonderful birthday gift. I know how you haven't wanted my face anywhere near your pussy the last couple of years. I remember the night you told me you couldn't respect me if I stuck my head in your crotch before we made love." Without taking her eyes off the road she said, "I wasn't wrong about that. But you know something, Tim? I was wrong not to want it this way." "What way?" "With you tied up! It's great! Feeling you under me helpless, drinking me, sucking me, licking up whatever I've got inside me, whatever I feel like feeding you, the same way a child eats his dinner. Slurping and swallowing all those juices for dear life, no matter what. Fighting for air, terrified I might let you choke to death under me. I especially liked it the second time, when you knew it wasn't your cum, that it was some other man's, but you had to eat me anyhow and you knew it, that you were swallowing some other man's cum as surely as if you were sucking his cock and he was squirting it into your mouth! I loved that feeling, I loved turning this man beneath me into a second hand pansy that way. Even better, I loved it that you knew that for all that sperm to be there, I'd just fucked another man. I loved it that you had to clean me up after another man had fucked me. Make it more convenient for her to fuck other men, make her love it all the more by getting her off with your mouth! You did get me off, you know. I loved it!" Once again I knew I should never have asked. She warmed to the topic. "What a sense of power that gave me, feeling you gripped firmly under my cunt by my thighs, seeing your eyes looking up at me and pleading for your life, begging for air! At that moment I felt no more for you than I'd feel for a turd I might hold in my bowels or else maybe expel and flush down the toilet. And you know something else? Your tongue and your nose are really great when you're really desperate, fighting for your life! When you know you have to satisfy me, make it seem somehow worth my while, or else die! When there's only one way you can persuade me to let you live!" I'd never seen this Becky before! Someone once told me that at work she could be ruthless, that she was really tough-minded. I'd never seen it. She'd never shown me that side of her! "Well, now you know that your life is something you'll need to earn from me. More important, I know that now. You owe me! And I've got to say it, Tiny Tim, your face is way better at making love than your pecker. So understand this, my tiny-dicked spouse! Under my ass is where you'll be all this coming week any time I lift a finger and point to it! Make no mistake about that! Clear your schedule for the whole week, mister, because you're home the whole time, on call! And you better agree to everything I'm saying right now, or else right now we're through! I'll drop you at a motel and send you your stuff tomorrow. Later today when I wake up, I mean." I struggled to say something, but different words choked me. It was clear enough that she meant what she said. And it was clear what she meant to do. Could I survive it? I had no idea. But should I be thinking only about myself? We'd had a good marriage. We could still have a good marriage. She was angry, but that would pass. Meanwhile I had to do the thinking for both of us! By the time we pulled into our driveway, I could say it. "Becky, all right! For a week, whatever you want to do, I'll manage somehow. I think our marriage is worth saving. I want to do everything I can to save it. I'll try to get through this week, and then we'll see if you think the books are balanced. I have to try! For the sake of our marriage! For us! For our future together! Because I do love you!" For the first time during this long, terrible night, Becky was impressed. She looked at me gravely, with respect. Her eyes softened. It was now full daylight, the sun would be up soon. She seemed to have trouble speaking. She just looked at me. "If I can't do it," I went on, "or if you still don't think this one week is enough, then we'll both pack it in. End our marriage, no animosity, no resentment, no fault either way. We'll have both tried. We'll each of us have done what we could. That's fair. That's only fair. Is that agreed?" She seemed about to say something, then stopped herself. Then in a quiet voice she said, "Agreed!" It was done. She began wrestling with her left hand, and I realized she was taking off her wedding ring. "Here," she said, handing it to me. "This is yours. When the week's over, if you still want to go on, ask me to take it back. Propose to me. Maybe I'll accept it and maybe I won't. It depends. You'll keep wearing your ring of course, because that's what you say you want. But for me this week, all bets are off." I took the little gold oval from her and stared at it. I'd slipped it onto her finger the day we were married, and it hadn't been off her finger since. I pocketed it. As Becky opened the car door she paused and then threw me a marvelously warm grin. "Happy thirtieth birthday, honey!" she said. "Today really is the first day of the rest of your life!" iii. It was much like any other day of my previous life. At first. We went to bed at sun-up