Corruption Of Cindy, Chapter 3 free porn video

The Corruption of Cindy By Geena Cumsalot Chapter 3: First Date Sunday was another beautiful autumn day. I had gotten up later than usual; it was almost eight. I think fall is my favorite season because the chilly weather invigorates me and the autumn colors are just so pretty and calming. A good night's sleep also does wonders to settle the mind. I was beginning to feel like my old self when it hit me; I'm falling in love! This really can't be happening; I was, or at least had been, a perfectly contented tgirl slut. How could I let something like this happen? Oh, and I have a date this afternoon! Or is it more correctly a tryst? Whatever! At least I have plenty of time to get ready -- listen to me, it's Cindy for God's sake, my best friend, Cindy. It's not like I have to get all sexed up, leather miniskirt, six inch heels. Yeah, like I ever wear six inch heels, five maybe, for a special occasion. Still, what should I wear? Hmmm... A black leather miniskirt would be nice but it's not a Sunday afternoon look. Well, it could be, but... No. Let me think about this. What would Cindy like? I don't know what turns her on; it's not like we ever sat around discussing how attractive we found so and so in such and such outfit. I mean I wouldn't expect Cindy to drool like a horny guy, but she must have preferences. I know I prefer it when she is made-up and dressed for work; the frumpy suburban housewife look doesn't suit anyone. Of course, Cindy may be the exception to that rule. I don't mean the look suits her, but even without makeup, Cindy is quietly attractive. Well, if she prefers her dykes to wear flannel shirts and work boots, that ain't gonna happen! I guess I'll have to go with feminine finery: a nice dress, garter belt and stockings... and maybe it would be an occasion for five inch heels; I actually do have a few. Ugghhh! Finding just the right dress... Let's see... Why do I have so many little black dresses? Oh, I just love this Prada dress, expensive yet so simple and attractive, but no, not what I'm looking for. "Ah, this!" I said selecting a beautiful plum colored wool v-neck dress... empire waist... short sleeves... knee length... fully lined, won't need a slip. Perfect! Now for some shoes. After rummaging through my closet for a few minutes, I settled on some five-inch, black leather slingbacks. I love black nylons but I wonder... overall, too dark... better lighten things up... nude or tan? Searching through my drawer of new stockings, I found two packages of ultra sheer, demi-toe; one in a beautiful shade of brown and the other in nude. I like the brown which lends my pale skin some color but I also like to show off my beautiful white skin. Use of hormones at a young age and electrolysis have given me soft, feminine, virtually hairless skin. Being fair-skinned, I don't tan well at all, but having healthy skin with few blemishes, why should I take risks with tanning? In any event, since my dress is a dark bluish plum, I think the contrast with my white skin will be dramatically nice -- nude it is! I remember the first time I tried on mom's clothes; I was in fourth grade. It all started with stockings. I was so very careful, afraid that I might cause a run and ruin them. She would surely notice and ask me about it, and how would I explain that? I remember the thrills and chills that coursed through my body as my legs became encased in silky smoothness. I had no body hair at that age and my skin was supple and flawless. I didn't know anything about sex but I loved the way the stockings looked and felt. As time went by, I started trying on other things: slips, shoes, negligees, dresses, makeup. All her clothes were too big for me, but I tried them on nonetheless. Innocent as a new day, I reveled in femininity, not understanding, not questioning, just enjoying. I still revel in it. I guess that explains why I'm such a lingerie fetishist. Black was definitely the color I wanted for bra, panty and garter belt. I can't believe I've managed to accumulate so many matching sets. Can a girl have too much underwear? I soon decided on something with floral embroidery in a semi-sheer stretchy fabric. Sexy! Having settled on what to wear, I made breakfast and then puttered around the apartment for a few hours before realizing I had better start getting ready. What time did Cindy say? Was it one or two? I could call her but I think I'll just split the difference and be there at one-thirty. After a quick shower, I put on my lingerie and stepped into my dress. I struggled with the back zipper for a moment and then sat down in front of my vanity. It's taken me years of practice to get my makeup just right. I have found that selecting a foundation color that matches the skin tone in my neck works best. Quality sponges and brushes also make a difference. Anyone can apply a lot of makeup and end up looking like a drag queen. The trick is to know when to stop. I only need a little concealer to even out some almost imperceptible blotches. My nose is a little bit larger than what I would like and although makeup won't change that, I apply bronzing powder carefully down the sides and add a little shimmer powder down the bridge to make my nose appear smaller. Surgery scares me, even cosmetic surgery, and since I've already decided to live my life as a no-op, I don't foresee any convenient opportunity to have a nose job. Maybe if I get appendicitis or something I'll just say, "Oh, by the way, could you also..." Anyway, after a light dusting of translucent powder, I wait a few minutes to let it set and then brush off the excess. While waiting I survey my eyebrows. I've trimmed and tweezed them to perfection. I