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Author's note: This is a work of fiction and fantasy. References to the Iraq/Afghanistan Wars and Marine Corps Aviation in general as well as to Headquarters Marine Corps (HQMC) and the Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps in particular were done for story background. There is no actual resemblance to real persons or factual happenings. These characters and events took flight solely in the "theater of my imagination." There they will remain. Suffice it to say, I have nothing but the utmost admiration and respect for Marine Aviation and its employment in the Mid-East on behalf of our National Interests. CACTUS FLOWER By Ginger Collins PROLOGUE It was no longer my imagination. As I looked at my reflected masculine image in a hand-held mirror, I could clearly see my head of hair was much fuller than before and grew more quickly. In addition, it was slowly turning a lighter blond color as if I were highlighting it. Moreover, I noticed that I was developing breasts. Definite fatty protuberances were clearly taking shape. My areoles were larger and decidedly pinkish. My nipples were no longer mere nubs but had a measurable shaft even when passive. When I rubbed them, they elongated even further and were quite taut. Fingering them was a pleasant sensation, very sensual, that produced a tingling feeling within me. Confliction abounded. I was simultaneously fascinated and confounded by these exotic and bizarre changes that were occurring within my body. How and why does a 38-year-old male, presumably in perfect health, suddenly start to develop female breasts? What made it harder for me was the fact that I was a Marine Corps Lieutenant Colonel and Naval Aviator in command of a Helicopter Squadron in a combat zone. My unpremeditated biological change was certainly not in keeping with the good order and discipline of my unit. Fortunately, we were rotating out of the dessert within a week and were actually in the process of turning our aircraft and equipment over to our replacement squadron. My latest tour in the hellhole known as Iraq was almost over. I was relatively certain that I could make it out of country unmasked. It would not be easy, though. For almost a month now I had been taping my newly acquired growths with an Ace bandage in order to conceal them. It also meant very early and late showers in the communal shower tent when no one was around to observe me. As a matter of fact, I could not even strip to my T-shirt in front of people anymore. It was too revealing. So, I spent a lot of time in my flight suit with the zipper fully zipped. Further to my bewilderment, I noticed that I was shaving my facial hair less and less. Currently, I was down to twice a week. On the other hand, that my muscle tone was waning and my body fat was increasing and not only in the pectoral area. Over the past few weeks at night as I lay in my rack and examined my body I found that I was fleshier in those areas where I had previously been lean. Unknown forces were obviously at work and my body chemistry was haywire. With much trepidation I replaced the mirror in my shaving kit, taped my boobs, donned underwear, a flight suit, boots, and my shoulder holster 9mm weapon. I topped myself off with a squadron emblazoned baseball cap and trooped off to the Group Commander's office for his weekly briefing of squadron commanders. At least for a few more days, my personal confusion would take a back seat to the war. CHAPTER I: BALI BRA MAY CALL YOU Two months later as the taxi drove me to the Navy Annex in Arlington Virginia, the home of the U. S. Marine Corps, I knew that my fighting days were over. After three combat tours in the dessert or "sand box" as we referred to Iraq/Afghanistan, there was no way that I was going back, at least, not as a Marine Corps officer. The Corps was a warrior society and I was no longer a member in good standing of its cutting edge. For reasons beyond my control, I was decidedly unwelcome. In keeping with this surreal atmosphere (talk about irony), the Mid- Easterner cab driver after repeated looks in his rearview mirror had long ago given up on my sexual identity. When he pulled up to the entrance, he shrugged his shoulders, pointed to his meter and said, "$22.40, sir" although with a question mark inflection in his voice. He wasn't sure and that gifted me with perverse pleasure. I gave him the correct amount, a thank you, and a $5 tip as I alighted from his vehicle. He once again, checked my androgynous facial features. A faint smile, which could have meant anything, parted his lips. Then he was gone. I checked my watch. It read 17:00 hours. Thus, I had a few minutes to spare for my 17:15 meeting with the Assistant Commandant of the Marine Corps. Not surprisingly, the parking lot was deserted since it was late on a Saturday afternoon. This was a rather strange time for a meeting, but one in keeping with my personal situation. The Marine Corps definitely wanted me out sight and better yet, out of mind. The Assistant Commandant's receptionist, a tall, slender female Master Sergeant in Service 'A' uniform with slacks, whose name tag read "Mancillas" greeted me professionally, "Good evening, Colonel. General Walsh will be with you shortly. Please have a seat. May I take your coat?" "Yes, thank you, Sergeant Mancillas." The coat to which she referred was a London Fog; one I wore almost constantly now publicly in order to cover up my 36A breasts when they were not taped down. Today, they were not so