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The House on Sackett Street A love Story By Elizabeth Jane McDonald PROLOGUE The long hell was finally over and the government men left the house. I was alone at last in my new home. Alone, at last, with my new identity, my new name, my new past, and my new future. I was happy... and sad. I walked around the house for a while. It was filled with nice furniture, nice linens, and nice pictures on the wall. The living room was complete with a couch, two nice overstuffed chairs, and a wooden rocker. An oak wall unit completed the decor. In the kitchen were all my nice new cooking utensils, although some of them certainly did not look brand new. I guess that was for the image the government men gave me. Over the hall bookcase was a photograph of me with a man. I was in a pretty bridal gown and appeared to be about twenty years younger. It was taken at the altar of a church. There was a lot of dark wood with a very impressive stained glass window behind the altar. I was carrying a bouquet of spring flowers and had some in my hair. The man, very good looking in a handsome blue and black tuxedo, stood next to me. We were both smiling. I remembered when that photo was taken. It wasn't twenty years ago. Next to that photograph were two other pictures of a boy and a girl. They were high school graduation portraits. Below them were the same two, together with a man and a woman. I was the woman. The man, the same as the wedding portrait. They were all smiling, a nice looking house behind them with green grass and trees. A happy looking family. Upstairs in the bedroom there was a queen sized bed, an oak dresser, a vanity, and a pair of wooden, lyre back chairs. The bedspread was of lilac flowers over a white, ruffled eyelet bed skirt. On the vanity was an assortment of cosmetics, perfumes, a hairbrush, and a pair of combs. A faint scent of various cosmetics and perfumes could be sensed. A pair of gold earrings and a silver necklace lay on top of a small hand mirror. In the bathroom were pretty pink and blue towels and matching bathmat and shower curtain. All very nice and very feminine, but with just a touch of a past male presence. I looked into the full-length mirror on the wall. I saw what everyone else in the neighborhood had seen the past few days as I was moved into the house on Sackett Street. I saw a tall, middle-aged woman with just a touch of grey in her auburn hair. Her eyes were somewhat tired looking, but not sad. Her complexion, though not perfect, was acceptable. She wore large glasses that complemented her face and gave her a pleasant, friendly look. The oxford shirt, a bit too large, worn with the shirttails out, hid the fact that her breasts were somewhat large and a little saggy. The jeans showed that her hips were a bit full and her waist a little thick, but not as thick as she remembered it some months ago. It was late afternoon, and I was tired and a bit dirty from the moving. I wanted to take a shower so I unbuttoned my shirt, threw it into the laundry hamper, and then slid my jeans down. Now, looking into the mirror I still did not believe what I saw. There was still that middle-aged woman. The simple white cotton bra held the breasts up. The stomach was a bit saggy and there were even stretch marks visible, ostensibly from two past pregnancies. What was even more amazing was that she was supposed to be pregnant even now, the result of the last lovemaking before her husband died in a terrible automobile accident just a month ago. I took off my bra and slipped the panties down. The breasts were a little heavy, and the nipples were somewhat large. They sagged without the bra, supposedly the result of those two pregnancies, two nursing children, and age. What really amazed me was what I saw between my legs. Or rather, what I did not see between my legs. There was a nicely shaped patch of auburn hair. But there was no penis. There had been a penis there for nearly 42 years, but now I was that middle aged woman everyone else saw move in to the house on Sackett Street. Chapter 1 I still could not believe what had happened to me over the past several months. Actually, it had been just over a year since I 'disappeared' on that last mission. It was to be a particularly dangerous job and I had made some special arrangements beforehand. I was expecting to be a wanted man by the particular cartel after I accomplished my assignment, and I wanted to protect my family. I arranged for the service to pay my wife and family 'insurance' money if I died or disappeared. I wanted to be sure that they were taken care of if I could not return. If the job went as I expected it would, I would have to disappear so they could not find me or be likely to bother my family. The service arranged a very effective end to my prior life. In a very public place, and in a very public way, I 'died' in a very routine car accident. My wife knew that I really did not die, but she did not know where I was going. She put on a very good show of grief at the funeral, some of which must have been real, as I was not likely to return any time soon. I promised her that I would ensure that she and the children were going to be taken care of and that I would keep an eye on them. Not a happy scene, but seemingly necessary. After I disappeared, the subject of my new identity came up. The cartel was especially good at tracking folks like me down, and had in fact, killed two other officers in the past couple of years. After some discussion, I offered that it would be effective for me not only to change identity, but to change sex, too. Now, I must admit that my years of closet transvestism did lead me to think of that, but it actually did seem like a good idea to keep me alive. I grew up in the Midwest. As early as age two or three, I vaguely remember putting my sister's blouses on and enjoying it. There were scattered occasions of cross-dressing throughout my life. When I was seven or eight, my sister and I would put on her dress-up clothes while we played in the basement, all clothes our mother had discarded. Later, as a teenager, I kept a private collection of clothing that I would wear whenever I found myself left home alone. I even took some with me to college, and would dress as a woman whenever I could find the time by myself. Many times I would dream about becoming a woman, but had essentially proven to myself that I was only a transvestite, not really a transsexual, although the thought was extremely arousing to me. Later, after joining the service, I had occasional cross-dressing periods, all at home when my wife and family were away. My wife knew about it, and while she did not really condone it, and certainly would not participate, she allowed it. To make the long story short, after the contrived accident, I entered a hospital under an assumed name. Following several months of hormone treatments, a lot of theatrical training, work on how to wear clothes and put on makeup, and finally, a lot of surgery, I emerged as Marcia Stephens. I was 43 years old, the widow of John Stephens who had recently been killed in an automobile accident, mother of two grown children, and pregnant with a third, conceived just before my "husband's" untimely death. I chose to move to the same town in which my wife lived, although she was unaware at the time. The service found me a nice three-bedroom house, and arranged the move. The bit about being pregnant was the idea of one of the doctors at the hospital. After some concern over whether I would be accepted as female, should I make an inadvertent error somewhere along the line, we decided that to be pregnant would remove all doubt in anyone's mind. The doctors placed a balloon