You Can Always Say No, Chapter 4 free porn video

You Can Always Say No, Ch_ 04 by Cherysse St. Claire © "Hi... Mom!" I drew out that last part, my voice dripping with sarcasm, and heard her giggle at the other end of the line. "Hi, Donna," Faye chimed musically, the smirk in her voice apparent. "Did Angie give you my message?" "With a vengeance," I groaned melodramatically. "She literally fucked me stupid; I went out like a light. This morning, I was so sore, I had to call in sick." "Oooooh, that was a good one, then," Faye snickered. "I wish I could have been a mouse in your pocket." "Forget it," I growled good-naturedly. "My 'pocket' was stuffed as it was. Where on earth did she come up with a body like that, and where did it go afterward? This morning, she had only her nails to remind me it was really her." Faye described in detail her extensive use of special effects prosthetics in movies and television. When properly applied and made up, they were indistinguishable from real flesh. The 'tits' Angie had sported so proudly the night before had already been on-hand; cast from Faye's own prolific proportions. "I didn't have the prosthetics for the hips and ass," Faye explained. "We took the castings, but I didn't have the money for them and the boobs, too. Custom-made prosthetics cost a mint. I had to substitute a padded panty from Frederick's of Hollywood. Fortunately, Angie and I are real close in bone structure. That's why her titties looked so good last night; it was as though they had been made expressly for her. If we ever decide...." "We just did," I affirmed. "I'll pick up the tab. I adored Angie's new look last night. I want more - if I can survive it." "There is that word 'more' again," Faye intoned mirthfully. "If you are not careful, people will suspect you are a greedy little bitch." "Too late," I lamented. "Guilty as charged. Let them think what they will." As for your 'survival'," Faye continued, "this is the point in the conversation where you are supposed to admonish me to 'never do that again'. You know what I am talking about." "Well... yeah," I uttered pensively, hesitating a moment. "It's just that...." "What?" Faye queried. "Oh, I don't know," I answered, hesitant. "All the time Angie was pounding away inside me, I felt so... used, like a piece of meat, and I... loved it. I felt like such a, a..." "Slut?" Faye offered. "Yes, dammit," I groused, "and it felt good. Are you happy now?" "Ecstatic," she responded, that smirking lilt in her voice still apparent. "You did tell me you adored sluts." "Yes, but I hadn't pictured myself as one," I contended. "Some of us are more honest with ourselves than others," Faye volunteered. "Let's see if I can guess how it played out. You were already hot to trot when you came home last night, anticipating your little t?te-?-t?te with our Angie. Then she came in, looking so fine, and you about gushed an ocean. You attacked her, right then and there, couldn't get enough. As it turned out, she was just as insatiable." "Thanks to you and that damned little blue pill," I pointed out. "Who, me?" she replied glibly. "So, all's well that ends well, right?" I tried to put my thoughts together in some coherent pattern. Meanwhile, the silence was deafening. "Don-na?" my self-appointed 'mother-in-law' challenged. "Could it possibly be you are somehow... conflicted over a truly magical experience like last night?" This woman's intuition was truly scary. "Let me guess," she continued. "She, not you, is supposed to be the slut who can't get enough of your cock; your domme side has been salivating over that thought since... when? Saturday? Before that? You like the idea of her being 'soft and squishy', receptive to a good fucking, as I described it yesterday. Don't try to deny it; I saw the way your eyes lit up as I spoke the words." "It's true," I admitted ruefully, "but after last night, I don't know how I can follow through with that. It was absolutely, positively, the hardest, rawest, most animalistic sex I have ever had in my life, much less with my husband. I couldn't think. I couldn't talk, other than to scream my head off. The individual orgasms melded into one continuous, sublime orgiastic thrill ride. It makes me shiver now, just remembering it. It changed me, Faye. I can't imagine never having that again." Describing the scene to Faye and confessing my resultant emotional turmoil caused my libido to awaken. Subconsciously, my free hand dropped to my spread thighs and began to ever-so-gently finger my bruised, but aroused sex. "How can I do what I want to do with Angie and still do what I want to do with my husband? Angie came, too; at least she said so. I wasn't sure. She must have cleaned me up afterward." "She washed you?" Faye inquired. "She really is thoughtful." "Washed me?" I repeated. "Well, she laved me...." "Oh," Faye commented. "Oh...." I suddenly got this vision of Faye massaging her clitty as I described my night with Angie. That made me hot. Suddenly, the tide was coming in again. As sore as I was, I couldn't help but delicately finger my own engorged love button through my now-open dressing gown. "Just the thought of my loving Angie... my gorgeous little sissy-slut hubby, eating out my-my-my... well... used... c-c-c-cunt..." I gasped, so lost in the moment, I was only dimly aware of the filth streaming from my own lips - and was beyond caring. I closed my eyes, threw back my head, and gave a barely-audible gasp as I shuddered through my release. As lost in my reverie as I was, I swear I heard an echo from the other end of the line. There was a pregnant pause in our conversation; a long one. "Let's... recap," Faye intoned at last, sounding winded. "You want to have your cake and eat it, too. You experienced the pleasure Angie gave