restrained. Rather, they were comfortably encased in a nylon Bali bra. My unbuttoned sport jacket and loose-fitting polo shirt hid them somewhat, albeit not completely. I removed my overcoat while affecting as much of a concave chest posture as I could manage and handed it to her while I closely watched her face for a reaction. There was none. Either she did not suspect or she had been well briefed. Time would tell. As I sat and waited I idly scanned a copy "Leatherneck" magazine, an old edition, and surreptitiously glanced at the receptionist as she typed at her computer. More and more I was paying careful attention to women's fashion, makeup, movements, gestures, body language, speech patterns, and voice tones. It was a matter of survival. At the rate my body was morphing from Mars to Venus, I would soon need these skills full time. Master Sergeant Mancillas interrupted my reverie with "General Walsh will see you now, sir. Please come this way." I did as she bade and was ushered into the General's spacious office. In my best military fashion, I walked briskly to a spot two paces in front of his desk, stood at attention before him, and said, "Lieutenant Colonel Carson reporting as ordered, sir." There was no concavity to my chest now. Both my chest "weapons" were on full display. I wondered if my nipples were showing. I kind of hoped they were. "At ease, Colonel. This is going to be an informal and off-the-record conversation," General Walsh said before we shook hands pro forma and he escorted me across his large office over to a lounging area that consisted of a couch, stuffed chairs, and coffee table arrangement that were by a window with a spectacular view of Arlington National Cemetery. He chose a large chair that was clearly his. I sat down to his right on one end of the couch. A proverbial pregnant pause followed. Despite his years of command presence, he was obviously ill at ease with the subject of our late afternoon t?te-?-t?te. Secretly, I relished his discomfort. I knew how he felt. "Colonel," he began. "You have an outstanding record as a Marine officer and Naval Aviator. Your combat flying in Iraq and Afghanistan was exemplary and I noted with pleasure your award of the Distinguished Flying Cross and 10 Air Medals as well as a Purple Heart." He paused, seemingly lost with regard to how to proceed next and then sputtered, "Ah, hell, Colonel, let's cut to the chase. We can't have our Marines, particularly field grade officers, undergoing sex changes even if they are not voluntary as you claim. You understand that, don't you?" Without giving me an opportunity to answer, he continued, "Just look at you. You've got breasts for crying out loud." He shook his head in bewilderment and looked down at his shoes. There was no way he could look me in the eye. My passionate response was equally as candid as I replied, "I understand that General. Please bear in mind, though, that this is not something I wished or brought upon myself. I am a victim just as much as if I had been severely wounded in combat. Everything in my life was normal until this last of my three back-to-back tours in the 'sand box.' In effect, sir, I am a wounded warrior and I feel that I should be treated accordingly. The Marine Corps has a reputation for taking care of its own." As I said these words, I looked him straight in the eye although he continued to avoid mine. My plea must have touched a nerve for he relaxed a bit and slightly nodded his head before saying, "Good point, Colonel. What do you propose?" "I want to stay on active duty and get my 20 years so that I can retire with my pension and benefits. As you know, sir, that's two years away. To continue my career, I propose to change my name from Terry Carson to Terri Walker--- that's Terri with an 'i' and in a matter of a few weeks begin living full time as female. By the way, 'Walker' is my middle name. There are numerous independent billets extraneous to the Marine Corps to which I can be assigned. The remoter the assignment, the better it will be. If one doesn't exist, you can create one. No doubt the CIA could easily create a temporary identity for me that would be discrete and authentic; one that would not bring any embarrassment either to the Corps or to myself. I might add that I am a competent officer whether I wear pants or a skirt, and that I can be of continued valuable service to the Corps." At the word, "skirt," I noticed that General Walsh visibly winced and I hoped I had not overplayed my hand. Apparently I had not for he answered, "Okay, Colonel. I'll look into it and get back to you. In the meantime, you are to stay on administrative leave and continue your medical consultations and testing at Bethesda Naval Hospital. Please, keep a low profile. It's best for all concerned." The interview was over. I reclaimed my coat from Master Sergeant Mancillas and headed out into the rapidly approaching darkness. CHAPTER II: TORQUE AND SLACKER My low profile didn't last much beyond the confines of the General's office, though. As luck would have it, on my way out of the Headquarters building after my "prayer session" with General Walsh, I ran smack into an old friend whom I had first met in flight school at Pensacola 18 years earlier when I was a student and he was a formation instructor. Now he was a Brigadier General and the number one assistant to a three-star general in the Corps's Division of Aviation. It was none other than my former flight leader, drinking buddy, and friend from several operational squadrons plus commanding officer, Bob "Torque" Hanson. He saw me first and called me by my nickname, "Hey, Slacker, what the hell are you doing here?" "Slacker" of course was a jibe at my Type "A" personality. I was the classic anal-retentive. I pretended not to hear and continued walking hoping that he would think he was mistaken. These hopes were immediately dashed as once again I heard Torque call out, "Slacker, get your sorry ass over here before I get pissed off." I surrendered to the inevitable, assumed my best concave chest posture, manufactured a false smile of confidence, and turned to meet my past. It met me head on. A crushing handshake on his part was followed with the usual "son-of-bitch it's good to see you" mutually exchanged amenities. Naturally, I was concerned with his reaction to my changing appearance. To my surprise, his only comment was, "You sure look different. Have you lost some weight?" I answered as casually as I could, " Yeah, repeated trips to the 'sand box' will do that to you." Suffice it to say, there was no way I could make a graceful exit from his company. Thirty minutes later, I was sipping an ice-cold martini with him in his bachelor pad apartment in nearby Crystal City and reminiscing about combat flying and the broken state of the Army and Marine Corps because of the debacle in Iraq. He must have thought it odd that I kept my London Fog on as I settled into his living room settee, but as a polite host he pretended not to notice my eccentric behavior. I, on the other hand, feigned mainland coldness. Two martinis later, however, I discarded the overcoat while sucking in my chest and hunching my shoulders forward. It wasn't a perfect disguise; howsoever, because he wasn't looking for tits on me, he didn't see any. The situation reminded me of Edger Allan Poe's "Purloined Letter," where the obvious was in plain sight. Anyway, I didn't push my luck and for the most part remained fairly vigilant despite the 80 proof Bombay Gin coursing through my bloodstream. We continued our "war stories." As we did, alcohol flowed, along with poetic license or exaggeration. Soon, Torque and I were the best Marine Corps combat pilots since Pappy Boyington and Joe Foss. For the moment, I forgot that I was an erstwhile man or hybrid woman and was caught up in the temporary cessation of my cares and woes. Torque was a great guy and I was his long-time prot?g? and friend. So relaxed was I that I had not noticed before that he was now sitting alongside me and that our legs were occasionally touching and that more and more he was nudging me with his elbow as he spoke and periodically resting his arm around my shoulder. Our putative intimacy was not born of sexual innuendo but rather shared life or death decisions under fire, right? Well not quite. When he began to nuzzle my ear, even in my drunkenness, I sensed that this was more than combat camaraderie. Before I could voice my consent or objection, though, he had framed my head with both his hands and had inserted a large tongue in my mouth, which instantly sought mine. Confusion as opposed to anger was my reaction and I met his invading member with mine. It was a fairly pleasant sensation and all my circuits grounded. Thus, I neither approved nor disapproved of his invasion of my person. Passiveness best described my mood. In light of this, his advances continued. The next thing I knew, Torque had unzipped his pants and pulled out his sizeable penis, which in its aroused state looked like a telephone pole. It was awesome in structure and implied intent. I was speechless. He took my hand, placed it around his prized member, and with his hand cupped over mine began a slow stroking motion. Once he was satisfied with the pace of my stroke, he devoted both of his hands to unbuckling and unzipping me. Then things got interesting. The softness of the fabric of my underpants first caught his roaming tactile attention. Next, his fingers explored their lacy waistband. I could tell that he sensed something wasn't right. In a nanosecond thereafter, I heard him exclaim, "Holy shit. You're wearing panties." I was and they were pink. The disgust and revulsion in his voice could probably have been heard throughout the entire Fairfax County. His penis shriveled to a mere shadow of itself. Suddenly, I was being body searched by him. He pulled my panty waistband out and took a cursory look at my atrophied male genitalia. He shook his head in disbelief and said, "You asshole." I fully expected his next move and I wasn't disappointed. His rapidly moving hands reached under my polo shirt and were met with a ribbon-adorned camisole and my Bali bra. He felt my breasts, but his only interest in these appendages was to see if they were real. Unfortunately, they were. He didn't expect them and I hadn't asked for them. Both of us were disappointed. He was more than I. At least, I was getting used to them. "What the fuck have you done to yourself, Slacker?" he sneered. Completely overlooked in his righteous tone was the fact that he was the author of unsolicited homosexual advances to me, an officer junior in rank to him. The Service's Uniform Code of Military Justice would have a field day with him if I were to prefer charges. It would be a public relations disaster for the Marine Corps of unlimited scope. The irony was not lost on me, but I kept it to myself. Truthfully, I was more wrapped up in my personal crisis than I was in Torque's sexual preferences. "It's a long story, Torque. Do you really want to know?" I countered with as much dignity and aplomb as I could muster, which