Correspondent free porn video

No fair reading this if you lack an 18 year old's ability to read about sex and yet remain virtuous. Or whatever the age, if the law requires it. Correspondent By Vickie Tern It worked out beautifully. Better than we'd hoped, better than we'd planned, way better than we'd imagined. Jeffrey was easy, just as Janice said he'd be. And the rest was easier still! I mean, I do love Ron, very dearly, he's my husband and my whole life I hope forever. I want everything he wants, and I know he feels the same about me. And he's fully accepted the fact that no matter how much we love each other and no matter how satisfying our lovemaking -- and it is, don't mistake me -- he can't ever fully meet my needs. I'll always need more. He knows that's a fact, the poor dear. I've tried to provide him with all sorts of compensations, because I do care, deeply. But that's how we are. We both accept what can't be changed. He wanted an utterly undemanding marriage, one he can collapse into, and that's what he's got. At work he's hard-driving, a tough, decisive administrator with a huge staff and enormous responsibilities, a strong man who gets things done and solves impossible problems. So of course when he gets home he's exhausted, he needs to unwind utterly from the day's tensions. So he decided very early that when he arrives home he wants to walk into another world. One where everything is decided for him, where he can completely surrender his mind and will and heart and soul and feel altogether cared for. A world where he's never consulted and has no voice, where he's informed of little and chooses nothing. He told me he wanted to leave all those decisions to me, so he promised to agree with every one of them and do everything I tell him to do. "Everything?" I asked him when he first proposed this arrangement. When he pleaded for it in fact. "Whatever I decide for either of us, you'll accept it? No questions, even?" And he'd nodded solemnly. "Yes, Pam, I need exactly that," he added. And for Ron, a nod is an unbreakable contract. That was that. This was an incredible gift! I couldn't hold back my tears! Because from the moment he first hinted at a need to submit himself altogether to my desires, I'd had more sex in mind as the thing I most desired. Not from Ron, that couldn't happen. You see, Ron is an extraordinary lover, but even during our honeymoon, when his prick was striving heroically to satisfy me, pushing in and out day after day, I was feeling certain stirrings and yearnings in my loins that told me I needed more. That more would be better still. More sex than Ron even at his horniest could provide. That's how I am. I stared at Ron disbelieving, so he added, "You do whatever you want. Whatever makes you happy. Whatever pleases you. I'll accept it. I don't even have to know what it is." I put it to him bluntly. Looking him straight in the eye, I asked, "If I want to spend time with other men now and then, you won't mind?" He looked away for a moment, then back. and he swallowed hard. His voice quavered. But his words were clear. "Pam, whether I mind or not doesn't matter. At work I decide everything, and what I decide is what happens. Here I want you to decide everything, and that'll be what happens. I'll accept whatever you decide as for the best." I wanted to be absolutely clear about this. "Even if I use those men sexually?" He swallowed again. "If you do, then that's something I'll just have to live with, won't I?" "Yes, you will. Because that's what I'll do," I told him, still studying him closely. "I love you, and I don't want to betray you. So I want you to know that I intend to have sex with other men now and then." "I don't need to know it," was all he replied. "You do what you do, and I'll try to be glad of it and happy for you." He looked solemnly into the middle distance, absorbed, reconciling some uncertainty in his own head. Then his face cleared and he shook himself and looked about for the evening newspaper. He's that decisive! So I did do what I did, and that very night. I inaugurated this new phase of my marriage with a phone call to Kevin, the most heavily hung of all my old boy friends. He was glad to hear from me. And when I came home from Kevin's apartment at three a.m., my hair all tumbled and mussed, spraddle-legged, still leaking, Ron was still waiting up for me. He asked only if I'd had a good time. I told him teasingly that he didn't need to know. He bowed his head and said nothing more. Yet despite my stretched, gaping pussy, that night I gave him more loving than you can believe anyone has in them, in sheer gratitude for the tremendous gift he'd given me. I hugged him tight with every part of me except my pussy -- Kevin had stretched its opening and walls too loose for that. But whether he felt himself in me or not, whether or not all he felt on his cock was warm humidity and the slickness of Kevin's cum, he understood I was grateful to him, and that part of him felt pleased, and the rest went along. So here's what happens nowadays. I love dancing, so we'll go out to different clubs with different couples where the other man may not feel committed to his wife or girlfriend, they're swingers maybe, and he'll ask me out onto the floor, and then things happen. Or I'll accept invitations from unknown men who come by our table to try their luck, and I'll kiss Ron goodbye when I leave the club with them. Sometimes I'll just go out alone dressed like a single woman in need of a night's fuck. Whichever, sooner or later I'll see an attractive man who moves just so, I don't know exactly how so, but I'll feel a marvelous tension build in me as I watch his shoulders turn, or the angle of his head shift. Maybe he'll only be sitting, or listening to someone, or lifting a glass. I can tell. I'll invite him out onto the floor so I can feel his moves as well as look at them. I'll press myself against him just so. He'll usually get all excited, what with a gorgeous woman like me dancing so close, and he'll get an erection. It never fails. Then when I feel that engorged prick pressing against my belly, if I'm impressed I'll lose all pretense of respectability. I've got to feel its soft head press against my cleft and then breach me, penetrate me, I've got to feel his cock slide long and luxurious in and out of me, pound me. I've got to see which of us can wear the other out first. That's how I am. Not that Ron's not marvelous in bed. He's still the best, a stallion, well-hung, with lots of stamina, that's a main reason why I married him. He's utterly devoted to satisfying me. But even a beefy hunk like Ron can't perform all the time, not the way I like it. If he does somehow manage, he's never any good the next day, maybe even not the next night. So that's when I'll begin thinking again about trying my luck somewhere else. It's wicked of me, I know, but sometimes I begin making plans for later on even while he's still plowing me. Why not? I love it! So we've worked it all out, and to his enormous credit he accepts it all. I go roaming whenever the spirit moves me, as it often does. Even if it happens that he's ready and eager but I can't stay, I've already made other arrangements, he has to accept that too. We are married and devoted to each other, and Ron knows that he's permanently number one in my affections, make no mistake about that. But if he gets horny and I have a prior engagement Ron knows that he simply has to be patient and wait his turn. The poor man said he didn't want to know, so he never does know exactly when I've got a date. He'll be sitting there after dinner, maybe watching television or reading his sports pages, maybe doing household accounts, still feeling washed out from work but partially restored by the great dinner I've cooked for him. And I'll come downstairs looking provocative, maybe wearing a satin draped blouse, braless, nipples poking out, heavy on the eye make-up, you know. Dressed to go out. I love