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Next-Door Bride By Gingerfred Man Chapter One ? A Lot to Digest I was a bit excited when I came home from school that day in late May. It was my 18th birthday and Mom and Dad had promised a special surprise for me. They weren't exaggerating. With only two weeks left before I was to graduate from high school and no definite plans for anything, I had been kind of out of sorts. My birthday offered a relief from all that concern about my future. Or so I thought. I went into the house at about 3:30 and was surprised to see Dad home from work already. He was quite a hard worker and never took time off. How nice that he would want to be home for my birthday. I greeted him, then Mom, as she entered the front room. I was a bit surprised to see Mr. Clark following her. Jason Clark had been our next-door neighbor since I was ten years old. He was a nice guy, but a little creepy. He worked out of his home and always seemed to be on his porch to greet me when I came home from anywhere. It was almost as if he were following me or something. Mr. Clark was about 35 and was in very good shape. He always seemed to running or lifting weights and his body showed it. He was kind of good looking too, I guess. Blond and rugged looking. A tall man, maybe seven inches bigger than my five-six, and around 220 pounds of muscle. Still, he was a little; creepy. I mean he took an odd interest in me from the day he moved in. He was very friendly and always seemed to care about what I was doing and how I was feeling. But it was only directed at me. He pretty much ignored my older brother Danny and my Mom and Dad. Only me. That day, he was in our house for maybe the tenth time in eight years and for some reason, it made me uncomfortable. I was right to feel that way. I said hello to everyone. Mr. Clark said, "Hello, Jerry." But he said it in a funny way, you know? I didn't like it. I looked at Dad. "Thanks for coming home early on my birthday, Dad," I said. Dad smiled. "You're welcome, Jerry. I had to be here because Mom and I have wonderful news for you!" Wow. I liked wonderful news. "What is it, Dad?" I asked. "Jerry, you can stop worrying about your future. Mr. Clark has asked for your hand in marriage and we've accepted." I must have misheard. I asked Dad to repeat it, but he said the same thing. My stomach tightened. My head spun. That was crazy. "You're kidding." Dad frowned. So did Mom. "Don't get fresh with me, young lady. I am NOT kidding." Young lady? Was everyone crazy? "Dad, I'm a boy." "Sass me again and you'll get the strap, Missy. You stopped being a boy when you turned 18." The strap? Missy? Eighteen? Was I dreaming? Were they all crazy? Mr. Clark was smiling so broadly I thought his face would split open. Dad relaxed his face. I didn't want "the strap." Dad hadn't spanked me since I was about ten. He never spanked Danny, who did things I would never have dreamed of. What was happening? I asked. "I don't understand." Mom took over. Speaking very calmly, she said, "Sweetheart, we've known for some time that you would never really be a man. You're small and weak. Your penis is pathetic. You could never please a woman with that tiny thing." Ohh. My ears were hot with shame. Mom didn't think I could be a man? And how did Mom know how big my cock was? Mom went on, "Mr. Clark has always wanted a sissy wife. He spotted you when you sang that solo at the glee club concert when you were ten. He knew you were a sissy then and he fell in love with you. He moved next door so he could be near you until you turned 18. Mr. Clark shared his feelings about you with us last year and you'll be pleased to know that he's offered your father and me a considerable amount of money for you to be his bride." They sold me! My parents sold me? To this pervert. Who stalked a ten-year-old boy so he could fuck him eight years later? I was trembling with fear. And considering my options. Fight or flight? Both were bad options. Dad softened a bit and spoke. "We know this is a shock to you, Jerry, but surely you knew that you would never be a real man. Not like Danny." My older brother Danny was the same size as Dad and Mr. Clark. He had impregnated three girls and abandoned them. He had a series of adult misdemeanors and two youth felonies. Girls adored him. And so did my parents. I looked at Mr. Clark, then at my parents. Despair gripped my gut and hot tears stung my eyes. Dad came over and hugged me. "It's all right, Nicole," he said. "Mr. Clark, Jason, will be a wonderful husband to you. He'll give you everything you need. Everything. And you'll be submissive to him as a good sissy wife should be." I wailed. "Dad, why are you calling me 'Nicole'?" Dad hugged me harder. "Shhhhh, sweetheart. That's your name now. Jason picked it out. You'll love it." Mom said, "Now dry those tears, Nicole. You have to get dressed and ready for your dinner date with Jason." Things kept getting worse. "D-d-d-dinner date?" "Of course, Dear," Mom said. "We have to get this courtship in gear. The wedding's in four weeks." Groannnnn!!!! Mr. Clark stood up to leave. He looked at me, then turned to my father. "May I..." Dad nodded. Mr. Clark moved to me and stood facing me. He was so much taller than I, that I had to crane my neck to see him. He said, "I love you, Nicole." My stomach flipped. It was disgusting. Then, omigosh, he held me by the shoulders and gently drew me toward him. Was he going to... Ick!! He kissed me. Right on the lips. Thank Goodness he didn't use his tongue or I would have fainted. I didn't kiss him back, honest. But I did get something I never expected. An erection. I was miserable. Chapter Two - First date Mom led a dazed me upstairs to my room. That was another huge surprise. While I was at school that day, all my boy stuff had been pitched. What replaced it was pure girlie. Pink ruffles on my bed. "Seventeen" magazine on my dresser. Boy bands posters on my walls. A vanity with a big mirror, stool and lots and lots of cosmetics. Worst of all, a closet full of girlie clothes. I was afraid to ask what was in a large chest under my window, but when Mom saw me looking at it, she told me. "That's your hope chest, Nicole, Dear. It's filled with pretty lingerie that you'll use to drive your husband wild with lust on your honeymoon and during your married life. Isn't it exciting?" A man crazy with lust for me? What would he do to me? I would be helpless against him? Oh no. There was that erection again. But I was also sobbing with fear. Mom's attempts to "comfort" me made things worse. "Sweetheart, we girls have to sacrifice for our men. They're the providers and breadwinners. We have to keep a nice home for them and satisfy their 'urges' in every way. Now let's get you dressed for your dinner date." Fear stabbed my gut. "Mom, I can't do this." Mom dismissed me. "Of course you can, Dear. You have no choice. Now let's get you undressed and into the shower." I undressed, humiliated at being naked in front of my Mom. It was particularly awful because over the past few weeks my breasts had felt funny and skin seemed to be developing in places around my nipples. I tried to hide that from Mom, but she made note of it out loud. "Your titties are developing nicely, Nicole. There will be something to put in your bra for your wedding. Thank goodness Daddy and I started you on hormones four months ago." Hormones?!?! Mom said they were shots for allergies!!! How extensive was this conspiracy against me? I had sort of noticed that my hips were flaring a bit and my waist was slimmer, but I thought that was just the last stages of puberty or something. Mom hustled me into the shower, which I took in wet misery. I was in complete despair, except for my three-inch cock, which was stiff and throbbing for reasons unknown. I washed my long hair thoroughly. Why