brush on a powder to get the basic shape and then finish with a gel. I've been known to get complicated with eye shadow but for an afternoon engagement I think I'll keep it fairly simple with just two colors, a light, soft brown and a darker cinnamon. I don't have a large eyelid area so I use the lighter shade to make it more prominent. Some women have such large beautiful eyes. I, unfortunately, have little beady ones that benefit greatly from skillfully applied makeup. For eyeliner, I'll use an eggplant for the upper lid and a lighter purple for the lower. On the upper lid, I draw a thin pencil line all the way across. For the lower lid, I only do the outer two-thirds. So many women today seem to be outlining the entire eye. Fashion changes all the time but I prefer to go with what enhances my appearance most, totally disregarding a popular look if it doesn't work for me. Using a Q-tip, I smudge the eyeliner to soften the effect. A little bit of creamy pink to highlight the browbone also helps to open my eyes. I don't bother with a lash curler but use a top quality mascara, black-brown, two coats lightly applied. Since my eyes aren't fantastic, I choose to emphasize my lips with a bright red lipstick. Using a same shade of red lip liner, I outline the shape of my lips going just slightly larger than my actual lip line, and I do mean very slightly. I prefer a cream lipstick to help keep my lips nice and moist. Top off with gloss, a little bit of pink rose blush and I'm finished except for my hair which just needs a little bit of brushing. My hair is auburn, slightly longer than shoulder length, straight, parted in the middle. I'm working on more length, getting a trim every two months. When I want fancy, I use one of the many top quality wigs I have acquired over the years. I prefer to keep my natural hair unharmed by harsh treatments and styling. I walk gingerly in my towering heels to a full-length mirror near a window for a final review. Whenever possible, I like to inspect myself in natural light just to be certain. My how time flies; I'll probably make it to Cindy's around one-forty-five. *** It was around eight when Cindy woke up, soon followed by the children. She made them breakfast and told them how Grandmom would be taking them to the movies. Jason and Carly argued a bit about what movie to see but basically they were really excited. Finally having agreed on a movie, they went off to watch some morning television. Cindy changed into sweatpants and an old sweatshirt and did some housecleaning. She was not a fanatical housekeeper but was very organized and meticulous, maintaining an efficient, workable home. Near noon, she told the kids to get dressed for Grandmom's. The plan was for them to have lunch there followed by the movie. After the movie, Cindy's mom had agreed to keep them until dinner and then they would all have dinner together. Cindy liked to cook and often invited her mother, who only lived a short ten-minute drive away. Cindy got back from the drop-off around one, peeled off her sweats and took a quick shower. After putting on a plain white bra and plain white panty, she reached for a pair of well-worn, comfortable jeans. For a top, Cindy selected a creamy white, combed cotton, mock-turtleneck shirt followed by a medium-weight cardigan, boysenberry, buttoned up the front with a band of decorative trim around the neck. Some nice wool socks and clogs completed her casual, comfortable-at-home look. Cindy was not big on makeup. On special occasions she would of course go all out, but usually she just applied a tinted moisturizing cream and a little blush. Today, she also added some peach eye shadow and deep brown mascara. A rose tinted lip gloss and she was finished, no fuss, no muss. Not too long after getting ready, Cindy heard a key in the lock of the front door. Must be Geena she thought. *** Arriving at Cindy's, I thought everything looked somehow fresher and newer; colors seemed brighter like I was high on something. Although not exactly nervous, I felt an anxious anticipation as I let myself in. Maybe it was because this was the first time I was coming here as more than just a good friend and helper. Even my walk felt different but maybe it was just because of the five-inch heels. I love walking in high heels -- the sound they make, the extra height, the way they make my calves look smaller. I crossed the hardwood floor of the foyer, clickety-clacking to the living room where the deep, plush carpet silenced my sexy shoes. Cindy entered the room, stopped suddenly and looked me over, "you look fabulous!" We embraced. Teetering on high heels that made me much taller than Cindy, I leaned down to kiss her. She kissed me deliberately, taking care not to muss my makeup. Although our lips barely touched, our tongues played together teasingly. Cindy steadied me with a tight grasp as she directed me to sit down on the sofa. Sitting on the edge of the sofa, she turned towards me so that our knees were touching and took my hands in hers, squeezing them firmly in greeting. I had noticed before her long, sturdy fingers, but now, sitting with her, I was sensually pleased and comforted by the warm, strong clasp of her large hands. It's all relative, of course. My petiteness includes having small hands and feet so Cindy's hands were not abnormally or unattractively large. There were just sturdy, feminine hands... I think her Dad had large hands. When my mind ceased wandering, I noticed Cindy just gazing at me, smiling brightly. We looked at each other without speaking for a long lovers' moment and then she spoke, "You've got to tell me all about yourself. I know you... but... I don't know you! I mean, I know what a sweet