and slept till early afternoon, as we always did whenever we were out really late. Becky didn't seem to be angry with me any more. When I hesitantly touched her with a toe to see if she'd feel repelled even in her sleep, as often when we'd quarreled and gone to bed without making up, she moved her whole leg against mine and cuddled. I woke first and made coffee, and when she came down she drank it silently, reading the paper and sharing small news items with me as she always did on any ordinary day. Had it happened at all? It had happened. And she meant to do what she'd do. I went into my study to review my accounts, and I left a long message on my secretary's voice-mail clearing my schedule for the next week, so I could stay home. That's what I'd agreed. I had to get stabilized, get my personal affairs in order, get my attitudes and defenses ironclad before I next faced those bastards at the office. What I could do to even the score I had no idea. Minimally, I'd have to endure their gloating by ignoring it. But the fact remained, they'd fucked my wife and she preferred sex with them to sex with me and she'd fed me their cum and I'd swallowed down every last sticky glop of it and we all four knew it and they knew why. Talk about coming out on top? If Kevin saw me and whipped out his dick and asked me to give him a quick pick-me-up, did I want to lick a few drops direct from the source, could I get angry? As manhood goes, what more had I to lose? I already felt emasculated! How could I respond at all? I lined up lists of my customers and theirs and stared at them, looking for some kind of retribution. I was feeling murderous yet helpless. Becky went out shopping during the late afternoon and came home with packages for herself and a small plastic bag filled with Chinese take-out for me. "Here's your dinner," she said. "I've got a date -- I'll be eating out." She smiled to herself. "Don't wait up!" I wasn't hungry. She went upstairs, and I heard her running a bath, and then a long silence told me she was enjoying a long soak as she always did when we were planning a romantic evening. The scent of her perfumed bath oils drifted down to where I was sitting and trying to read. Why hadn't I recognized her usual scent on her breasts when I was sucking them last night? Another hour went by in silence. I went up to see if she was all right. She was sitting at her make-up table, her eyelids heavily, seductively lines and shadowed, applying mascara to what seemed to me exceptionally long lashes that curled up and gave a bright expression to her whole face. She looked almost as wide-eyed as the eyes in those face masks, but much more mysteriously alluring. She let me watch her without comment. "You like?" she said finally, her reflection in her mirror smiling up at me. "I like," I said. I really did. "I just don't like what it's for!" "Oh, I'm not gonna tell you what it's for," she said in a playful sing-song. She seemed to be in a cheerful enough mood! "Not until I get home. Then maybe I'll give you a hint. A taste." She looked keenly up at me in the mirror and saw my distress, and started to smile, but instead made a sudden "Oh!" mouth and began painting it with her lipstick brush. Now she really did look like one of those fucking doll masks, I thought bitterly. Did she plan to suck a cock with those lips? There was nothing I could do or say. We had an understanding. It had a week to go. I saw too that she was wearing new, very provocative lingerie! A black lace Teddy I'd not seen before, the kind that snaps -- or unsnaps -- at the crotch. But neither a bra nor panties. I began to get a hard on. Her eyes flicked down and noticed. "Well well, you like this, don't you," she said, "me going out without you for a little adventure of my own. Is that it? Your little kink? The idea of me with another man turns you on? Sweetie, if that's true, you're going to be sooooo hot this week you won't be able to stand it!" "No, Becky," I said earnestly. "It's just that I like the way you look. It's really terrific! That's what's exciting! You haven't taken this much trouble to look this ... sexy since we got married!" "No, I suppose not," she said, now brushing and blending blush into her face powder, still looking at me in her mirror. "What for?" She looked pleased that her little barb had struck home. "But now you'll see a lot of me like this. That little thing of yours is going to be stiff all week I guess. But in your own pants, honey. Not in mine!" I suddenly felt a wave of jealousy sweep through me, and fear! And a foretaste of emptiness! This seductress was my wife! Who would she be seeing tonight? Doing what with him? I caught a quick glimpse in my mind's eye of Becky looking like this but with her legs wrapped around Kevin's naked waist while he shoved a massive pole hard and deep into her, repeatedly pounding her, her head thrown back to the ceiling, her mouth wide open in ecstatic joy. It was unspeakably painful! She watched me closely in her mirror as all sorts of expressions crossed my face. I decided that come what may I had to follow her tonight, wherever she went. I had to know who she was with! What she was doing! Not