had I listened six months ago when Mom and Dad suggested that I "grow it out" into a more-stylish ponytail? What was going to happen to me? Married in four weeks? Ohhhhhh. How would I even get through the "date" with Jason that night? Mom was waiting for me when I stepped out of the shower. Didn't she know how humiliating it was for an 18-year-old boy to have his mother see him nude? She dried me with huge, fluffy towels, pointing out that girls "patted, not rubbed" their delicate skin. Then she REALLY humiliated me. Try though I might, I couldn't get my erection to go down. Mom noticed. When I was all dry, except for my hair, Mom said, "Nicole, you can't go on your date with this thing sticking up. It'll ruin the lines of your dress. Come over here and let me fix things." Did she mean...? Oh, please no. "Stop dilly-dallying, girl, and come here. That's better. Now let me just get all that toxic material out of you. Sissies need their boyish juices milked out several times a day. Jason will be doing most of that for you, of course, but I suppose I'll have to do it now." Mom put her soft hand on my tiny cock and felt me up, including my shriveled, terrified balls. Holy cow!!! It was the single worst moment of my life. Had everyone gone crazy? Mom was pulling my foreskin back and saying, "You have a very sissyish little peeny, Nicole. Look at the pink head and the drippy goo oozing out of your peehole. Jason's going to have a wonderful time with it. Kissing it. Licking it. Sucking it and your little pink bag of nuts. You two will have a terrific time together." The images Mom was putting into my mind were disgusting. A man having his way with me. Satisfying his disgusting needs with my body. Mom's hand was so warm and she was so "handy." Omigosh! I didn't want to. I was so ashamed. I gasped, lurched, and began to cum in big spurts into several Kleenex that Mom was holding in anticipation of my little explosion. "Get it all out, Honey. That's it. You'll feel better now. Good girl. That was a lot of sissy cream!" I was shaking when she milked the last drops out and cleaned me with a fresh tissue. But she was right. It did calm me a bit. Mom showed me how to shave my armpits and legs, then I sat docilely as Mom dried my hair and styled it with a curling iron, all the while explaining how I could do it all myself. I was still naked, but at least I wasn't erect. When Mom finished my hair, I looked like a boy with a girl's curly hairdo. That was about to change. Mom gave me an hour's instruction on the theory and practice of cosmetics, all the while, highlighting my smooth, pretty features, glossing my bee-stung lips and creating eyes that a man would never forget. When she was finished, I viewed the new me with shock and awe. I was gorgeous. A late-teen beauty who, if I had seen the previous day when none of this silliness was happening, would have spent the night stroking my wienie dreaming about. Was everyone right? I wasn't much use as a male, but apparently, I was a very hot babe. How confusing. And sad. Mom moved along on her agenda. She stood me up and showed me how to hook a bra. It was white with lots of lace and ribbons. I stole little looks at myself in the mirror, unable to get over my startling new look and the potential it had created. Mom noticed and approved. The bra made me feel a bit girly too. I didn't have much there yet, but the soft material brushing my nipples was very ...stimulating. Then Mom sat me down and showed me how to roll a sheer, silky, tan stocking into a donut. "We'll get you to the salon for a manicure and pedicure tomorrow after school," she said. "No time now." I pointed my foot as she instructed, then slid the cool, delicious nylon up my shaved leg. Oh, Baby. I didn't expect how good that would feel. Or how good my legs would look. Or how stiff I would be, yet again. Mom smiled with satisfaction as she had me stand, then put on a frilly, white garter belt and hook it to my stockings. I just had to look at myself in the full-length mirror, so I did. I was shaking with surprise and arousal as Mom stood behind me, and, wordlessly, reached around my right hip to masturbate me as I looked at my beautiful self. When I came, I blew five thick, sticky ropes into the mirror. Mom was pleased. "I'll get that later, Honey. Let's get your shoes on." My "shoes" were barely there. Strappy black sandals with three-inch heels. Mom spent the next hour showing me how to walk in them and how to sit like a lady. I guess I did OK. I only fell twice. But then I got the hang of it. Lastly, Mom took my dress from the closet. White, with big, black polka dots. Two inches above my knee, with just the right amount of flounce in the skirts. Did I just say "flounce?" We slipped it over my head and I looked at the completed, date-ready product in the mirror. I was hot. How did that happen? What did it mean? I prayed that I didn't get another erection. Being masturbated by your Mom twice in one day is usually enough. I was saved by the bell. Jason arrived and Mom went to greet him. "Don't come until we call you, Nicole. A girl must make an entrance. Plus Dad and I want to take some pictures." Sure, I thought. Immortalize my humiliation. Maybe I could just crawl out the window. Then I could report them all to a child-protection agency. No, I couldn't. I was 18 and not a child. And theoretically free to leave anytime I wanted. With my girl-only clothes and less than a high school education. "Nicole! Jason's here!" Mom called. Just like "Leave it to Beaver," I thought, except Beaver's in a dress and dating Eddie Haskell. I left the room and began to walk down the stairs, carefully stepping in my new heels. Flashes exploded. I was temporarily blinded, but then I saw Jason. He was in a blue suit, white shirt, red tie and black shoes. Like he was in a presidential debate or something. I had never seen him in a suit before and he did look pretty good. Maybe if we were alone, I could talk some sense into him. Maybe North Korea would ask to become the 51st state. He was smiling as if it was the best day of his life or something. Well, I think you know that it was already the worst day of mine. And it was far from over. The weirdo pervert faggot did give me some pretty flowers. I liked flowers and, with Mom's prodding, I thanked him and gave him a little peck on the cheek. He had shaved really closely and he smelled of English Leather. "You kids have fun," Daddy said. Did I just call him "Daddy?" Jason was in his mid-30s ? not a kid ? but I kind of liked that. An older guy wanting me. It was a little flattering. But mostly scary and disgusting. As Mom had insisted, I held Jason's arm as he took me to his car. He held the door for me and I managed to get in without exposing my garters or my pantied crotch. I was getting the hang of that girl stuff rather quickly. Not that I would need it when I ran off to be a lumberjack in Venezuela. Which was the plan hatching in my mind. Do they have lumberjacks in Venezuela? Anyway, he got into the driver's seat and he was so darned happy. It was sad, really, because there was no way I was going through with any "marriage." The poor sap was in for a big disappointment. He was chattering away happily about small talk and didn't try any funny stuff, thank goodness. Maybe he was going to respect my wishes. Maybe HE could go be a lumberjack in Venezuela . When we got to the restaurant, he helped me out of the car and I held his arm again. The maitre d' was fawning all over Jason and our table was ready as soon as we arrived. Maybe things would have been different if what happened next didn't happen next. The room was full of diners. It was a lovely late spring night and our table, a prime one, was located outside, on a patio at the rear of the restaurant. The maitre d' led Jason and me through the main dining