and wonderful person you are, but I don't really know about your past... growing up, things like that." "You mean, when did I become Geena?" "Well, yes... I guess." "Well, I like to think I've been Geena forever, but I guess if you want to be technical, it didn't really happen until I hit puberty." "Wait a minute," Cindy interrupted. "How about I get us some drinks first. Are you in the mood for a glass of wine?" "Sure. That does sound good." Cindy got up. I didn't have many expectations for our first "date" but I could see now that Cindy had an agenda. I just hoped it included mad, passionate lovemaking. I settled into the couch and straightened my dress. Cindy returned with a bottle of Pinot Grigio and two glasses. After struggling with the cork for a bit, she poured the wine, handed me my glass and began to speak apologetically, "I don't mean to pry or anything, but... " "You're not prying," I broke in. "I understand. It's like you said -- you know me but you don't know me." Cindy smiled appreciatively, "thanks." We each took a few sips of wine and then I continued, "Well, I was always small for a boy and even before puberty, I was wearing my Mom's clothes whenever an opportunity presented itself." I thought for a moment and then went on, "Mom and Dad divorced when I was young, maybe two or three; I don't know exactly, but basically, I didn't have a father." Cindy had settled into the couch next to me and patted my shoulder reassuringly. "When I was in fifth grade I started getting erections but really didn't know what to do about it. I had a friend Ray who was a few years older than I was, and he explained the birds and the bees to me. Mom never would have told me herself; it would have been too uncomfortable for her. In any case, by the time I was in junior high, I was pretty actively engaged in dressing up and masturbating. I had even managed to accumulate and hide a modest wardrobe of my own." I paused, not really sure how to continue. What were the significant events along the road of my transformation? How much detail did Cindy want? I really hadn't talked about this before, not like this, so I was hesitant. Cindy rubbed my shoulder in a comforting way. "When I was fourteen, my Mom's boyfriend caught me. Mom was in California on business. It was summer and I had the apartment to myself for a whole week. I had planned to live for a whole week as Geena, and I did; only it was more than I ever bargained for. Don caught me. I was so embarrassed; it felt like my whole body turned beet red, but Don told me it was ok. He said lots of boys do what I was doing and that it was perfectly natural and nothing to be ashamed of. At that time, all I knew was that boys did not wear girl clothes and vice versa. Don explained it all to me. He brought me pornographic magazines and videos that featured shemales. He told me how good I looked and told me not to be ashamed. He also convinced me that as pretty and sexy as I was, I was obviously meant for this." I stopped to drink some more wine; it was very good, mild and easy on the palate. I typically prefer red and rose, but this was an excellent wine! "Geena, you really don't have to tell me everything. I mean... I want to know all about you, but if you're not ok with this, let's stop." "No, I'm fine. Really! It's not bad or anything; at least I don't think it's bad." Cindy gave me a little kiss. Her lips felt so good against mine. I wish we could just make love, but I knew she needed to know my story... or at least a little bit more about me. "Don showed me a lot of blowjob videos at first. As we watched them together, we both became aroused. After one particularly hot video, Don commented on the tentlike appearance of my skirt and said he wanted to help me adjust my garter belt. At that time, the only sex I had experienced was masturbation; however, after seeing Don's pornography, I was more than a little bit curious about blowjobs. Don lifted my skirt as I stood before him. After pretending to rearrange my garter belt, he pushed aside my panty and took my penis in his mouth. I nearly collapsed from the overwhelming sensations that were so completely new to me. Don took me all the way to paradise that time. After that, it was mostly me giving Don blowjobs and I must confess, I really loved it! Before the week was out, Don had also taken my virginity. I was fourteen." Cindy put her arms around me and gave me a big hug. "Don continued to date my Mom and he also continued to date me. I don't think she ever found out. Ultimately they broke up for other reasons. It was Don who started me on hormones. By the time I was sixteen, I was too feminine for the local high school. Mom had figured out by then that I was a drag queen and sent me to a distant relative to be cured. He was a retired marine, very macho, married but no children. I, however, was determined to be Geena and instead of curing me, Uncle Greg, as I called him, proved to be one of my most ardent admirers, aiding and abetting my perversion. "Uncle Greg enrolled me in the local high school as Geena. I almost graduated but my life was just too sexually intense for the mundane routine of school. I was a call-girl for about six months, and I made a few porno flicks but not much money. After a few years of knocking about, I earned my GED and decided to try a technical school for computer training. I discovered that I had an aptitude for that sort of work and the rest is history. I make decent money, work for a great company and... well, that's where I met you." There, I was finished. No names changed to protect the innocent. Now what did Cindy think? I drank some more wine. Cindy leaned over and kissed me again. I guess she didn't know quite