teasing him, getting him really hot, so times like that I'll bend over and give him an affectionate kiss and promise not to be too late, maybe even tell him to wait up for me. Or tell him I'll be really late, not to bother waiting up. Either way it starts his imagination running wild and then I know he can't possibly get to sleep. I'll disappear out the door while he looks after me wistfully, his cock straining in his pants, trying to rise up and follow me. Even if it's only been an hour or two since his cock finally fell out of me exhausted, unable to move. Even if it's still exhausted and stays soft, it yearns after me as I go out the door, he's told me so, my sweet hubby. And my heart's goes out to him every time -- it's so sad. But it can't be helped. I know Ron envies whoever I'm off to meet if only because he knows the other man can get it up and at the moment he can't, or because the other man is a rare treat I mean to enjoy and Ron isn't, and that's why the other man can have me and Ron can't. It's so sad, but it's delicious too! I love knowing that while I'm writhing my cunt over or under that other man Ron's whole body is writhing at home in a jealous agony roused just by the fact that he knows what I'm doing and there's nothing he can do about it. When I tell Ron that, he looks at me wistfully but only smiles. Does he get off on it? Oh, if only! I never know. Though when I return he's never neglected. I have to make it up to him, my poor Ron. I want him to be a part of everything I've been doing. So it's now a routine, I require it and he expects it. For a few hours I'll heat up and gobble down another man's meat and potatoes, and then when I get home Ron gets to gobble the gravy. He burrows his head between my legs and wriggles his tongue across my clit and between my labia, and he sucks all that juice out of me. And it feels so marvelous, knowing he's there for me too! So utterly satisfying! Why does he do it? He has to is why. Not that I need to order him to do it, not any more. These days he's always eager to clean that other guy out of me, because only then does he get to fuck me himself. It happened like this. He broke the rules once. He objected once when I came home with another man's cum dripping down my thighs. My cum mixed in of course -- sometimes I soak my panties even before I've left the house just thinking about what's coming. Well, I crooked my finger for him to follow me to the bedroom and screw me again, to re-plant his flag in me as always, to make me his all over again. But he just sat there. I raised one eyebrow as if to say, 'Is there a problem?' And he burst out with it. "You say you need other men sometimes. Well, OK! I don't like it, but I love you, so ... well, OK! But Pamela, it's humiliating, having to take sloppy seconds from my own wife!" That's what Ron actually said, can you imagine? 'Sloppy seconds,' that's what he called my allowing him to slide his cock into the passion juice other men have squirted into me when I've made them as ecstatic as they've made me, letting my stay-at-home hubby mix in and be part of it. And using my whole first name, so formal, not just "Pam"? Talk about lack of respect? Then he went even further. "Sometimes when you come home you're so gloppy, you're soaked in so much slop I can't even feel I'm inside you!" That's what he actually said! Can you imagine? Oh ho, big mistake! To call that sweet syrup in my pussy 'glop'? And 'slop'? I've gotten myself nicely lubricated for him, and he complains? He should be grateful to those other men for preparing me! He should be grateful I've come back at all -- maybe I've been with better men -- there aren't many but I do attract my share! He should be grateful that better men have warmed me up for him. He should be grateful that ... well, never mind, I was mad, so I decided really to rub his nose in the 'glop' whenever I got home, coat his face and fill his belly with the 'slop' so he'd count his blessings and learn to love it. So afterward he'd sleep next to me feeling well-nursed, a comforted, contented baby with that other man's warm cum snug in his tummy. So I told him then and there that if he wants me to feel pristine when we make love after I've been with another man, well, he'll just have to kiss away all that cum himself, make me as clean as if I'd never left home. That I expect him to do just that from now on. That I insist on it. That from now on his loving mouth will have to re-sanctify my lower parts before I'll be willing to renew our marital fidelity. That when it's only my own juices and his saliva in me, and the other men have been sluiced out of me altogether by his tongue, only then will he get his turn. Well, of course Ron balked, at first. For a few nights he couldn't do it, so my legs stayed clamped tight shut when he tried to poke into me. I really felt bad about it, but it was important -- one of us has to maintain discipline. There he was, walking around mournful and hard-up the next few days, his cock erect or at half-mast and obviously starved for attention, and I admit I was tempted to relieve him a few times, the poor dear. For a while I thought he was going to violate our prime directive and actually masturbate himself, jerk off when I wasn't looking, but his respect for my orders did hold. I'd forbidden him to touch himself ever, and that was enough, he never did. Ron is so wonderful! Sometimes I feel I can't do enough for him, though I do my very best. Finally he gave in and tried to give me the oral sex I demanded. I came home early from a date and just looked at him, and he came upstairs with me and pushed his face into my disheveled and tacky groin. He wasn't bad at it, I've been eaten out a lot worse, but I could tell his heart wasn't in it. He just didn't want to slather his face in other men's cum. Some men are like that I suppose. But eventually he did get used to it, and after a while he was licking and sucking me with such gusto, savoring my different lovers with such pleasure, such a refined palate, that he could always tell who I'd been with, sometimes even whether that person preferred garlic or onions on his salads. While he did it, I always made sure I was making loud moans I told him were only for him. So the end result now is, Ron still gets sloppy seconds, only it's with his mouth not his cock. If 'seconds' is the right word -- sometimes they're thirds or fourths or fifths. I never tell him how many men may have left themselves in me on any particular night, or how many times. I have my fun. He swallows his pride like a man and then swallows every other man's. Then he gets his fun, and his cock gives my pussy even more pleasure. My beautiful Ron! I owe him the world! And he's grateful! He knows it could be a lot worse, because it once was. Maybe a year or so after he'd first agreed to let me fill my time and pussy with little extras, I came down wearing one of my slut-in-a-sleazy-bar outfits and he actually asked me where I was going and with whom. With an accusing edge in his voice, as if he were somehow the injured party! Trying to make me feel guilty! Maybe that particular night he suspected that the guy I was seeing was a monster down below, way better endowed than he was, and his jealousy carried him over the edge? Big as Ron is, some men are bigger, you know, and it happens that this one was, I confess it. Maybe I'd given Ron that impression without realizing it? All afternoon I'd been looking forward to that huge prick stretching my vagina open wide enough to accommodate a baby's head almost -- it would be like giving birth in reverse I was thinking. Maybe that made Ron feel inadequate? Or envious? I don't know. But I didn't much care. His tone of voice made me so resentful that the monster prick I then galloped on for hours gave me only a few orgasms. If you want to know, when push comes to shove it was hardly worth working it into me! So when I got back I put Ron through hell. For two months! Here's