like object in my abdomen and would, over time slowly inject saline solution into it, gradually increasing its size over the course of the 'pregnancy'. My prenatal care appointments would ensure that it increased at an appropriate rate. Extra hormones would start my new breasts lactating at the correct time. All in all, a nice plan and one that amazed me. I met the first of my neighbors a couple of days after I moved in from across the backyard fence. I had just taken the trash out to the alley and I heard her call to me. "Hello, there," she said. I looked up and saw a pretty blond woman looking over the fence, smiling. "Hello," I was still unsure of my voice, although the operation on the vocal cords had raised the pitch somewhat. "I'm Marcia." "Hi, Marcia," she answered. "I'm Barbara. Barbara Thomas. I hope your move went okay." "Just fine. Nothing broken or anything." "That's good. Where did you move from?" "Los Angeles," I kept to my new story line. Actually it was the truth, but some details were slightly modified. "What brings you here?" "Well," I launched into my story, "My husband was just killed in an auto accident, and I had to leave Los Angeles. Too expensive." I could see here face sadden immediately. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked." "No, no. It's all right. The funeral was last month." She was still standing there with a sad look on her face. "Would you like to come over for a cup of tea?" I asked, smiling again. "I would love that. Can I bring something?" "Oh, no. That's not necessary." "I have some crackers and some cheese. I'll get that and be right over." I nodded and hurried inside to straighten the living room a bit. I was as nervous as I had ever been. Here I was, going to entertain a woman in my own house for the first time. I didn't know if I could do it. All the training had led to that event, but it was still the first time. The room did not need much straightening, just a magazine or two out of place. I saw her walking up the sidewalk. I looked at myself in the mirror. I looked fine. I felt nervous, but I looked fine. The doorbell rang. "Come on in, Barbara," I said as I opened the door. "We'll go into the living room. I just put the teapot on. It will be a few minutes." I was so nervous I was talking ninety miles a minute. "Oh, you have such a beautiful home, Marcia. And so soon after you moved in. You must be exhausted." "The movers did most of the work." "Still, I had boxes all over the floor for weeks after I moved in." "Here," I pointed to one of the chairs, "you can sit here." We sat down and began chatting. "So, Barbara, do you have a family?" "Yes. I'm married... to Phil and have three children... Mary, she's twelve, Martin, he's ten, and Rebecca, she's two." "Well, maybe I can get some of your baby things from you." "Oh?" Barbara looked at me. "I'm pregnant. I found out just after John died. I'm about six weeks along." "Oh, that's wonderful!" Barbara was gleaming. "Of course you can have some of the baby things. Let's see, that means you're due in... April, right?" "That's right. It's been so long since I was pregnant, it will almost be like the first time for me again." "Oh, nonsense. Just like riding a bicycle." She laughed and I just had to as well. Barbara was a wonderful person and would be a good neighbor. "Are those your children?" She was looking at two photos on the wall. "Yes. That's William, he's 21 now, and the other is Maria, she's 19. They're both away at college." "Such nice looking children. Aren't you excited about having another baby?" "It's a bit late in life, but, yes, I am glad." She got up and walked over to my wedding photo. She stood in front of it silent for several seconds. "He was very handsome," she said. "Yes," I agreed. It was funny, but I had actually only known that man for a couple of hours while we were taking the pictures. He was a nice looking man, and had been very friendly during the photo session. "Your dress is so pretty," Barbara went on. "I thought so. I haven't seen it for a long time." "Do you have it wrapped?" "At my sister's house. I didn't move it here." "Very pretty." She moved on down the hallway, looking at the other pictures. There was a formal portrait of me. I was wearing a red suit and a red and white hat. I looked very serious, but it was a good photo. "This one is very recent, isn't it?" Barbara asked. "Yes," I answered. "Only last April. The one of my husband was taken at the same time." Next to mine was one of my 'husband', also in a suit, and also looking very serious. "We were so serious when we had those taken. I don't know what we were thinking." "They are very good portraits. It looks exactly like you." "Well, thank you." "Maybe I'll come over and borrow that suit, some day." "You'll have to gain too much weight for that, I'm afraid." "Nonsense. I'm at least thirty pounds more than I should be." "You are very kind," I said, laughing at the same time. Barbara was a good three inches shorter than I was and a good thirty pounds lighter. I was a size 16 and she was more likely a 12. Still, she made me feel good. I heard the teapot start to whistle in the kitchen. "The hot water is ready. I'll go get the tea going," I said. "I'll go with you." We went into the kitchen, took the teapot from the stove, got down the tea bags and a pair of teacups. We sat at the breakfast table in the kitchen and made our tea. "This is such a nice kitchen. It is so much more roomy than mine," Barbara said, looking around. "It is nice. I've never had one this big. And only for one person, now." "We'll have to use it for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I'm sure we can find enough people to make it crowded." "That would be fun. I hardly ever really cook a meal. Maybe twice a week if I'm energetic." "I'm sure you're a great cook," Barbara smiled at me and then took a sip of tea. "I absolutely love Constant Comment," she said. "So do I," I agreed. "Constant Comment tea and Orange Cappuccino coffee." "You, too?" "Me, too." "I think I must buy three cans of Orange Cappuccino every time I go to the store." "Sounds like me. I probably have that many cans in the cupboard right now." We talked for hours and emptied the teapot twice. Barbara left well after dark with much laughter and cheerful conversation. I had a good friend. One who would stand with me for many years. I had been up since seven that morning, and having worked at putting things away most of the day before Barbara came to visit, I was tired. I went to my bedroom and undressed. I pulled a cotton nightgown over my head, sat down at the vanity, and brushed out my hair. I looked at myself in the mirror. I was still looking at a middle-aged woman. She was just sitting there in a demure cotton nightgown, looking back at me. I was a better person, though. I had a friend, now, in that house on Sackett Street. Chapter 2 Sunday was a beautiful day. I got up early and started to get ready to go to church. I had wanted to go for some time and this was the day. There were a number of reasons for going. One, it was the right thing to do. Two, I wanted to meet some people and make friends. And, three, I knew my wife was there and wanted to see her. She didn't know I was in the area and really had no idea about me. I didn't think I would actually go up and talk to her, but I did at least want see her. I took off my nightgown and got into the shower. The warm water felt good as it ran down my shoulders and back. It felt great to soap up and caress myself. It made me feel so much better and ready to start the day. I turned the shower off and stepped out. I quickly toweled off and then pulled my robe on. Slipping on my horseshoes, I went out