what to say. I felt a little foolish for blurting so much out, but it wasn't like we were complete strangers. Still maybe a little info at a time would have been better. "Wow! That's quite a story." Cindy paused and then continued, "Do you think you will ever get the surgery?" "No," I said without hesitating. "I think I'll keep what I've got. I'm more comfortable with that... Actually, I prefer it. I think of myself and other male-to-female pre-op transsexuals as a third sex. Female-to- male transsexuals and post-ops are different; they really want to switch gender. Male-to-female no-ops want to be both genders, but mostly female. Actually, what's between the legs is really the only maleness; the psyche is purely feminine. Still, that sausage is a significant piece of maleness at least to society at large, but I mostly think of mine as feminine... a girlcock." I thought a bit and then resumed, "I would feel too great loss if I went all the way and had the operation. No, this is definitely what I want... I love my girly penis! I love how it feels. I love what it can do. I can make love to women, men and transsexuals like me. It doesn't get any better!" Cindy smiled broadly, "I think I love your girly penis, too!" "Do you like anal?" I asked her matter-of-factly. "I've only done it a few times," she replied. "It's ok, I guess." "I love it when a guy enters me. When he's inside me, filling me up, I feel complete. It's so ultimately intimate... being joined like that. Anal sex is underrated in our culture; it feels great and it doesn't have to be dirty. God gave the male sex a different kind of pussy. The Greeks knew this but we Americans don't. I keep my pussy clean and well lubricated so I'm always ready if an opportunity should arise." I stopped talking somewhat abruptly. Why was I telling Cindy all this? Was it some kind of challenge, telling her what a slut I am and hoping for her acceptance? Was a part of me telling her I still needed to be loved by a man or was I just inviting her to sodomize me? Honestly, sometimes I just blurt things out and even I don't know what I'm saying or what I want. Desperately wanting to change the topic, I went back to discussing my decision to be a no-op. "So I have my pussy and I get to keep my girly penis too. This is the best way for me. Basically, I have what nature gave me, but by enhancing the feminine, I have a form that matches my psyche." I paused for a moment, fixed my eyes on hers and asked forthrightly, "Am I not passable?" "You are more than passable," Cindy quickly responded. "You're beautiful, absolutely gorgeous!" There was a pause while Cindy considered everything I had just said. I sipped some wine and waited. She was very pretty also. I loved her pensive look and the way she puckered her lips as she framed the next question, "Do you feel that Don took advantage of you?" "Yes and no. Definitely because of my age and lack of experience, but did I mind? No! I was ready or close enough to ready that I really don't have any regrets or animosities. I love to suck cock and that first experience with Don was wonderful. It just felt so right for me to have Don's manhood stuffed in my mouth, and when he came, I swallowed every bit of his warm jism. I can't understand why so many women find blowjobs objectionable." Once again, I felt like I was telling Cindy too much. Can't I restrain myself? Well, Cindy asked and I'm not going to lie... she'll just have to deal with the truth. "Well, not all women find blowjobs distasteful!" Cindy said in a tone that was both defensive and brazen. Somewhat reassured by her direct and spirited response, I continued, "Yes, but they aren't as familiar with the equipment as a tgirl; nobody can give a better blowjob than a tgirl," I asserted. Cindy smiled slyly and re-filled my wine glass. I wondered whether our conversation had gotten a little strange. Cindy always held her cards close to the vest and once again she had me guessing what was going on in her mind. As I drank more wine, she snuggled beside me. Her arm went around my shoulders and she began to brush her lips against my neck. I went limp as her kisses became hot and passionate. Taking my wine glass before I dropped it, she placed it on the coffee table. "Oh, Geena! You are so pretty and sexy. I can't resist you." Gathering me in her arms, Cindy kissed me properly. I must have had a bit too much wine for I could only respond languidly to her probing tongue. She continued to kiss and caress me, rubbing my nylon covered legs from knee to ankle and then back up. "I love the way you feel, Geena. These stockings are so sheer!" I was beginning to shake off my wine-induced lethargy and responded more passionately to her kisses. "And what's this?" Cindy suddenly asked when her hand reached stocking tops and bare flesh. "A garter belt! Oh, you little fem tart!" she scolded. Running her fingers up the straps, she traced along the embroidered edges, her fingertips were hot points on my bare flesh. As she softly brushed over my pubic triangle, I pulled her close for more kisses. Cindy reached around and unzipped my dress. Peeling it down around my shoulders, she followed its descent with a trail of kisses. My bra came off next, exposing my small breasts to her greedy mouth. My nipples were already hard, little buds; she sucked, licked and kissed, first one, then the other. There is nothing else that makes me feel more feminine. I was in heaven as she groped and kissed my titties. She continued to pull my dress down until it piled around my waist. Her soft, wet lips skimmed over my bare, white skin, over my smooth, flat stomach. Her hands had once again returned to my legs, rubbing and caressing, gliding over the