you, something more intense than you have ever had before, and you want it again, presumably often. Being the thoughtful, loving, caring partner you are, you want her to enjoy the same pleasure. The domme in you wants her to enjoy it your way, as the soft, squishy, receptive slut; that makes you hot. The greedy little bitch in you is afraid if you do that, you will be taking away your own candy and Angie's, too. Is that pretty close?" "Damn," I gasped softly. "How do you do that?" "That's what 'moms' do," Faye responded smugly, "and Angie called me from work this morning to tell me about last night. Knowing the two of you as I now do, the rest was elementary, dear Watson. Seriously, I don't see the problem." "Why not?" "As I told you yesterday, you have options. There is a big, wide world of pleasure out there for both of you to share and enjoy. Angie's choice seems to play a big part in your personal happiness; I respect you for that. There is too little genuine caring in relationships these days; that's why so many fail. My baby's father - my first Angie, that is - never married me. He split as soon as I told him he'd knocked me up." "I'm sorry," I sympathized. "I'm not," Faye avowed. "I adored his cock, not him. He and I never shared even a tenth of what you have with Angie. If the asshole had stuck around, I would just have found an excuse to kick his ass to the curb - maybe even subconsciously blaming him for my baby's death. What you have is rare, Donna. The fact that you don't take it for granted is rarer still. So, if Angie's choice in this is so important to you, ask her. "I can't ask Alan to sacrifice his cock for my fantasy," I avowed. "Really," Faye mused. "So, who said anything about Alan? We have been discussing 'Angela' this entire time." My heart skipped a beat when I realized she was right; I hadn't uttered my husband's name even once in our conversation. Was I that far gone? What kind of obsessed, selfish bitch was I becoming? "That doesn't make you selfish," Faye asserted, reading my mind yet again. "It merely means you are being honest with yourself. Besides, you had no problem making demands of... what was her name? Deidre?" "This is different," I huffed. "It was just a game with Deidre and the others who came later. They meant nothing to me. I love my husband." "I would not have presumed otherwise," Faye attested. "I could see it in your eyes when the two of you were in the shop; hers, too. The question is, would you love her less as the Angie we both envision - or more?" I closed my eyes. That vision returned to me. Angie - the big-boobed version who had visited me the night before - was on her knees before some faceless stud She had long, curving talons like Faye's and they were wrapped around a big, fat, throbbing cock. Angie was sucking that cock with wild abandon, making loud, obscene slurping noises. I just knew when she had him ready, he was going to turn her around and sink that cock into her tight, inviting pussy - and she would invite him to do so. In fact, I would insist on it.... "What was that little gasp about, Donna?" Faye teased. "Were you thinking of something that made you wet?" "Um, yes," I admitted sheepishly, noticing my hand playing with my clit yet again. Why was it, every time I was with this woman, even talking to her on the damn telephone, all I could think about was sex? I hadn't been aware I had reacted audibly to the vision, much less resumed playing with myself. "I think we both know the answer to my question, don't we?" Faye confirmed softly. "Before you beat yourself up any more over that revelation, you need to ask yourself one question: What made Angie cum last night? Don't jump to conclusions, either; the real answer might not be as facile as you believe. Ask her - and ask her what she wants." I felt so conflicted. I could not get that vision of 'Slut Angie' out of my head. I knew in my heart Faye was right; even if Angie became incapable of making love to me the way Alan had, there were toys out there that could launch both of us into lunar orbit. There were other options, too.... I shuddered at that thought. "I don't know if I can just come out and ask..." "Then don't," Faye admonished. "Ask her without asking her. Give her a taste, then ask her if she wants more. You know about wanting more, don't you?" "Yes," I admitted sheepishly. "I do." "Good," Faye mewed. "Then it's settled. You know you can count on me to help in any way I can." "I really appreciate that," I assured her, "but why? If you don't mind my asking, what's in it for you?" Dead silence - then a slow intake of air. "I'm getting my baby back," Faye admitted softly. I could almost hear the tears. "She is going to be exactly the girl I - we - want her to be," she continued. "My intuition tells me, she wants it that way, too; or will, once she gets a real taste of it. You wouldn't begrudge a mother her baby, would you?" "No, Mom, I wouldn't," I answered honestly, "as long as you understand she is my baby, too." "Then we'll just have to make sure she is the biggest, best babe she can be," Faye chirped, "enough for both of us to enjoy." I terminated the call, amazed at myself for the umpteenth time in the past five days. Had I really just agreed with my new best friend - and admitted slut - to turn my own husband into a slut just like her... and myself? I couldn't deny what a turn-on the idea was. How far was I willing to go with this fantasy? How far did I want to go? Get your hand out of your damn pussy and think with your BIG head, Donna! *** I had a nice dinner waiting for Alan when he returned from work; candlelight, soft music, wine, the works. I was attired in a maroon French lace babydoll, plus matching floor-length dressing gown, stay-up stockings and marabou mules. My makeup and