Alicia Uncovered-Part 1 free porn video

Alicia Uncovered - 1 Ms. Grundy [email protected] Alan was not always a nasty tyrant. When Karen met and married him four years ago he was sweet and gentle and considerate, but over the last year all that seemed to change. Karen knew that her earning more than he stuck in his craw, but he was so embarrassed that it did bother him that he wouldn't even talk about it. She thought things would improve when he got his promotion. But when that fell through, and it went to someone else, and a woman at that, things only got worse. No matter how hard she tried to comfort him, encourage him, and stroke his ego, he seemed incapable of not taking it out on her. It had been bad for a long time, but the worst began almost a year ago. Until then he'd only been morose and occasionally nasty. But for a long time now he'd been downright rotten, including yelling at her in such an intimidating and hurtful way that she could only cry and run to the bedroom. It wasn't even that she was physically afraid since Alan wasn't all that big, and she herself was in pretty good shape. Her 5'6" body was trim and well muscled from gym workouts including some with weights. But violence horrified her and she could never imagine resorting to it. -=:-=-:-=-:-=-:-=- Alan sat at his desk in his open cubicle pretending to stare at his computer monitor. In reality, he was watching his boss, Jane Green, have a laughing chat with the VP of their section, Mark Foster. That damn job-stealing uppity conniving bitch was sucking up to the VP again just to make sure that the promotion she stole from him stayed hers forever. He shot daggers at her just as she happened to look his way. Damn, he knew she caught him staring. He watched her turn to her secretary, Gloria, and say something. A moment later Gloria headed over to him. Behind her he could see Jane Green and the VP once again in conversation, but he knew the bitch was watching. "Excuse me, Alan, but Ms. Green wants to know if the projections will be finished soon." Alan was galled. This young smart ass girl got to call him by his first name, while they had to call job-stealing Jane by Ms. Green. Formality came with a private office. Alan looked at Gloria, who at 21 and what anyone would call attractive, would probably enter the executive program and be his boss in two years. It wasn't fair. He snarled at her and said, "They'll be ready when I'm finished, you stupid bitch. Now get out of my face." Gloria's face clouded over and she bit her lip to fight back tears. She quickly returned to her desk, but her demeanor was noticed by her boss who relayed the problem to VP Mark Foster. Two hours later a livid Alan was driving home. That pompous VP had torn a strip off him. Imagine lecturing him on how to treat staff. And giving him an ultimatum! Shape up or ship out. Accept that he had been passed over for promotion or move on to another company. Right. Like there were lots of jobs for 30 year old has- beens like him. Alan should be the VP, not Foster, and then he could fire Jane Foster's ass and that silly perky secretary as well. And then the damn VP sent him home early: "Alan, take the rest of the afternoon off, and when you return on Monday make sure you've decided to straighten out and fly right." All this in front of everyone. They all watched as that 6'3" lug towered over him and watched him slink away. Alan screeched into his driveway, jumped out of his car and quickly entered his house, going straight for the bar. Of course, Karen, his wife, the one of the two of them who was an executive, wasn't here when he needed her. He threw back a scotch, took another, and then a third as he brooded on how unfair life was. By the time Karen arrived at home Alan was fuming, and he immediately lit into her, demanding to know where she'd been. She wasn't even really late, it just seemed that way to Alan. Karen tried to explain that, but he was having none of it. He just kept growling and getting more and more wound up, until finally, when she tried to find out what was wrong, he slapped her. It wasn't a hard slap. In fact, it wasn't even really on target, but it was the straw that broke Karen's back. She looked at him with disdain while he stood there shamefaced, then she picked up her purse and left the house. Karen had no idea where she would go when she pulled out of the driveway, but she knew she had to get away. Alan had been intolerable for a very long time, but now he had crossed the line, and she wasn't sure if she could still love him, let alone continue to live with him. She could feel her anger coursing through her, and it suddenly occurred to her to go to the gym. She could have a good workout to