room. Conversation stopped. Heads turned. Cocks stiffened. For me. Me. No one had noticed me all my life and now I was stopping pacemakers. It was the single most ego-gratifying moment of my life. Even women looked at me ? with envy or lesbian attraction, who cared? How did that happen? And how could I keep it happening? Certainly not as Jerry, the teenage, little-dicked boy. Jason saw and understood. How had he seen what I would be as a sissy, when no one else did? A man who understood me better than I understood myself. Now there was a powerful aphrodisiac. Better than English Leather. If I were gay, which I'm not, OK? Jason pointed out a few things on the menu to me, asked my opinions about them, then ordered for both of us. That made me feel kind of good actually. As if he were protecting me. Then he talked to me. "I think I know what was your biggest shock today, Sweetheart. Seeing the reaction of all those people to your beauty. It's an awesome power you have, your femininity and beauty. And you're only in the early stages of it. Imagine its power as it develops." Yeah, I thought. I'll be the most powerful lumberjack in South America. But he did have kind of a point. I was overwhelmed by the admiration and lust I felt. What power! "Oh, Nicole, I'll make you so happy. I'll worship you every day of our lives and I'll make you cum so often you'll give more milk than a cow." Not a romantic image, but a stimulating one. I started answering Jason in complete sentences, but not because I liked him. Just being polite. The food was good and I did enjoy walking past all those people again on our way out of the restaurant. I wondered if they could see the tent my teeny peeny was making in my pretty dress. Jason did. I know, because when we got to the car, he asked me if I was all right. I was puzzled and asked him what he meant. "You seem to need a milking, Sweetheart." My cheeks blazed with embarrassment. The worst part was that Jason was right. I was very aroused from all the hot stares I had gotten in the restaurant. But there was no way I wanted Jason whacking me off. Reaching under my skirt. Putting his rough hand in my panties and rubbing it all over my privates. Reaching for my foreskin and gripping it on either side of my "pink helmet" with his thumb and forefinger. Skinning it over the head and then releasing. Skinning. Releasing, No way would I allow that. "I'm fine, thank you, Mr. Clark." Jason smiled. "You were calling me 'Jason' before. Of course, soon enough, you'll be Mrs. Clark. In fact, I have something for you." Was it a birthday present? Or was it something disgusting like pulling out his cock as a "present" for me? Worse. Jason produced a two-inch-square box, encircled by a pretty, pink ribbon. He handed it to me and, innocently, I thanked him and opened it. It was horrible! A two-carat, perfectly cut and set, diamond engagement ring. He really did intend to marry me. What was I to do? I was scared out of my wits. But it was a beautiful diamond. And very expensive. And Jason was beaming with happiness and anticipation. The poor sap. Oh, well. I slipped it on my finger, then looked at it sheepishly, blushing fiercely as I did so. It looked so good on my hand. So good. It would look better when I had the manicure my Mom had promised me for the next day, I thought idly. Why was I thinking those things? I looked at Jason. "Do you like it?" he asked. I started to cry. Because I couldn't marry him. Or any man. I was a boy, not a sissy. Why didn't anyone seem to understand that? Jason completely misunderstood. He took my bawling as tears of joy and he took me into his arms, then kissed me deeply. "I love you, Nicole. I've always loved you from the first moment I saw you playing soldiers with your friends eight years ago. I looked at you then and saw you as you are today, a feminine masterpiece." He kissed me again and my stupid cock was stupidly erect again. That milking didn't sound all that bad. I mean, the man was crazy about me. I almost said, tell me more about how wonderful I am. "Nicole," he said, "I want you to be a virgin in both your mouth and your bottom when we marry. We'll have a lifetime to fill those with my throbbing manhood". "But, Sweetie, I need some relief. I know a virgin doesn't touch her man's cock on the first date, but we just got engaged." "Could you," Jason asked, "Just rub me through my pants as I kiss you? Just until I cum?" Oh no, please, I thought. I couldn't. But then I thought, he must have spent $15,000 on that ring. And $150 for dinner. And I wouldn't have to touch "it." And so far the kissing was kind of nice. "OK," I said, in my smallest voice. Jason almost fainted with joy. "You're an angel," he gushed. "I know I have my own house and everything, but I promised your Mom and Dad I would keep your virtue until our wedding night and they might take it the wrong way if I took you in the house on the first date. So could we just do this here in the car?" I was 18. In the car was normal. "OK, I said, but..." Jason looked at me. "But what, Darling Nicole?" I was beet-red. But I had needs too. "Could you rub me through my panties and make me cum too? As I rub you and we kiss?" I couldn't believe I said that, but having done so, I would have been crushed if he had said no. He said yes. Enthusiastically. I asked him if I should take my ring off before I rubbed his crotch. At least I tried to through his mouth on mine. He was a great kisser and his hand was doing some fine work under my skirt. He was rubbing the silky nylon of my panties against my excited little tickler. Very nicely. So nicely that I almost forgot to reciprocate. When I did reach to feel him up, I got a great shock. Was Jason hiding a baseball bat in his pants? It was stiff as wood and as thick as a salami. And the moment I touched it through his pants, I thought Jason was going to pass out. He groaned loudly with the pleasure of a realized heart's desire. Or at least the beginnings of a realization. I think I was the first to use my tongue in our kiss. That came as a surprise to me. And even more so to Jason, whose hot, thick, cock twitched and began to expel a torrent of hot juices that stained his blue suit pants down to his knees, I really excited him. Little me. The boy nobody, but girl VIP. He was doing a pretty good job on me as well. I was panting and gasping as he stroked me in a way my Mom would never understand. Only men know where the right spots are. The kissing was red hot as he tickled my pantied balls the way I like. I whimpered most unmanfully, then drenched my first panties with my hot, sticky cream. I even squealed as the pleasure seemed to go on and on. Omigosh. Jason probably thought it was a good date or something when he dropped me off at home. And kissed me good night. And told me he loved me. Why did he keep saying that? Mom got the completely wrong idea when she saw me wearing Jason's engagement ring, with my lipstick smeared and panties dripping cum. It wasn't like that at all. Chapter Three ? Early Engagement Mom was chattering happily as she escorted me to my room to give me instruction on how a girl prepares herself for bed. A lot of "cleansing" and pinning and tucking. She was full of questions as she hung my pretty dress in the closet and helped me wash and hang my stockings. I gave her half-answers, which didn't discourage her one bit. Apparently Mom had had all the testosterone she wanted from Danny and was delighted to have a "daughter." Mom helped me slide on my pink nightie, then showed me how "scrumptious and sexy" I looked in the mirror. I didn't want to look because I knew I would get another stiffie and Mom would feel compelled to milk me again. But all that happened anyway. I was completely aroused by any view of my girl self. Or anyone's aroused reaction to my girl self. What was happening to me? Mom