into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee and some toast. After the quick breakfast, I went back to my room to get dressed. I had decided the day before to wear a new suit. It had a black, slim skirt that came down to mid calf. The top was a blue tunic with gold buttons up the front. I would wear a white satin, high collared blouse under it. The waist was pulled in with a wide, black leather belt with a large gold buckle. I had a pair of thin, black leather gloves I would wear with the outfit. I hung my robe up on the back of the bathroom door and went to my dresser. I opened my top drawer, took out a pair of light blue panties, and quickly pulled them on. I still wasn't used to not having to do something with a penis. It felt a bit strange to pull the panties on and have them fit so well. I took a bra from the next drawer and put it on. It was of matching blue nylon lace and, for being so fancy, as well as being an underwire, was one of my more comfortable bras. Next I got out a pair of black pantyhose and, sitting on the bed, pulled them on. Over all that I pulled on a slip, of the same blue lace as the bra and panties. As I often did, I looked at myself in the mirror, still amazed at the transformation. I then walked over to the closet. First I took the blouse off the hangar and put it on. It was of white satin, with long sleeves and a high collar, buttoned up the back. The black skirt slipped on easily and I hooked it at the waist, tucking the blouse in carefully. I enjoyed seeing the lace of my slip just barely visible through the translucent material of the blouse. Then, I took the blue tunic from the closet and slipped it on, buttoning the five gold front buttons. The tunic fit very well, having been tailored to hug my curves very closely without being tight. The high collar of the blouse rose above the round neckline. I buckled the black belt. My waist and hips were accentuated nicely. ? The suit was very pretty, and I loved to see myself in it. It was at once professional, and attractive. I looked over at myself in the mirror and liked what I saw. I walked to the dresser and quickly brushed my hair out. After a little makeup, I put on a pair of simple pearl earrings and put a pearl pin above my left breast. I slipped on a dressy gold watch to compliment the gold buttons. Going over to the closet, I picked out a pair of navy blue leather pumps. They had very high heels and I liked the way they make my legs look. I knew that my feet would be sore by the time I got home, but I would wear them anyway. I put on my gloves, picked up my purse, made sure I had my keys and billfold, and headed out the front door to my car. The drive didn't take long, only about five minutes, but I enjoyed the trip. The sun was out, a warm breeze was already blowing, and I could smell flowers. I was happy, yet nervous about seeing Debbie. She had been out of my life for over a year. I wondered if she would recognize me for who I was. I was different, but was I enough different. I wanted her to recognize me, yet I was afraid she would. I pulled into the driveway of Village Presbyterian Church and quickly parked. I got out, looked around a bit, and walked slowly to the front door. I could see many people around, from children to older folks. They were all smiling, and seemed to be friendly. I kept an eye out for my wife. I knew Debbie had started coming here after I disappeared. I walked in the front door of the sanctuary and was greeted by a pleasant middle-aged couple that shook my hand and handed me a bulletin. I walked inside the sanctuary down the center aisle. It was a beautiful church, with lots of dark wood and colorful stained glass windows. I found a seat near the aisle and sat down. A young couple sat just down the pew from me with an older woman sat just beyond them. The service was very nice and only took about an hour. I had looked for Debbie all through the service, but she evidently wasn't there. I could only hope she would come for second service and I was prepared to stay if that was what it took to see her. I had no intention of talking to her, but I just had to see her. I had to see if she was all right. Once the service was over, the congregation went out onto the patio for coffee. It was all very friendly, with several people coming up to me and introducing themselves. I chatted with the couple that sat in my pew, learning that they were newly married and just starting out life together. I met the minister briefly, who invited me to come back the next Sunday, and I met his wife, a very friendly woman, who I decided I wanted to get to know. Then I saw her. Debbie was walking onto the patio. She was alone. She had apparently just arrived, probably intending to attend the second service. It was all I could do not to go over to talk to her. I hadn't seen her in nearly a year. I just stood there and watched her from a distance, drinking coffee and chatting with a woman who had just come up to see me. "I'm so happy you decided to worship with us," the woman said. Her nametag said her name was Marian Tolliver. She was about 50 years old and very pleasant. "I think I will enjoy coming here," I answered, stealing a glance toward Debbie. She was with a small group of two men and a woman, just talking. "Well, I think so, too," Marian continued. "We have a wonderful choir and the women's circles are lots of fun and interesting." "I saw the list in the bulletin," I said, trying to be attentive to her. "I see one or two I might check out." "Please do," Marian was smiling. She saw me look over at Debbie. "Do you know her?" she asked me. "She looks like someone I know." "That's Debbie Watson. She lost her husband last year. Very active. Do you want me to introduce you?" "No, thank you." I answered. "I'll go over myself in a little while." "I have to go, now," Marian said. "Do come back." "I will. I'll be here next Sunday." I walked to the coffee table to refill my cup. I stirred in some cream and sugar and sipped as I watched Debbie. It was wrong for me to walk up to her, then, so I just drank my coffee and watched the people. Finally, it was time to leave. The crowd had thinned out. Debbie went into to church, and I was nearly alone. I started walking toward the parking lot to leave. "I haven't seen you here before, have I?" It was a male voice from behind me. I turned and saw a graying, 50ish man wearing a very nice three-piece suit. "No," I answered. "This is my first time here." "Welcome to Village Church." "Thank you. Everyone has been so very nice." "We like to think so. I hope we will see you again." "I am sure you will. I'm Marcia Stephens." I held out my hand and he gently shook it. "I'm Ed Tucker. Nice to meet you." I shivered slightly as he held my hand. I looked at his eyes. They were friendly. His hand was gentle. He had a gentle look to him. I didn't know what to think. "This is such a friendly church. I am so glad I decided to come." "Very friendly," he answered. "Do you have a family here with you?" "My children are all grown, and my husband died in July." "Oh, I am sorry to hear that. My condolences." He was genuinely sad for me. I could see it in his eyes. He reached out and held my elbow as though to support me. "Thank you," I said. "I have a home of my own not too far from here and I get along quite nicely, now." "Very glad to hear that. Would you be interested in having breakfast after church sometime? We often get a group together after the first service and go to a little place just down the road." "That sounds very nice. I'd like that." "In fact, we have a group going this morning. Would you be interested?" I was taken aback. I didn't know if I was ready for that, yet. A man showing interest in me. "I think not today. Perhaps