dissipate her anger, a relaxing sauna, and maybe even run into a girlfriend who could advise her. Which is exactly what happened. -=:-=-:-=-:-=-:-=- It was around noon the next day that Karen returned home. Alan was quick to apologize, but Karen had heard better, and left to shower and change. When she came back to the living room she told Alan that a friend of hers was coming over for wine and a Jacuzzi, and he should make himself presentable and try to behave. "I don't really feel like company," he complained, but backed down in the face of Karen's look. "And use the guest room," she added, "you're not sharing my bed till this is all straightened out. If ever." Alan turned to argue, but after looking at Karen, decided to just go along for now. An hour later there was a ring at the door, and Karen asked Alan to get it. He opened the door to a tall, attractive woman with straight black hair to her shoulders, and the most perfect pair of C-cup breasts he'd ever seen. He stood dumbfounded until she stuck out her hand, and said, "Hello, I'm Grace. You must be Alan." Alan nodded, and took her hand. Suddenly he yelped as her grip crushed his fingers. She held him for a second even after he yelped, and then said, "Oh, I'm so sorry, did I hurt you?" Rubbing his fingers, Alan shook his head, no, while Grace moved past him to enter the room. "Oh, there you are," she said to Karen who immediately lit up at the sight of her friend. The two women embraced, and then Grace said, "Well, let's see about this wine and Jacuzzi you were talking about." "Sure," Karen said, "let me just go and get the wine, and ..." "Oh, can't Alan do that? I want you to show me the yard." Grace turned to Alan and gave him a self-assured smile. "Won't you be a dear and get the wine for us? It would be so sweet of you." Alan could hardly say no, so he agreed, and as he turned toward the kitchen he heard Grace say, "That's a good boy, Alan." That remark gave him pause, but it was too late to make a fuss now. When he arrived at the patio with the bottle and three glasses, the two women were sitting there chatting. Grace was wearing a gauzy blouse through which Alan could clearly see her pink lace brassiere and even just make out the color of her nipples beneath the fabric. Alan sat, all the while watching Grace's tits with an open mouth and a stiffening cock. "Thank you," Grace said as Karen poured some wine. "Now would anyone mind if I removed my blouse? I am so keen to work on my tan." "Oh, please," Karen said, "you're our guest, just make yourself comfortable." Grace slowly unbuttoned and removed her blouse, fully exposing the lace of her bra, and presenting to Alan an image that totally transfixed him. "Do you like my breasts, Alan?" Grace asked, breaking his reverie. "Don't be shy, many men do, and many women as well for that matter." Alan swallowed a glass of wine, stuttered and looked away. Grace repeated herself in a firmer voice: "Alan, I asked if you like my breasts. You were staring at them and almost drooling, so I think we know the answer, but I want to hear it from you." Alan swallowed more wine and looked at his wife, who simply cocked her head and raised one eyebrow as if to say, well, answer the question. Then she re-filled his glass. "Uhm, uh, well, I guess, yes ..., they're very attractive, uh, ..." "My goodness, Alan," Grace said in wonder, "what's your problem? A real man would be telling me, Yeah, babe, you've got hot tits!" Again Alan looked at his wife who was now grinning at his embarrassment. He looked back to Grace and her magnificent boobs, and said, "Well, uh, yeah, babe, you've got, uh, great, uh, I mean, ..., you've..." In the midst of this both women broke up laughing which effectively shut Alan up. "Oh, too little too late, Alan sweetie. You didn't sound like a hot stud; no, more like a little boy. Or, you know what, maybe more like a little girl." Grace turned to Karen: "What do you think, Karen, were there little girlish overtones there? Sort of squealy sounds." "Oh, yes," Karen said thoughtfully, "definite little girl squealy overtones." "Hey," Alan said, "what the hell is this ..." "Now don't get your panties in a knot, Alicia, we're just teasing. Don't you have a sense of humor?" Alan, feeling confused, decided to smile and let it pass. "But tell me," Grace continued, "all kidding aside. Would you like to see my breasts?" Alan's eyes went wide and he looked to his wife who merely shrugged. "I mean," Grace said, "it's very private back here. No one but us can see - so would you like to? See, that is?" Alan was not going to blow this chance. "Yeah, sure," he said, "I'd love to see your tits." "O.k., then, but first show me yours." "What?" "Show me