how. I'd double-date with Bernice sometimes, and we'd talk about jealous husbands and how to deal with them and things. She had her ways. So I stopped at her place and borrowed a chastity device I knew she wasn't using on her husband any more. Then as soon as I got home I clamped it on Ron and then just left it there. For two whole months. Just a simple plastic tube locked to his cock. I could see it dangling and bobbling whenever he walked naked from the shower and whenever he undressed for bed. Pink, with teeny yellow flowers painted on it along with a slogan in delicate script reading "Remember, mine, not yours!" and my initials in magic marker. He couldn't help but read more and more meaning into that mantra every time he glanced down, every time he tried to urinate by straddling the toilet instead of sitting to pee like a woman the way the tube required. He got the message. Worse, he couldn't get hard at all while it was on him. No erections. Worse still, what really stressed him out was he had no idea how long I meant to keep it there! Maybe forever? What I intended of course was for it to stay there until he finally accepted that the way things were was the way they'd be. He had my undying love, he knew that, but he'd agreed, he'd even proposed it nearly. He had no special claim on my body, only the ready access guaranteed by our marriage certificate, so he had no business resenting anything else I did with it no matter who I did it with. When I'd first told him that I meant to use other men sexually I'd felt a little sorry for him, he'd looked so helpless. So very early on I'd told him he could jerk off while imagining me fucking those other men, especially when he was waiting for me to come home and was pretty sure that's what I was doing that very minute. I know he abused himself a lot that way, because sometimes when I came home there was nothing I could do to get him going, his cock just dangled there limp and apologetic. I'd be thinking, poor man, I've got to do something for him so he can enjoy himself more, and me too, but I couldn't ever think of what. Sad. Then again there were other times when the idea of me with other men would so hyper-excite him that he'd hold off, he'd be stiff from the moment I got back home to the moment he pulled out of me several hours and countless climaxes later, both of us exhausted. But during those two months in his chastity device he couldn't masturbate at all, even when he knew for certain that I was with other men. That really drove him crazy. He couldn't even get hard much less cum inside that plastic tube, not by his own hand and not by my mouth or cunt! At most, dribble, the way I do sometimes. And that wound him up tight as a clock! He took to doing crazy things with me! Sucking cum out of me was nothing compared to other ways he tried to eat me when he couldn't get into me! Men can be such perverts! I'd let him, of course. He was learning his lesson. One time he was so desperate to cut that plastic tube off and liberate his cock that I had to tell him if he ever succeeded I'd cut his cock off too, right at the root, and then I'd divorce him. Even though I'd never harm him, not down there anyhow, and the fact remains that I do love him and I would never leave him, not for any reason. I knew that. But he didn't know it, the poor dear! He told me when I finally relented and eased it off him that he'd wanted to leave me many times but he just couldn't. That he'd found he loves me despite everything. I melted into a puddle when he said that! And also, he said, get this, even if he did leave me he said, he couldn't stand the thought of walking into some hospital emergency room to have the plastic tube removed by professionals. It would be too humiliating. Isn't that funny? My tough, hard-driving but much-cuckolded businessman husband defeated by a plastic tube? There's a lesson there. Take charge of a man's cock and you've taken charge of the whole man, everything he thinks is his manliness. It's all vested in his cock. Take charge of his cock and he's yours for life! When the two months were up, when for a few weeks there'd been no complaints at all, not even regretful glances, when I finally unlocked him, he burst out crying. His relief and his gratitude that I'd forgiven him were that strong! That was so sweet! I gave his penis a tug or two of forgiveness and told him that if he wanted he could go right now and pull himself off into the toilet, then flush it away, but to hurry back because I'd just returned from a Men's Club Social and was dripping and sore and I wanted him to comfort me. That night he didn't hesitate. He was so grateful he sucked all that juice out of me like a bilge pump! Bernice was right about how chastity belts force husbands to think they're being noble, spiritually pure, like all the great ascetics. There was not a word of complaint! The next night when I let him fuck me, he was so incredibly grateful he was tireless! Other men may have other distinctions, but I've got to say it, for all-round everything Ron is the very best! The very best! Make no mistake! So I took more of Bernice's advice and trained him carefully, very gradually conditioning him to limit his expectations, by letting him fuck me only after I've been with other men. Never before and never when he just happens to want to. It was hard on him, on both of us, but necessary, and he now knows that's how it is. That's why now he doesn't mind my going out at all. The reverse. Now, some days he's eager for me to go get laid, so he can get his afterward. He even tried not long ago to set me up with a work associate of his, and I would have done it too, even let Ron watch, except that months earlier I'd been with that guy already, and I knew I'd pretty much used him up. Ron got to know the routine. Whenever I'd come home from a date he'd eagerly clean out my cunt and only then climb into me, no more sloppy seconds but instead refreshed firsts, or whatever he thinks they are. He tried not to masturbate much any more while waiting for my return and thinking about the cocks that were slipping in and out of me at that very moment. Maybe he'd jerk off other times, but not when he was waiting for me to come home from a date. He didn't want to ruin his big moment! So you can understand, he had no complaints. But I've always been sure that he gets lonely, sitting at home by himself. I've often felt sorry for him when I've been out partying. A lot of the time. I've wished I could do something about it, take him with me maybe. But none of the men I go with ever want to know there's a husband hanging around nearby looking mournful. And no way would I ever want to let him get near another woman, let him pass the time with her while I'm with my date. No way! Are you kidding? So he'd watch me trip out the door without saying a word, and he'd welcome me back eagerly when I returned, no matter when or in what condition. And he knew what he'd then get to do, how he'd be rewarded for his patience. That was the best I could do. The poor dear. He really is so very dear! Sometimes I'd feel just heartbroken for him. Though all in all he seemed satisfied. Well, this particular night he wasn't at all surprised when I came down wearing heavy makeup as usual, in heels, but wearing only tight jeans and a white silk shirt loose at the neck and knotted just above my navel, no bra, nipples rampant, geared for heavy-duty seduction. "Don't wait up this time," I said. "There's no need, no worry, I'm only going next door. I told Janice I'd look in on Jeffrey while she's away. I figure I'll spend the night with him, and I may not be back before you leave for work." He stared at me, but he only nodded. He said absolutely nothing. I knew what he was thinking. Next door lives Mr. Dork, that's how he usually referred to Jeffrey. What does she want with him? He always called Jeffrey a "pussywhipped wimp," though that always sounded odd to me because Ron was certainly a