hair were 'boudoir' all the way, more sultry than he was used to seeing on me. I personally slipped his gloves off his hands, marveling at the soft, unwrinkled, moisturized flesh and lovely nails. I ran my hands softly over his body, emitting a small gasp of delight. I hadn't been awake as he dressed for his day and it was a complete surprise to encounter the telltale ridges of a bra with B-cup enhancers, panties, garter belt and stockings under his suit and tie. He shrugged his shoulders and blushed. "After last night, I was feeling a little daring," he admitted. I kissed him lightly on the lips, gently stroking his cheek. I had been mulling over this moment since ending my call to Faye. She had suggested I "ask her without asking her"; in other words, use subterfuge or outright deceit. Now Alan was all but handing me carte blanche to steer the scenario to a place where he couldn't possibly say 'no'. I certainly could have done that, but what would it have cost our relationship in terms of trust? It was time to make a choice. "Go take them off," I murmured. "I need to have dinner with my husband tonight. This is important. Just lay them out on the bed; I want them where we can find them easily." He returned about fifteen minutes later, looking about as masculine as possible, given his long ponytail and nails. As we supped, our dining experience was all about eye contact and gentle touching of hands. Although I had my loving husband before me, as I had intended, my head was filled with visions of Angie, as Faye and I had described her. After rinsing our plates and putting them in the dishwasher, I retrieved the bottle of champagne I had stashed in the refrigerator, plus the companion flutes from the freezer. Alan took his cue unbidden, fetching the oversized ice bucket from its cupboard, inserting the champagne bottle, then packing it with ice. Even now I marveled at the perfect couple we made, so finely attuned to each other's thoughts. With him carrying the bucket and I the flutes, I took his free hand in mine and led him into the living room and to the sofa. He did the honors with the champagne bottle while I ignited the pre- arranged logs in the fireplace. This night would be all about seduction and suggestion. I was still too sore to take him into me, but that was not my intention, anyway. We sipped champagne and made out like two teenagers by candlelight and classical guitar. In time, I was on my knees on the carpeted floor between his legs, giving him a long, soft, teasing blowjob. It was all about pleasuring this man of mine who had given me indescribable pleasure already. Yet, the subtle scrape of those magnificent crimson talons at the sides of my head as he held me filled my fevered brain with visions of my sweet Angie once again. He moaned softly as he came, filling my mouth with his seed. I could tell it had been good for him, yet nowhere near the explosive, earth- shattering climax he had enjoyed/endured the previous Saturday night. He, not I, pulled me close to him and kissed me passionately. I had teasingly retained his cum in my mouth, just to gauge his reaction. Not only was he not repulsed, he eagerly snowballed his load with me. I wrestled with my conflicting desires for him as our tongues dueled. We came up at last, gasping for air and some semblance of sanity. Before I could stop him, he had slipped off the sofa and between my thighs. Sliding off my diaphanous panty, he lapped and nibbled delicately around my inner thighs, working inexorably towards my treasure. The light, teasing touch of his lips, teeth and tongue, plus that subtle rasp of his talons on my exposed flesh, was exactly the tender touch my battered sex craved that night. My first orgasm was an exquisite torment of pleasure/pain. There were four more before my screams, spastic thrashing and pounding fists on his shoulders convinced him to desist. It took some time to regain my composure. As we sipped champagne, I ordered my thoughts. "My Darling," I began, "I am dedicating the rest of this night to your pleasure, as you dedicated last night, and just now, to mine. You make me happier than I can find words to express. You compliment my thoughts, moods, and desires as no other ever has or could. Last night, the sex was so intense, you literally fucked me into unconsciousness. "This morning, I was afraid it hadn't been as good for you as it had been for me. You said you had cum, but you didn't look very enthusiastic about it; certainly not at the level of intensity I had felt. Earlier tonight was good for you; I could tell. Still, there was not that explosive passion we have known in the past. Saturday night seemed much better; you erupted like a volcano. What did we do differently then? Tell me how I might please you the way you please me." No, I am not incredibly dense. I wanted Alan to admit it to me - and himself. He was silent for long moments, presumably trying to formulate an answer that wouldn't offend me. "Baby?" I prompted. "Baby? It's okay, really; you can say whatever you want to say. I promise I won't take it the wrong way. I love you, without reservation. We have already shared so much. Please, you can share this with me." "Saturday night," he began, "you fucked me." "And you... like that?" I prompted. "God, yes," he gushed. "After the day we had Saturday, it just seemed... perfect." "But I didn't touch you... there... at all," I pointed out. "How could it be better for you?" He shook his head, "I can't explain it," he responded, confused. "Perhaps you hit my G- spot." "More likely, I hit your P-spot," I teased. "Go on." "Anyway," he continued, "I came harder that night than I have ever cum before in my life. It felt like my whole body was hard-wired to my pussy and every nerve ending was firing at once. It