yours. Take off your shirt and show me your tits." Alan hesitated a moment, then pulled his shirt over his head revealing his white chest - why not? Two could play this game. "There you go," he said to Grace. "Now it's your turn." Grace ignored him and turned to Karen. "Not very big are they? I mean, she's really flat-chested." Grace turned her attention back to Alan. "You really ought to do some exercises; I could teach you, you know. Was your mother as small as you?" Alan was so taken aback by this line of talk that he instinctively covered his chest. "No, no," Grace chided, "no fair covering up. At least let me see your tiny little nipples." Grace reached over and pulled Alan's arm down, and when she did so he cold not help but be aware of her strength. "That's better. But clearly, you're not a girl. I was wrong about that." Well, Alan thought, at least that was something. Then he reiterated his demand: "Come on, Grace, you've got to show me yours now." "Sure," Grace answered, "but there's just one other thing. I'll only take my brassiere off if you put it on." "What? Why should I put your bra on?" "So you can get to see my tits, silly. And they really are worth seeing, aren't they, Karen?" Karen smiled softly and leaned in ever so slightly closer to Grace, then, looking at Grace's chest, she said, "Oh yes, they are very beautiful. And, Alan," she added looking at him now, "they're real, too." This was too much for Alan. The suggestion, the hint, that his wife Karen had some intimacy with Grace's breasts, that there was some erotic connection between them was making him hotter than he could stand. "Uh, ok, all right. I'll put it on." "You'll put what on, Alan?" Alan swallowed. "I'll put your bra on." "But do you want to?" "Yes, I want to see your tits." "But do you want to put my brassiere on? You have to want to, Alan. It's no good otherwise." And saying this, Grace leaned in so that Alan's view of her cleavage was even better. He took a deep breath and another gulp of wine. He felt like his cock might burst. "Please, Grace, I want to wear your bra. Please." "Brassiere." "Yes. Please, Grace, would you please let me wear your brassiere. I very much want to wear it. Please." Grace smiled sweetly at Alan, looked at Karen, and then put her hands behind her to the clasp of her bra. "I guess she really does want her first bra, doesn't she, Karen?" "Yes," Karen said with an appraising look at Alan, "it certainly sounds like it." "Well, all right then," Grace said as she stood and let the bra fall away from her breasts. She pulled her shoulders back and let Alan, who was staring open-mouthed, have a good look. Then she walked around the table until she was facing him, and held the brassiere up. "Ok, now, Alicia, came get it." Alan stood as if in a trance, his eyes glued to Grace's perfect tits. "Arms straight out, dearie." His arms rose as if on command. Grace slid the bra over them and up to his chest, all the while coming closer to him. Then, without breaking contact she moved behind him and closed the clasp, and at the same time let her nipples brush against his back. "Feel good, doesn't it?" Alan nodded. "You see, Karen, Alicia likes the way her brassiere feels." Alan tried to protest, to explain that wasn't what he meant... But Grace just rubbed against him slightly and he forgot what he was saying. Grace turned him around and sat him down on a chaise in the sun. "I'll bet," she said as she ran her fingers over her nipples, "you wished you had a pair of beautiful breasts just like mine, round, sensitive, sweet tits you could play with and show off. Don't you, Alicia?" "No," Alan protested weakly, "I don't want breasts. I'm a man, a..." But that was as far as he got before the two women began laughing. "You sure don't look much like a man right now," Grace said, standing over him with hand on her hips. "Karen, does a man wear a pink lace brassiere?" "No, Grace, a man most certainly does not." "Then who? Or what?" Karen got up came and stood beside Grace so that the two women seemed to tower over him. "Why a sissy, that's who. Boys who wear pink lace brassieres are sissies, Grace. Just like my husband Alan, the sissy with the pink lace brassiere." Suddenly Alan snapped out of his trance. He leapt up and at the same time reached around him to unhook the bra. But while he struggled with the unfamiliar hooks inconveniently behind him, Grace smacked his hands down. "Oh, no, sissy, you're keeping it on. A deal's a deal." "The hell you say," Alan snorted while trying to reach the clasp. But Grace just kept batting his arms at the elbows to keep his hands away from the hooks. In frustration, Alan pushed at Grace's shoulder, but she merely pushed him back