kissed me goodnight and left me to my terrors of the future, the first of which would be a day in school dressed as Nicole. Somehow, all I could think of was Jason's nice kissing and his hand rubbing my willie through my filmy panties. That put me to sleep with a half-smile on my face. The next morning, Mom burst into my room at 6 a.m., an hour earlier than I had risen all through high school. "Girls need more time, Nicole," Mom said as she whipped the shades open, blinding me with sunlight. Realizing that all that had happened to me the previous day was not a dream, I groaned and sat up in bed. Then I went off to the bathroom with Mom yelling after me, "Sit to tinkle, Honey." Obediently, I did so. Then Mom helped me get myself together. I tried the make-up and hair, but needed help from Mom. But not much help. I hooked on my bra, rolled up my stockings and put on my garter belt and four-inch heels by myself. Was I going to school as a hooker? Girls at my school wore jeans and flannel shirts. So did the woman teachers. Mom had me in a plaid mini and white blouse. That alone would draw big stares. As if I needed more curious eyes on me. It was with deep dread mixed with a large dollop of sexual arousal and curiosity (a heady combination) that I left for school that day, my first full day as a panty boy. Mom drove me to school, sparing me at least from the barbs on the bus. I stepped out of the car, being careful not to flash my panties, and already, heads were turning toward me. Incredulous looks. Then confused looks. Then derisive looks. Then verbal abuse from every immature knucklehead in school. And there were lots of them. I hurried to my first-period English class, looking for the protection of a supervised situation. Thank goodness graduation was only two weeks off. Did Venezuelan lumberjacks need high-school diplomas? I wasn't taking any chances. My teacher, Mrs. Cruz, gave me an odd look, but she didn't comment on my illusion of femininity. My female classmates were giggling and my male classmates were sort of half-sneering and half-drooling, since I looked more like an actual "girl" than any of the room's teenage vagina-toters dressed as squeegee men. One boy did neither. He just smiled at me. Robbie Sullivan had been my friend for a long time ? since 3rd Grade. Like me, Robbie was kind of a runt and not one of the in-crowd. The look Robbie gave me was neither of disgust or lust. It was a look I couldn't describe. After English, Robbie walked me to my Trigonometry class and talked to me as if I weren't queer or crazy. "You look great, Jerry. Really," Robbie said. "Great." He didn't even ask why I looked like Miss Teen America, but I told him anyway. Robbie's eyes got wide and he said, "Coooolllll!!! Did he give you a ring and everything?" Huh? Was I the only sane person left on earth? "Robbie!!" I said. "That's your only question? Doesn't anything about all this seem odd to you?" Robbie looked at me and said. "Well, yeah. The intensity of Jason's love for you and his persistence. That's really unusual...and romantic. Can I see your ring?" Dumbfounded, I offered Robbie my left hand. His eyes got very big and he whistled. "Wow! Two carats! You're so lucky." Then Robbie left me to go to his second period class. They couldn't all be that crazy in Venezuela. Somehow I survived the day, then met Mom for my "makeover" at the beauty salon. Again, it was a Twilight Zone experience. Mom introduced me to everyone as her daughter Nicole, who just got engaged. Everyone oohed and aahed over my ring, even the women who had known me as Jerry all my life. Was I literally born yesterday? I must admit that the pampering they gave me was kind of nice. And the results were spectacular. I got a beautiful manicure and pedicure (which would probably have to be ruined in Venezuela) and they styled my hair beautifully. The most startling thing they did was make me a blonde. I didn't feel my IQ drop, but maybe I had become too dumb to notice. What I did notice was that, by any measure, I was a four-star babe. I looked at myself from every angle and found myself once again in a stiff condition. Mom noticed and whispered something to Flo, the salon owner. I was so wrapped up in observing my delicious self in the mirror that I almost didn't notice when Flo put her hand under my skirt and into my panties to tickle my popsy to some milky relief, which sprayed all over the salon's full-length mirror. Driving home with Mom, I was so strangely pleased with my blonde beauty that I almost forgot my despicable predicament. Beginning with another dinner date with Jason, my alleged fianc?. Ick!!!! Mom helped me get dressed again. That time it was all in black ? lingerie, silky stockings, strappy sandals, and classic little black dress. All of which looked fantastic with my new, blonde beauty. The diamond ring looked great on my hand, now that I had beautifully manicured nails and two coats of red polish. I could even see my red toenails through my black stockings. Jason practically hyperventilated when he saw me. Gosh. The poor sap really did love me so. No wonder, I was beginning to think that I was delicious. He took me to a nice Italian place, where I got even more and hotter stares (gentlemen do prefer blondes). I had to admit that the attention raised my popsy. I didn't mind Jason's company either. The poor sap was so devoted to me. It was icky, but kind of nice too. Jason told me his life story as we ate. I liked that he had a bit of a self-deprecating sense of humor. And he said cute, romantic things, such as, "My life really began the day I fell in love with you." I blushed when he said that. And oddly, my peeny twitched. When Jason and I got to my home, Mom and Dad had gone to bed, even though it was only 9 p.m. and Dad had never missed a night flopped in front of the TV since I had known him. The lights in the family room were low and Mom had spritzed some scent around the room. Except for a little hello kiss, Jason hadn't kissed me all night, which was just fine with me, thank you. I was praying that he would go home, but sort of wishing for a little kissing (just a little and NO tongue) and a nice milking too, since my ego had been stroked all night but not my pricklet. It seemed a waste to make myself so beautiful and then not make someone just a little happy. Jason seemed to agree. He sat on the couch and held his arms out to me. OK, now what happened next was not my fault. I intended just to sit next to Jason, kiss him a few times to, you know, sort of pay my share of the dinner tab, then lie back and let him reach into my panties and do some magic tricks. Nothing gay. Or too gay. But I still wasn't 100% competent in my heels and, walking over to sit NEXT to Jason, I tripped ? completely unintentionally ? and landed with my pantied bottom on Jason's lap. Well, I fully intended to correct my error, but Jason sighed deeply (probably thinking what I did was intentional) and sort of held me in his arms. I had never sat on anyone's lap since I was about five. It was very nice. And Jason's kisses were so sweet and loving that I just sort of forgot all the baggage for a moment and enjoyed them. I felt so warm and comfortable and loved and that's not bad, right? I hate to admit it, but Jason took my breath away with his deep, tonguey kisses. Oh. I did like being kissed. And so did my little pricklet. It was tenting my panties and the skirts of my little black dress. Jason noted my predicament and said, "Stand up a minute, Sweetheart, and I'll pull your panties down so I can milk you properly." I bit my lower lip and batted my eyes at Jason as I stood and let him pull my panties down. Why did I do that? My panties were around my ankles as I eagerly ground my bare bottom into Jason's rock hard crotch. Geez, I was such a little tramp. But I was comforted by the fact