world champion pussywhipped wimp where I'm concerned, maybe tough and relentless with everyone else but always happily submissive to my least whim. He knew that Jeffrey was nobody, a man who couldn't possibly be anyone I really wanted. It had to be a favor for a friend, something Janice had asked me to do, who knows why. So he felt baffled, but he only nodded. He didn't dare even to raise his eyebrows. He's perfect, I thought, watching his carefully composed impassivity. I do so love him! To reward him I gave him a grateful little wriggle of my rear end as I left, something he could remember when I was gone and his fist felt free to delve into his crotch. No use saving it if I'd be out all night. Then I was out the door, and crossing our lawn and driveway, and then standing next to Janice's door. Janice was supposedly gone for the weekend visiting her mother in Peoria. She had to seem safely away while I tended to her husband, or he'd be too nervous about her walking in on us once I had him well-compromised. In fact that was her plan. She wasn't in Peoria, only downtown in a hotel room with a guy from her office, I forget his name, a tall thin one with a cock to match, she said. I prefer thick cocks myself, but you never know, we take what we can get, and it takes all kinds. Anyhow, there she was already shacked up with him at this very moment, passing the time. If her plan worked she'd return some time later on tonight and catch us in flagrante, as the lawyers say. She'd make outraged noises, leave indignant, head straight for the divorce courts, name me in a sealed proceeding as the correspondent, the 'other woman' who had alienated her husband's affections, and then she'd strip Jeffrey bare of all his assets. "When I catch the two of you together, I guarantee he'll turn to jelly," she assured me. "I tell you what. Don't just fuck him, humiliate him too. Utterly! Dress him up girly and sexy, the way you sometimes do with your lovers when you're about to dump them and want to change the way you think about them. I've seen it. You even dumped one of those sissyboys onto another man once, I remember, that sales rep from ... well, never mind where. He was dressed up like a prom queen, and you got the two of them blind drunk, and then they went off together. You spent the rest of the night laughing and laughing about how they'd untangle themselves when they got sober enough and then each would realize what it was they'd just fucked. Well, make Jeffrey look like a girl, it shouldn't be too hard, he's not much of a man to begin with. I bet he'd be better-looking as a girl. Then when I discover the two of you he'll never be able to locate even a shred of whatever he calls his manhood. He'll sign anything." So that was the plan. Anyhow, Jeffrey let me in, and looking at him in a new way I saw immediately what Janice meant. As a man he was a wimp, no question, but still, he was cute! Not massive like Ron but slender, graceful, with soft features. Almost pretty, he had the makings of a quite passable babe. His hair should be lightened several shades to bring out his eyes, I was thinking -- but then that wasn't in the works for tonight. Dress size maybe a 10, could even be an 8 if not too clingy, not that he knows it yet. But I didn't need to think about that either -- Janice had already laid out his outfit for the evening upstairs. Whore gear, leather mini skirt, net stockings, strappy five inch heels and all. "Not that it's all work and no play for you," Janice had told me. "He has a respectable pecker, nothing exceptional but enough to give satisfaction." I saw right away that I was going to enjoy the evening even while only doing Janice a favor. Maybe I'd even owe her one? We'd see. "Hi!" I said, looking straight across at him -- he was about my height and build. From my own angle of vision, without lowering my eyes I could see that my nipples were poking out at him. He sure saw them, he couldn't lift his eyes up to meet mine! "Janice asked me to come over to see if you're properly taken care of while she's away. Getting enough to eat. Is there anything I can do for you?" And of course as I thrust my chest up at him, his eyes locked onto each breast tip. One on each. "Ahhh, that's very nice of you," he finally said. "I mean that's very considerate." He was flustered utterly. Mr. Dork indeed. No wonder Janice wanted to divorce him. A polite man isn't being polite at all if he just stands there and does nothing when a girl's obviously offering herself to be leaped and fucked. But Jeffrey was nothing if not polite, and only polite. My two nipples held him like a deer in headlights. I stood there in the doorway, waiting for him to take what would be his only initiative of the evening. "Err, won't you come in?" he said hesitantly. Finally he had arrived back in this world. I did, and preceded him into their living room, and stood alongside the couch, and looked up at him with the most outrageous bedroom eyes I could muster, eyelids drooping as if I already had his cock tucked way inside me and it felt real gooooood. Then I sat down and stared up at him wide eyed. "Shouldn't you sit too?" I asked. "It's your house, you know." Though not for long -- Janice intended to keep it as part of the divorce settlement. "You're too good a neighbor to lose," she'd said. "So I'll stay. Jeffrey can leave with the clothes on his back, I'll allow him that much. Maybe some of my last year's dresses too if you're as good at what you do as I suspect. I'll have to see." "Janice, is all this necessary?" I'd asked her. "Why don't you just train him to obey you without daring to ask why, the way I've trained Ron. Then you can keep him for life and he'll be no trouble. A guy in the house can be handy for fixing the plumbing or running errands, opening cans, you know, stuff like that. So can two incomes." "Oh, I don't intend to do without two incomes," she'd said. "It's just that Jeffrey isn't the kind of man I care to live with any more, and his income isn't the only one I intend to live on anyhow. There are bigger and better of both in this world. I envy what you've got with Ron, but I don't have your patience and finesse. And anyhow Jeffrey will never have Ron's masculine drive, nor his business sense. Compared to Ron Jeffrey's no prize at all. If he hadn't inherited his money we'd probably be living on an assistant supermarket manager's salary. That's what he'll end up as once I'm rid of him, I expect." She'd grinned. "If not a checkout girl." "I see," I'd replied. I was making a mental note -- if she envies me Ron, I'd better watch Ron closely until Janice finds a wealthy hunk of her own to occupy her. From now on, whenever I go out and I know that Janice is home, I've got to deplete Ron utterly. Take no chances. Even if it limits his performance afterward. But how? I gave it a little thought. I won't be able to fuck him myself those times, I was thinking, because my men always complain when they find my pussy's been used recently. That guy thing -- they don't like to slosh around in each other's goop any more than Ron does. Maybe they think that's faggotty? Who knows? So I'll have to see to it that Ron spends at least an hour jerking himself off before each of my dates, till there's nothing left to jerk. I'll help by describing the guy I'm dating and what we intend to do, and meanwhile tell him to keep pulling on his thing until it squirts. And then pull on it some more until it squirts again. And then again -- Ron can sometimes pitch triple headers, and he'd masturbate the thing raw if I told him to. Maybe I can get him to prefer that kind of sex to the real thing, pulling himself off while imagining me getting fucked by someone else? So he can think he's fucking me at one remove, in a way, and then can't do it at all at first hand, so to speak? I should try it, I was thinking. I do so love to mess his mind! But now here I was alone with Janice's husband, doing her a favor by seducing him into