harder. Now, off balance, he forgot about the brassiere and directed his anger at her. "Goddamn you, I've had enough of this!" he said, and came at her. "Oh," she said as she easily stepped aside, "sissy's upset." Alan turned and swung at Grace, and as he did so she deftly blocked the punch, and slapped him in the face. He froze and she slapped him again, this time from the other side. Grace could see tears fill his eyes. "Oh, look, Karen, the little sissy's going to cry. Don't cry sissy," Grace said to him as she moved forward, standing fearless and straight in front of him. "Don't cry, fight back," she said as she sent another slap, this time softer and quicker, like's a snake's tongue lashing out. Alan stepped back and put his hands up in front of him, but Grace knocked them down and moved closer. Slap, her hand went so fast it was almost invisible. Slap, another one. Alan looked around him. All he wanted now was to get away from this crazy, vicious woman. He stepped aside and made a dash for the house, but Karen stepped in his way. "Oh, no, darling, you mustn't leave the party." Alan stepped back and tried to go the other way, but Grace caught him and tripped him so that he collapsed backwards onto the grass. Then she straddled his prone body, placing one of her knees on each of his arms, pinning him helplessly. "There," she said, "now you can see my breasts perfectly. Isn't that nice, sissy?" Alan said nothing, and a slap, soft but with a touch of sharpness brought the answer, "Yes." "Yes, ma'am," Grace corrected. "Yes, ma'am." "You must remember - slap - that when a woman - slap - asks a sissy a question - slap - the sissy always answers - slap - respectfully. Isn't that right, sissy?" "Yes, ma'am." "Then - slap - tell us." Alan was crying now, and between little sobs he said, "When a woman asks a sissy a question the sissy must answer, ma'am." "That's better," she allowed. She then called Karen over, and Alan's wife sat down on the grass next to Grace and beside his head. When Alan looked up he could see Grace's tits not more than a foot from him, her brown nipples staring at him. He wanted nothing more than to have one of those beautiful breasts in his mouth. As if reading his mind, Grace said, "You'd like to suck my breast, wouldn't you, sissy?" "Yes, ma'am," Alan sighed, "I would like that very much." Karen put her hand on Alan's brassiere and began to trace his nipple with her finger. "How would you do it?" Karen asked him. "Would you do it like this?" she said, and then leaned in and licked Grace's nipple with her tongue. Grace groaned and rubbed herself on Alan. "Or would you do it like this," Karen went on as she took Grace's breast deep into her mouth and sucked. Alan moaned in lust and frustration. He'd never seen anything hotter than his wife sucking Grace's tit. Grace moaned, then sighed as Karen took her breast away. "Now tell me, sissy Alicia," Grace said as she moved her knees to free his arms, "what do sissies who want to look pretty and suck a woman's breast put on their lips?" Alan's eyes widened. He looked from Grace to Karen who merely smiled sweetly at him. He thought for just a moment, then, oh, of course, he knew the answer, knew what he was supposed to say, but... "Karen," Graces said, "please give the sissy a small but sharp little slap." Alan's eyes opened wider as Karen sat up, leaned over, gave him exactly that. "Excellent," Grace commended, "that's an attention slap and it's meant to embarrass, establish superiority, but not to hurt seriously." She smiled down at Alan, and continued: "If Alicia does not answer - and answer properly - in three seconds, you must give her a discipline slap. That's always hard enough to leave an imprint and strong enough so that the third should bring tears to a sissy's eyes." Grace, still looking at Alan, began to count: "One, two, ..." "Lipstick, ma'am!" Karen raised her hand up, but before she could move further, Alan expanded: "Sissy Alicia wants lipstick before she sucks a woman's breast." And as he said this, both women could see his body relax and surrender as if his will were no longer his own. Grace raised herself to her knees, and then stood. Karen followed suit, so that both women were standing over the prone Alan. "Alicia wants lipstick, Karen. Isn't that sweet?" "It certainly is," Karen said as she made herself comfortable in a lawn chair and beckoned Grace to do the same beside her. When Grace was seated beside her, Karen told Alan: "Alicia, get on your knees and come over in front of us." Alan slowly rose to his knees. He was in a state of total confusion and felt as if he were moving through a heavy liquid that completely surrounded him. As he got to his knees he became