silky, sheer fabric of my stockings, up and down until I was aching for her to touch me more intimately. "Ooohh, I love you, Cindy." I couldn't help myself. She was working me into a pitiful lather of lust. I wanted her to fuck me any and every way. "Oh, God, I think you're sexy! I'm going to devour you, sweetheart," Cindy whispered. She embraced me and kissed me passionately, sending her tongue deep into my mouth. I sucked on it rapaciously as she fondled me between the legs. My sheer panty was fairly insubstantial, and consequently, it didn't take much precum to wet it thoroughly. Cindy slid her hands under my butt and squeezed and kneaded my large, soft asscheeks through the diaphanous material. In a moment, my panty was half-way down my legs and Cindy was kissing my thighs where they were exposed above the tops of my stockings. Her honey-blond hair brushed across my girly penis. Dragging my panty the rest of the way down my legs, it snagged on my shoes, catching on the pointy tips of my heels. Carefully, she took off one shoe, and then the other and tossed the tangled mess to the side. At that point, I was more than ready to be made loved to. Although my girlcock was not stiff, I was so turned on I could scream. That's when Cindy began to massage my feet. My whole body relaxed as she rubbed a foot with both hands and then massaged it. I was glad I had also gotten a pedicure yesterday when I got my nails done. My feet were as pretty as they could be with a fresh coat of nail polish, buffed and shiny. Cindy dug in with strong fingers, making small circles with her knuckles and then switched to the other foot. This went on for minutes but it seemed much longer. Sexual desire permeated my body, but I was so totally relaxed. Cindy extended the massage up my legs until she reached my knees. Then, spreading my legs wide, she once again kissed her way up to my girlcock. Kissing it up and down its unswollen length, she paused to gently to lick and kiss my ball sac, which is compact and hairless. "You are so soft... and smooth... and beautiful, Geena. I love the way you feel... and taste." She took the whole of my girlpenis into her mouth and applied gentle tongue pressure. The warmth and wetness of her mouth surrounded my sensitive shaft and stirred it to life. As it grew in her mouth, Cindy's head bobbed up and down in a slow, steady rhythm. When I was full size, or nearly so, she concentrated on the sensitive tip, swirling her tongue over and around the large mushroom head. My girly cock hardened by a few degrees more. Stopping completely for a moment, she held my silky, wet shaft in one hand. We stared admiringly at the magnificent flesh edifice she had created, first gazing at my lightly veined, glimmering girlcock, then at each other. Cindy gazed steadily into my eyes and slowly engulfed my tgirlhood. I watched as it disappeared inch by inch into her O-shaped mouth. I don't know if most women know how much this simple, straightforward act means. To be accepted so intimately and completely satisfies the soul as much as it excites the body. I think Cindy was very good at sensing how close to orgasm I was. She would take me to the brink and stop. After a sufficient pause, she would lick my girly dick as if it were a popsicle. I was incredibly aroused; wanting release yet not wanting the stimulation to end. I moaned softly as she kissed along the underside of my shaft. Precariously balanced between going-on-forever and climax, I was no longer in command of my own body but totally dependent on Cindy's tender mercies. My moans of pleasure were becoming helpless whimpers, begging for both release and more blowjob. Cindy, completely in charge, decided on more blowjob. Taking just the first few inches my girlcock into her mouth, she sucked on it vigorously. I had never been so well taken care of! As she worked her mouth magic, she also caressed my scrotum and ran a finger along my perineum. Cindy must have set me up because she apparently had stashed a lubricant within arm's reach. The next thing I knew, she was pushing a lubricated finger past my sphincter. Once inserted, it slipped easily and deeply into my pussy. If I had been helpless before, what was I now? Cindy used her finger just right to stroke my prostate while continuing to suck and slide on my girly penis. Had she taken an anatomy or physiology course somewhere? I was totally surprised by her knowledge, skill and boldness. I cried out uncontrollably, "Oooohhh, my God... Oh, yesss! Cindy, yes, eeeeeehh!" Surely she would soon allow me release; this couldn't go on forever! I had never been teased to such extreme; it was almost torture. I looked down at Cindy. Except for having kicked off her clogs, she was still wearing all her clothes. This struck me as very amusing -- here I was, whipped into a seething froth of sexual emotion and Cindy still had all her clothes on! I began to laugh and cry at the same time; it must have sounded wild and hysterical. I was naked to the waist where my dress was all bunched up. Below the waist, my stockings, securely held by my garter belt, still looked nice. Had they been vintage nylons without any stretch, they would be all loose and twisted by now. I had one leg straight, extending to the floor and the other bent, resting across Cindy's shoulder. Watching her go up and down the length of my girlcock in countless different ways just served to excite me all the more. I knew I would explode soon, in spite of any efforts Cindy might make to prolong our session. Was she pleased that she had tortured me with pleasure for so long? She was finger-fucking me real good now, timing her rhythmic thrusts to match the action of her mouth upon my turgid