Sam's Infidelity free porn video

Those who shouldn't read this kind of story shouldn't. Those who should, should. The rest are on their own. Sam's Infidelity by Vickie Tern "That's who she is? He is? I mean, she was? Really? Really, Annie, I'd never have .... I knew you and Sara were close, anyone could tell by the way you talk to each other, how you touch each other. Sisters are often like that. But I'd never have guessed, Sara is really Sam? I mean, she was once Sam? The man you married? And you've encouraged this ...transformation of hers? Of his? Incredible! How did this ... how long has this been going on?" "You mean Sam pretending he's a girl? Oh a long time! He told me he did it when he was a little boy, and I believe him. He must have looked darling back then, dancing around in his sister's party dresses and trying to curl his hair up so it would look like hers. He says that his mother wanted ...." "No, Annie, I mean, lots of little boys do that. They're curious, or their mommas think it's cute and dress them up and pretend with them for a while. They grow out of it, most of them. I mean how long has it been since you started helping Sam ... change over? Since he decided to stop being Sam and live as Sara? As if he were a woman. Which is what everyone thinks he is!" "Those are different questions, Lisa. When did I start ... ahhh ... encouraging his femininity, and when did he decide to become Sara full time?" "'Encourage' it? Honey, look at that figure! Did it need any encouragement? She -- I mean he -- looks more like a natural woman than I do!" "I suppose. His figure did come in pretty much as you see it. Most of the work has been adapting to it, learning how to live with it. It all started maybe two years ago. Sam didn't know what was happening, not at all, not at first, and he still doesn't know why, or even that I was involved. I think ... Lisa, I'm going to be frank with you, because I need your help." "Yes. That's what you said when you called me this afternoon. I mean, I guess it's yesterday afternoon now. "Or at least I need some advice. We were once as close as two people can be, so even though we haven't seen much of each other lately ... Lisa, I didn't know where else to turn. I'll begin with two years ago when ... well, I first discovered signs that ... that Sam was being unfaithful to me. That he was seeing another woman. That he was two-timing me." "Annie! He wasn't! Your Sam?" "I didn't want to believe it either, but evidence just kept coming at me and accumulating, and it got so obvious I had to do something! He'd come home late and the next morning I happened to find a bra trapped between the car's rear seat cushions. Or a button from a woman's dress on the floor of the car. Or a lipstick in a jacket I was taking to the cleaners. The clincher was a pair of cum-soiled panties I found stuffed in his suit pocket! No, not even panties, they were a cutesy-poo thong, you know the kind I mean, a teeny triangle of lace-fringed satin in front and a satin strap behind that tucks snug between the buttocks, so a girl's ass will look naked and inviting? Designed to tease, not really to cover anything? Sex-gear?" "I know. Strippers use them. And adolescent girls who want to try out their sexual power on adolescent boys. And women into serious seduction. I got myself a pair once when I was still married to Mac and he was out of town. They aren't at all comfortable, but if you want to get nailed fast and hard they do the trick." "Well, I don't wear them. And when I saw all those things and realized what they meant, it ... it broke my heart!" "I'll bet it did. Especially because you guys have always been so close. So affectionate." "What could I do? What would you do, Lisa? I had to be sure, so I started looking around for other evidence, hoping there wasn't any. No such luck. He was careless, Sam and this woman both. Maybe he wanted to get caught, so I'd end our marriage and he could take up with her guilt free? That's what I was thinking. Lisa, I was so miserable. There were indications everywhere! Traces of lipstick and powder on his shirts. Hints of some woman's perfume. A pair of panty-hose crumpled up in his briefcase. You can imagine how I felt each time something else turned up!" "I certainly can. You poor dear!" "Then there were other things I began to notice, phone calls he'd get evenings when I could hear him muttering 'I can't talk now' to someone. He took to staying late at the office a couple of times each week. At the office, that's what he told me! Once when he got home at midnight I told him I'd called him and no one answered the phone. He apologized that I was worried and told me he must have been back in the company's record storage room just then. Can you imagine? Week after week in the record storage room? Was that where it was going on? I was so unhappy! Crushed!" "So what did he say when you confronted him?" "Lisa, I didn't ... I just couldn't confront him! I felt like such a fool! So ...demeaned! Say what to him? My sweet, lovely Sam, we'd been married only five years, and I ... he was my life! I couldn't face him, I didn't dare! What if he were to admit it, admit to this affair of his, and then say nothing more, just look at me silently, waiting for my response? What would I do? What if he were to tell me outright that he didn't want to stay married to me any longer, that he preferred being with her? I'd be devastated! I wanted to keep us together somehow. I wanted to keep him regardless. To get through this awful time and come out the other side and still be married." "I can understand that, Annie. You must have felt terrible -- hurt, resentful, yet afraid to say anything for fear of making things worse." "That's right. Also, he never gave me much opportunity. He was working very hard during the day, I knew that much because I could always reach him even when he was in an important meeting, he'd always come to the phone. And when he came home he was always so sweet, so kind and caring. No matter what I said about my day, he'd show such tender concern for me. He must have been trying especially hard to ease his own guilty feelings I suppose, to make it up to me for his little escapades with this ... other woman. That's what I was thinking and after a while I was sure of it. But how could I confront him when he was being so attentive, so considerate, such a perfect husband? It tore me up. I felt sorry for him for feeling so guilty, and sorry for myself, but also I resented it. I even began to resent his little attentions toward me. The compliments, the kindness, the gifts of flowers for no reason. I was a mess! The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. You know the kind of cold, intense anger you can get, the fury really! And yet I felt so helpless!" "Oh, Annie!" "I was determined to say nothing, not even the night he came home at one a.m. from supposedly 'entertaining' a client, that's what he called it, and there was an obvious smear of lipstick on his face, and the next day I could tell, there was the scent of an expensive perfume all over his shorts. She'd gone down on him I figured. And ... and ... Lisa, up till then I'd never given him oral sex, but she ... I was fighting for my life! It got so I couldn't bear to go near him! That probably made things worse!" "Yes, honey. I feel so sorry for you! Go on." "I went crazy! Crying? I couldn't tell whether it was anguish or rage. I had to put a stop to it, this affair of his. I had to! Fix it so he'd quit with her and never ever even think of starting another with anyone! But how? I couldn't think! Hire some tough guy to follow him and beat him up and threaten her, make her leave town, like on TV? No that was silly, and besides, I didn't know anyone who does stuff like that. Also, I didn't want him to know I suspected anything, that