very aware of the feeling of the brassiere snug around his chest. He looked up at the two women. Grace, her breasts still exposed, looked so strong and powerful. Alan could see her muscles outlined on her arms and chests, but she till looked totally womanly. His wife Karen looked so different, so completely in control, as if..., as if she had discovered that her pain in the ass self- important husband was really a sissy, and was enjoying that fact immensely. The women stared at him expectantly, and he slowly moved on his knees until he was right in front of them. Karen reached into her purse on the ground beside her chair and took out two lipsticks. Slowly, she uncapped them and twisted the tubes until the lipstick come up above the rim. They were both glossy, but one was a soft pink while the other was a deep red. She held them both out in front of Alan. "Now tell me, sissy, which lipstick do you think is right for you?" Once again Alan knew the answer. "I think the pink one is right for me." "That's good," Grace allowed. "But sissies don't say 'I' or 'me' and we also want a reason." Alan looked at her. She was leaning back in the chair totally relaxed, totally confident. He swallowed and spoke again. "Sissy thinks the pink is the right one, ma'am, because pink is for sissies." Karen reached out and stroked Alan's face. "Excellent, Alicia. And why else is it the right color?" He searched his mind, and was at a loss until he saw Karen looking at his brassiere - his brassiere - significantly. Then almost excitedly, he said, "Oh! Because sissy's brassiere is pink and the pink lipstick matches." The two women clapped their hands and beamed at him. "Wonderful," Karen said, "sissy Alicia got it just right!." Grace cocked her head and beamed at him as she might a small child who had performed a cute trick. "What a clever little sissy you are, Alicia! I knew it all along." Karen leaned over to Alan, saying, "Now purse your lips, sissy, and I'll put the pretty lipstick on you." Alan followed her instructions, and felt the soft, creamy lipstick over his lips. It felt delicious as Karen held his chin and painted his lips. "Now," Grace commanded added after admiring Karen's handiwork, "remove those silly shorts and underpants immediately." Alan made a slight, tentative motion to rise, but Grace quickly shook her head, no. So Alan awkwardly struggled out of the rest of his clothes until he was kneeling in front of his wife and her friend in only a brassiere - and sporting what felt to him like the strongest erection he'd ever had. Blushing a deep red he held his palms crossed in front of his genitals and stared at the ground. His line of sight meant that he could not prepare for the hard slap that came from Karen and almost knocked him to the ground. "Don't you ever cover yourself when you're naked!" she snarled at him. "You have no modesty, you pathetic little sissy. Do you understand that?" Alan recovered himself just before the next slap was coming. "I'm sorry..., no! I mean, sissy is sorry for covering himself in front of women, ma'am." And he placed his hands carefully at his side. Karen leaned back. Grace looked at her and said, "That was good, Karen. Sissies need immediate discipline. Any slacking of that at all and they can slide right back into ego and abuse. Remember to try and always swing your arm at the same force with a discipline slap, and let how far you bring it back determine the pain." Karen brought her hand back and slapped the air a few times. "Yes, I think I see what you mean." Then she turned her attention back to Alan. "I hope you understand that, Alicia. You are a sissy, and you will never hesitate to be naked in front of anyone, show your panties, or have any sense of modesty or shame. That's for men and women, not for sissies." Karen paused to let her words sink in. "There is nothing more important than knowing who and what you are. It's the difference between being good and being bad." "Yes, Miss Karen. Sissy Alicia understands." "Does she? Let's just see, shall we?" Karen turned to Grace who reached into her bag and removed two garments. One was a par of men's boxer shorts, blue with white striping. She flapped them out and handed them to Karen who put them on her lap. The second garment was a pair of pink panties with a lace front and white ruffles along the seat. Grace held them up, then placed them on her lap. Alan was now kneeling before the two women, one of whom had a pair of boxers on her lap, the other a pair of ridiculously lacy and feminine panties. He was pretty sure what was coming, and despite himself he could feel his erection twitching. "Now, Alicia," Karen said, "we need to cover that horrid little thing of yours. There