tgirlcock. I couldn't watch anymore, however much I wanted to. Melting into the sofa, it was a major effort to lift my head. Not long! Not long now. I was slumped back, eyes closed, savoring the moment. I think the rest of my body had climaxed several times and now I was just waiting for my girlpenis to catch up. Cindy had removed her probing finger from my tgirl vagina and was concentrating on the blowjob. She was just going up and down, taking as much of my full length as she could, when I perceived something different. Somehow she seemed to be taking more... no... all of me. I raised my head and opened my eyes only to see Cindy's lips pressed full up against my body as she deep throated me. I was a goner now! Once, twice, three times she consumed my entire girldick, each time backing off completely so that my tgirlhood, drenched with her saliva, stood swollen and proud. Was it my imagination or was my girly cockhead slightly larger after each trip down her throat? I've been told that when a man is being satisfied orally, sexual etiquette requires that he inform his partner when that special moment is about to arrive. Is this also true for tgirls? Women who are having cunnilingus performed on them are under no such obligation. Why the double standard? If the answer seems obvious, I would disagree. Why should male fluids be treated any differently than female fluids? Yes, they are different, but so what? I blame it on the Bible -- you know, that thing with the Onanites spilling their seed on the ground; the sin is the wasting of seed. Women's fluid is of no consequence, a simple lubricant that can be tossed away like an old tube of KY Jelly, but a man's seed is... well, seed. This is probably why it's an abomination for a man to lie with another man -- it would waste seed. Clearly, fellatio to climax is another seed waster. Shouldn't this mean that a little bit of fellatio as part of foreplay is ok but that a thorough and complete blowjob is not ok? I've never heard it expressed this way, but the way so many women approach oral sex, it seems as if this is the unwritten (and unspoken) law. I don't think there should be a spit or swallow issue. For me, spitting is truly a waste of good semen. Doesn't swallowing make the most sense? Spitting is literally spilling the seed on the ground... no better than an Onanite! Sexual etiquette and biblical admonitions aside, it could also be argued that it's just a matter of basic respect. Announcing the special moment provides one's partner with an opportunity to deal with it in whatever way suits them -- a simple act of courtesy; it's the polite thing to do. My problem with this is that there is still the presumption of an issue; whereas, I maintain there is no issue. To love completely is to accept completely. To say, "Oh, yes, you are good enough for me but your sperm is not! Let me spit it out!" What the fuck is that? I'm sorry, but I just can't buy into this. I feel no obligation to warn anybody about what's going to happen and when. What do you think is going to happen with my girldick in your mouth? Take a guess. You warn someone when something bad is going to happen, not something good. No! I have no reason to mention anything at all. Cindy had reinserted her finger into my pussy and was stroking my prostate when she deep throated me for the fourth time. The sensation of being so intimately in her mouth and down her throat was delicious beyond words. The probing finger sent me over the top. Even though not obligated by etiquette, the Bible, common courtesy or respect, I found myself saying, amidst an extended series of moans, squeals and shrieks, "Ooohh... Cindy... I'm gonna come!" It wasn't meant as a warning; I couldn't help myself. I don't know... but wasn't it right and necessary so that Cindy could share the moment? Didn't she need to know that the exquisite pleasure she had given me for so long was soon to end? End! What a shame, but it was perfectly natural that this should be so. If pleasure like this were forever, how could we appreciate it? We would have nothing else to compare it to and would not realize how precious and transcending it is. In any event, had my exclamation been intended as a warning, it would have been woefully late because my girlprick began throbbing warm jets of cum while it was still half-way down her throat. Aside from my already stated position on the matter, I had very little concern for Cindy. Having swallowed all of me and finger-fucked me at the same time, I felt that her purpose was clear. Cindy backed off but kept the head of my girly cock in her mouth as it continued to spurt semen. I didn't think I would actually have that much, but Cindy had worked me into quite a lather and I felt four or five good strong pulsations. Cindy swirled and stabbed her finger as if trying to coax every last drop from me, giving up only when my girldick began to wilt. I felt totally drained, exhausted and satisfied. Cindy was still kneeling before me. My leg, the one that once rested across her shoulder and back, had dropped to the floor. When I looked at her face, she showed me a mouth full of precious pearl jam, which she proceeded to swallow with obvious satisfaction and pleasure. With a joyful smile on my face, I stretched out on the sofa. Cindy got up, found a small pillow for my head, pulled my dress up, covered me with a fleece throw and then joined me. It wasn't long before I drifted off, comforted by her closeness and warmth. The sleep right after sex doesn't last long but can be surprisingly deep. She was staring at me when I awoke, our faces close, almost touching. It was the first chance I had to thank her for such a wonderful experience. Whatever I had said