would just force the issue and then maybe I'd lose everything. Also, I know him. Once I laid it out to him he'd never deny it. He'd just feel sorry for me, and even more guilty about the whole thing, and then all that sorrow and guilt would join in with my rage and frustration and come between us and spoil everything there was between us. My resentment was spoiling things enough already. So what else could I do?" "Well, Annie, for one thing I know what many women do when they're in a situation like yours. I might have done it myself." "You mean start an affair of their own? Yes, that did occur to me. Almost immediately. Take revenge on the bastard and get a piece of my own back, even the score? Yes, that's what being mad at your husband does, it turns your thoughts in that direction, it drives you crazy. But Lisa, believe me, that kind of retaliation doesn't help. There's no satisfaction in bedding down three, four, even five guys in a kind of frenzy, one after another, day after day. Not even when they're all so grateful and so eager to make it a regular thing that they'll do anything for you. And I mean anything. Because it doesn't matter. Because no matter how great it is to get hammered and reamed and plowed and sucked and fucked hour after hour, driven out of your mind by cock after cock, even the greatest of sensations doesn't last. You enjoy them while you have them, but they aren't love, or devotion, feelings you can take home with you to keep you warm on cold nights." "No. That's true." "And anyhow, if Sam didn't know I was fucking other men, how was he hurt? What kind of revenge was that? No. I thought about it and realized that I love Sam despite everything, and I wanted him back as mine exclusively despite everything. So I went out of my mind for a week, and then found myself back where I started. I had to end his little affair without his ever finding out I even suspected it." "You ... ahhh ... had a week of wild sex on your own, Annie? To get even with him? Then changed your mind? Is that what you're telling me?" "Did I say that? You asked me if I'd thought about it, and I told you that for a week I thought about very little else. So shall we get on?" "I understand. Of course!" "Honestly, Lisa! Well, next I thought about disabling him in some way. Not cripple him, just make him a little unwell, so he didn't feel up to being with her but not so ill that I'd lose him. Now that was an idea! I hated to do anything like that to him, Lisa, but I had to do something! For his own sake! For both of our sakes!" "You mean like they used to do with children when they misbehaved, feed them castor oil or syrup of ipecac, so they'd spend a day being miserable with stomach cramps and spewing and everything, and then afterward be good as gold?" "Sort of like that. But it would have to be more subtle, so he wouldn't go to a doctor to find out what's wrong. I couldn't think what. I went on the web and began looking up different medicines and their side effects. I needed something to make him just miserable enough to break off with her but not really hurt him. I did get a clue when I came on hair restorers for male baldness, finsasteride for example, drugs that block production of dihydrotestosterone." "I see you still remember your biochemistry." "Oh yes, we were in that class together, remember? Only you went on to medical school, and I started graduate work in pharmacology and then got married. I still help out at the University pharmacy. I may yet go back and finish ...." "So go on?" "How to deal with my unfaithful Sam was obvious, Lisa, now that I look back on it. There it was on the screen. Different chemo treatments for prostate cancer that use testosterone blockers and heavy doses of estrogen. Side effects, loss of libido and eventual impotence. Not exactly desirable for a marriage but a perfect cure for marital infidelity!" "Annie, didn't you realize ...." "You mean about the other side effects? I didn't care, I wasn't thinking clearly, though maybe now if I had it to do over I'd ... no, I'd probably do what I did. Remember, I was plenty mad at him! Out of my mind! And it was so easy! I got his blood tested on some pretext or other and found his body could take anything I could dish out, and then I began his treatment. His cure. Premarin in his coffee every morning before he went off to work, and Estinyl Estradiol injected into his butt weekly -- he thought they were the allergy shots that were scheduled for about then, and some of them were those too. Attack from both directions! And Androcur three times a week to subvert his defenses. Double doses of all these things, Lisa!" "Double? Annie, you were taking such a chance." "Oh, no I kept an eye on his blood chemistry, he was fine. I wanted results, and fast! I wanted to make things inconvenient for him and his girlfriend right from the beginning. And I must say, I did, too. Morning after morning for a month or two Sam would wake up and then rush to the bathroom and throw up. Then later in the day his tummy didn't feel right, he'd say he felt bloated. Like when we have their periods? I felt so terribly sorry for him, my poor sweetheart -- he was so unhappy. But I had to be unrelenting. I had to be strong for both of us. I treated his nausea every way I could think of, gave him antacids and prochlorperazine, you know, whatever might ease his misery -- though not too much. He lost weight, a lot of it, and I began to worry about him, though it did turn out to be advantageous later on. He still has practically no waistline, and his hip-bones jut way out, he looks perfect in a sheath or .... Anyhow, it was summer, so we blamed it all on spoiled food, and eventually his body adjusted to its new hormone regimen, and the morning sickness and bloating went away." "Mmmmm. Annie, you do know there could have been serious ...." "Not really. There were a few things I didn't expect. His face broke out like a teenager's, and I really worried that he'd try to see a dermatologist who'd figure out what was really going on. But again, we treated the zits with creams and things and they cleared up. And I must say, from then on my darling's face looked just marvelous! It was as if his body had crossed over and decided all on its own to be ... you know? ... pretty! His complexion got flushed and creamy and felt so smooth and soft, and his jaw and cheekbones lost their craggy edges, and his mouth began to look ... delicate. Lisa, I've always thought Sam was attractive, but now he began to look really ... beautiful! I thought so, anyway. I knew he couldn't be dreaming about little afternoon trysts in hideaway motels, not any more. I mean, for a couple of months he'd had his head in the toilet, and then there were all those pimples and ointments, and his body looked a lot less like Mr. Universe and a lot more like Mr. Universe's date. Nothing masculine anywhere about it. I missed it a little, but he did look so darling! Sort of ripe and curvy, like fresh fruit, remember how we all looked in high school? Anyhow, after a few months I knew his affair was over. I had proof positive." "Don't tell me." "I see I don't have to, Lisa. Yes. He's a dear, and he's the sweetest man, and the best husband, and the love of my life. But he did deserve it, that's what I was thinking when he began to come to bed with all sorts of excuses to avoid ... well, it became clear that his little pecker wasn't getting hard enough to penetrate me any more, and he was too embarrassed to tell me. So I knew my plan had worked. He wasn't doing any more cheating. He couldn't." "Annie, that was rather ...I'd say ... drastic, wasn't it? Didn't you feel sorry for him? For what you'd done? You were depriving yourself, too!" "Of course! I felt terrible for him, Lisa! Just awful! But he had to learn to stay true to his marriage vows, didn't he? So