next Sunday." "Next Sunday, then." "Well," I said nervously. "I really should be getting home." "I'll be looking for you next week." "Thank you. I'll be here." I turned and walked out to my car and got in. As I started the engine, I realized I was shaking. I was actually excited and nervous from having spoken to a man who seemed to like me. It was almost too much to experience. I started the car, pulled out and drove home. Chapter 3 I was as excited as a teenaged girl. At least I think that's what it was like, not having had any teenaged girl experiences. But, it sure was exciting. I was going to a wonderful formal dinner party and I had a brand new dress to wear. It was specially purchased just the week before and fitted to me exactly. As I came from the shower I saw it hanging on the green satin. The bodice was of an even darker shade of green velvet. It had a collar of green satin that outlined the low cut that would show the tops of my breasts to their best advantage. Around the waist was a green satin bow that sat at the small of my back. I just couldn't wait to get it on. I reached into the top drawer and pulled out a pair of white lace panties. I slipped them up my legs and up around my bottom. They were pretty with lace all over the front. Then I took out a garter belt, also of white lace, pulled the straps through the panties, and then attached them to a lovely pair of dark stockings with a cute lace design in them. Next I put on the brassiere. It was white with the same lace as the panties and garter, and it pushed my breasts up into a nice cleavage that I knew would keep a lot of eyes busy that evening. To pull my somewhat thick waist in, I then put on a sexy corset of white satin with lace overlay. After I laced it so tight that I could hardly breath, I had a figure I could die for. Then I put the petticoats on, two very full petticoats. I could hardly wait for the dress. I walked over to the phone and dialed my neighbor's number. She picked up after only one ring. "Barbara, I'm ready for you to help me with the dress." "I'll be right there." She was over in a few minutes. I opened the door for her. "Oooh, I love the corset. You must be dying in there." "True," I nodded, "but the men will love me for it." "So true." We went upstairs and into my bedroom where the dress was hanging. I slipped into a pair of heels and got ready to put the dress on. "I just love your dress, Marcia." "It is pretty, isn't it?" "Very pretty. You'll be good enough to eat with that on." She went to the closet and took the dress off the hangar. She opened the back zipper and held it out. "Okay, are you ready?" I walked over and held my arms out. I slipped my arms under the skirts and up into the top, then pulled it up over my head. My arms slipped into the sleeves and the dress fell down around me. It was quite heavy but felt good. Barbara zipped up the back and it fit perfectly. Then she worked on the back bow and then announced me dressed. "You're perfect. Scrumptious." "Help me with my hair a minute." "Sure, it's just mussed a little. Where's that bow you wanted?" I pointed to it on the dresser, and she quickly picked it up and pinned it to the back of my hair. I looked at myself in the mirror and shuddered. I was pretty. Not a svelte young thing, but I did look good. Good enough that a man would want to dance with me, perhaps. Good enough to want to have a romantic evening, perhaps. What about sex? "What are you thinking, Marcia?" "Oh, nothing," I lied. "You were, too," she smiled. "You are very pretty and the men will want to be seen with you. Don't worry about it. Just smile a lot, laugh at their jokes and don't drink any alcohol." "Good advice," I smiled back. Barbara was a good friend. "When is your ride coming?" "Oh, he's probably out there already. I'm late, as usual." "Well, he'll be glad he waited." Barbara smiled and headed out the door to check the front. I looked at myself in the mirror once again. I was giddy with excitement. I was going to have a great time tonight, and I was going to have sex with a man. I knew it would happen. Ed was a nice man, I liked him a lot, and tonight was the night. We would go to the party, dance, and have a good time. He would take me out to eat, then some drinks and then I would invite him to spend the night with me. Just like that, and we would make mad passionate love all night long. "He's here, Marcia," Barbara called. "Okay, I'll be right there." I walked out of the room and around the corner and there was Ed, dressed in a great looking black tuxedo. He was so handsome. He was holding my cape and had a big smile on his face. Ed and I had hit it off immediately after we first met. We couldn't wait to see each other at church each Sunday, and he often asked me out to breakfast or brunch after services. I had been nervous, but accepted and it began a great romance. It was really strange, since I still felt like I was married to Debbie, but since I wasn't really a man any more, I couldn't see worrying about that too much. Besides, he was so nice to me, I just couldn't say no. Ed walked over and helped me put on my cape. Then, the sweet guy, he leaned over and kissed me. My knees nearly buckled, but I kissed him back and we headed out the door. The evening was as expected. The party was great, with lots of friends, and fun dancing. I especially liked to slow dance with him. He was so smooth and I felt like he was softly carrying me across the dance floor. He would pull me close to him and I could feel him getting aroused. It was exciting thinking that I was causing his arousal. Dinner was super. I ate as lightly as I could, but it was hard to turn down such wonderful food. It was all I could do but to look across the table at the wonderful man who was doting over me so romantically. He ordered wine, a nice burgundy, and we toasted each other several times. After dinner came the real surprise. He drove me downtown and we got out in front of the Symphony Hall. The billboard hailed the Philharmonic Orchestra and billed a nice concert of Beethoven and Tchaikovsky. I was thrilled. "Oh, Ed," I exclaimed. "This is wonderful." "Just for you," he responded. We entered in splendor, Ed escorting me on his arm, he in his handsome tuxedo, and me in my new gown. He showed the ushers the tickets and they led us to the greatest surprise of the evening. They showed me to my seat in a loge, overlooking the stage from the side of the hall. "Ed," I was nearly speechless. "This is marvelous. A loge seat is just so romantic." Ed smiled and helped me to sit down. He eased my cape off and laid it over the back of my chair. When he sat down next to me I reached over and took his hand. I looked into his eyes and realized that this man was truly amazing. He leaned over and kissed me lightly on the lips. I was beginning to melt inside. The rest of the evening at the concert went like a blaze. The music was superlative, and I was falling head over in heels in love with Ed. During the intermission we went to the lobby where Ed introduced me to several of his acquaintances. He brought me a glass of wine and we tasted a few samples of cheese. "Ed," I whispered to him as we walked back to our seats, "How on earth did you afford all this?" "Hush, pretty lady," he said, in mock horror. "One does not ask such things of a gentleman." "Pardon me," I blushed. "I love you for all this, though." He stopped just before we got to the loge. He held me by the waist and kissed me gently. "I love you, Marcia," he said. "I want only the best for the best woman in town." I melted entirely. I leaned up and kissed him. I felt him hold on to me and pull me closer to him. His strong arms wrapped around and held me close, our hips pressing