divorce court. "Come sit next to me," I said, stroking the couch cushions next to me as if they were the cheeks of his ass. "And tell me if you want anything. Maybe I can help." He did. He sat stiffly alongside me, close enough so I knew he could feel the warmth of my thighs through our pants legs, his hands planted firmly on his knees. Uneasy, silent. Boring. I decided to cut to the chase, no matter how abrupt it might seem. He'd never make his own moves. Janet had told me that he never made the first move sexually anyhow. "Too shy, I suppose," she'd said indifferently. Well, we'd see if he's shy once he's been set in motion. What was it that high school Quarterback told me when he took my cherry and I was marveling out loud at the way our hips moved, how they'd just kept pumping and wriggling on their own? Newton's Law he'd called it, "Bodies in motion tend to remain in motion," he'd said. Newton sure got that right! I placed my palms under each breast and lifted them up and held them as if offering them to him, and stared at him until he finally turned his head and stared back at me. At them. Then he couldn't take his eyes off them. "If this isn't too intimate a topic for you, I've been thinking lately about this odd habit women have, wearing brassieres," I said. "Even though we like to feel free to do whatever we choose to do, we bind ourselves into them anyhow. What do you think? Should I have put one on before coming over?" He gazed down at my proffered boobs, suddenly frightened. But unable to take his eyes off them. My nipples were distended now, anticipating his mouth. "I wonder why women wear brassieres when they don't need them," I added earnestly, as if seeking his counsel. "And not men too. Have you thought about that, ever? Wearing brassieres? Wondered what it's like?" I paused. Plant the seed of an unthinkable thought and it sprouts out not at all unthinkable. And eventually grows lots of interesting little thoughtlets. He swallowed and seemed to choke. I bet he's tried it, one time or another! Janice's bras, or his mother's when he was little. Good enough. At least he hasn't bolted off this couch and locked himself in the bathroom. "Let me show you what I mean," I said. I released my breasts, which descended and bobbled once under their silken draperies before resuming their usual rightful up thrust. Then I quickly unbuttoned my blouse. In a moment my chest was altogether naked and those pink, protrusive nipples were fully exposed to his eyes. They stared at each other. He didn't know what to do. He looked terrified! "What do you think?" I asked him. "I ... I don't know," he said. "I don't think they ..." "Hush!" I said, reaching over and placing a finger across his now-hardened cock as if it were his mouth, swearing it to secrecy. "Look, let's just find out. Why don't you look in Janice's undies drawer and bring me the largest bra you can find there. You already know where she keeps things like that, I suppose?" That traps him into a confession of sorts, I thought. He nodded. This would be so easy! To make it easier still, before she'd left supposedly to visit her mother Janice had bought a bright red bra in exactly Jeffrey's chest size, all satin and elastic lace, strong enough to gather up his loose skin and slack chest muscles and shape them into breasts, and she'd spread it out across her top drawer above all the others, where he couldn't possibly miss it. Anxious to escape my threatening naked boobs, Jeffrey did my bidding. I saw with satisfaction that as he left the room he was bent way forward and glancing worriedly back at me to see if I saw his shame. I smiled. In three minutes more that hard cock will be inside me, I told myself as I stripped off my pants and panties and arranged myself luxuriously along the length of the couch. I was now as altogether bare as that painting, Goya's "Nude Maja," though like her I was still wearing my heels. One leg stretched ahead with the toes pointed as if already orgasmic, one leg was languidly draped down on the floor, my pussy slit peeking out, altogether accessible. My boobs were still exposed, though now sagging softly. He returned with the red bra and then stood transfixed, this time staring at my exposed, moist, pink crack. Maybe he'd never seen one quite this open? Not even Janice's? "Jeffrey, don't just stand there holding it in your hand! Bring it here. We need to try it on to see how it fits?" But as soon as he came within range I reached behind his neck and pulled him down on me with one arm, while with the other arm I reached for his belt buckle and zipper. I had to slide his thing into position and then push myself onto it if his hips hesitated to do the deed. But no sweat, a moment later he was inside me. This was the easiest lay I had ever seduced. And a pretty fair size, too, for a boy-man like Jeffrey. It felt good as I closed my thighs over his back and thereby closed off his only escape route. Mission accomplished! Jeffrey was now officially an adulterer. Here come the judge! The rest would be fun. "Oh, that cock!" I cried out in ecstasy! "How could you do this to me, Jeffrey? I'm so ashamed! More, more!" And I lunged my pelvis at him. He actually began to move, even to rotate! And then to plunge. And it was true, then there was no stopping him! He rolled in and out and around and around me as I lubricated, then turned dripping wet. My juices quickly coated both our groins and bellies and started to leak onto the couch -- Janice's problem now, I thought vaguely as my pleasure mounted. "Suck me!" I commanded in a tense whisper. "Suck my nipples! You know you want to! Do it!" "Yes!" he squealed in a high-pitched voice, one I realized would do very well. Maybe I really should make him a girl long term? It would take a certain amount of work. But what for? An idea began to dawn -- I could knock down two birds with one stone! But it depended on Janice. Meanwhile he sucked my nipples like a starved baby! Sheer heaven. I reached a marvelous orgasm, then another, crying out joyously each time to encourage him. The third came slower, giving me time to wonder whether he'd ever reach a peak himself --I had other things to do with him before Janice returned, So I concentrated, and slid my pussy up and down and around him with a little extra corkscrew lunge on each upstroke. Finally, "Ahhhhhhh!" he cried out, muffled by his mouthful of titty. That meat inside me began to leap about in my cunt like a frightened colt. "Ahhhh! Ohhhh!" he grunted with each spurt, and the spurts kept coming. He was a fountain! Finally it ended, and he collapsed on me. He'd now groaned more syllables in heat than he'd uttered as conversation since I entered the house. I wrapped my legs around him even more tightly, and locked my heels against the small of his back so he couldn't possibly escape, and clamped my vulva tight against his crotch as if to preserve all of his sperm inside me, and waited. He pulsed once or twice more. But all good things end, and as his prick shrank our mingled cum leaked out into the slick mess now soaking irretrievably into the couch cushions. No way to hide what we'd done now! He was hopelessly compromised! "Just wonderful, you're a darling," I crooned. "Really great! Wherever did you learn to make love like that?" In fact he was pretty good once he got under way. Size not half bad, impassioned moves, and incredible staying power. A natural. I still didn't know why Janice wanted to divorce him when she could just as easily keep him on at home and fill out her sex life with add-ons, the way I did. She could have her cake and he could eat it, the way Ron did mine. I wouldn't mind keeping him conveniently nearby for my own casual add-ons, I realized. A man like this has his uses. Which reminded me. He wasn't supposed to be a man when Janice arrived. "Mmmmm, lick me, sweetheart," I said to him affectionately. He obliged, his tongue lapping at my nearest nipple. "No," I said gently, releasing