in that sense I was helping him. Helping us, I was fighting for a marriage we both wanted, and I knew it. But as far as depriving myself goes, well Lisa, it turned out I was better off than ever! Maybe both of us were in a way." "I see you have a wicked smile on your face, Annie. So, tell me. How can that be?" "Well, you see, Sam's ... his penis was never really very big, not compared to most of the boys I've known, those from before I met Sam and the men who ... well, never mind that. I didn't care when I married him, I figured his devotion to me would make up for it, and it surely did. Then there was his other problem. Once he was in me he didn't last. He'd climax in a minute or two, long before I could work up to a good ... and then, well, with his dick gone limp and all passion spent he was useless to me for the rest of the night. Sometimes I had to wonder what his girlfriend saw in him -- I mean, what woman can feel romantically attracted to a man who makes love like that? Not even me. I love Sam for lots of reasons, his kindness and his generosity and ...well, for lots of wonderful things that don't have anything to do with his penis." "So the two of you just stopped having sex." "Oh, no, Lisa, the sex got better! A lot better. For me, anyhow. I told you how he gets when he's feeling guilty. When his penis quit he must have felt so bad about depriving me that he made extra efforts to satisfy me. In all sorts of other ways, but best of all, he took up .... kissing me ...my ... down there? You know what I mean? Really smooching me! Ohhh, the sensations? Lisa, my sweet dear has the most marvelous mouth, and his tongue is incredible, I could never ever begin ...! He'd flick my clit and ....! Oh, God, I'd have one orgasm after another! Never in my life .... It's true, from that point on our lovemaking was all about me, not about him, but it was divine, and I know he enjoyed it too. After a few more months I forgave him everything!" "You never discussed his impotence with him, why he'd had to take up this ... ah ...different way to make love to you, and so on?" "Lisa, how could I? Should I have just come out and asked him why he wasn't getting it up and ramming it into me any more? Why he wasn't being a man? I already knew why, he didn't. And I didn't want to hurt his pride, embarrass him further, the poor dear -- men are so sensitive when their pricks won't perform, it's as if their manhood was at stake. He knew he was inadequate. If I'd mentioned anything I'd have hurt him. "He never spoke of it? He must have wondered where his potency had gone." "Never, as far as I know, not even to wonder why I wasn't asking him about it. I suppose he was too ashamed. Too humiliated by his ... weakness. I saw on his web browser that he once looked into buying Viagra from Canada, but if he did it never made any difference." "I doubt it would have helped, not with all those hormones and anti-androgens in him" "If he'd started getting hard again I'd have doubled the dosages, that's all, just to be on the safe side." "The poor man! Yet he must have wondered why." "I suggested all sorts of face-saving excuses. I kept telling him for example that I appreciated how stressful his job was, how he had to face down all sorts of anxieties at work, how exhausting it must be for him, but how generous he was to be solving other people's problems all day. I meant it, too. That kind of thing may have helped him account for it, maybe even made him proud of it. I'd also keep marveling at how sexually satisfied I was, and I meant that too. I never let him feel he was depriving me of anything. He wasn't! When his face was snugged in down there and I'd wrap my legs around his head and his tongue and nose and face were buried in me, Lisa, sheer heaven! I'd couldn't stop shrieking for joy! And when orgasms came one after another my voice couldn't recover for days! I wasn't acting, I honestly couldn't help myself! That encouraged him I'm sure, and it rewarded him too. He never complained. We'd snuggle, and I'd kiss his sticky face, and he'd fall asleep next to me with such a sweet smile." "So when did you end this ... hormone therapy of his? This treatment for straying husbands?" "I didn't." "Annie! He's still taking those massive doses?" "Oh no, the last six months or so only sustaining doses, Lisa. Not much more than I take for my birth control." "Annie, why?" "Why? Because he'd ended his affair and he'd completed a female puberty. He was already practically a girl. So he didn't need all that estrogen and so on any more. Why do you ask?" "No, I mean why maintain him on hormones at all if he'd already broken off with whoever he was seeing? That was your original purpose, wasn't it?" "To keep him looking beautiful. To keep his cheeks smooth and rosy. I loved his new look and his new way of making love. I preferred it. I certainly didn't want his thing coming back to life again." "Oh, Annie! So you two haven't really fucked in ... let's see, good heavens, it's been more than eighteen months, give or take?" "I didn't say that, Lisa. Of course we fuck. We don't need cocks, not in a world where dildos do well enough. You surely know that! I mean, look at what we ...." "He uses a dildo on you?" "When I ask him to. And I use one on him. Sometimes two, one in each of his openings, he sucks one and fucks the other. He loves it, I think. And it's good practice." "For what?" "For being a woman." "Yes, I suppose. That's right, he is now living as a woman, isn't he? So when did he decide to do that? After he became impotent and quit with his mistress and returned to you? Oh, yes, did you ever find out who she was?" "Well, yes, I did. Sort of. You see, there was still this mystery. Even when I knew he was utterly impotent, I kept coming on signs of hanky panky of some kind somewhere. I'd look in the trash for something I might have thrown out by mistake, and there was a torn bra that even a hooker might find a little risque. The neighbors dumping in our bins? He'd loaned our house keys to someone from the office for their get togethers? Not likely. And I'd still find the odd stray mascara wand in our car's glove compartment now and then, things like that. Maybe all leftovers from when Sam and that slut were still hot and heavy -- I wanted to believe that. Then again, Sam was still working late at the office, which seemed suspicious even though now he was there when I called to check on him, mostly, and his Christmas bonus was huge because of all the extra time he was putting in. It was all very puzzling. So I began to wonder." "Annie, I hate to tell you this, because we all get attached to our suspicions and theories and we don't want to give them up, but it's beginning to sound to me as if ...." "I know. Wait. Let me finish. I was baffled. I'd wanted to ruin his penis for any other woman, no big loss to me, and I knew for sure I'd done that much. Now and then I'd test the thing, I'd slurp it into my mouth and tug on it with my lips, and it would stay limp, curled up on my tongue like a fat noodle. Nothing could made it grow. He told me how good it felt when it was inside my mouth, all warm and wet, so I'd suck on it sometimes while his mouth was making me climb the walls. But it never grew any bigger. That was what I'd wanted, of course, so I wasn't complaining." "Then you never did find out who the other woman was?" "I didn't say that. Wait. I'm getting there. He'd lost his manliness other ways too. Not just his face and his cock -- his arm muscles thinned way down, and the skin all over his body had softened. After I talked him into shaving himself as smooth as me he felt so lovely! Stroking him, spreading body lotions all over ourselves, you can't imagine the fun we had! Best of all, after a while his hips and his bottom plumped up and rounded out. He was so thin that his bulges