made me feel like such a... slut." This was looking promising. "You really love that feeling, don't you Baby?" I prompted. "It isn't about just dressing up anymore, is it? You have become caught up in the whole slut experience. In the process, we have discovered sex is more intense for you when you are being fucked than the more traditional sex we have always had. You do realize if we continue with this, things will never be the same for us, don't you?" He hesitated, then nodded his head slowly. "Please don't hate me," he pleaded. "I want our sex to be as good as it has always been, for you as well as for me." "Don't hate you?" I asked crossly. "Don't you ever think anything we do consensually, in bed or otherwise, would cause me to hate you. Still, things are different now. Our sex can never again be as good as it was; it has already proven to be better than ever before. Last night was, physically, the best, most intense sex I have ever had in my life. It was the best because I was being fucked by the slut I have come to adore. "I get goose bumps just seeing you walk through my door. I behold you, looking the way you did last night, and my brain turns to mush. As much as I love 'Alan', I can't get 'Angie' out of my mind. Each new day, each new experience we share, makes me feel stronger, more positive about us as a couple. I like the direction we are taking, at least a much as you do. Would it surprise you to know I enjoy fucking you?" "I deeply appreciate that, but it can't be as good for you as last night," he asserted. "In fact, I'm troubled you don't seem to want a repeat tonight." "Oh, but I do want a repeat of last night," I countered, "but not tonight. Sweetie, I truthfully can't; that's how totally, thoroughly, completely you wore me out. I literally couldn't get out of bed this morning to see you off to work, much less go to work myself. As worn out as I was, you showed up tonight and still managed to make me cum hard five more times. That was all you, Baby. "If I could give back to you ten times the pleasure you have given me in the past two days alone, I wouldn't feel I had done enough. If last night was the most physically intense sex I have ever had in my life, Saturday night was the most emotionally intense. I don't want you to ever think you can't please me unless you take me the way a man does." "Y-you don't think of me as a man anymore?" Alan asked querulously. "Oh my God, what have I done?" "Shhhhhh," I hissed. "Stop that. You are just being silly now. The truth is, I don't think of 'Angie' as a man. How could I? Why would I want to? She is my girlfriend, my slut, and I love her dearly just that way. That doesn't mean I deny the existence of my husband or have stopped loving him. I just... put him away, someplace safe, while Angie is here with me. When you, Alan, return to me, I love you unconditionally, as I always have and always will. "If it is really important to you, you can go back to being my man right now, full time. We will cut your hair and remove your nails. I will put 'Angie' away, welcome you into my arms and our bed and I will be your loving, devoted wife forever more. But Baby, if you will be honest with yourself, I don't think that's what you really want; not now, after what we have already experienced - and what might lay ahead. "I'll admit; there is something about the last five days that confuses me. You told me Saturday night - the night I fucked your sweet, tight little pussy - was the most intense sexual experience of your life. I don't need any convincing on that; I saw it with my own two eyes. You also told me 'Angie' came last night while fucking me like a man. I will have to take your word on that because you fucked me so hard, I was completely out of my mind. If you came, it also means you ate your cum out of my pussy afterwards, because I was mostly clean down there. Did you?" "Yes," he admitted softly. "That is what confuses me. Last night, Angie, the most delectable little trollop I have ever known, pounded my pussy in a way you, My Husband, never have in all the time I have known you. It was... ferocious, like being fucked by a complete stranger, a strange man, not my Angie. Then, Angie sucked the cum out of my just-fucked pussy like the slut she is. Perhaps the question I should have asked this morning is, was it good for you; as good as Saturday night? He hesitated. "No," he sighed. "Sweetheart," I admonished firmly, "this is really, really important. You have to be honest with me; more honest than you have ever been in your life. Aside from the obvious, what was different about the way we made love last night, versus all the nights I have made love to my husband? What were you thinking about as you were fucking me?" Another hesitation. "I-I wasn't," he stammered. "You weren't... thinking?" I sought in confirmation. "Nooo," he explained slowly. "I wasn't... fucking you." That confused me more. I'm sure the expression on my face said so. "What I mean is," he went on, "everything was working... down there, thanks to the Viagra. I was giving it to you really good, probably better than I ever had before. You were responding like a woman possessed, cumming almost continuously. I think that was the first time I have ever seen you completely lose control of your senses like that, surrender yourself to the moment and feeling - and it was something I was doing for you. If there is such a thing as a 'perfect moment', that was it. There has never been a question in my mind how completely in love with, and devoted to you I am, but last night was certainly a confirmation. I don't know if I can ever recapture that moment, but I will certainly never forget it. "At the same time, it felt so...alien to me. It was an incredible turn- on in the sense that I was turning