his hips from the grip of my thighs and slowly pressing his head down toward that oozing place between my legs. "I mean here. I just can't go home with you dripping out of me. I can't take the chance I'll be discovered! Help me!" And with that, I pushed him to the floor, his shoulders below my crotch, then threw my legs high in the air and took his head tightly between my thighs. I squeezed, and pulled his face into me. "Yes!" I cried. He had no chance to escape at all, on his knees and weighted down by the legs I'd wrapped about his head. But he cooperated voluntarily! I felt his tongue slowly emerge as if from a cocoon and then burrow about in my slit. Slowly good feelings began to rise up in me again, and soon his face was all over my pussy while my ass was writhing and slithering all over the soaked couch cushion. Then as I orgasmed yet one more time and my cunt pulsed, the rest of our blended glop pushed, practically squirted into his mouth. "Swallow it!" I hissed intensely. "Don't let it drip onto the sofa!" Swallow he did! As if it mattered, what else happened to the sofa! Mostly it was his cum -- mine was squishing in the couch cushion beneath me. This man was a prize! What was wrong with Janice? But now it was time to perform the rest of the scenario, R&R, regret and remorse! I began it as abruptly as I'd begun my seduction. "Oh, I do so want to see lots more of you, Jeff honey. You're so lovely! Your passion overwhelms me. But I feel so terribly guilty that I allowed you to do this to me. And now I'm terribly afraid! Not just for me, for you too! My husband Ron, you've seen him, he's so strong, and he has such a violent temper. He can be insanely jealous! I don't know what came over me! If the least breath of this gets out we'll both regret it for the rest of our lives. Or I will for the rest of mine -- you're not likely to survive after Ron finds out." His face looked up at me, wide-eyed with surprise and gleaming with cum and saliva. My thighs were now loosely draped across his shoulders, quite comfortable. I could do this for as long as it took. I threw an arm across my eyes and began to sob as if overcome by shame and humiliation. Gradually his breathing returned to normal, and his customary timidity returned too. He was rather sweet -- the man had no bravado at all. He really was a dork. A pussy. "My God!" he said. "You're right! He could kill me, and even if he doesn't, if Janice finds out she'll divorce me! No doubt of it! We can't let anyone suspect! What have I done?" He hadn't, I'd done it, and in record time, too, but this was not the moment to correct the books on that score. I tried to look as pale and wan and desperate as I needed to sound. "Oh!" I began to sob. "Everyone will know soon enough! You'll talk! I know it! Men always boast about their conquests! The gossip will spread everywhere! My life is over! Yours too! And Ron will spend the rest of his life in jail for your murder! Oh, God, how awful!" "No," he exclaimed, his voice strained, but trying like a gentleman to reassure me though as fearful for his own life as for mine or Ron's. "No, no, don't worry, I'll never say anything! It never happened! Nothing happened!" He didn't sound persuasive, especially with his face suspended over my quim and his chin still dripping his own cum. "But it did! We're lost! How else can we explain this?" With both hands I rubbed the huge, sticky stain on the couch cushion now spread out on both sides of my butt. It actually did squish! Had I pissed into it unawares at the height of my throes? That'd happened once or twice before. "Can we deny what this is? Janice will know in a heartbeat! Or she'll ask you what it is, and you'll break down and confess everything, and then to avenge herself on me she'll tell Ron! Then we're both dead!" "No," he said again with much less assurance. "I'll scrub it and say I spilled something there. Janice will be furious, but she won't imagine that it's anything ... sexual." "Oh, Jeffrey, you're dreaming! Feel it! Sniff it!" He hardly could, but he took the musky odor wafting up from my pussy as its equivalent. "She'll know exactly what it is! I'm a woman, with my reputation ruined I'm nothing! You're a man, you're under enormous peer pressure to boast! I need better than assurances. I need to know there's no way you'll ever hint this to anyone. That if you do, no one can believe you. I need to know that your risk of exposure is as great as mine! That's my only insurance." "How can that be?" he asked, no doubt thinking I was asking the impossible. "Who could ever arrange that?" "I know how," I said in a hushed voice. "But you'll never be willing to do it!" "Do what?" "Do something that's so shameful you'd never breathe a word of it to anyone. As shameful as anything we've just done." I decided not to add, "so far" -- he was too spooked to be moved by promises of more. "Something that disgraces your manliness so thoroughly you'll never ever want to spread rumors about us to anyone. So it'll be impossible for you to say anything!" I paused. "So it'll seem impossible that it ever happened. So people will think that you aren't even interested in girls. Not sexually interested anyhow. So no one'll believe the rumors if word ever does get out about us." Jeffrey lowered his head and looked as baffled as an ox being led into a slaughtering pen. "Yes, of course!" I said, as if the idea had just occurred to me. "There's a way! That's how it can be! There's a camera in my purse, we'll take pictures! Then we can both feel sure that we'll each keep each other's secrets, and we'll both be safe even if word should get out, because no one will believe we'd do such a thing if we have the pictures to prove we wouldn't!" Another pause. "Not only our reputations but our marriages are at stake, Jeffrey." That seemed heavy enough. But I added, "Your life too, it could be!" I gazed at him earnestly, and said no more. He just looked at me, altogether baffled... "There's a way?" he asked vaguely. "Pictures? Pictures of what?" I'd gotten way too far ahead of him. Which is where I wanted to be, so he'd be too busy running to catch up to think about where he was going. "Yes! Here! This! This pretty brassiere!" I gestured at the lacy red confection he'd brought down from Janice's bureau supposedly to see if my breasts needed more support, dropped unnoticed on the floor during my flurry to debauch him. I picked it up now and dangled it, a feminine noose about to be hung around his neck, Then I broke it to him. "You'll wear it. Not me. That's all it'll take!" "That's all what'll take?" Stolid and stunned, he understood nothing. I rolled on enthusiastically as if I didn't notice. "You'll wear it with some of the things that go with it! Of course! Then I'll take pictures of you and then if word ever got out about us, I could show them around, and then who'd ever believe that we'd had sex? That I'd ever be the slightest bit interested in you? Or you in me!" "What?" "Honey, concentrate. Here's my plan. We'll dress you up to look like a girl, and take a few pictures of you looking really cute! I bet you would be, too, though that won't matter, chances are those pictures won't ever be seen by anyone. They'll just assure me that you'll never say anything about this, because if you did, I'd be forced to show them around, and then you'd be disgraced. Right?" "I guess," he said. He was following me now, all right. There was now genuine fear in his eyes. "Who'd see you dressed that way and believe for a moment that you're man enough for me? I'm married to a guy who's all guy. Ron would never believe I could feel attracted to an effeminate pussy, a man who wears women's clothes! I mean, someone who looks as if he actually wants a pussy of his own, not the cock he's got. Or maybe wants someone else's cock for the sucking. A crossdressing sissy girl. As gay as they come!" "Gay?" He was catching on. I think. "Actually, transgendered. But most people don't know the