looked exaggerated! His figure got so cute I began wishing I could get him into tight slacks to display his tush, and into heels high enough to waggle it when he walked. I was sure no normal woman would ever again come near him. On the other hand, I always made sure he knew that I adored his new look, so he'd see it as advantageous. The more curvy he got, the more enthusiastic I got." "I assume he grew breasts too. I don't see how not." "Oh he did indeed! He doesn't know even now how come, though some day the right answer may occur to him. A couple of months into his regimen his chest got flabby, that was how he put it -- I'd have said 'puffy' was a better description. So I told him to use the rowing machine in our basement more often, to see if that would tighten him up." "Oh, Annie, that was wicked. Every woman knows that rowing is good for breast development because it firms the pectorals, the muscles underneath whatever we've got. It makes us bigger." "Yes, of course I knew that. But it was his breasts that finally clued me in on who his girlfriend was. The answer turned out to be so funny! Funny ironic in a way, but also funny ha ha." "So who was it? How did you find out?" "Simple. He confessed everything!" "Confessed?" "It's really amusing, Lisa, the whole thing, now that I think back on it. And such a relief! My poor sweetheart! Here's what happened. One morning I came out of the shower and there he was, he was still sitting naked on the bed. Not getting dressed as usual -- he always dressed himself while I was still in the shower, I guess so I wouldn't notice how his body had ... changed so drastically.. I couldn't see what he was doing at first because his back was toward me, but as I stood there it quickly became clear, Lisa. He was feeling himself up with both hands! Absolutely absorbed in what he was doing. Enraptured. He never even heard me come in! I came around him and he never saw, his eyes were closed. And I saw them both clearly for the first time. Big? A very respectable pair of boobs indeed! He had tits that could have kept a cheerleader on her back for an entire football season. "So? You'd not seen them before?" "No, not exactly. Oh, I knew something like that had to be happening, given all the other changes in his physique. But I'd avoided looking, and I'd always avoided touching the front of his chest. I wanted to spare him embarrassment and myself some unanswerable questions. He made it easy, because he kept them hidden, I suppose because he was ashamed of them." "That must have made a problem for him. Large breasts aren't easily concealed." "Maybe. He 'd gotten into the habit of hunching over a lot, I'd noticed, and he wore loose jogging shirts, and I suppose sometimes he bound them up. He hid them. For months, for example, he'd been licking my pussy only from below, never while lying on top of me. He'd ask me to lie back on the bed with my legs over the side, and he'd kneel on the floor between them and lick my clit hello, and then ... Oh, God! That must have been less comfortable for him than just nuzzling me in bed. But I got to prefer it because he didn't seem to be there, my pleasure was ... disembodied in a way. I didn't have to think about him, just concentrate on how good my whole body felt. That kind of sex is so perfect, Lisa!" "I should try it!" "And whenever I sat on his face for him to suck me I always faced forward, so I could see his eyes looking up at me from between my thighs, so hopeful, so helpless. They gave me a wonderful feeling of power as I squirmed my pussy all over his mouth. He'd submit his life to me, to my cunt, because I'd bear down hard and now and then I wouldn't let him breathe. Sometimes I'd think about that girlfriend of his and just sit tight with his nose and mouth clamped off. Then when I finally took pity and relented, his gasping breath on my clit felt so marvelous! Lisa, times like that he was all mine! But for those reasons, even though I'd glimpse his breasts I never did see them straight on. So I never did have to acknowledge that my lovely man was growing a pair of gorgeous knockers." "Until that morning when you came out of your shower?" "That particular morning there was no mistaking them, there they were, and in a moment he was going to know I saw them, I couldn't back out. My lovely Sam was stacked, and there he was caressing both of them with both hands. Making love to them, there was no doubt of it! He loved them! I just stood and watched him for maybe a full minute as he cupped and lifted those titties, and touched their nipples now and then with his thumbs. I was entranced! He reminded me so much of me when I was a young girl with breasts as fresh and new as his -- I'd felt that way too! He wasn't aware of it but he was also moaning -- my goodness, I confess, at that moment I was so very jealous of him, he was in such bliss! He sort of stiffened his body, and he must have had a little climax, at least I saw a dribble of clear fluid trickle into his lap. My angel! Finally he opened his eyes and saw me standing there." "Clear fluid? You know that probably means ...." "Lisa, when he saw me standing there watching him he was so shocked! Stunned! He came down to earth so fast! You never saw anyone turn red and then turn away so quickly. Still, there he was, sitting naked in the middle of the bed with his breasts in his hands and no place to hide! Mortified? He looked as though he'd die of shame. Though I must say, my first thought was that he shouldn't feel ashamed, not for a moment, he should feel proud of them. He had every reason. Lisa, those knockers were as big as mine!" "Oh, Annie! How could ...? He grew them in only a year!" "Maybe eighteen months. Time enough. Lisa, he had the genes, his mother was large-breasted. And he'd been saturated with hormones, way more than the amount in any pubescent girl. If he'd had ovaries they'd have spontaneously combusted. His testicles practically did, as it turned out -- they shrank down to where they're now scarcely noticeable. Peas in a pod, sort of. And as I say, his cum is now clear as a mountain stream. Or rather, its drips and dribbles are." "He still has testicles?" "He still has a pouch. He thinks there's something in them. He isn't ready to give them up, and that's why I'm here. But I'm getting ahead of myself, I still haven't explained to you about the other woman, have I?" "I'm all ears, Annie! Anyone I know?" "Well, there I was standing there, and there he was sitting there holding his breasts, two lovely globes hanging off his chest, and he was now trying to hide them with both hands. I couldn't exactly ignore them, nor could I ignore what I'd seen him doing with them, the pleasure they were giving him. Then he'd really have wondered why! So I sat down next to him and put my hand on his bare thigh as reassuringly, as possessively as I could. And I kissed his cheek. Then, after a brief pause I asked him a few simple questions, and the whole story came tumbling out." "Questions like?" "Like, to begin with, in the calmest, gentlest voice I could muster -- the poor man was terrified -- I said, 'They feel good?'" He just nodded, unable to face me. 'Well, sweetheart,' I said. 'Just look at them! They're beautiful! You must be so pleased! How long have you had them?'" I tried not to gloat, even though there before me was all the evidence I would ever need that he was now mine for life. What woman would want him now? I was so happy!" "'Annie,' he said. He was still facing away from me, and his voice was quavering. My heart went out to him, and I made a note to myself, no teasing! 'Annie honey, I don't exactly know how long. My nipples started getting ... tender last summer, then bigger. Then these ... I guess they're breasts, they just sort of started growing. I tried rowing to firm them up the way you suggested, but it didn't help.'" "I took a chance, but I had to know for sure. 