you on, but it really wasn't doing anything for me. I might as well have been fucking you with a dildo. I don't see how there could have been any difference physically; it had to have been in my head. "Then I let my imagination run away with me. I became you, or rather, took your place. I was the slut I envisioned myself to be - the slut you have helped turn into reality - and my pussy was taking the pounding of my young life, at the hands of some big, muscular stud. The harder I pounded you, the harder he was pounding me. It was turning me on something fierce. I was so close, so close... "Then, you screamed as you came again, a long, piercing scream that started low and built in intensity, as though it was being ripped from your soul. In my mind, that was my scream. I was experiencing that orgasm, and it was tearing my soul to shreds, even as it ripped apart yours. That was the moment I came in you. In my mind, my stud was filling me with his seed. It made me feel so complete, just as you did Saturday night." At that moment, I shuddered through a spontaneous orgasm; just a little one, but perhaps the most emotionally satisfying yet. I didn't want to merely hold Alan; I wanted to climb inside him, and he in me, and combine our essences. I knew I had a confession to make to him, for which I would have to dig deep. "My Love," I murmured, "since you have been honest with me, I need to be honest with you - and you must promise me you will keep this within the context of the love we share. Can you do that for me?" "I promise," Alan avowed. "I mentioned before, our lovemaking last night was like being fucked by a complete stranger. What if I told you that vision actually entered into my head? There I was, being taken, used like a piece of meat by some macho stud, right there before your eyes. It wasn't me trying to be mean or cruel, trying to humiliate you. It was me, laying bare my soul to you in the most personal, intimate way a woman can. It was me proclaiming: 'Here I am, My Love, laid out before you. I, the strong, assertive, confident, oh-so-proper professional, now throw all that away for you. I become the shameless slut you see here, because you have become that slut for me; one I treasure and cherish above all else. Everything I have of value, even pride, dignity, and self-respect, I offer to you now; I hold nothing back.' Can you accept me like that? Will you? Alan paused for a moment, searching my eyes for... perhaps some sign of deceit? Apparently, he was satisfied with what he saw. "Yes," he replied. "I can." My heart began to pound. We were so close. "We have also both expressed a desire for more," I continued, emboldened by his previous acceptance. "Now I want to ask you a serious question. Think about it carefully, in light of what we have already discussed. Do not allow your petty insecurities to speak for you. Here goes. Baby, I flat-out adore you as the slut you have become this week. If I asked you for more, would you give it to me?" "Yes," he replied straightforwardly. "I would give you more." "If what I wanted included you becoming the woman in our relationship exclusively, at least for a while, would you do it; just for me?" His eyes clouded. "Exclusively?" "Yes, Sweetie," I explained softly. "That means behind closed doors, you would be giving up 'Alan' for a while. You would be 'Angie', my delectable little slut and fucktoy. We would still have sex, lots of sex, but I would be fucking you, just as we did Saturday night. Your clitty would not enter my pussy at all unless and until we decided to end our little arrangement. That's what I meant by you becoming the woman." There was a brief flicker of panic in those Baby Blue eyes. "Would you... want that?" he asked incredulously. "Oh yes, Baby, yes," I assured him. "I now understand how fundamentally the dynamic of our relationship has changed. I know how much Angie means to you and I have never been happier. I just couldn't ask my Angie to fuck me as a man anymore, knowing how you felt about it now. Do you really think I could enjoy myself, knowing you were just going through the motions for my benefit? The answer is 'no'. We have already proven, with the help of toys, our sex life can be better than ever - for both of us. Let's try this new relationship for a while and see where it takes us. Please?" He was trembling, afraid to ask that next, make-or-break question - the one I even now willed him to utter. "T-then if we don't... anymore," he stammered, "t-that means you...." "No, Baby," I avowed forcefully, gazing intently into his frightened eyes. "There is no 'me' or 'you'; there is only 'us'. We will do what you are suggesting. That is the logical end for the direction we are taking. I could not conceive of doing this behind your back and still proclaim my love for you to the whole world. I long to share your world and for you to share mine; all of it, every facet, to prove to you your happiness means everything to me." "That is such a big step," he pointed out, "one that can't help but have consequences beyond our bedroom..." "We will deal with those as they arise, together, as it should be," I countered. "I can't help but feel it will change me, fundamentally, as a person - and us as a couple," he worried. "Exactly," I encouraged. "That is the point of all of this, isn't it? You will have the opportunity to let loose the constraints of petty conformity and embrace the woman you envision yourself to be - the woman I envision you to be. I can only say again; you are not doing this for me, nor I for you. We are doing this for us. I know how scary this must all sound to you, to turn everything you have ever believed your relationship with me should be upside-down. Yet I know in my heart it is right for us." "What if we decide it