difference. Most people think that men who want to look like women are gay, that they want to look like women so they can attract men. As if gay men, men who are attracted by other men, can be attracted by someone who looks like a woman! But no matter, people think gays are sissies and sissies are gay, so most people would assume you're queer! Ron would, and that's what's important! I'd feel safer if I had pictures of you pretending to be a woman. And if you did, you'd feel safer too, because Ron can be ... terrible in his wrath!" Strike while the iron is hot. Make hay while the sun shines. A penny saved is a penny earned, I suppose. Time to earn the penny. "Here," I said, holding the bra out to him. "Put this on. Let's see if it fits!" I knew it would of course. Then next stop, up to Jeffrey and Janice's bedroom to get the rest of the gear Janice had set aside for him. Soon to be Janice's bedroom exclusively. "Do it!" "I don't know how," he said in a low voice, looking down. Not 'whether' but 'how'! Miraculously, he'd bought in! My argument had worked! I hooked that bra behind his back while he looked on dazed, and I pulled his flesh into the cups while he watched bewildered, and there they were, a quite respectable set of titties, not large, but noticeable. I then took him by the hand and led him upstairs into the bedroom he still shared with his wife, as far as he knew. His thin shoulders looked quite feminine under the bra straps -- he'd really look lovely in a spaghetti strap or halter top, I was thinking, I'd love to get him dressed up properly! Full head of hair, not much anywhere else. He wasn't much of a man except when his cock was pre-heated, but he'd make a fine girl! This was such fun! An hour later my camera was filled with shot after shot of Jeffrey posing in high heels, garter belt and net stockings, then in his leather miniskirt and a decollete blouse. Finally, in one of Janice's long brunette wigs while wearing full facial make-up. He actually did look pretty! He's been wasted, all these years as a man, I kept thinking as I added garment after garment to his body and snapped picture after picture. There are surely better uses for him than this, than merely humiliating him so Janice can intimidate him into a bigger divorce settlement. I was still ahead of schedule. Janice wasn't due to break in on our debauchery for a bit longer. There was still time for me to give my budding thoughts further consideration. "Have you ever sucked a cock, honey?" I asked him suddenly, girl to girl, as it were. "It's so nice, pleasing a man orally. They're always so grateful. Here, sit down and lean back, let me show you how we girls do it." And before he could say anything or even back away, I lifted up his skirt and pulled down his panties, just enough for his quite respectable cock to pop out. Then I enclosed it in my mouth. It grew to its full extended size almost immediately. "Mmmmm, you like taking cocksucking lessons, don't you," I said. "Well, let's see if we can teach you how to be the best cocksucker in the world." And for ten minutes I licked, sucked, and stroked his penis with my tongue and lips, now and then enclosing it tightly, as if my upper lips were the lips of my vagina and I was spasming in orgasm, a few times taking it deep into my throat. Each time he seemed close to cumming I stopped and delivered a little lecture about whatever I had just done, then briefly demonstrated it again. I simply wouldn't let him cum. He was soon whimpering with frustration. "Now you," I said. "Doesn't your wife keep a dildo or vibrator somewhere here? Let's see what you've learned. Let's see if you can please me the same way." I knew she had to have one -- Jeffrey's cock was adequate or better, but the men we'd shared had told me that Janice was like me, insatiable. Sure enough, there it was, a monster-sized two-sided rubber cock lying in her bedside drawer along with a tube of KY Jelly. Two-sided? KY? Was this for her pussy and Jeffrey's ass? "Why you rascal, Janice makes love to you with this prick, doesn't she?" I said on a sudden inspiration. "Oh no," he said. But I could tell that under his foundation make-up he'd turned bright red! There was a truth here to be told! "Not exactly. She ... ahhh ... supplements what we do together sometimes, if I haven't managed to satisfy her. And braces it against me." "Against your asshole? She fucks you with it, doesn't she? Doesn't she insert it?" "Once when she was mad at me for some reason, yes, she ... ah ... pushed it into me and ... ah fucked me. She did. It hurt. She wanted it to hurt." "Once? That was the first time? The only time" He didn't answer at first. Then, "She ... ahh ... has condoms with some kind of lubricant in them. She turns them inside out and puts them on this ... ahhh ... penis and puts the other end into her own place, her vagina, and then she pushes this end in and out of me." "Often?" He nodded. "How often? Usually?" He nodded. So Janice did fuck him, and repeatedly. He was already accustomed. Moreover, condoms don't come with lubricants inside, they'd slip off if they did. They come with their lubricants outside for use where needed. What Janice did was save up her lovers' condoms so she could fuck her own husband with them and lubricate his ass with their sperm! She'd been pushing other men's cum up into his belly without him even knowing it! Was that out of resentment that she was married to such a wimp? Or was it a noble impulse, a desire to share her pleasure with her husband? Knowing Janice, it had to be resentment. "Did it feel good, Jeffrey?" I asked in a very quiet, gentle voice, as if inviting a confidence he might not want to admit otherwise. Girl to girl. "She liked doing it." He was glum, just staring at the dildo as I turned it over in my hand and idly traced its veins with a fingertip, wondering whether to continue our cocksucking lessons or to get right down to it and bugger him. "She'd get off on it." I bet. "And you?" "Sometimes I would too. When she wasn't mad at me, being rough on me, when it didn't hurt me, it could feel good." "Very good?" He nodded, and looked away, ashamed. Good enough for now. Sp having a cock up his ass wasn't altogether foreign to him. But he'd never sucked on a cock. I fitted the small end into my own cunt and sat down on the side of the bed. The main part of the dildo stuck up between my legs. "Now on your knees, honey," I said as gently as I could. "Show me what you can do. If you're real good at it, you'll get a lovely reward." And Jeffrey actually did what I'd asked! He knelt between my knees and took that rubber tube into his mouth and as I suggested different things to do with his mouth and tongue, he did them. Devotedly, too. I could feel it in my pussy as the dildo pushed and rocked back and forth, especially when he took its whole length into his throat. I kept him at it for almost a half-hour, long enough to bring off any male no matter how grave his attention-deficit syndrome. And I myself grew warmer and warmer, my belly's tensions growing sweeter and sweeter as the dildo repeatedly nudged my clit up and down. I began to breathe hard. Time for the last act! "Fix your lipstick and let's go downstairs now," I finally suggested. "I want you to make love to me again while we still have our panties off. You're quite properly dressed now, believe me, but my clothes are below and I'll need to get dressed again afterward." "Why not stay up here?" he asked. His first question! Was he taking some kind of initiative after all? "On your marital bed?" I pretended to be shocked. Janice had had a few men up here while Jeffrey was at work, I knew. But we needed to seem to respect something, especially the Institution of Marriage we were so blithely violating! He nodded understanding, as if he understood. So we went downstairs, me still mostly naked and unbuttoned, and Jeff now in his high heels, his mini, his sleeveless blouse, and his full make-up. Looking cute