'You never went to see someone about them?' I asked." "No,' he said. 'I felt peculiar about showing them to anyone. Besides, I already knew why I was getting them.'" "'You did?' I asked, a little startled. 'Why, then?' "'Because I wear bras. It finally happened, they started reshaping my chest. I've been afraid of this for years. I've worn brassieres all my life, and now this is the result!'" "Well, Lisa, that stopped me. He'd been wearing brassieres all his life? But he hadn't had breasts all his life. What for? 'Why, Sam?' I asked him quietly. 'Why have you been wearing brassieres all your life.' "'I don't know,' was all he answered. He kept his face and his chest turned away from me, still trying to hide them from me, though I could see the gentle curve of the breast closest to me as it poked out and sloped down to an enlarged pink-tinted nipple. Poked out and sloped down quite a distance. 'I just like to. It feels good.'" "'A tight elastic band binding your chest, and stretch cups tugging on your shoulders, that kind of harness feels good?' This was dumbfounding." "'The cups feel good too,' he said. 'They always have.'" "'They feel good? How can that be?'" "'When I wear a bra," he said, and now he was in a very strange state, assertive, defiant, defensive, desperate, near tears, "I feel like a woman. I like feeling like a woman now and then. It's ... comfortable. I love it. I always have!' He turned toward me now, and I saw his face was twisted with concern. 'Oh, Annie,' he said. 'I couldn't tell you. I've always been afraid that if you knew you wouldn't love me any more! Because you'd want to be married to a man, and you'd think I wasn't one.' "There was some truth to that, Lisa. I'd been thinking just that lately whenever I looked at his slim, soft, curved body. It was hard to think of him as a man. Not that I didn't love him dearly anyhow, but .... So I kept silent." "But Sam kept going, the urge to confess overwhelming him. 'I love wearing brassieres,' he said. 'I always have. When my ... chest is shaped and supported and ... and I touch my nipples, I .... oh! So I've always worn bras under my shirt whenever I could, I didn't dare in high school, well, maybe at home when the folks were out, but in college I did it now and then. In class I'd feel just like the girl sitting next to me. And at work often, under my regular clothes. Even after we were married. And now I have to wear them, or else I flop around whenever I stand up or walk around, and then they hurt. So I can't not wear bras now, I need the support. And the bras make them stick out. And the more I wear them, the bigger they grow, and that make things worse still! I don't know what to do!'" "It began to dawn on me that I might have been wrong all along about this affair of his. About his girlfriend. His supposed infidelity. Those bras I'd found. I began to feel a little uneasy." "'Are they your brassieres, the ones you wear?' I asked him, very carefully. 'Do you borrow them from anyone? Do you wear panties too? And other girly things to help you feel like a woman? You keep them hidden around the house, so you can put them on now and then?'" "'They're all mine,' he answered. I detected the faintest hint of pride in his voice. 'Yes. I have other things too. A few dresses. Blouses and skirts. I wear them whenever I can. Sometimes I rent a motel room for an afternoon or an evening and wear them there.'" "'You also have make-up? And perfume?'" "'Yes,' he said." "He couldn't look me in the eye. Just 'yes' was all he could say. Well, Lisa, you can imagine what I was thinking. I was stunned! Look what I'd done to him, for no real reason! There was never another woman! He'd been his own other woman, that was all, and now he was her more than ever! I'd driven him into his own arms! I couldn't move! My poor dear, what had I done?" "What indeed, Annie? But you can't say you didn't ...." "But all wasn't lost. He still had no notion I was responsible, that I'd done this to him because of my jealousy, my foolish, pointless jealousy as it turned out! So he didn't hate me for it. Instead he apologized! It was so painful for me to listen! 'Annie,' he said so earnestly. 'Please forgive me! I didn't know this would happen! That they'd get this big!' And he cupped them, lifted up those huge, heavy breasts toward me, their nipples now jutting out at me accusingly. 'Sometimes I've thought I wanted them,' he said. 'Breasts like these. For fun. Even wished for them. So I'd be kind of like a real woman. And now I have them and I do love them. I love how they feel! But at the same time I don't really want them! I don't! Not really! Because I'm not a real woman!'" "'No, I don't suppose you are,' was all I could reply. Because I was thinking really hard now. I was looking at my sweet Sam in a whole new way. I knew that now he was mine for life -- no other woman would ever have him, not even a lesbian, not while that limp cock and those shrunken testicles were still attached to him. So that problem was solved, even though it had never really been a problem. Not really. Only in my suspicious imagination. What to do now?" "I should think you have a lot to answer for, Annie!" "That isn't exactly how I saw it, Lisa. Because he'd never been much of a man anyhow. What I was thinking was, if he likes feeling like a woman, if he likes wearing bras and panties and so on, if he loves the way his breasts feel when he caresses them, and he surely does, then I've done him a favor. That's what I was thinking. Why not help him discover more of the pleasures of womanhood? After all, he did bring it all on himself by not telling me he was a transvestite when we first got married. And by dressing up in secret since then. He'd misled me. How was I to know he's his own girlfriend?" "Now Annie!" "You're right, I shouldn't blame him, and anyhow that was all water over the dam. Spilled milk. What to do now was the problem. What I can do now, I was thinking, is try to help him make it up to me for not telling me about his transvestism. And in return, try to make it up to him for my own misunderstanding of the clues he'd left all over the house, for thinking he had a girl and never realizing that he was the girl. That way we'd be even. His body is so very much a woman's body now, I was thinking. I really should be good to him and help him feel even more like a woman. So he knows he's better off this way. I should help him become the woman he's always wanted to be himself, even though as he says, not really. I bet I can arrange for him to live with me as a woman full time from now on, I was thinking. He'd like that. Or if he doesn't, he'll get to like it. We all do, sooner or later." "That does sound like the kind of solution only you would come up with, Annie! Here's how I see it. Your husband was a closeted transvestite with a compulsion to dress up now and then, as transvestites do, probably millions of them, some of them partially transgendered, they feel they really are women, partly, and some of them who knows why. But you misread the clues and you made him a transsexual, actually changed his body into a woman's except for one last detail, and all without his even knowing. And now the cure, you were thinking, would be to push him the rest of the way into womanhood? To make things even mores for him? That's remarkable!" "Lisa, don't be so amazed. Seriously, what would you have done? Was anything I did reversible? Could we really have gone back? Did I have that option? I had to give him all the support that was in me, my sweet, darling Sam. So I took him by the shoulders and turned him to face me, and I kissed him on his mouth, that delicate pink, girly mouth, and I pressed my breasts against his, and I said to him, 'They're gorgeous, your breasts, you know that don't you sweetheart? And the rest of your body's so beautiful now too! You've gotten to be really lovely, you know that, honey? So very feminine! I love you like this so much more than I loved you when you were a man!' He winced when he heard that, that I didn't think he was a man any more, but he had to hear it." "I suppose ... you're probably right, you had to go forward, Annie. But to live as a woman full time -- shouldn't he have a voice in a decision like that?" "Exactly, Lisa! He did! That's what I asked him next. 