to break my promise, not to interfere, just to know! Though knowing would be a torment to me, I had to know! That way I'd regain some measure of control over my maddening imaginations! I tried to suppress those thoughts before she could read them. "Where are you going tonight?" I asked her as casually as possible. "With anyone I know?" She wasn't fooled. The tension in my voice was unmistakable. Becky put down her brush and thought for a moment. Then she swivelled around on her little chair and faced me directly. "Tim," she said, "you listen! You better understand this right now! Where and who with is none of your business! This is getting to you, is it? Well good, it should! I want it to get to you! But understand this! This week I'm a free woman and beholden to nobody! You aren't to know who I see or where, and you aren't to try to find out! You aren't to follow me! I want to know you're here when I leave and here when I get back and that you've been here the whole time! You're a married man, you belong home! I'm not married! I can go anywhere! Is that perfectly clear?" I was silent. "I thought so," she replied to my silence, "your face is so easy to read! Well, I guess I'll have to do it after all. Just remember, you brought it on yourself!" "Brought what? Do what?" Now I was frightened again. What could she have had in mind that was so quickly triggered? I hoped she was just referring to our agreement, but it didn't sound like it. It sounded worse. Much worse. "Fix it so you don't follow me. Fix it so I don't have some moonstruck man crazed with jealousy stalking me and going even crazier when he sees who my friends are and what we're doing with each other, maybe turn violent and injure someone! Fix it so you stay out of my life whenever I'm out with other men!" I remained silent. Again I didn't want to aggravate her further. Or give her any new ideas, or new justifications for whatever ideas she already had. "I guess I'll have to tie you up again," she said. "Like last night. Leave you stretched out flat on your back on the bed, unable to move until I get home." She smiled to herself. "It might be convenient, finding you tied up, face up and helpless when I get home, if things go the way I hope. I could share my pleasures with you again then. That would save me the trouble of douching before I get into bed! You liked eating me out before, didn't you? Maybe not? Well, if you're tied up it won't matter whether you like it or not, will it? You'll do it, won't you my tiny-dicked douchebag with the big ideas about following me! Yes, you will!" And she turned back to her mirror to begin penciling in the outlines of her lipstick, how to deal with me now settled. Was she mocking me? Did she mean it? I didn't know. I couldn't tell. I didn't like the idea at all! Tied up and helpless for hours? Left with my thoughts? I decided to raise an objection, but so gently she couldn't tell. "Ahh, how long do you expect to be gone tonight do you think, Becky?" It seemed an innocent question, idle curiosity, as if I were just making conversation. I hoped. She caught on immediately! And stared at me. Then said, "You're right, Tim. I don't want to have to think about you lying here helpless and unsupervised while I'm having my fun. I don't want to think about you at all tonight. And my purpose isn't to punish you, just to even the score a little and enjoy myself, just to take a vacation from you, to see what other men are like when I'm out on my own. I guess you're right. I mean, what if you needed to pee, you'd ruin the bed. Or what if the house should catch fire? Or what if I should really luck out and decide not to come back for a few days?" "I promise, I won't try to follow you," I said. "You once promised you'd be faithful to me, and look where that's landed us. Don't fool yourself! You certainly don't fool me!" I was silent again. "I guess I'll have to hire a babysitter," she said. "Somebody who can sit downstairs and know you're up here, and release you if there's some emergency. To untie you if I should call to tell her I won't be home for a few days. That teenage girl who lives down the street maybe. She has a sister too, I recall. One of them must certainly be free tonight. Or surely one of them has a friend who could help us out. I'll phone and see." She actually reached toward the phone alongside her make-up table! Extend my humiliation across the whole neighborhood? Into the prattling mouths of teenage girls? There'd be no end to it then! "Becky, everyone knows we don't have a baby here! The whole neighborhood would know what we're doing!" "That'll be your problem. If we divorce, you can keep the house and stay in the neighborhood and deal with it." So she didn't mind shaming me that way! She didn't expect to share my ruined reputation! I tried a different tack. "Becky," I said. "I have work to do. I have clients to call. They feel free to call me any time there's an emergency, you know that! This isn't fair to them. I can't spend whole evenings or days at a time tied up! I need to be able to answer the phone and get at my files. They trust me with their finances! They depend on me! You shouldn't punish them!" "You're