isn't right for us?" "Then we will have at least tried, and can move on," I pronounced, "rather than never having tried and wondering 'what if?' I will welcome my husband back from that place in my heart where I have him locked away and we can live a full life together." "In spite of everything," he confessed, glancing between his legs, "the more feminine I appear and feel, the more excited I become. I can't stop... I mean, it...." "It gets hard," I finished for him, "and ruins everything. How can you truly feel like a girl when you have this thing down there, getting hard, spoiling the look, reminding you; you are just a man in a dress?" Alan nodded his head, ashamed. "Baby, you are so much more than that," I avowed. "I can help you with this problem, and any other that may arise. Your clit just requires a little extra 'persuasion' to catch up with the rest of you. If you will trust me, believe that I want this as much as you, nothing can come between us - not even this." "How can we take care of this?" he asked. "Let me show you," I offered, rising from the sofa with the two champagne flutes. "Come with me. Bring the ice bucket with you." I led him to our bedroom, setting the two flutes down on my bedside table. "Set the bucket on the dresser, then come to me," I instructed. My husband complied. "Remove your clothes for me," I purred. "All of them." He did. I folded them neatly and placed them on the nearby chair. As I suspected, our talk had made him hard again. I went to the bathroom to fetch a washcloth, then filled it with ice from the bucket. Returning to Alan, I pressed the icy compress into his sex, even as I pressed the rest of me firmly against him, wrapping my other arm tightly around his waist. He trembled violently, trying to escape my freezing embrace. "Calm yourself," I trilled soothingly in his ear. "Let it happen. It is all for the best." His erection subsided in a minute or two. I set the washcloth down on the nightstand, then opened the bottom drawer and removed the shiny contrivance. Alan took one look and his eyes flew open in trepidation, recognizing the device for what it was. "Honey, I don't know about this," he demurred. "I do, I asserted without hesitation. "It might seem scary at first, but trust me. Once it's in place, I know in my heart you will feel better about yourself. Now, your clit goes into the tube like this... see how snugly it fits? So, let's wrap these two bands around your hips like so... then the tube pivots down and between your thighs like this... and then we..." click - click - click "... lock it all into place like this. Voila; you are properly chastised. See how slim and graceful it looks on you? It hugs your contours as though it is part of you. Now you won't have to worry about being strong for me, Baby. Your chastity will be strong for both of us. You can still pee - sitting down, as a woman should - but your little clitty won't be able to get hard, much less poke itself into places it doesn't belong. See how flat your front appears now? You are effectively a woman, my woman, and the only temptation you will have to resist is my cock in your pussy...." I stepped up to my now-emasculated sissy, held him close and kissed him deeply. At the same time, my right hand gently caressed his exposed butt. I snaked my index finger between his cute buttcheeks and wiggled it teasingly at the entrance to his love nest. "Of course," I murmured. "that's one temptation we don't want to resist, do we? See? It's designed to allow me unlimited access to your sissy sex. Let me prove it to you. Dress for me." "H-how do you want me to..." he stammered. "Shhhhh," I whispered gently, silencing him with one upraised finger to his lips. "Indulge yourself. Dress the way you feel right now. I want to watch." We were at another crossroads, of a sort. His suit and other male accoutrements lay before him on the chair in the corner; his black- satin-and-lace lingerie was spread out on the bed. I smiled to myself as he reached for his stockings. Picking up the pile of male clothing, I strutted elatedly to his closet and hung everything up neatly, then positioned the loafers in the shoe rack. Selecting his black patent open-toed mules, I re-traced my steps to his dresser, selecting a recently-purchased garment from there. Once he had his stockings in place, I stepped in, eschewing the lingerie for something more erotic. I wrapped the new black satin corset around his waist, fastened the front busk, then began cinching the laces closed. I didn't cinch them all the way down; that would come later. Still, once they were tied off, his torso had a nice shape to it. He fastened his stockings to the corset's garter tabs, showing amazing dexterity with those fabulous nails, then slipped his dainty feet into the high-heeled mules. While doing so, I had freshened our champagne flutes. Handing my lover his, I escorted him to the vanity table and pulled up a chair next to it. "Make yourself sexy for me, Angie," I murmured. "You know what I like." She did make herself sexy, doing a credible job after only one lesson. I sipped champagne and enjoyed every moment of the transformation. Although I hadn't requested it, she fetched her titties from a dresser drawer, sprayed the rear surfaces with a super-strong medical adhesive, applied them, then blended the makeup into her chest to make them appear to be real. I swallowed frequently to avoid drooling like a gibbering idiot. She bent over on the bench until her head was between her knees, brushed her hair out and down, spraying it liberally with hair spray, then tossed it upright again, adding yet more spray to her fluffed-out mane. She finished with a few spritzes of Obsession, then turned her head over her shoulder and smiled coyly at me. By that time, my