that I did have definite limits. A big, wide, no-gay zone that I would not enter. Nope. No way. Uh uh. For the first time, Jason's hand touched my bare peeny. The tiny jewel was enflamed with arousal and the skin was all the way back. The little pink head was engorged with blood and feather-sensitive. I was pretty sure that Jason would be making me cum in very short order. Jason held me in his left arm and smelled the Angel perfume on my neck. He kissed my pink throat as his fingers burned my throbbing peener. Jason was as good a stroker as he was a kisser. Despite myself, I was gasping and whimpering as Jason kissed me deeply and wanked me expertly. The night was going better than I thought it would. I was in a full sexual dither and wouldn't be able to hold on for very long. Jason kissed me sweetly, stopping only to say, "I love you" in a very nice way. Maybe I had misjudged him. Pretty soon, my balls boiled and I did a very bad thing. I squealed as I shot my sticky cream all over Jason's manly hand. Was it true? Was I really a little sissy faggot? Jason seemed to be avoiding bigger questions like that. He was watching with delight as my three-inch tickler pumped a quart of creamy juices into the air and into Jason's hand. I was so ashamed. Wasn't I? When the last of my juices left my pink bag, and my breathing settled a bit, I was very surprised to see Jason licking clean the hand I had gooied over moments earlier. Did people lick other people's cum? Ick. Still, it was so intimate. And more evidence of the man's love for me. I was apprehensive about what was to happen next. Did Jason expect me to do "things" to his big, nasty cock? Well, he could just forget that. I mean, I would touch it. Maybe. Because he had been so nice. And I knew how it hurt to need a ball-draining. But that was it. I hadn't even seen it yet, but my reconnaissance indicated a massive body of manflesh. Very much in charge, Jason seemed to have a completely different agenda. After kissing me for another 15 glorious minutes and stroking me to another stiffie, Jason asked me to get off his lap and lie on my back on the couch. He had already told me that he wouldn't try to put his "business" into my mouth or my bottom until after the wedding . I believed him, so I was puzzled by his request. Still, Jason was so masterful that I kind of, you know, obeyed him. I was lying on my back with my head on the arm of the couch and very comfortable, except for my painful stiffie. Looking at Jason. Whimpering just a little for a little stiffie "first-aid." Jason smiled as he heard my little cries for a good milking. He lifted my stockinged legs gently and sat at the foot of the couch, with my feet on his lap. What he did next you could have made me guess for a month and I would have never gotten it. He began to massage my pretty, stockinged, red-toenailed feet. At first, since I thought my popsy needed immediate attention, I was disappointed. But he gave a very, very good foot massage. Very good. Especially since I had been walking around in four-inch heels all day. I could see where women (not me, of course) would think that being married to Jason would be a great idea, just for the kissing and foot massages. But the real surprise came after ten lovely, foot-massage-filled minutes that had my pricklet twitching and my ball bag alive with sensation. Jason held my right foot in his left hand and lifted it to his mouth! Then he began to kiss, lick and suck each of my toes through the silky nylon. My eyes opened wide, I screamed like a little faggot and lost my goo all over my new, little black dress. More splainin' to do to Mom. And he hadn't even touched my peeny. Or kissed my left foot. How did that happen? Not only did it feel REALLY good, I guess it was just so intimate. How did Jason get so good at all that stuff? I was barely out of my orgasmic fog when that nice man was doing his magic on the toes of my left foot. Oh my! Boys never get to have fun like I was having that night. My boy thing regained its solidity quickly as Jason kissed and loved my sensitive toesies. Then that wet thing happened again as the sweet agony struck me and I messied my dress yet again. Oh. What a night. Maybe I would do something nice for Jason after all. I was sure he would let me know what he wanted. As my third cumstorm subsided, I opened my eyes and saw Jason looking at me with that sappy, lovey look that was growing on me. I also saw that he had opened his zipper and extracted what looked like a large, brown salami with an unhooded, pink head. So that was what it looked like. It was scary. Huge. Erect. Dripping LOTS of sticky, watery goo. Thank goodness, I thought I would never have to take that thing into my mouth or bottom. I mean, he promised not until we were married and there was no way I would marry him. At that moment, he looked like a nice man in great need. I felt sorry for him and wanted to help ? in a non-gay way. He showed me how. Jason placed my saliva-moistened, stockinged feet in his lap on either side of his throbbing monster. I got the idea. Slowly, sensuously, I massaged Jason's cock shaft with my pretty feet. I rubbed the nylon all along the burning flesh and enjoyed his moans of ecstasy. Then I used the sides of my big toes to carefully skin back Jason's long foreskin. He liked that a lot. He liked it even more when I rubbed my toes all over the most sensitive spots on his cockhead. I was such a little tart, but I was enjoying his ecstatic grunts and loving words very much. It looked like Mount Saint Helen's erupting when the highly aroused man lost his load to the soft attentions of my pretty feet. Cum was flying a foot in the air as Jason groaned loudly enough to make a normal mom and dad run down the stairs or call 9-1-1. I didn't have normal parents. Jason really, really enjoyed that orgasm. It was as if it were the best moment in his life or something. I was almost happy for him. But that would have been gay, so I couldn't be. I'll admit that I did like it when Jason drew me to a seating position and kissed me a lot again. I kissed him back every time and even asked him if we would be going out again the next night. I guess I was surprised when he told me that we couldn't date every night because it wouldn't be proper. Proper? He just wanked me to one orgasm and sucked my toes to two more. Then I gave him a footjob for a big gooblast. Proper? He had some funny ideas. I was a little pissed about that. I mean, not that I liked him or anything, but he was more fun than hanging out at the malt shop or watching MTV. I guess I pouted a little when I kissed him goodbye. He said later on, which I dispute, that there was a tear in my eye when he told me he couldn't see me until the day after next. Jason was growing on me. When I went upstairs, Mom came out of her room, noted my disheveled appearance, cum-soaked dress and cummy feet and once again, drew all the wrong conclusions. How can she be so off the mark so often? I was so tired from my cummy workout that, after getting myself ready for bed and into a lovely, silky, baby blue nightie, I fell right to sleep. The next morning I awoke to a very strange sight. My father was sitting on my bed, at my side. He had my covers down to my knees, my nightie raised to my tummy, and his right hand was gently massaging my penis. What? I sat up. "What are you doing, Daddy?" I yelled. Daddy kept milking me. "Calm down, Honey. This was your mother's idea. She says that I need to do this from now on for you when you need it. Mom says sissies need man to milk them, not women. And she says she's tired of doing all the work in this wedding." Oh no!! It was awful! I lay back and covered my face with shame. And started to enjoy Daddy's stroke. He was very good. Must have wanked himself quite a bit over the years. Oh, being masturbated by my Daddy! It