as a button! He has such pretty bedroom eyes, I was thinking, now that they're properly made up. As they should be from now on. He could be really gorgeous, done up right! No, we won't waste this! I lay down again on Janice's cum-soaked sofa, and this time gently, sweetly, considerately, affectionately, slowly, we fucked until we both came yet again. I once again leaked copiously into the sticky puddle left from our previous encounters. That cushion was now stained well beyond recovery. Squeezing Jeffrey between my legs felt just lovely! It was like making love to another woman, but one with advantages. The scheme that had been forming in my head came to full maturity. I only hoped Janice would have the good sense to pick up on it when she returned "unexpectedly" from her tryst downtown. We lay locked together dozing, Jeffrey wrapped up in my arms and legs and unable to escape, until finally I heard a car door slam in the driveway. I then pushed him to his knees with his head down in my crotch once again, and clamped my thighs tight around his head so he couldn't possibly hear or see anything. Since he was dressed as a woman, I wanted Janice to discover him having sex as women do, sucking my cum from my pussy, his own cum inside it as an added attraction. That perversity might double her zeal for a divorce by instant decree. Or, I hoped, it might make an extra added attraction that Jeffrey could offer and she could consider keeping. The cum already soaked into the cushion serve as all the evidence of infidelity she needed, though I was sure that in his embarrassment Jeffrey's apologetic babblings would confess all immediately after she 'discovered' us. And I loved it, what he was doing! His tongue was so much more delicate than Ron's, the way it licked me, taking tentative nibbles or teeny sips like a kitten lapping milk, sometimes an assured broad swipe like a cat licking her kittens clean. Whenever I spread wide for Ron and he pushes his face into my crotch, he'll suck and wallow with his nose and tongue like a bull in heat. Both men gave me delicious feelings, but each felt different, as if I possessed two different kinds of cunt. This was so nice! Meanwhile, I'd succeeded beyond Janet's expectations. As she walked into the room and stood surveying the scene, there we were! There was Jeffrey! Quite a sight! Done up like a tart, utterly feminized, his bewigged head bobbing between my legs, completing his second thorough betrayal of his marriage vows round the world by sucking his own cum out of my pussy a second time. Down below, I knew, his prick was drained, soft, useless for male purposes, and that itself felt satisfying. Janet looked wordlessly at me for a moment. I looked back at her with a comfortable smile, near but not quite near enough to an orgasm. She saw and indicated she'd wait. I closed my eyes and surrendered to that dainty tongue. My joy rose, peaked, consumed me, and then subsided. When I opened my eyes again, Janice was looking at me questioningly. She sensed from my relaxed acceptance of Jeffrey between my legs that something new had occurred, that I might now think that her original scenario -- discover her husband in the act, shout furiously, stamp out of the house, return after it's been decreed hers -- should be put on hold. Clamping Jeff's head beneath me tightly between my thighs, holding him incommunicado, I stroked the top of his head and smiled, then glanced up to be sure Janice saw. She did. She was thinking. She realized that I liked having him there, that this might be a talent of his she'd not previously explored. With raised eyebrows and a tilt of her head she asked if he was really good at it, and I nodded dreamily, already beginning another ascent to heaven on the wings of his tongue. "The best," I mouthed at her silently, holding up both hands, their thumbs and forefingers touching. "You'd like me to keep him this way?" she asked aloud, realizing that she at least could talk while his eyes and ears were sealed by the thick flesh of my thighs. "Mmmmmmm," I said affirmatively. My responses had to be limited -- her voice might be inaudible to Jeffrey but he could feel mine. My responses would need to be variations on moans. That was fine by me. She grinned, rather maliciously. "Get him a pussy too? Cut off his balls, if you've left him with any?" I shook my head no. Better to keep him desiring pussies, worshipping other women's. And castration would diminish the uses of his cock, maybe even diminish the zest he was dedicating to my own pussy at this very moment. But that would have to be his decision. "You do know I want nothing further to do with him. At least as a man. But you're right, this way he may have his uses." I nodded assurance. I also prefer to bed down with macho men like my Ron, but this wimp-turned-woman had certain advantages. As a lesbian with a pre-warmed dildo, as a delicate cunt-lapper, he could serve very well indeed any woman's desire for certain kinds of casual recreation. And so convenient, right next door! "Then I don't get his inheritance during the divorce settlement?" I twisted my hand at the wrist several times to indicate that there were other ways to get control over his inheritance. She nodded, then amused, asked me, "Is he that good down there? I never tried him!" and I replied by leaning back luxuriously, sighing aloud, and surrendering myself to the most delicate yet intense orgasm I'd ever had. Finally, reluctantly, it was time for us to unveil his situation to Jeffrey. I opened my legs and sat up. Jeffrey was now on his own, kneeling in front of me face down in the sticky puddle of cum we'd made together. Janice saw the shiny dark stain on her couch for the first time and shook her head -- she was dismayed, resigned, and amused all at once. We then both waited for Jeff to lift his head and discover that there were three of us in the room. When he did, his double-take was hilarious. His mascara'd eyes were smeared black and the lids were glued together with cum, at first sealed closed, then opened only a slit. He stared at me through the crust below his eyelids, noticed that I was looking away from him at something else, looked there and saw Janice, looked toward me without recognizing her, then looked back at her. Then pawed at his eyes to open them wide and witness the awful truth of his situation. "Well, Jeffrey," Janice said to him. "If you're going to do this at all frequently we'll need to get your basic make-up tattoo'd on. You're a mess now, you do know that, don't you?" Shocked, he could only stare at her. To her credit, Janice adopted exactly the right strategy. "So. That's been the problem all along? I've wanted you to be a man, and you haven't had the talent. But neither of us realized that you're much better suited to be a woman. A sexually submissive woman at that! That would explain why you've been such a sorry excuse for a man. And now that you've found your true self, you want to live as a woman? For maybe for the rest of your life?" Her voice was kindly, as if she'd just been relieved of a difficult problem. I suppose she had been. No divorce was necessary or desirable now. She'd have it all and she'd save on legal fees. "You'd better be telling me that this is the real you. That you want to live as a woman who dedicates her life to pleasing other women. Because if you're still a man you're dead meat. If you're still a man, then you're the effeminate freak who's just seduced my best friend and has been cruelly unfaithful to me with her. And that's intolerable, and I'm heading for a lawyer first thing in the morning, and I'll take you for everything you've got. But if you're really a woman underneath, with a woman's desires, then you'll need and deserve all the help I can give you to fulfill yourself. Is that what I've just walked in on? Pam is helping you become what you truly are? I understand how embarrassed you must feel now that the truth has finally emerged, but also how