heart was hammering madly in my chest. My gorgeous sissy-slut had returned to me! Arising from my chair, I strode deliberately to my bedside table and once again opened the bottom drawer. I made an elaborate show of strapping on the thick, eight-inch latex dildo, cinching it tightly in place. I saw the longing in Angie's eyes. She licked her lips in anticipation. Come to me, My Love," I cooed, holding out my arms to her. "Get on the bed, on your hands and knees." She complied, with my assistance. I positioned her, then myself behind her, spreading her thighs. "Reach back, Slut," I commanded. "Feel my cock. Feel how hard I am for you. Do it now." She reached back with her left hand and came in contact with my hardness, scant inches from the entrance to her love nest. She gasped in awe as her fingertips explored its girth, trailing down its length. "Do you see how hard you make me?" I asked. I want you real bad. Do you want me, Baby? "Yessssssss." "I don't think you are wet enough yet, Baby. Wouldn't it feel better if I made you wetter?" "Yesssssss." I had the tube of K-Y at the ready. I squeezed a generous dollop on the first two fingers of my left hand and eased them forward, parting her puckered star on the first attempt. She had closed up a little since Saturday night. Still there wasn't as much resistance as there had been that first time. That was good. When Alan had popped my anal cherry, I had needed three nights a week for two weeks before it had really begun to feel good, and that had been with a smaller dildo than this. She would need several sessions at least before she was sufficiently stretched out to truly enjoy the fucking I would most certainly enjoy giving her. After a few in-and-out thrusts, another dollop of K-Y, then a few more thrusts, I knew she was about as ready as she was going to be. "I think you are ready now, Slut," I cooed. "How about it? Are you ready for me? Do you want my cock as much as I want you?" "YESSSSSSSSS!" "Show me, Slut!" I ordered. "Take my cock in your hand and guide it into you. I know you know how. Show me how much you want me!" She reached back once again, grasped the slippery shaft with one hand, then eased it forward to the entrance of her hot little hole. Without hesitation, she pushed the knob head into her pussy until it was buried inside her. I took over from there, easing forward with my hips. It took two dozen gentle in-and-out thrusts before my cock was buried to the hilt. I heard the exhaled sigh as I bottomed out. I could just picture her face, eyes closed, with the look of supreme satisfaction on her lips. I began gently fucking her, in and out, in and out. "Do you like that, Baby?" I asked. "Oh, yesssssss," she hissed. "That feels wonderful." I suspected it wasn't quite as 'wonderful' as she let on, being only her second time. Then again, the power of fantasy, aided and abetted by my verbal stream-of-consciousness skill at getting inside Angie's head, seemed to be making a difference. I knew she wanted it to feel wonderful - the sooner, the better. She wanted me to enjoy it, too, which I was. God, I loved my sissy hubby! "You make me so hot for you, Angie," I intoned softly, caressing his smooth, supple body. You are such a little tease. You dress so conservatively for work, Miss Prim and Proper, the good little office girl no one suspects to harbor wicked thoughts. We know differently, don't we? I mean, I strip off that prim, proper little business suit and what do I find? Why, the sexiest, dreamiest, most feminine lingerie a guy could ever hope to see - and stockings, not pantyhose! Do you know what a turn-on it is to see real stockings, held up by a garter belt? That would make any guy instantly hard in his pants. It made me hard, Baby. All I could think about was ripping off my pants, sinking my big, thick cock into your tight, tantalizing pussy and making you my little bitch. "You would like that, wouldn't you Angie? Being my bitch, I mean? You dress like you want it. You paint your face and do your hair like a cheap whore. You wiggle your big, luscious bubble butt on those skyscraper stiletto heels like a cock magnet. That's what you really want, isn't it? You want to be taken, used like the slut you are, don't you? You can't wait to get home each day, strip off that dull, drab office wear and slip into some slinky, sexy, little next-to-nothing number, slip on those high heels, paint your face, fluff up your hair, then go out and tease all the little boys, tease them so bad they have to run into a dark corner and jack off, just from watching you walk by. "I like that in a slut. I like watching the way you tease them, make them hard, make them hurt so much, they want, need, beg for a little relief. Then you sashay on, denying them their relief, like the prick tease you are - for everyone but me, Baby. You know you can't, don't want to say 'no' to me. You love my long, thick, hard cock too much, don't you?" "Yesssssss," she whispered. "Yes," I echoed, "you do. You know full well how difficult it is to find a lover with a big, thick cock like mine - and you are a size queen; you could never be satisfied with some limp little pencil dick, could you?" "No!" she pouted. "Of course not," I confirmed. "You like a big slab of U.S. Prime filling your twat; one about which you will never have to ask: "is it in?" You know when I am in you, Sugar. You feel every luscious, manly inch taking you, invading you, making you my own. That's what you want, don't you? You want to be taken, used, owned by my cock. Isn't that right, you little slut?" "Yesssssss," my lover hissed. "I'm sure your mom would love to see you turn out like that. She so wants you to be a slut just like her. If she had her way, she would turn you out twenty-four/seven. Think of