was so dirty! I blew big cummies in about 30 seconds. Daddy stroked me to make sure every drop was ejaculated, then kissed my cheek and went off to get ready for work. My life wasn't quite normal any more. Mom left me alone to get ready that morning and I did pretty well. I looked excellent in my black stockings, black, stiletto sandals, black mini and white top. My titty bumps were showing through my top and my blonde hair said, "boytoy." It was awful. Mostly. Mom drove me to school again and asked her usual dumb questions. The biggest was, "Did you ask Robbie yet?" Huh? "What do you mean, Mom?" "Nicole, the wedding is in 24 days. You have to ask him soon." When she saw my dumb look, Mom said, "To be your maid of honor, my little dumb bunny." Huh? Wheels turned in my blonde's brain. Of course. That was why Robbie had acted so matter-of-factly with a twist of envy. My best friend was a sissy! Omigosh. Was he partly responsible for the mess I was in? Had Robbie been telling my parents things about me that weren't true? Did Robbie wear panties under his boy things? Mom saw my shocked look and gave me a consoling hug. "I'm very surprised that you never suspected, Nicole. You really are quite innocent. It's charming in a way, but it's wasting time too. Ask Robbie today!" I was so surprised by that turn of events that I hardly noticed the change in my peers' attitudes as I walked from Mom's car to English class. There were still catcalls, but far fewer. And after my makeover and "blonding up," there were quite a few hard bulges in boys' pants as they watched me wiggle along. I didn't get a chance to talk to Robbie until after class, but when I did, I asked him to be my maid of honor as Mom suggested. I was half-hoping that he would call me a name and storm off, his male pride singed. But when he squealed with glee, hugged me and asked when we were going shopping for dresses, another nail entered my coffin of doom. Et tu, Robbie? That day in school was extra weird, you know, because guys, including some of the cool guys who would have never given me the time of day were, you know, sort of being nice to me. Talking to me and stuff. Didn't they know that I was really a boy? Didn't they know that I didn't have a pussy (which is what boys want more than anything)? Was I truly the only sane person left in my life? Didn't they even know that I was engaged? I mean, the ring was big enough! Do you believe I was even thinking that? When Mom picked me up, she wanted to know all about Robbie's response about being my maid of honor. She could have at least looked a tiny bit surprised when I told her that he almost peed his pants with happiness. Probably his panties, the sissy. When we got home, Mom sat me down and went over wedding preparation details with me. She had already registered for our china and silver, but did me the courtesy of at least picking between two patterns for the ones I wanted. She showed me the invitations and the list, which were going out that day. I was in agony. It was going to be a huge wedding ? 300 people ? everyone I had ever known was included. My shame would be spread far and wide. Secretly, of course, I knew that I would jilt Jason before the big day and run off somewhere, so it was all moot. But it still hurt. When Daddy got home, he insisted that he milk me. I don't know whether it was a duty thing or if he got turned on by stroking the tiny cock of his pantied son. But once again, I was horribly humiliated and painfully turned on. Daddy had me stand as he sat. I pulled my panties down to mid-thigh and yes, I was stiff and drippy. Walking around all day with silky panties rubbing your popsy would stiffen you too. Plus all the attention I was getting from men and boys had an effect on me as well. Daddy was VERY good at milking. He rubbed my bottom cheeks very nicely with his free hand and that enhanced the naughty experience quite a bit. I covered my face with shame, but was soon helplessly ejaculating my creamy goo into a Kleenex held in just the right position by Mom. All in all, a family Kodak moment. It seemed odd to be having dinner with the family instead of Jason. I found myself thinking of him just a little. About his lips, mostly, and how good they felt on mine. And that sappy way he seemed to be completely in love with me. Did I actually miss him? And where exactly that evening was this man who was engaged to me? With some trashy tart somewhere? After dinner, I did some school stuff, then got ready for bed. Dad said he would be by at 10 for my bedtime milking. It was an icky thought, but I thought that I should at least look pretty for him. So I fluffed my hair up and put on my prettiest pink nightie. At 9:30, the phone rang. It was Jason! For some stupid reason, my heart fluttered. He wasn't with some trampy tart. He was next door, thinking of me. We talked for awhile about each of our days. Jason sounded really sympathetic about the controlling way Mom was treating me. I had to admit that Jason had been nicer to me than anyone in my whole life. I must have sounded like some lovesick little pussyboy when I said, "I missed you Jason." I could almost feel Jason's heart explode with love. "I missed you too, Sweetheart," Jason said. "I love you so much. I won't be able to see you tomorrow, either, though." My stomach sank. "Why not?" I asked, poutily. "Your Mom is taking you and Robbie to look at dresses. She has it narrowed down to seven gowns, and she's going to let you choose the one you want." Mom had this wedding planned like the Normandy invasion. I wanted something right then, though, and somehow I found the courage to ask for it. "Jason," I said. "Daddy's been milking me." "He's a good man, Honey," Jason said. "I wouldn't want you to suffer." Hmmm. "He's supposed to be here to milk me again, Jason. But I don't want him to." "Why not, Honey" "Because I want you to milk me, Jason. Please." In an elated voice, Jason said, "I'll be there before you can hang the phone up." He was almost right. In less than two minutes, my bedroom door opened to reveal a furiously happy Jason and a very smug Mom. "Thank you, Mrs. Adams," Jason said. Mom left, chuckling to herself. Again with entirely the wrong idea. How could she be so dumb? Anyway, Jason saw me in bed in my pretty nightie and his heart seemed to overflow. He stepped over to me, sat on the side of bed and drew me to his strong arms. He kissed me hungrily. Remember, Jason was a great kisser. And I had sort of ached for his kisses all day. Or maybe it was the aftereffects of my school cafeteria lunch. Regardless, I kissed him back, with lots of tongue. For quite a while. So, of course, my little thing was hot and stiff and drippy, just as it always seemed to be around Jason. He asked me to lie on my back and I did. Then he pulled the covers down to my knees and my nightie up to my belly button. My privates were totally exposed to Jason's loving stare. That made my condition all the more critical. Jason took his time with me, inspecting my equipment slowly and lovingly, with sweet comments as he did so. He lifted my testicles with the tips of his fingers, palm up... He held them as I blushed fiercely and gasped for air. "What perfect, little pearls," Jason said. "Aching for a man's soft kisses. Oh, Darling, when we're married, I'll worship them every day and empty them so many times you'll be dry as often as you're filled with goo." I whimpered and stirred at the imagery. He held my pink bag up as he looked under them for my anus. He could just barely see it so I moved my hips and spread my legs to give him a better view. With his free hand, Jason touched my tight, brown-pink ring with the pad of one fingertip. I whimpered and arched my back. It was so sensitive to his loving touches. When he withdrew his fingertip, I was almost sorry. "Your little pussy is the