to each other, our mouths desperate for more of each other. I don't remember any of the rest of the concert, except that it was beautiful and that I held his arm through it all, leaning on his shoulder. The evening was incredibly romantic. I had fallen hopelessly in love and had only eyes and ears for Ed. Driving home, I leaned over and laid my head on his shoulder. He kept talking to me about how lovely I was and what a great evening he had. We drove to a park where we could look over the city. It was a pretty view. He parked the car and reached over to me. He leaned over and kissed me. It was wonderful feeling his tongue flick inside my mouth. I kissed him back. I slipped my hand to his thigh and felt his leg. His left hand came across and he held my waist. Then I felt him move his hand upward along my side. I kept kissing him, not daring to discourage any move he might make. His hand reached up under my right arm and then moved to my right breast. I moved so that it fell fully into his hand. He rubbed it through the material of my dress. I moaned slightly and moved my right hand further up along his thigh. He pulled his hand away for a second, and then I felt his fingers touch the skin on the top of my breasts. Downward they crept and then inside my dress. He slipped his fingers further downward and then underneath my bra, just brushing the nipple on my right breast. I moved just slightly and he was able to slip his entire hand inside the cup of my bra, holding my breast. The feeling was wonderful. My right hand moved further up his thigh, then landed on the most wonderful feeling hard spot. I had felt that hardness all evening and now wanted to get closer to it. He moved his hips as soon as I touched it. It was almost completely hard as it stretched against the material of his trousers. I rubbed the palm of my hand against it and I could feel it pulse. I wanted to see it. I wanted to taste it. I reached over with my other hand and quickly unzipped his trousers. He moved his hips slightly to help and unhooked the waist gripper. I reached inside his white underpants and there it was. It was hot. It was wonderful. I pulled his underpants down and I saw his hard penis reaching up for me. I leaned down and kissed the tip. "Oh, Marcia," he moaned. The taste was a bit salty. I had never done that before. I had never believed I would actually be holding a man's penis in my hand and kissing it. I could feel the warmness starting to spread in my own abdomen, though, as I became excited at how I was obviously affecting this man. I had made this wonderful erection happen. It was me that made this man want to have me sexually. I could see that there was semen starting to come out the end. He was already wet. I opened my mouth and took the tip inside. He immediately pushed against me forcing a bit more in. He groaned. His hands began to hold my head and play with my hair. He leaned his head back. Taking it out of my mouth I licked the entire length, holding his testicles in my hand. Then, I put it back in my mouth and began sucking on it softly, moving my head up and down, up and down, slowly feeling the soft silky skin of his wonderfully hard penis slide past my lips and tongue. Ed's hips began to move more quickly now. He arched his back and began pushing against me with his hips, raising his penis higher and higher, forcing more and more into my mouth. I kept licking and sucking, and then, with a loud groan, I felt a gush in the back of my throat. "Oh, my God," was all he could say as he bucked against me. My mouth filled with a salty liquid. I let it drip from my mouth down along his penis and into his pubic hair. I kept licking until he reached down and held my head with his hands. "Oh, stop, Marcia," he moaned. "I can't stand any more. You're so wonderful." I sat back, knowing that my face must have been a fright, with his semen dripping from my mouth, but he leaned over and kissed me on the mouth. Kissed all that wonderful semen he had just given me. I wanted more of it, but I wanted it somewhere else. I wanted it somewhere else tonight. "I love you so much, Marcia," he said, looking directly into my eyes. "I love you, Ed. You are such a wonderful man to love me." Then I said it. "Ed," I spoke. I wasn't even nervous. "Spend the night with me." I looked up at him. He was silent for a second. "Please, Ed. Spend the night with me. I want you to." "I'd love to, Marcia." I was happy. We went into my house and he helped me take off my cape. I hung his jacket up in the front closet and watched him take off his tie. "I know you love me in this dress," I said, "but I have to get out of what's holding me inside it. It's killing me." "Can I watch?" "I want you to watch. Come with me." I took his hand and he followed me to my bedroom. "Unzip me," I turned my back so he could reach the zipper of my gown. He carefully ran the zipper all the way to the bottom. He detached the large bow. "What should I do with this?" "Just lay it on the dresser." I slipped the top of the dress off and let it fall from my arms. Then I let it fall from my hips and I stepped out of it. Ed just looked at me. I was standing in front of this gorgeous man in a corset, my breasts held out for him, with a sexy lace petticoat. I untied the petticoat and let it fall on top of the dress. He kept looking at me, now with just my lingerie between that wonderful man and me. "Now, help me out of this corset. It's killing me." I turned my back to him and felt his hands begin to untie the laces. It felt immediately wonderful when I loosened the laces and even better when it came free. I was now next to this sexy man in just my panties, brassiere, garter belt, and hose. My heels were still on, and somehow I thought he would think that sexy. I turned around to look at him. I leaned up against him, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissed him. He moved his hips against mine and I immediately felt the wonderful hardness of his erection against my belly. I wanted it so badly it was all I could do to keep from tearing his clothes off. "Now lets get you undressed." I didn't take long and he was naked in front of me with a wonderfully large erection. I moved my hand down, took hold of it, and heard him suck in his breath. I knew that feeling, but this time it was different. I wanted that hard thing inside me. I wanted to taste it then wanted it to push up inside me so I could be one with this wonderful human being who had been so kind to me. He didn't even care that my breasts were a little saggy, that my waist was a little thick, or that I had stretch marks. I thought he was wonderful. He reached down and slipped his hand inside my panties. His fingers crept down between my legs, toward my private spot and then I felt it. I felt a feeling I had never before experienced. He moved his finger inside me, slipping up inside my vagina. I instinctively opened my legs and let him reach further in, letting him slip his finger inside me. It felt so wonderful. I had never felt this before. I was glad I had moistened my vagina earlier in the evening. His finger moved in and out ever so slowly and gently. I rubbed my hand over his penis and down under to cup his balls. He leaned down and kissed me. His tongue reached inside my mouth and my knees buckled. He slipped my panties slowly down my legs, running his hands along my bottom and along my thighs. I was trembling with excitement as I stepped out of them. He held me closer to him and I felt the warmness of his erect penis against my belly. I pushed against it as though to drive it directly into my belly where I wanted it so badly. He held me and laid me on the bed. Ever so gently he lay down next to me and continued to rub his