'So what do you think?' I asked him. 'I know what I think.'" "Well, he got very still. Then he said simply. "'I'm not really a woman, but I'm not a man any more either. Not so you can tell. Pretty soon you won't want me. You'll want a real man.'" "He was back to that again. Was it true? I had to ask myself that, and at the moment I had no answers. 'Do you want me to?' I asked him, as quietly as I could." "'No,' he replied." "'But you think I'll want to?' I asked him then. 'And if I do, you'll understand?'" What an opening he'd given me! "He sat absolutely still, absolutely silent. I didn't know what I'd do myself, not then, so I couldn't reassure him. I didn't want to mislead him, he was my joy, my life! So all I said was, 'Well, one thing is sure, sweetheart. You're still the person I married and I still love you. But no longer as a man. You aren't a man. So don't try to be one. Honey, instead, be a woman. Now that you've got a woman's figure, enjoy it! Show it off! Flaunt it!' I let my voice get intense now, urgent. 'Wear dresses that cling, honey! Wear push-up bras and tight sweaters and decollete necklines. Enter wet T-Shirt contests! Enjoy yourself! Don't be ashamed of anything -- look at you, you're gorgeous.'" "Well, Sam heard me all right. To stop pretending he was still a man and live openly as a woman simply hadn't occurred to him. He just stared at me. "'At least try,' I urged him." "'See what it's like. It can't hurt. I'll help!'" "He knew there was common sense to what I was saying. The cross dresser in him loved the idea, of course, even though the man in him was terrified. So he just sat there, paralyzed by desire and fear. That's a wonderful combination, desire and fear, it turns any man into silly putty. He couldn't decide anything! What to do to help him decide? I began stroking his nipples. He was startled and pulled back, but I just whispered, 'Touch mine, baby,' and he did, and that kept him within hands' reach while I caressed his nipples and they grew plump, oh, my, yes, they grew swollen! I knew that Sam at that moment had no way to tell my breasts fondled in his hands from the feel of his nipples in mine. I certainly couldn't. We were one flesh." "'You'll love it,' I told him in a low, husky voice. 'Oh, yes. For me. For us. Say yes'! And Lisa, he did! 'Yes,' came from the back of his throat as I bent forward and my lips began to nibble on first one tumescent nipple, then the other. 'Yes!' And he reached around to hold my head to his breast as gently as any mother holds her baby to her breast. My problem was solved. His too." "Annie? I'm amazed. Intrigued, but mainly amazed. You seduced him into agreeing to live as a woman? To a complete change in his gender presentation? With everything that implies for his social identity? Was that what you'd call 'informed consent'?" "His pleasure in his new bosom and his sensations further down informed him quite sufficiently what he wanted, Lisa. I kept kissing him and suckling on him, and he just sat there, naked and zoned out and blissful. Lisa, he was so happy! I'd made my dear man happy! There was only one solution to this ...dilemma I'd gotten myself into. There was only one way I could compensate him for what I'd done. And he'd agreed to it!" "I suppose you're ... OK, you're right, I suppose. To go back would have been difficult at best, and breast reduction can be physically painful, and he no longer had any testicles to return to. But I hate to ...." "So right then I picked up the phone and booked him into Babe's Salon for the whole of that afternoon. I wanted him primped and permanented and pierced and pampered and primed to be as pretty as possible, all at once, immediately! I wanted to move him as far into woman country as I could, so far from the borders that he'd never find his way back, he'd find moving deeper into our kinds of lives much easier. As quickly as possible. And that was that." "That was what?" "When he walked out of Babe's that evening he was wearing new, dressy heels, a low-necked chiffon blouse, and form-fit stretch jeans I bought him while Babe was doing his hair. For this one special occasion high, high heels, His pretty round bottom was visible to all, each bun lifting and rolling as he walked, just as I'd always wanted to see them. His breasts were thrust far forward and spilling into a deep cleft for all to see. He wasn't Sam any more, and he wouldn't be ever again. 'Be proud, honey,' I told him. So he pulled his shoulders back and tried to be proud, which only pushed his breasts out further in front and his ass out further behind, each in a different direction. The first of many men since then stopped walking past us and stood still to look at him. I told him not to notice. Then I asked him, 'What's your girl name?' I guessed right, he had one! 'Sara,' he told me. So that's who he was, then and forever more. Lisa, I knew then I was right to change him. To commit him. Because he was delighted. Frightened, of course, but mostly delighted. Anyhow, it was done!" "Let me understand. You started your own husband living full time as a woman because you'd already fixed him so he couldn't live any other way? That's it?" "That's right, Lisa, he couldn't! I had his acquiescence and that was enough. Then I kept things moving too fast for him to find a stable footing. I'd have gotten him laid that very evening if I'd had time to find the right man. He needed to believe he was someone altogether different, a pretend woman named Sara now become real, and quickly. He needed to be known to everyone as Sara, so everyone would assume he was genuine, the real thing, so he'd finally be persuaded himself, and Sam would become only a memory. So people wouldn't see him as a self-indulgent transfreak with a wife who was helpless to do anything about it. I didn't want him humiliated, nor me." "No, I don't imagine you did." "You remember what happened next. I persuaded him we had to do it while we were packing away his old boy clothes and filling his drawers with new girly things. And he had to agree. So the very next day I told everyone that our marriage wasn't working, that we were getting a no-fault divorce. Then after a while longer that we'd done just that, gotten ourselves divorced, no hard feelings. We didn't, of course, I'd never want to be parted from my Sam. My Sara, I mean! But I told everyone that Sam had left town and that my sister Sara had moved in with me to ease my loneliness. Not completely untrue, and it did help Sam adjust to his new life, because then there was no more ambivalence -- he had to be Sara. He had to fulfill his dream of being a woman, or at least try it out. I got him a job as a secretary-receptionist, not very challenging, but it obliged him to be well-dressed and made-up all the time, and he liked that. No more sneaking around wearing dresses when I wasn't home, no more renting motel rooms when he was supposed to be working, just so he could try on his stash of clothes for four or five blissful hours. No more slinking off to the supermarket with a bra under his man-tailored blouse, wearing pale lipstick, hoping nobody notices but hoping everyone does notice. "He'd done those things?" "Of course. Ardent cross-dressers all do those things, they can't help themselves, the poor dears. You know that! Those