hottest, tightest and most beautiful in the world, my Darling. A man could lose himself in there and never want to leave. When we're married, my tongue placed there will bring you unimagined pleasures. And my cock ..." I could never let either of those happen. But hearing him say those things was driving me crazy with hot lust. "Milk me, Jason." I gasped. "Please." "Of course, my Love," he said. He let my testicles fall back to a natural hang. Why were they so sore? He hadn't squeezed them. Then he reached into his pocket and withdrew a tube of lubricant. He squeezed some on my poor, twitching popsy and then onto his hand. Oh. Then he rubbed me so very, very nicely, as he leaned over and kissed me within and inch of my life. My mind formed this ridiculous image of Jason and me in a house with a white picket fence. I was in a pretty dress and heels and I had big, C-Cup titties and a big smile. Jason was holding me lovingly as I rested a toddler boy on my right hip. We all looked incredibly happy. Did I really want a life with Jason? Of course not. We were both men. I wasn't going to... Unnnnhh. I was cumming so hard my eyes popped. Hot goo was spraying everywhere. Jason was tonguing my mouth and loving me so much and I saw the white picket fence again. Unnnnnnnh Unnnnhhh. I was exhausted, but Jason kept kissing me and rubbing my fresh, hot cum all over my privates. Especially my tender balls. That felt so good. He even rubbed some cum between my asscheeks, then rubbed the outside of my wrinkled treasure with his cummy finger. I'm only human. I was stiff and panting again in short order and before long, spurting my guts out for the man who loved me. MUCH BETTER than Daddy's milkings. And Daddy was no amateur. I was drenched with my own goo and feeling as if I had been run over with a love truck, but I had to reciprocate. Jason was delighted when I suggested it and he got up, removed his trousers and sat in my room's nice chair. I sissied over to him and sat in his lap. Bare bottom against hairy thigh. It was impossible, but I was stiff and needy yet again. But this was Jason's time, so I looked at his monster close up for the first time. It was scary. My stuff was all pink and pretty. Jason's was all dark brown and hairy and nasty. Manly. It was also almost three times as long as mine and several times thicker. He could kill me with that thing! Not that I was planning on letting him. He smiled at me as he saw my shock and awe. Blushing, I touched Jason's cock for the first time with my hand. He moaned in appreciative lust. The foreskin was about the size of Monaco. I pulled it back and giggled to see how pink the head was when I uncovered it. It was leaking viscous goo at a steady rate. Clearly, I excited Jason. I was so desirable, I guess. Jason was squirming very nicely when I inspected his equipment. It was so hot to the touch. Every drop of the man's blood seemed to have moved to his penis. The huge thing had no trouble holding four or five pints of blood either. Jason had a big, blue vein running up the right side of his penis. Naughtily, I wet my fingertip and ran it all along the vein's extensive length. He liked that. So I did it again. He liked it again, leaking lots more gooey stuff onto my red fingernails. I felt that if I had told Jason to bark like a chicken at that moment, he would have figured out a way to do it for me. But Jason needed some serious relief, so I spat on my hand and rubbed my little palm and delicate fingers all around his ultra-sensitive cockhead. Getting into a steady, stroking rhythm, I resumed my kissing assault on the mouth that had said all those sweet things to me. Poor Jason. I think he wanted to last a long time before he came, but I was too delicious for him. After only about five minutes, he grunted hard, said "I love you, Nicole," and threw huge, thick ropes of hot cum three feet into the air. It was Fourth of July in the bedroom, with cummy sparklers filling the skies. Imagine that spunk exploding into a bottomhole, I mused. Well, it wouldn't be mine. After Jason splattered everything in sight, he kissed me and thanked me for being the most wonderful, beautiful person on earth. Wow. A girl, I mean, a guy really likes to hear that stuff. I was tired, but didn't want Jason to go. So I asked, quite innocently, "Will you stay and sleep with me tonight?" I just wanted to cuddle, you know. Jason looked as if he SERIOUSLY wanted to accept my offer, but instead, he said, "Not until we're married Nicole, my Love and my Life. It wouldn't be proper." Proper, schmoper. I was horny, I mean in need of cuddling, then. So I blurted out, "What if I don't marry you, Jason?" He looked at me sadly, but confidently too. "That would break my heart, Nicole. But I want to keep showing you how much I love you so you'll say 'I do' when the time comes." Fat chance, I thought. But I smiled and kissed him goodbye. He probably took it the wrong way too when I asked if he would take over the morning, after-school and nighttime milkings from Daddy from now on. Why did he think I loved him? Or wanted him? Or would marry him? Men are so strange. Chapter Four ? Mid-Engagement True to his word, Jason was there the next morning when I woke up. He gave me some very sweet kisses and a spectacular milking that almost split my tummy in two when I made cummies. Then Jason sort of gave me an encore performance, stroking and kissing me until I was gasping, panting, whimpering and cumming like the sissy I knew I wasn't. Oh, my. It was getting late and I didn't think I would have time to give Jason the nice payback he had certainly earned, but he was sweet about that too. He said, "Sweetie, you'll be late for school. Just go ahead and I'll see you for your bedtime kisses and milkies." My eyes filled with tears. Why did that happen? "You won't be with me again tonight? Two nights in a row? Why? Are you mad at me?" Do you believe I went on like that? I probably wasn't fully awake yet. Jason took me in his arms and held me tenderly, kissing my eyelids to rid me of my tears. "Oh, my Angel. I want to be with you always. But remember, your mother is taking you and your maid-of-honor dress shopping this afternoon and evening. And the groom can't be part of that. And since you'll be gone this afternoon, I won't be able to give you your afternoon milking." He was right. Why was I being such a needy little twit? Why did I make a big pouty face? Not quitting when I was behind, though, I asked, "Can you come over early? Before the 10 p.m. milking? As soon as we get home?" Where was my pride? And why was I so happy when he promised and kissed me again and again? Were things getting out of hand? Jason's cock was in my hand as I kissed him like I meant it, skinned him sweetly for about ten minutes, watched his cumstorm in dazed awe, kissed him some more, then shooed him away so I could get ready for school. I was definitely losing it. So why was I so happy? Why, that day at school, did I write "Nicole Clark" and "Mrs. Jason Clark" over and over again in my notebooks? That afternoon, Mom picked me up as usual and said Faith was getting a ride from her mother and would meet us at Monique's House of Brides. Faith? "That's what Robbie calls himself when he's en femme, Nicole. He's really quite pretty, but nowhere near as pretty as my little engaged girl." "You've seen Robbie dressed as a girl, Mom?" I was very surprised. Was I the last to be clued in on everything? Or did I just have my head down the first 18 years of my life? "Of course, Dear. Robbie's just like you in many ways, so I was sure you would be perfect as a girl. And you are." We rode the rest of the way in silence. It was all clear to me. I was in a Robert Ludlum novel. Everyone I knew had a secret related to me. A deep secret that affected me strongly. It was all unraveling. It was called "The Nicole