hands all over my body. He slipped a finger just inside my bra and rubbed it over my nipple. "Take my bra off and lick my breasts" He reached down quickly and before I knew it had unsnapped my bra and whisked it away. His mouth was full on my right nipple and I reveled in the feeling. My wife always said there was a direct connection between the nipples and the clitoris, and I now knew what she meant. My legs spread and I could feel my vagina opening. The vaginal jelly I had placed inside earlier was melting and running down between my legs. I was wetter than I could ever remember being before. "Come inside me. Come inside me, now." I was on my back, dressed only in my garters and stockings. My shoes were still on. I spread my legs, almost instinctively, and pulled at him. Ed moved on top of me. I could feel a little of his weight, but he was careful. He slipped his penis in between my legs. The warmness of it thrilled me. The hardness of it excited me. I reached down and took hold of it and felt it pulse in my hand. It was almost like a separate living thing. Carefully I moved my hips and with my hand I guided it into my vagina. I had never had a penis in there before. I had practiced with a dildo, but this was the first time with a man. It was so warm, almost hot. I loved it as it slipped inside so slowly. I could feel my insides filling up. I could feel a wonderful sensation just filling my belly as he moved his warm erection in and out slowly. I reached up and pulled him down to me to kiss him. I pulled him against me as he began moving faster and faster. I could feel his testicles tickling my bottom. I could feel his penis reach deep inside me then pull almost all the way out. His breathing was getting shorter and shorter and he was moving faster and faster. Suddenly he held his breath and pushed in as far as he could. "Oh, I love that," I said. I spread my legs as far as they could go, then wrapped them around him. I wanted to hold him to me as tightly as I could. I felt the heels of my shoes touching his back. I squeezed as tightly as I could, feeling his wonderful hard penis pushing in and out of me. "Oh, Marcia." He pushed even harder and, with a shudder, I felt a warm gush between my legs as he came inside me. He gave me his wonderful seed. His wonderful seed with which I could do nothing, but I accepted it as a sign of his love for me. I was now a real woman being loved by a real man. I hugged him tightly to me. He moved slightly, starting to pull out, but I held him in. I wanted to keep feeling him inside. "I want to do you," he murmured softly. "Just stay inside me," I answered. "I love that feeling." He kissed me and kissed me again. His hand reached down between us. I could feel his fingers reach my pubic hair. I moved slightly and his hand reached down between us and touched my clitoris. I reacted like touched by fire. I kissed him madly and pushed my hips up against him. It felt so good. He moved sideways, pulling out, and ran his hand down fully between my legs. His finger slipped inside then quickly back out to rub softly against my clitoris. I arched my back and moved my hips up, pressing my pubis against his hand. I was coming and suddenly I felt it all release. It spread all through my belly and outward like a warm rush. I strained every muscle and then relaxed them all. I grabbed his head and kissed him hard on the mouth. I had masturbated before, but never had I felt such a wonderful feeling, climaxing as a woman. Climaxing with a man making me come. I wanted him inside me again. I frantically reached down to find his penis. It was still hard. I pulled him, urging him to move on top of me again. He slid over quickly and that wonderful hard penis slipped inside once again. I was complete again. I was so happy. I could feel tears and I began to cry. I just lay there as he moved his hips slowly, just barely moving his manhood in and out, in and out, just making me feel wonderfully fulfilled. We fell asleep. I woke up the next morning and reached over to find Ed still asleep. I slid my hand along his belly until I found his penis. He had a wonderfully hard erection. I couldn't resist, so I carefully sat up, slid over on top of him, holding his penis in my hand, and slowly sat down on him. I was still very wet inside, with two loads of his semen still inside me. With one finger I separated my labia lips, and then, nearly taking my breath away, I slid that wonderful hardness inside my open vagina. I sat down all the way, driving him as far into my belly as I could make it go. I rocked my hips and felt my clitoris rub him slightly. A shiver went completely through me and I let out an involuntary moan. He groaned slightly and then opened his eyes. He smiled and pulled me down to him, licking my breasts as he lifted his hips to drive himself deeper into me. The feeling was absolutely wonderful. I felt so full and fulfilled at the same time. I moved my hips and slid up and down, up and down along his hard penis. He kept kissing my breasts and held me close. He began pushing harder and harder. He nearly lifted me completely off the bed with his hips and he drove his penis deeper and deeper inside my very willing vagina. I was hot, and wet and wanted more. I could feel him tensing, and then with a loud groan, he pushed hard one last time with his powerful hips and came inside me. I could feel the warm moisture spreading inside. I leaned forward and kissed him, driving my tongue deep inside his mouth. He held me close. I felt his penis still inside me and I kept rocking my hips, back and forth. I could feel my clitoris rubbing on him and I was getting higher and higher. I couldn't believe the control I had over the situation and I just kept moving, nearly in automatic, not able to stop. Ed ground his hips up at me, answering every move I made, and then I felt the uphill climb grow steeper and steeper. I closed my eyes and felt my climax coming. I pushed one last time and with a loud cry fell over the top with a magnificent orgasm. I had never felt like I did just then. I was exhausted, yet exhilarated. I wanted more, yet I couldn't go on. I thrashed for several seconds, driving my mouth onto Ed's and whimpering out of control. Finally I fell exhausted onto Ed's chest. As Ed ran his hands over my body, rubbing my back and my bottom, we fell back to sleep, together. Chapter 4 I was nervous as hell. The day had been planned for weeks and it wasn't supposed to be a surprise for anyone. But I knew it would be hard. Hard for me. Hard for my wife. Or was it ex-wife. We hadn't divorced, but as far as the world was concerned, I was dead and she was a widow. The service had arranged the meeting. They had approached her after I had insisted, and they had told her everything. She had not taken it well, but was really glad I was still alive and well. She wasn't too sure about the sex change thing, though. The meeting was arranged to take place in a park in a city near where we both lived. At that time, she did not know that I was living in the same town as she. I would tell her today. I got out of the car and closed the door. It was a bit chilly. I was wearing a grey wool skirt, white cotton blouse, and a long, red, cardigan sweater. I didn't want to dress up too much. Be too feminine. I just wanted to look comfortable and very normal. I decided to wear a pair of grey leather low heels, not too flashy. My hair was getting long, but I had pulled it back with a black bow. I wore a simple set of pearl earrings and a matching pearl necklace. The park was not much more than a city square. There were lots of trees, old cottonwoods that spread out and shaded the ground from the summer sun. The grass was still a little green, but