it, Sugar. You would have tits and ass just like Mama. All those dull, drab business suits, shirts and slacks would be history, replaced by a closet full of the sexiest slutwear money can buy. Of course, you would have a new job, too; one more appropriate for your talents. What could be better than working in the MAC store with your Mama? You can keep yourself looking flawless all day. Meanwhile you help other women look the best they can be. Of course, none will ever come close to you or your Mama in terms of drop- dead desirability, but hey; that's life. "And the boys, Honey; think of all those boys walking by the window, seeing you, lusting for you. Think of all those hard cocks trapped inside their tight jeans, yearning to be free, free to take you and use you like the little slut you are. You know what? I just might let them. I would love to see you with another guy, or two, or three, maybe even a gangbang. Just think of it; my Angie, the gangbang whore. Your pussy would be getting a lot of action. I'm not worried. I have the cock you really want, the one you will always come home to. Isn't that right, Baby?" "Y-y-y-yesssssss," she stammered. I could tell she was close; really close. "You've got me so hot for you, I can't stand it anymore, Baby," I moaned. I have to shoot my load right now! "Give it to me!" she hissed. "I want it all. Give me every... drop... of... your... cum, right...NOW!" "I'm coming for you, Sugar," I called out. "Here...I...CUM!!!!!!!!" My cock gushed its hot, sticky load deep into her like a fire hose. It may have only been a concoction of whipped egg whites and light vegetable oil, shot from a hideously expensive ejaculating dildo, but she wouldn't be able to tell the difference between that and the real thing. She screamed loudly enough to rattle the mirror as she came, shuddering uncontrollably. I had been ready with a plastic tumbler which I placed over the tip of her cock, catching all her seed. I bottomed out my cock in her as the last spurts emptied into her. She collapsed on the bed, spent, with me lying behind her, holding her in my arms, feeling her body tremble. "Drink this, Baby," I demanded. "A good little cumslut never wastes a drop!" I placed the tumbler to her lips and tilted, The greedy little slut drank every drop of her own nectar, just as I had coaxed her to do Saturday night. That was unbelievably hot to watch. I snuggled up to her, my cock still inside her. "I can't get over what a tramp you have become in such a short time," I marveled. "Just a few short weeks ago, we had... well, not a vanilla relationship, but you were definitely a shy girl. Just look at how you have blossomed! Now, you even wear lingerie to work without being prompted." "Oh, that," she tittered, pushing back against my thrusts. "I don't know how I summoned up the courage. As I said before, after last night, I guess I just felt more...daring." "And well you should, Sweetie," I assured her. "If I had known about it this morning as you were going out the door, do you have any idea how wet I would have been all day, just imagining getting you home so I could fuck you? Better still, you now have no fear of going to the mall, dressed the way you do - by yourself - where anyone can see and lust for you. That is so hot! I love the slut in you; the more wicked, the better. Is it as good for you as it is for me, Baby?" "Oh, yes, Honey," she sighed. "I had no idea how easy, how exciting it would be. You should see the way the boys stare at me now." "I have, Sweetie, I have," I confirmed. "Do you remember how wet I was when you went down on me in the parking garage Saturday afternoon, and how hot our sex was when we got home? That's why. I want everyone to want you. It is a huge thrill for me seeing you give all those boys hard-ons, knowing they will have to go somewhere and jack off to the fantasy, while I take the real thing home and fuck her. You do like the way I fuck you, don't you, My Love?" "Oh, Donna," Angie gushed, "I love what you do to me! I want more." "More?" I queried, not believing my luck. "Well, Baby, I want more, too - a lot more. We will work that out in the days and weeks ahead." I held her tightly to me as we spooned, thrusting into her occasionally to remind us both of this dramatic new twist in our relationship. I didn't think I would get a wink of sleep that night. Much of my stream- of-consciousness patter was fantasy, of course. I knew how to get into my lover's head for maximum effect. It was a powerful fantasy for me, as well. I had actually had Angie's chastity belt custom-made to her measurements before there even was an 'Angie'. It had been an unrealized fantasy of my own, left languishing in that drawer until this amazing confluence of our desires. I would wear the key on a chain around my neck as a constant reminder of this shared fantasy. Whenever she requested to be released from her confinement and our agreement, I wouldn't hesitate to do so; such was my love for my husband. Of course, if she didn't request it.... This evening had taken my breath away. My lover had surrendered herself to me, given up her masculinity of her own free will, with neither coercion nor deception on my part. We would each reap the benefits of our altered reality; a true win-win situation, as any loving relationship should be. That put the responsibility for our relationship squarely on my shoulders; a position I felt supremely comfortable accepting. I did not expect the path ahead to be a smooth one, but there would be no problem we could not overcome as long as we trusted and believed in one another. How much better that was than all the loathsome Fem/Dom trash we had read on the Internet! I couldn't remember ever feeling more content, and looked forward to the dawning of the new day.