about tgirls giving the best blowjobs, I wanted to take back. Smiling, I angled my head and pursed my lips inviting Cindy to kiss me. Her mouth covered mine. As our tongues entwined, I could taste just a hint of my jism. We remained locked in each other's embrace, rekindling fires that would never go out but only burn with different levels of intensity. "I love you Cindy, darling. Oh my God, do I love you!" "I love you more," she said in response. "Oh don't do that," I said disapprovingly. "Ok. Then I love you as much as you love me... no more, no less!" "You're being silly," I told her. Truth be told, I think I was the silly one. Silly in love with this wonderful woman. What other surprises awaited me? I thought my gender was the big surprise, but Cindy was proving me wrong quickly. A lot of women want nothing to do with a tgirl. It's just not an experience they're looking for. To find someone who is genuinely interested and can accept me the way I am... no, who likes me the way I am... who wants me the way I am... who can help me celebrate femininity... Wow! I kissed her again. "I don't believe what you did... that was unbelievably wonderful." "You turn me on, Geena-honey. I've always preferred women emotionally. Men are such bullshitters. They can be so rude, so crude, so stubborn and so stupid. I do like their equipment though, and if they can manage to be just a little bit gentle and a little bit sensitive, they're not half bad. I really hadn't given it much consideration, but I guess I thought my options were either heterosexual or homosexual. I didn't realize there was another choice." I was almost giddy as I wrapped my arms around her and told her I loved her. As we kissed, I began untucking her shirt. Running my hands up her bare back, I located her bra snap. After liberating her boobs, I tried to position myself so that I could cradle and caress them. My intentness was obvious. Cindy sat up, astride me, but supporting most of her own weight. When she began unbuttoning her cardigan, I readily joined in. She took it off and then pulled her shirt over her head. As her breasts tumbled free, I marveled at how womanly they were -- having had two children and nursed them both, her breasts had a maternal fullness. Her large nipples were surrounded by smallish, brownish-pink areolas. I would say she was definitely a C cup, and when she didn't watch her weight, I bet a D cup would be a better fit. I made a mental note to check her wardrobe and see if she had both sizes, but whether she did or not, I would still take her lingerie shopping at the first opportunity. It would be a lot of fun, but besides satisfying my own lingerie fetish, I think most genetic women have never taken the time to get properly sized for a bra. With my small breasts, it's not an issue, but whenever I see a woman in an ill-fitted bra... First, it's not attractive and second, it can't be comfortable. I don't ever recall noticing Cindy in this predicament, but that doesn't mean she couldn't benefit from a professional fitting. One of my favorite lingerie stores is owned by this woman who is simply the best at bra sizing. While my mind had raced off on this tangent, Cindy had leaned over so that her breasts were now invitingly close. I reminded myself to go slowly since I didn't know how sensitive they were. A few flicks of my tongue against her nipples did nothing, but when I began to kiss them softly, they hardened instantly. Cindy closed her eyes and let a small moan of pleasure escape her lips when I began to suck on them, gently at first and then in earnest. "Oh, baby... that's nice Geena! Oh, yeaaahh!" she drawled. I continued to suck on her boobs until she stood up and took her jeans off. She pulled jeans and panty down in one smooth motion and planted herself back on top of me, just wearing wool socks. Her neatly trimmed pussy pressing down on my girly dick aroused me as much as the passionate kisses she was bestowing on my insatiable mouth. "Wait!" I interrupted. "I have to get out of this dress before it gets all messed up. It's probably already too late." Cindy helped me up. I stood in front of her and stepped out of my dress. It would definitely need a touch-up before I would wear this outside again. I hung it over the nearest chair and promptly returned to my waiting lover. My girlcock dangled, neatly framed by my garter belt. Cindy pulled me close and sucked me until I was hard again. Easing me back onto the sofa, she once again positioned herself on top. My girldick entered her moist vagina effortlessly. Slowly she raised and lowered herself. The rhythm was almost too slow, but after a while, it began to feel just right. Oh yes, Cindy, just slow-fuck me the whole afternoon! I had lost track of time. Were we whiling away hours or just minutes? At times, we just lay joined together, my girlish cock fully embedded in her pussy but not moving. We'd kiss and grind our pubic mounds together, and then she would start fucking me again. I expected at any moment that Cindy would ask to switch or just roll over and let me finish, but it never happened. We went so slowly for so long that I was caught totally by surprise when she suddenly shifted into high gear. Her breathing became rapid and husky as she continued to move up and down on my tgirl shaft. I followed her rhythm, shoving my pelvis upward to meet her downward thrusts. We slapped together with considerable force, but Cindy obviously liked it because she redoubled her efforts and slammed me even harder. I think it was more good luck than good timing but we climaxed together, with much moaning and screaming on her part and a few whimpers from me. When it was over, we held each other quietly. My wilting