Memorandum" or its musical version, "Nicole, Nicole!" Arriving at Monique's I spotted "Faith" waiting outside. He was cute. He had a curly wig on, but the legs under that tiny mini were Robbie's and they were pretty sexy. He had done a great job on his make-up and was walking with confidence in some very cute red, four-inch-stiletto, sandaled mules. I was taken back when Faith greeted me with a little kiss on the lips. It was nice, though. Something Robbie and I would have died before doing, but with Faith, it was OK. "She" was very giddy about trying on dresses, even though most bridesmaids' dresses are pretty awful and you never really get to wear them to anything again. Maybe she was giddy about seeing me in wedding gowns. Well, it was a giddy experience for me too. Mom had picked out seven little numbers for me: a satin strapless A-line with a beaded split front; the same gown, but with detailed hand beading at the neck, waist and hem; and embroidered cafe lace jacket with hand beading over elegant satin A-line (what was she thinking on that one?); a satin halter A-line with a flower at waist and a sweep train (tempting); a satin molded bodice with hand- beaded trim and tulle skirt; an organza A-line with beaded embroidery, split back with cathedral train; and my favorite, the spaghetti strap beaded chiffon gown with delicate Schiffli lace. I had worn white stockings to school that day and Monique let me borrow white satin pumps. Except for the actual moments of cumming while I was being kissed and loved by Jason, I had never experienced anything as exciting as trying on those dresses. I felt as if all my maleness was fleeing me at once. Mom, Faith and Monique were ooohing and aaahing as I fluttered around like a fairy-tale princess. I was stunningly lovely! And I felt incredibly good. That had two major effects on me. First, it scared the panties off me. I was a boy, darn it. This was only my fourth day as a "girl" and I was pretty sure that, while girlishness had its charms, I wanted to spend my life as a male. Plus, while I liked Jason a little, he was "making' me gay. Which is not good, right? And, he kept telling me that he was going to put that huge thing of his inside me. Which I knew would kill me. And I didn't want to die. Second, the wonderful feelings I got from trying on the bridal gowns severely tented my panties. I was in considerable distress. Monique, who was an old pro at selling gowns to "girls" like me, saw my predicament and offered me relief. I was embarrassed, but also very grateful. As instructed, I went to the dressing room, removed my gown and waited for Monique and her practiced hand. The pinch hitter who took her place was a happy surprise. Faith, who was in the same state that I was, volunteered to milk me and Monique gracefully deferred to my lifelong friend. The first thing she did was kiss me hotly. I liked that a lot. Then she shimmied off her blouse, slip and skirt. I liked that too. We were in our bras, panties, garter belts, stockings and big heels. And both of us were in severe need of milky relief. I hugged Faith and felt her warm body rub against mine. The tips of our pricklets were rubbing through our panties and our tongues explored each other's mouths. Mmmmm. It wasn't as good as it was with Jason, I'll gaily admit, but it was very nice. I rubbed my soft hands up and down Faith's back. She purred nicely through our kiss. I felt her pantied bottom, gently caressing the plump, pink globes as we rubbed popsies and licked each other's lipstick. Then I became a bit more aggressive, reaching into her panties via her bottom and skinning them down to her mid-thigh. Faith shuddered with pleasure, then reciprocated. We stood facing each other, pretty privates exposed to each other's lustful eyes. I blushed, but took Faith's peener into my hand and felt its heat and size. Her girlish penis was different from my own ? circumcised and at least 75% bigger in volume than my teeny weenie. Which made it a little more than half the volume of Jason's weapon of mass destruction. It was red and drippy as I rubbed its head and kissed its owner. I slipped my hand down to give her balls a nice cuddle and she moaned appreciatively. It was so nice doing intimate things with someone I had been friends with forever. It seemed so natural and logical. Between kisses, Faith said, "I've wanted to do this with you forever, Nicole. I knew Nicole was the real you, not Jerry." Everybody knew but me? Was I stupid? Or were they all wrong? We were so steamed up by the whole scene and the lovely kissing and girlie love that we were soon spurting our sticky sissy cream all over each other and squealing like little faggots. In other words, we were having a great time. Then Faith did something extra naughty. She got on her knees and licked my tummy and privates clean of both of our cum loads. That wasn't all. When I was spit shined, Faith took my little prick into her hot, wet mouth! Oh. She licked and kissed and swirled her tongue around the sensitive head. I was holding my arms up, bent at the elbow and making little sissyfists. I was squealing like a little girl playing tag and in very short order, pouring a hot, cummy load down my best friend's pretty throat. That was incredible! Incredible! Of course I was also racked by guilt and shame. And, though I knew reciprocation was the right thing to do, I was repulsed by the gayness of it. Well, maybe not completely repulsed, because I sort of got on my knees and sort of licked Faith's tummy clean of cum. Then I sort of took her cock in my mouth and let instinct sort of guide me in sucking my first sissy wee. I was expecting the sky to open and a lightning bolt strike me down. But it didn't. And Faith didn't mind that I was inexperienced. She kept wiggling and whimpering most sissily. Then her pretty eyes got wide and I got my first-ever mouthful of hot, freshly squeezed cum, right from the natural spring. I loved it. But I knew I wasn't gay. I could stop all this any time I wanted. Go back to wearing boy's clothes. Be happy. Of course Mom picked that moment, when I was on my knees and my mouth full of Faith's pricklet and cum, to burst in to tell us to hurry up. Again, I'm sure she formed the wrong impression. That smug look on her face was completely unwarranted. Mom left us. We kissed and cooed a little, then pulled our panties up and went out for more gown shopping. Faith was going to be a fun friend. We finished around 7 p.m. Faith picked a spaghetti-strap, drape-front georgette, with wrap in a "misty haze" color, even though I suggested that lilac suited her better. Still we both looked stunning. Especially me. Even though I wasn't planning on wearing the gown in public, ever. But you knew that. On the way home, we stopped off at a favorite girlie place of Mom's for girlie salads. I was in a hurry, since Jason promised to come over, to my bedroom, as soon as I got home and I was really eager to see him. Since he was very nice to me. And understanding. I wasn't falling in love with him or anything, OK? We dropped Faith off, then got home at 8:15. Mom smirked again when I told her Jason would be over. I said hi to Daddy and told him a little about my day. Then the doorbell rang. Was it...? It was. Jason!!!!!!!!!! I missed the poor sap. Very much. But no way was I telling Mom or him that. They would draw the wrong conclusions. I did kiss Jason, though, at the front door. Kind of an XX-rated kiss. Between an X and an XXX. Not an R, definitely. And use parental guidance, to keep the kids, even those over 13, away from that kiss. I guess Mom and Daddy saw, but geez. I hadn't seen Jason for 13 hours. And he was nice. You know. I grabbed Jason's hand and sort of dragged him up to my room, where I closed the door, then flung myself into his arms. "Oh, my darling," he said. "You make me so ha