little excursions were what had provided those little feminine forget-me-nots I'd find whenever he got careless. But now he could actually become what he'd pretended to be. He could wake up every morning feeling lovely, dressed in a pretty nightie, and then he could spend the day in a skirt and full make-up. And go to the salon regularly to get his nails and his hair done, and put on perfume if he felt like going out in the evening, maybe even go out dancing if he could handle being looked at the way men look at women. That's what I wanted to help him with. And that's what he's done for the past half-year, Lisa. From the moment we announced our divorce and he came to live with me as Sara. Remember that day?" "I certainly do remember it, honey. You threw a party to celebrate your new freedom and introduce Sara to everybody. By then she'd been very well trained I guess, because her movements and her voice were perfect. I never suspected anything. I also remember that after a few months of mourning your dear, departed marriage, you started dating again. Good God, both of you did, come to think of it. A little reluctantly at first, as all newly divorced women do. Sara even more reluctant. But you did manage to get back into the swing of things soon enough. All of us gathered round and introduced you to all the eligible guys we knew. And introduced Sara too, if I recall. Your sister. Good heavens, we introduced perfectly straight men to Sara!" "And she went out with some of them. Yes. We both appreciated it. We knew that we both had to date guys for our stories to remain credible. Single women date. What else could we do?" "Do single women still living with their husbands fly off to Bermuda for a week the way you did with that hunk Scott a while back?" "You mean, because I'm still a married woman I should continue to act like one, even though no one knows it? I should stand by my husband even though he's now my sister? What would you have thought if I never dated the men you introduced me to, Lisa? Or went away for weekends now and then?" "I'd ...I'd .... Ahhhh, however did you manage to persuade Sam to let you go on dates with other men? Or to date men himself?" "Oh, Lisa, don't be naive. He knew what was necessary for appearance's sake. He wasn't happy about it, but he knew it was unavoidable. To break the ice that first time, I gave him a glorious day of shopping for sexy underthings, then that evening when he was flushed with the pleasure of owning them and trying them on I put on soft lights and music and wrapped my arms around him from behind and hugged him, and slowly played with his nipples, and when he started to moan I raised the issue." "More of your kind of friendly persuasion, yes." "I didn't mention my going on a date, you understand, not yet, that wouldn't have been a wise move. I talked about a date for him. By the time I was suckling him and he was whining and trickling he'd agreed to go to dinner and a movie with Erin's ex, you remember Hal, their marriage lasted only a month because he turned out to be so blah. Just dinner and a movie. Well, Hal was just right for Sam, undemanding, happy just to cop a feel and try for a goodnight kiss. Which is what happened. And that was Sam's -- I mean Sara's -- first experience listening to a man talk while looking at him wide-eyed as if admiring him, the way I taught him to do on dates, then being sweetly affectionate when the man walks her to her door. And a little hard to get, so he can figure that the little kiss she gives him is really something. You remember doing all that googoo eye and reluctance stuff when you were dating, Lisa?" "God yes. We were so young then." "Anyhow, that was my sweet Sam's very first date on his own. And his very first goodnight kiss. He's such a love -- he didn't know what to think as he came into the house, it seems Hal had stuck his tongue into his mouth. Anyhow, once that'd happened and he'd agreed to a second date with Hal, he couldn't very well object to my going out with a guy the following weekend, could he? We both had to get on with our lives, after all." "Of course, Annie." "So I picked out Cargill Masterson, the King of our office stud pool from everything I'd heard, and I tell you, well, what I'd heard didn't come close! He ... well, it had been a while, Lisa! When he brought me back home I was pouring! Soaked! Dripping everywhere! Sam looked so unhappy -- he'd waited up most of the night for me -- but he had to accept that we weren't exactly married the way we had been, not any more. I felt so sorry for him I didn't have the heart to ask him to clean me up with his wonderful tongue, not that first time. I thought it would be better if the first sperm he tasted was on his own, hopefully from Hal on their next date. The way we all did, Lisa. As it turned out, a guy named Alex picked him up in the supermarket a few days later, and Sara didn't know how to say 'no' yet, so Alex's was her first sperm, not Hal's. Then when his mouth was no longer virginal I felt free to ask him to suck love juice out of me whenever I got home from a date, as a kind of welcome home kiss. That's one way we've had sex ever since." "Good for you!" "Oh, don't mock, it's good for both of us. I want Sam to know whenever I return from a date that I need him, that I'll always want him right there, only him and no one else, forever and ever, lying between my legs and licking and sucking away at me. So he'll feel secure. And maybe I'm sentimental, but I also need to know that he'll always be there for me." "I see. So Sam has now tasted sperm directly and also indirectly? You both make free with men? Then why didn't he go off with you to Bermuda? Why wasn't it a threesome or a foursome?" "Why Lisa, that's the very problem we need to discuss! It's one thing to suck cock, Sam does that now of course. He's a girl after all, and guys expect it. But wanting to suck cock is something else again altogether. That's what I want to talk to you about." "Look, Annie, it's very late and we both have things to do tomorrow. I mean later today. Let's break off, and then we can both talk some more at my office." "Here's fine, Lisa. And I do want to finish. We've finally arrived at the reason I came over. Not the only reason, I think you know that now, far from it, but especially for this. So if you can spare me just a few more minutes?" "Of course, honey. Take all the time you need." "I did want Sam to come with us to Bermuda and I tried hard to arrange it. Scott wanted to take on both of us, but I wouldn't have that. So he found her a nice guy to go with, Lenny his name was, a very gentle friend of his, and we double dated twice to get the two of them well-enough acquainted. They did enjoy each other's company. I was hoping that the second night Sara would finally get herself well and truly laid by this guy, I mean get her ass filled to the brim and in need of a tampon afterward, so she'd finally know what it's like to feel a man moving inside her, and she'd know that she likes it, she'd know it's a good thing. He would, Sam would, I mean. So Sam would render unto Sara what is rightfully Sara's, get her the right equipment for getting laid properly, and it would be done. Sam would become a complete woman named Sara and end all this ambivalence." "So Sam would finish what you began, is that it?" "Oh, Lisa, stop looking for hidden meanings! Yes, if you insist on it! Mainly, I want my hubby to love getting laid the way I do, is that so bad? For his own sake! So like me he can have boy friends who'll wait on him hand and foot in hope of future frenzied fucks. But Sam is still Sam in some ways. I know that he and Lenny made out for the longest time on our living room couch, long after Scott and I went to bed upstairs. And I know that he did try to let Lenny go all the way, poor Sam did, he told me