are two possibilities before you. The choice is entirely yours. Which shall it be?" Karen held up the boxers. "Do you want these nice masculine boxer shorts?" she put them down, and Grace held up the panties. "Maybe," Grace said, "you think it more appropriate that you wear these panties?" She turned them around so that the ruffles on the back could be seen. "After all, they seem to be the perfect sissy pants, don't they?" "My, yes," Karen agreed, "only a sissy would wear something like those. I mean, a woman wouldn't, and I certainly can't imagine a man wearing them. No, Grace, you're absolutely right: no one but a sissy would wear those panties." Karen then turned to Alan. "So, Alicia, which is it to be?' Alan looked from one pair of underpants to the other, but his gaze ended up lingering on the panties. He couldn't help it. He wanted the panties. He knew it was his choice. He knew they weren't forcing him - not really. He could have leapt up and run out; so what if he had on nothing but a bra and lipstick. Sure, it would have been insane, but a neighbor would have loaned him a robe, and a friend would have come and collected him. But he was still here, kneeling before his wife, perfectly prepared to accept her slaps, and desperate to be put into those adorable pink ruffled lace panties. "The panties, please, Miss Karen." "What?" she exclaimed. "You want to wear those panties?" "Yes, please." "Tell me." "Sissy Alicia wants to wear the pretty sissy pants, please Miss Karen. Sissy Alicia wants to wear what she should be wearing, Miss Grace." Karen handed Alan the panties. "Here you go, sissy. You may stand up and put them on." "Thank you, Miss Karen," Alan dutifully replied. He stood before them and slowly stepped into the panties, having great difficulty pressing his full erection down far enough to fit it in. One they were up he stood there in his panties and brassiere, staring down at the ground in total humiliation. Karen told him to step forward, and when he did she adjusted the panties, pulling up the waistband and fluffing up the ruffles. She patted his raging erection, shook her head sadly, and spoke to him. "Alicia, that erection is unacceptable. We'll have to do something about that." "Is that an erection?" Grace asked. "That little thing? My goodness, no wonder she was such a bully - imagine how inadequate he must have felt." Alan was blushing furiously, and with every comment his cock throbbed even more. "Please, Miss Karen, Miss Grace," he said in a wheedling voice, "please may I cum?" "Not only does he have the effrontery to have an erection without permission, Grace, but now she wants to cum! Can you imagine?" "Well," Grace responded sympathetically, "she has been trying, and after all, given her size cumming can't amount to that much." Karen looked thoughtful for a minute, then said, "Hmm, maybe. But first, Alicia, you go inside and make up three green salads, two with dressing, one without. And also make us two bloody Marys, and bring yourself a glass of water. Your drinking days are over." Alan looked at her. "Now go, scoot, sissy." Without being told, Alan did a little bob of a curtsy and ran into the kitchen. He was hurriedly making the salads, tearing lettuce, cutting tomatoes and cucumbers, shredding cheese, when he suddenly stopped. What was he doing? He was in his own kitchen wearing pink ruffled panties, a lacy pink brassiere and lipstick. Had he gone mad? Was he drugged? Alan turned and look out the kitchen window to the backyard where the two women sat. They were talking and laughing, and as he watched, Grace gently stroked Karen's cheek receiving a warm sensual smile in return. Alan's cock throbbed. He gulped once then resumed his salad and drink preparations. When he returned to the yard he had the three salads, two dressed, one not, and the drinks, two bloody Marys, one water, all on a tray. Grace, he assumed, was dieting and did not want dressing. This he discovered was wrong when Karen took one dressed salad and gave the other to Grace. "Now, sissy Alicia," Karen said, "I assume you still want to cum?" Alan's heart leapt. "Oh, yes, ma'am, please. Sissy Alicia very much wants to come." "Well," Karen said to Grace, "what do you think?" "I don't see why not, but it would be a shame to let it go to waste." Then she addressed a question to Alan: "Alicia, what's a sissy's favorite kind of salad dressing?" Alan looked at Grace, then at Karen, then at his salad - his undressed salad. He took a half step back. "Oh, no. Please...don't make me...I don't...sissy Alicia doesn't..." "Now, darling," Karen said in a patronizing voice, "no one's going to make you do anything. But if you're going to cum, you must answer