was starting to brown slightly around the edges of the sidewalks. I saw her standing next to the water fountain that had been identified as the meeting place. I walked slowly toward her. I recognized her immediately. She was wearing her hair exactly as I had remembered. She wore the blue trousers I remembered, and the white blouse with the lace around the neck. I could hardly continue, but something drew me onward. She turned around when she heard my footsteps and looked at me. I could see a look of amazement on her face, and then a look of fear. Then she went blank and just stared at me. I continued to walk up to her. She just stood there. "Debbie?" I said softly. "Mark?" she spoke tentatively. "Yes," I nodded. "Except now it's Marcia." "Marcia?" I nodded. We were standing about six feet away from each other. Each of us had our purses clutched in front of us, just staring at each other. I was so nervous my knees were shaking. I was glad I wasn't in a pair of really high heels. "You have been going to Village Church, haven't you?" Debbie asked. "Yes," I answered. "For quite some time, now." "They told me a little about all this." "I know that," I answered. "I told them to. They didn't want to, but I insisted." She just nodded. "Can we sit down, Debbie. It might be better." She didn't say anything, but we moved to a park bench not too far away. I sat at one end, she at the other. We were still on guard with each other. We nervously held our purses on our laps with both hands. "How much did they tell you?" "They told me about the car accident. And they told me about the operations. And they told me about the plan to keep you undercover." "That's pretty much it. Did they tell you where I'm living, now?" "No," she shook her head. "Just a few blocks away from you. On Sackett Street." She just looked at me. "I don't know whether to be happy or angry," Debbie said. "You know that I would be dead if I didn't do this." "That's what they told me. But that doesn't change my feelings." "I still love you. And I have missed you a lot." "Don't say that," she was almost angry, and she turned away. "Okay," I went on. "but it's true. I made sure everything was taken care of. Is everything okay, now?" "Oh, yes," she was crying now, "All that stuff is just fine. Nice house. Lot's of insurance money. But you aren't there, and you should be." "We can still be together." "How?" "I'm here. We can still be together." "But you... you aren't Mark any more." "But I still know all our secrets and you know all mine. We still have a lot of good memories. And we could have more." "What, as girlfriends?" "Or sisters, or whatever." "But I want a lover." "We can do that, too." "Oh, get real." "Okay, but it's true. You know it's really me, despite what you see on the outside." "Well, I need some time, Mark... or Marcia, whatever." "Okay," I nodded, and stood up. "Do you want my phone number?" She nodded her head. She was still crying. I pulled out a small card and handed it to her. It had my new name, address, and phone number on it. "Is it safe for me to know this?" "I think so. They stopped looking for me a while back." She just looked at the card. "Marcia Lynn Stephens," she read from the card. "Mrs. Marcia Lynn Stephens?" "That's the story line. I'm supposed to be a widow." "Oh that's funny. You and me, too." "See," I tried to smile. "More things in common." She smiled, but still had not stopped crying. She stood up. "Will you be in church Sunday?" Debbie asked. "Yes." "Does anyone else know anything about all this?" "No one except the government people who are handling the case." "No one at church?" "No," I assured her. "No one at church." "I'll see you at church, then." "Okay," I answered. "I'll see you between services." She nodded, still looking at me. "You pick nice clothes," she said. "Thank you," I responded, a little surprised. I did not know how to answer. "I'll call you in a day or two after I've thought this over some more. I will call. Don't worry." "Okay." She turned and walked away. I watched until she got into her car. As she drove away I thought about all the years we had lived together. Lived together as husband and wife. Then I walked back down the sidewalk thinking how different things were. The click of my heels on the pavement, the swish of my skirt, the bounce of my breasts all serving to point out how very much different things really were. Chapter 5 Debbie did call me. It was two days later. I was at home, working on paying bills, and the phone rang. "Hello," I said. "Mark?" "Debbie?" "Yes," she answered. "I just can't bring myself to call you Marcia, yet, I guess." "That's alright," I said. "Just between you and me." "Can we meet again?" "Yes. I'd like that." "How about now. Before I chicken out." "Alright. Where?" "I'll come to your house. Is that alright?" "Yes, of course," I said. "Come on over. I wasn't doing anything important." "Then I'll be over in about an hour." We hung up and I my heart started fluttering. I was suddenly nervous, again. I looked around the house. It was neat. It never got messed up. Just a few magazines to pick up. A few minutes to clean up the bathroom. I went to my room to make sure it was straight. I made the bed quickly and put a few scattered clothes away. I saw myself in the mirror. There she was again. That middle aged woman I saw every morning, looking back. What did Debbie see? I saw that I needed to brush my hair a bit, and to touch my makeup a little. I was wearing slacks and a white cotton blouse. Nothing fancy. Probably best that way. The door bell rang almost exactly an hour after Debbie called me. I went to the door and opened it. There she was, my wife, and she was beautiful. She was wearing a lovely red dress with a black leather belt and black patent leather heels. She was absolutely gorgeous. I was stunned. "Oh, Debbie," I stammered. "You look wonderful. Come in." She walked in without saying a word, just looking around. "I should have put something else on," I said. "Oh, you're just fine, Marcia. There I said your name." What was going on? "You have a lovely home." "Thank you. Please sit down. Can I get you something to drink?" "Just water, thank you." She sat down on the couch, neatly crossing her legs, setting her purse on the couch next to her. I quickly grabbed two glasses and filled them with ice water from the refrigerator. I put the glasses down on the coffee table, then sat on a chair facing Debbie. "I'm glad you decided to call me," I said. "I wanted to get to know you, again," Debbie was actually smiling. "Well, here I am. What you see is what you get." "Oh, I doubt that, Marcia." "Well, I guess you're right about that." She smiled, picked up the glass of water, and took a sip. I noticed her lipstick was especially bright. A smear of red was left on the edge of the glass. "So, Marcia," Debbie sat back on the couch. "Tell me about yourself. Tell me about your new life as a woman." "Hmm," I started slowly. "The operations were over about two months ago and they moved me in here. I've been keeping the house and writing stories." "Still writing?" "Still writing." "Do you like being female?" "I don't have any choice, now. But, yes, I like it. I get along quite nicely. People treat me well." "This is kind of right down your old line, isn't it?" "You mean the cross dressing?" "Yes. It sort of fits right in." "That's true. That came to mind when we were looking for a way for me to hide from the cartel. They had found and killed the last four agents who were hidden. So far, they haven't gotten close, and I understand they have given up. They think I'm dead." "You seem to keep the same kind of clothes you did before. A bit conservative." "Yes, but being a 40 something widow didn't