so! But despite everything, despite all the jelly dildos we'd wriggled into his ass for months, despite knowing that there was a lovely trip to the Bahamas at stake, in the end he couldn't go the distance. Kiss Lenny yes, that much, if not passionately at least gratefully. Suck him off yes. But when Sam swallows he still makes a face, I've seen it, and that turns men off. And he can't begin to open his ass to a stiff cock. He just can't get really intimate, not with a real man. I don't know why. I suppose he simply isn't ready. And I don't know if he ever will be." "Annie, that's what I'm trying to tell you. You expect too much. He may never be ready! You should know by now that which sex people's bodies are and in what gender they live and which other people's bodies attract them are all different things. In most people they're all lined up, females look like women and like men and males look like men and like women, so they all seem one thing. But you know that in lots of people they're mixed and matched in different ways, and that's why people mix and match themselves in different ways. Sam seems to be bi-gendered in a way -- he enjoys living as a woman or as a man. He was raised as a man, so living as a woman seems something special for him, probably preferable, a privilege, exciting even. And now his body is partly female, and that's even more exciting. But he doesn't seem to be bi-sexual, that's all. And Annie, surely you know that being bi-gendered and being bi-sexual are two totally different things." "That's why I've come to you for advice, Lisa. We've always been so close. And you deal with all sorts of situations like this in your practice, I know you do. We need your help." "'We' you say? You need my help, Annie? Or does Sara? Which of you is most uncomfortable with the way things are? I notice she didn't come here with you." "He wouldn't. You're right, Sam is still heterosexual, Lisa, even though he's living in a body that's nearly female and he gives men what he must. He's a near-transsexual who lives full time as a woman with another woman, but he isn't a woman sexually except with me, and maybe not even then in his own mind. He does most of what he needs to do with men, but without any real zest, and he never lets men go all the way. That's how far I've managed to bring him. I need to help him go the rest of the way. And for that I need your help. "Annie, I help born women with their sexual issues, and I've helped transgendered women now and then. But even though Sam is Sara as far as anyone knows, maybe also partially transgendered, if he isn't at least bi-sexual to match, nothing is going to happen. Some men just aren't." "I want my darling to break out and have a little more fun, the way I do. That's all. Is that too much to ask?" "Fun with other women?" "You know that isn't what I mean, Lisa. Not at all. My feelings about Sam and other women are quite clear. That's what started him down this path to begin with, my insistence on being the only woman in his life. I still do insist on that. I mean he needs to learn how to have fun with other men, the way I do." "Even though he isn't attracted to other men? Despite being attracted to women's clothes, despite being turned on by his own woman's figure, and despite living like a woman? Despite his wife setting him an excellent example by going out with other men and having fun with them?" "That's right, Lisa. You can tease me, but the only direction open to him now is toward sex with men. To learn how it feels to be loved by a man. He's tried, at my urging. Repeatedly. But ... no. He needs help I can't provide for him." "I see. He still has his testicles, even though they no longer function?" "And he has his cock, even though that no longer functions either, as I was telling you, yes." "And despite this he doesn't want a vagina, something down there that does function, something more appropriate to his life style? Appropriate at least to the wearing of tight pants and bikinis, not to say more comfortable whenever he crosses his legs?" "That's what I want for him, Lisa, but it's a chicken and egg thing. Which comes first? He sees no reason to get a vagina because he doesn't crave penetration by a real cock. Not in any orifice -- incredible as it seems for anyone with his gifted tongue, not even in his mouth. He's a real disappointment that way to lots of men he's dated. They smooch, and he offers them his tits, and they play with them, and he gives them hand jobs. If they're very nice and really hard up he lets them titty-fuck him, he knows they need to get off one way or another. Then if he really likes them and they're really nice -- only a few so far -- he'll go the extra yard and take them in his mouth, as a favor to them. But that's as far as he ever goes. It's so very sad. He isn't a complete woman in his head, so he doesn't feel he needs to become one in his body. No vagina." "I see. And what you want is?" "For him to become a complete woman in his head. Then the rest will follow." "And you'll be off the hook." "Lisa, why do you keep putting it that way?" "Annie, here's how I see it. What you want is an end to the guilt you still feel for wrongly accusing your loyal, loving if sexually inadequate husband of infidelity. For cheating on him in a self-justified frenzy when you first thought he was unfaithful, and for cheating on him since then with the excuse that you have to pretend you're a single woman. You condemned a harmless transvestite unjustly on circumstantial evidence and in the end transformed him into a shemale who now looks and lives as a woman. Very nearly a woman. Not happy about it, but not discontent, and it has its compensations." "Lisa, you ...." "I'm not finished, Annie. As before, you want to assure your own exclusive possession of him by turning his desires exclusively toward men. You want is to cover your mistake and forgive yourself by turning it all to his advantage the only way you know how, by making sure he's well-fucked early and often the way you are. He's already your sexually exciting lesbian companion others think is your sister, but that's not enough. You want him to go all the way, to become a complete woman, to enjoy men the way you do. Why? So that will be that. So you'll no longer feel responsible for ruining his life, because it won't be a ruined life any more, just different. You'll still have your Sam and he'll have you, and you'll each have your own lives and other men as well. Is that an unfair way to sum things up?" "I wouldn't have put it that way, but ... it's ... not inaccurate I guess." "You want him to go the rest of the way so what you did to ruin him as a man won't weigh on you as the violation of trust and decency, the mean and monstrous mistake it certainly was, but instead will seem a favor you've done him. As it could be. I put it this way because, from what you tell me, he's not dissatisfied with the way things are. He may be feeling a little sad when you go off with other men and fuck them silly, but he's understanding enough about it, and he reassures you with his mouth whenever you return that there are no hard feelings. It's you who aren't satisfied." "You aren't wrong, Lisa, but I can't say your ... interpretation is very generous. You could put it that way. But remember, he now has his titties to play with, and he does, and he loves them, and he has mine too when he wants them. I'm the one who wants more for him. He isn't happy that I spend time with other men, no. But he knows I'm a woman who likes to feel hot meat sliding into me, and he loves me, and he can't provide that meat so he doesn't begrudge me." "And to make up for disabling him you'd like him to feel hot meat sliding into his own body too, wouldn't you? You not only never begrudge him that, you urge it on him. It's Sam who begrudges himself. Bu