Grace. Now, what sort of salad dressing does a sissy always prefer?" Alan sighed. He did not want to answer. He would not answer. He would run into the house, grab a pair of shorts and make a break for it. "C, c, cum," he whispered. "Did you hear that?" Grace said to Karen. "Precious," Karen said to Alan, "you have to say it more loudly and, I think, more politely as well. Why don't you kneel down here and try again." Alan felt himself sink involuntarily to the spot indicated by Karen's finger. "Now look at us and answer." Alan felt a tear fall from his eye at the same time that his cock throbbed in his panties. "A sissy's favorite dressing is cum, ma'am." "There," Karen said with satisfaction, "that wasn't so bad." Then she reached over and placed Alan's salad on the ground before him. "And now you can put dressing on your salad. But do it slowly, and don't finish until you're told to, is that clear?" Alan nodded. "All right, then. Lower your panties and begin stroking your little weenie. The longer you stroke, the better the dressing will be." Alan obediently lowered his panties and began to slowly stroke his cock. Karen and Grace both smiled and nodded in approval, then began to chat about the gym they attended. Virtually ignoring Alan, they discussed the newest exercise machine, and then quickly segued into descriptions of some of the hot studs who used the gym. "The great thing," Grace was saying, "about those weight lifting tights is that they leave nothing to the imagination." "Oh, yeah," Karen concurred. "I love doing my Stairmaster while imagining having one of those monsters to play with. I mean," she said with a glance at Alan, "that little thing's been my only entertainment till now." "Good Lord, Karen, you have been missing out. We'll have to do something about that. I mean, until you've had a real cock filling you and fucking you that you just scream and wail, well, you haven't lived." She turned to Alan. "That sissy weenie couldn't do much for you, I don't think." "No," Karen agreed, "except give me lots of practice in faking orgasms!" Both women laughed at that, and when their giggling subsided, Grace queried Alan: "You wouldn't mind if your wife got a real cock, would you, Alicia? I mean, sissies are never jealous because they know they're not really men, isn't that right?" Alan's breath was coming faster and faster, in spite of himself the conversation was arousing him mightily. "Why don't you tell Karen that's it's all right for her to take a lover since you're a sissy, hey? Do that nicely, and then I'll let you dress your salad." Alan swallowed hard, his breath coming very fast now. The two women were seated above him while he remained on his knees stroking his pathetic weenie. He looked up at them and knew he would do anything and say anything. They were right: he was a sissy, a pathetic sissy, a panty wearing sissy without rights or demands. "Yes," he said, his eyes wide and his breath coming quickly, "Miss Karen can do as she pleases." "I can take lovers?" "Yes, Miss Karen, you can take lovers." "You see, Karen, Alicia's a true sissy. Can't you just picture her in her pretty panties, brassiere and lipstick, and maybe even makeup and a little maid's outfit, serving drinks to you and your stud as you lounge in bed? Can you picture that, Alicia?" She leaned over to Alan so that her breasts were close to him and breathed her words. "Can you picture yourself serving your mistress and her lover? Watching them as their hot sweaty bodies writhe in pleasure? Can you see yourself doing that? Tell us, Alicia, tell us as you cum in your salad. Tell us!" "Yes," screamed Alan, "yes, I can, I can, I can." "And Karen should have lovers?" "Yes, she should, yes, yes, she should." "Because...?" Alan was close to passing out he was so breathless, but he managed to shout as he came, shooting cum all over his salad, "Because I'm a sissy, a sissy, a sissy..." And as globs of cum, more than he'd ever produced before, flew all over his salad, Karen placed herself on Grace's lap, put her arms around her neck and lay her head on her shoulder. "Now, Alicia," she told her husband, "get your face down into that plate and eat your lunch all up. I know you'll like it, all sissies do. And that's a good thing, since you'll be cleaning me up, sissy style, after my lovers have finished." Grace gently caressed Karen's breast. "See," she told her, "from everything you said, I knew he was a natural. Now why don't we go upstairs?" "Great idea," Karen purred. Then she turned to Alicia. "Sissy dear, when you've finished, clean the kitchen. After, shower, shave your legs, and come to the bedroom. I'm sure you'll be eager to start your cunt lapping lessons." The End of part 1