right," she said immediately. And she sat silent a moment, thinking some more. Then she glanced across her make-up table at her own image in her mirror, and said almost to herself, "Of course!" She stood up. "All right, honey, here's how it is! Either I tie you up and swaddle you in diapers and get you a babysitter to sit downstairs in case there's some emergency, and you can pray there won't be any, or else you do exactly what I say right now, no hesitation, and you put your whole mind and heart into it. Which will it be?" "I don't want a babysitter," I said. "I want to be free to move around while you're ... out." "Good, then it's the second option. There's no time for all of it tonight, I'm leaving in twenty minutes. I'll have to trust that what I can do to you in twenty minutes will do the job. I think so. Anyhow, the real pressure isn't on either of us yet. I expect I'll be back home by midnight this time. It's only a first date. A girl doesn't yield up all to a man on a first date. Chances are we'll just feel each other out." She smiled to herself at that, then slyly at me, seeing that it made me uncomfortable. Then suddenly, "Pull over that chair and sit down here and give me your hand." Baffled, I did just that. She looked into my face, suddenly sprightly, amused. Her voice turned light-hearted! "I think this will work out just fine," she almost sang. "It'll be just like when I was a girl and we were having an all night pajama party! It'll be as if we were both getting ready for dates, only I'll go out on one and you'll stay home! It'll be fun! For me, maybe even for you too after all! Some men are strange! Hold that hand flat and very still!" And she opened up a small bottle of bright scarlet nail polish and took the brush and with a few deft strokes on each of my finger nails she colored them bright red. "Other hand," she said. "And waggle this hand in the air delicately until they're dry!" She painted the nails on my other hand also. I was shocked, amazed! What did she have in mind? I stared at my bright red fingernails. "Now your face," she said. I turned toward her. She was all business, but plainly enjoying herself. "I should have thought of this years ago," she said. "Tomorrow morning we'll get it all done properly!" "Get what done?" "Hold still! Open your eyes wide!" She picked up a small bottle of black liquid eyeliner and extracted a small-tipped brush from it, and a moment later swiped something cool and wet onto my lower eyelid. "Now close them, not tight!" The same thing on my upper eyelids. "Open again!" she was inspecting her handiwork, and looked satisfied. Then she picked up and twisted a tube, and in a few more strokes she'd put lipstick on my lips. "There!" she said. She looked me over with that impassive evaluating stare women use on each other. "No, more!" Then dipped a small brush into dark blue eye-shadow and aimed it toward my eyes. I closed them. She wiped some on each eyelid, then spread it. "That'll do it, I think," she said, satisfied. "You don't look at all as ridiculous as I'd expected, you know? You don't look ridiculous at all, in fact. You've never looked much like a man, with that small-boned face of yours, but who'd have thought you'd shape up looking so girly. So effeminate! However, what I think doesn't matter, it's what you think. Take a look at yourself in the mirror. Hold your hands up to your chin, so your nails are part of the picture." I did as she asked. My face looked back at me petulantly, eyes deeply shadowed, my lips red. Faggotty? No, more like an awkward girl pretending to pose for a cosmetic commercial. I glanced at my fingers. The red nail polish she'd put on them was already dry. I wasn't a girl! I was a man who was wearing lipstick and sexy dark eyes and red nail polish! I thrust my hands into my pockets, ashamed. "Good!" she said. "That's what I'd hoped. I'm running a little late, would you hand me my dress over there, honey? That's it, take those hands out of those pockets, there's only us girls here. Very pretty, those red fingernails flashy on that black taffeta. I never noticed how long and thin your fingers are, Tim, we should get you some rings and a bracelet! Carefully, pick that dress up with both hands, by the shoulders, they're padded. Thank you, you're a dear. I think this is going to be fun, you helping me get ready for my dates. I really do need to teach you about make-up, so you can do my face, make me pretty for my men." Another thought struck her. "Of course," she said to herself again. She dashed to her drawers and her closet too quickly for me to see what she was doing, and returned bearing a long sleeved blouse with a high frilly collar, and dangling a brassiere from one finger. "Strip to the waist!" she ordered. I saw what she intended, and nearly panicked. "Becky!" I said, frightened, I couldn't tell why. "Becky, I...." "You nothing!" she said. "I haven't any more time! Strip!" I did. She slipped her brassiere over my arms onto my chest, and clipped it in back. And pulled my pectoral muscles into the cups. Then held out the blouse back to front it seemed, and told me to slip my arms into the sleeves. When she buttoned what must