lovewand was still in place as I dozed off. When I was roused by Cindy, the late afternoon rays of the sun were shining through the windows. "Geena, love, we need to get presentable. My Mom's going to have dinner with us. If she should arrive early with the kids... well, let's just not let that happen." Feeling vulnerable and exposed, I began to gather up my things. "You know, if we're going to carry on like this, I need to bring some extra clothes over. I love these heels but I don't want to wear them to dinner and this dress..." "Let me see what I can do with the iron; I can fix it. As far as shoes go, see what I have. If nothing else, you can wear slippers or clogs." I handed my dress to Cindy and went to the master bathroom to fix my makeup. All things considered, it didn't need much touching up. I had found some black slippers and was putting my bra back on when Cindy returned with my dress. I quickly surveyed it and said, "You were right, you could fix it." Cindy had already put her clothes back on so we were like unmatched bookends, me, in lingerie and she, fully dressed. Maybe it was this contrast that motivated her to be playful, but for whatever reason, she abruptly asked, "How much?" I didn't get it at first, but then she pulled the dress farther away from me and repeated, "How much?" I half-smiled and said, "How much do you want?" "I asked you first." "What I offer... I don't think we have time for right now. Would you settle for a kiss and a promise of more kisses?" "It depends on where you are offering to bestow these kisses," she quickly rejoined. In a stilted, theatrical fashion, I continued, "I offer to bestow these kisses upon any appropriate place where kisses are normally bestowed upon." "Surely lips are appropriate. Are they not?" she asked me promptly. "Yes, they are," I replied, "but so are other more sensitive parts of the anatomy." "Well, lips will suffice for now, wench. Might I have a sample so that I may know the true value of what you are offering?" I don't know how we go into this Elizabethan drama thing, but I continued, "Why of course, milady." I approached obsequiously and kissed her on the lips, chastely at first and then wantonly. I felt like such a slut, standing there in my underclothes and kissing her with wild abandon. Like a barometer of desire, my shecock stiffened. Cindy broke our kiss abruptly and announced an end to this playful interlude, "I'm sorry, we don't have enough time for this... I've got to start dinner... and you've got to get dressed." I wasn't too disappointed. In spite of my obvious state of arousal, I was fairly exhausted. We had been wonderfully busy this weekend. I smiled coquettishly at her and took my dress. "You know there's plenty of room for your clothes here. I recently packed up Paul's things... it was time, and well, there's closet space... and the dresser behind you is completely empty." I gave Cindy a consoling hug and kissed her cheek. "Let me help you with dinner." Cindy definitely knew her way around the kitchen, whereas I was more qualified to be an assistant chef. Dinner was almost ready by the time her mother and the kids arrived. Jason and Carly were fairly bouncing off the walls with excitement. I had met Cindy's mom before on numerous occasions and usually called her Mrs. Keely, but occasionally I called her by her first name, Michelle. She was short, attractive in a modest way, matriarchal, somewhat bordering on domineering. Age had turned her into a "nice, old lady", adding a few extra pounds, wrinkles and white hair. Growing old is too cruel. "Hello, Mrs. Keely," I greeted her warmly. "Why hello, Geena. I see you're joining us. It looks like you two have been very busy in the kitchen." I merely smiled in response but was thinking, yes, and in the bedroom also. "My, you look very dressy, Geena. Did you have a date?" Feeling a little foolish for having done myself up so, I lied a bit, "Well, I was going to meet some friends for dinner, but I stopped in to see if Cindy needed me for anything, and... I just changed my mind and decided to stay here." We all exchanged pleasantries and light conversation until the dinner was ready. Carly and Jason were usually well behaved whenever grandmother was around and that night was no exception. As much as I like kids, and Jason and Carly in particular, I don't particularly enjoy dining with them. Throughout the meal, I couldn't help but get the feeling that Mrs. Keely was on to us. At her age, I don't think she would be surprised by too many things, although I bet I could give her a run for her money. Nevertheless, I think she mostly wanted her children to be happy and was no longer overly concerned about how it came to pass. I believe one of Cindy's sisters was a lesbian and Mrs. Keely had accepted that. If she thought that was going on here... well, she doesn't need to know the whole story. I tried to just act normal, but people tune into changes in relationships, and I suspected that Mrs. Keely was tuning in. God, what about work? Well, that's easier. Co-workers don't know you like family and close friends. Still, I'd prefer to be discreet about this. Maybe I should avoid seeing Cindy at work for a while. When dinner was over, I helped Cindy cleanup and reluctantly said good- bye. The kids were bustling about the house with nervous energy so we didn't have any real privacy. Stealing kisses when we safely could, we gradually prepared to go our separate ways. Oh how I wish I could just stay the night! I resolved to pack when I got home so I wouldn't have to go through this again. As I walked slowly to my car, the sound of my five inch heels echoed down the street. I was happy, exhausted and sad, all at the same time.