seem to call for anything else." "A widow. Did they do up a full story on you... family, husband, children, everything?" "Yes," I nodded. "See the pictures on the wall." She stood up and walked over to the wall where the 'family' photos were hanging. She saw the young man who was my "son", the young woman who was my 'daughter' and a photo of me with a handsome man, my 'husband'. "Nice looking family," she said. "What happened to your husband?" "Car accident. Sound familiar?" She nodded, then walked further down the hall to look at the rest of the pictures. She stopped in front of the wedding photo. "Is this you?" "They can do miracles with makeup, can't they. Made me look like I was twenty." "Beautiful dress. Did they let you keep it?" "No. That went back to the store. Too hard to explain a brand new dress that's supposed to be over twenty years old." "I suppose," she turned back to me. "I never saw you dressed as a woman before," Debbie said. "I didn't think I wanted to." "The counselor didn't think it was a good idea." "It probably wasn't then," Debbie was looking at the photograph of me with my 'husband' and 'children'. "But you look so...normal...you know. Not at all like I thought." "I want to look normal." "Oh, you know," she looked at me for a second. "All those books of the transvestites looking like prostitutes or dressed up like little girls." "I've never been like that." "Some are." I nodded. "Of course," she went on, "I saw the kind of clothes you always kept in the closet. Nice things." "You commented on that when I first showed them to you." "Mark...Marcia," she was stammering, now. I just turned toward her. I said nothing. "Marcia," she had regained her composure, again. "I need to know something. It will be hard for me to hear it. It will probably be hard for you to say it, but I have to know. I promise that I will not get angry, or leave, but I have to know. I think I know the answer." "Alright, Debbie," I said softly. "Are you a complete woman? I mean, did they do everything to you?" "I've had complete sex reassignment surgery, yes." "So, you don't have a penis anymore?" "No." "And you have a vagina?" "Yes." "Have you... have you ever... uh... had sex with a man?" I didn't answer right away, but I could see that she already knew the answer. "Yes," I nodded. "I have been going out with a very nice man I met at church." "And you have been making love?" "Once we did." She turned away from me for a second. She looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath. Then, she turned back around. "Is it possible that we could get back together?" she said, looking me in the eye. "Of course we can get back together. You're here right now." "No," she shook her head quickly. "I mean that I have missed you. I want to have sex with you. I miss being together with you." "But I don't have a penis anymore." "You told me that. I want to feel you against me again. I want to kiss you again, and I want to feel your hands against me again. That won't have changed." I just stood there for a second. Then I reached my hands out and took hers. Her hands felt so good. Just like I remembered. Then we moved together and we hugged closely. Even that felt the same as old times. "Oh, this feels good," Debbie said. "Yes, it does," I responded. I couldn't believe how good it felt. "Does this make us lesbians?" she asked. "Who knows? Who cares?" I leaned over and kissed her. She tasted just as I remembered. She responded just as I remembered. It was wonderful. Her hands went up my back just like she always did, and I moved my hands along her sides and up to touch the sides of her breasts. She moved to allow me to fully hold her breast and she kissed me deeper. "Oh, Mark," she had her eyes closed. "It's been too long. Just like after one of those long deployments." "You are wonderful. You are beautiful." "You're not half bad yourself," she moved back from me a little and looked at me. I took her hand and led her down the hall. "Come on. Let me show you the rest of my house." We walked down the hall and I showed her the dining room, the kitchen, the front room. Then I showed her my office and the spare bedroom. Then, a bit nervous, I showed her my bedroom. She walked in and looked around. "Very nice. Nice furniture." She walked over to my closet and looked in. The door was open and she could easily see what was hanging. She reached in and moved a few things around, obviously curious as to what was in the closet. "I'll be glad to show you everything in there." "Oh, I'm sorry," she pulled her hand back quickly. She was blushing. "It's alright," I said as I walked over to her. "Here, I have lots of nice things. Dresses, skirts, blouses, slacks." "Nice. Did they buy them for you?" "Some of them. The rest I got myself." "You do have good taste." "I hope so," I said, holding a blouse in my hand as she touched it. It was my favorite blouse. White, sheer nylon with a lace collar and lace cuffs. "It's so pretty," Debbie said. "I don't have anything that pretty." "I know that's not true, Debbie." "Well," she smiled back at me. "Maybe I do have something that pretty." "And your dresses," she was looking in the closet again. "So many. And evening gowns, too?" "They are pretty, aren't they?" "They are gorgeous. Do you get to wear them anywhere?" "Ed took me to the symphony." "I bet you were beautiful." "Ed thought so." "Is that the night you first made love?" I did not answer immediately. She caught me by surprise with that question. "Yes, Debbie," I finally told her. "We did make love that night." She stopped and just gazed at the clothes in the closet. Then she turned and looked at me. She looked at my face, my body and my feet. "I just can't believe it's really you." "It's really me." "Let me see you. Let me see what you really look like without the clothes." "Right now?" "Right now." "Okay," I smiled. "Does this mean I get to watch you undress, too?" She smiled. "You always used to say that." "True," I smiled, too. "See, I'm still in here, somewhere." I started unbuttoning my blouse. Debbie was watching carefully. I pulled the shirttails out and then slipped it off. I was wearing a simple bra, but it was obvious that the breasts inside them were very real. I then unbuttoned my slacks and slipped them down, kicking my shoes off in the process. I was wearing pantyhose over a pair of panties. She could see that my hips were wider than before, and that I had a waist, although certainly not as thin as hers. "Your turn," I said. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." "Very funny," she laughed, although I could see it was still hard for her. "You have bigger breasts than I do." "I'm a bigger woman than you." She nodded, then unbuckled her belt, dropping in on a chair. Then she began unbuttoning the gold buttons that ran the front of her dress. As she stepped out of it, I saw the pretty underwear. It was pink, and very lacy. She always liked to wear that sort of thing when she dressed up. She was standing in front of me in her slip. I leaned over and started to roll my pantyhose down. I quickly got them off and tossed them onto the dresser. Now I was only wearing my bra and panties. "Not as fancy underwear as you have. I didn't know you were going to dress up. I have nicer underthings." "I wanted you to remember me as something sexy." "I remember you as something sexy, alright." "Take your bra and panties off. I want to see all of you." I quickly unhooked the front clasp of the bra and then slipped the panties down. My breasts fell down, shaking slightly. I stood naked in front of my wife, goose bumps starting to form on my arms and legs. "You really did have the operation, didn't you." "Yes," I started to walk toward her. "What you see