wasn't much considering the circumstances. "Yeah, shooter, I do. Go ahead," he said calmly albeit with disdain. As he did, he made a trip to the kitchen and returned with two cold bottles of Tecate beer, one of which he tossed to me. A bottle opener on the fly completed the deal. I swigged a long draught and began my tale. For the next hour or so, I gave him a detailed description of how against my will I was going from Terry to Terri. Torque sat in rapt silence. I went on to tell him that the doctors at both Bethesda Naval Hospital in Washington, D.C. and at the U. S. Navy's School of Aviation Medicine in Pensacola, Florida were completely baffled and stymied by my medical condition. They all agreed it had to do with a hormonal imbalance. Large amounts of estrogen were overwhelming my normal supply of testosterone. In effect, my testosterone production was not only nullified, it was an increasingly negative value in comparison to the estrogen that was taking control over my body chemistry. Where was the estrogen coming from and why? At first they thought that I was administering it to myself. Close observation of me as an in-patient, however, at both facilities and extensive psychological evaluation and laboratory testing disabused them of that notion, however. Moreover, testosterone injections were to no avail. Some unknown internal mechanism in my body immediately countered with a greater onslaught of estrogen. In short, I was slowly losing the sexual determination war. My maleness was in retreat and a mysterious femaleness was in ascendancy. Specialists gave me no more than another month or so before my newly arrived secondary female characteristics would be in full bloom. I ticked them off for Torque: no body hair, smoother skin, increased body fat, a smaller waist, fuller hips, and breast development, of course. Psychological changes were creeping into my persona as well. I was now prone to inexplicable mood changes, crying jags, and hot flashes. On the other hand, I did feel more peaceful and I was certainly less aggressive as I was being chemically castrated. That was an unexpected plus. "So, the long and short of my saga, Torque," I concluded, "Is that I am the equivalent of a pre-operative male-to-female transsexual who is about seven months into a supervised hormone ingestion regimen." Torque finally broke his silence. "What do you mean by 'pre- operative'?" he asked. "Before going under the knife," I answered. "Ouch," he grimaced and crossed his legs. "Not really, Torque. Everything is relative. As a male, a penis is a big deal to you. To me as a female transsexual, though, it's a big obstacle; one that I am going to rid myself of surgically in a matter of months." I paused more for effect rather than to collect my thoughts because I had given a lot of thought to my strange metamorphosis. I pressed on, "In fact, I along with others are of the opinion that I will pass quite successfully as a woman. There is no question in my mind that given my circumstances, I would much prefer to be a transsexual woman than a feminized male. To be truthful, I really don't think of myself much as a male anymore. That's why I wear a bra and panties. I even sleep in a nightgown now. By the way, nightgowns are very comfortable. As a dig at his coming out of the closet, I threw in, "You might have your boyfriend try one." Torque's retort was, "Don't be a wiseass, Slacker. You have a full plate as it is." To emphasize his point, he also flipped me the "bird." It was time to leave. We were both emotionally spent. As I did, instead of a handshake, he squeezed both my hands and gave me a chaste kiss on the forehead. "Stay in touch, Slacker," he admonished, "And be careful." "I will, Torque. You too," I replied. Then I was out the door and more confused than ever. CHAPTER III: SWEET AND SASSY As if things in my life were not careening enough, the next two months went to fast forward. My case handler at Bethesda Naval Hospital, Navy Commander Gail Smith, advised me for my own peace of mind to accept my new niche in life and to dress, act, and live accordingly. So with her help, I really did begin my real life transition from Terry with a "y" to Terri with an "i." It began in earnest when she dropped by my apartment early one morning with some basic female attire and accessories to outfit me with so we could go shopping for a complete wardrobe. She was actually quite excited about seeing me cross the gender bridge. "Terri," she began enthusiastically, "This is going to be a lot of fun. It's going to be a girl's day where you indulge and pamper yourself as only a woman can. Trust me, 'hon,' you're going to love it. Now, strip down to your 'undies' and put these on. I hope you're not planning on wearing panty hose, today, because you're getting a pedicure." I didn't bother to answer her as I went into my striptease. To her evident delight after I discarded my standard polo shirt and khaki cargo pants, she soon found out my underpinnings consisted solely of panties and a bra. She eyed me from top-to-bottom and smiled approvingly as I slipped into the coral T-top with V- neckline, flowered Capri pants, and platinum, quarter-strap sandals that she had brought me Eight hours later, Gail and I sat sipping chilled, crisp Chardonnays in a hip Georgetown bistro. It had been quite a day. My external transformation from Terry to Terri was more than complete. A facial, manicure, pedicure, and a sleek, feminine hairstyle can do that to you. So does the right underwear, especially, soft, lacy, and delicate unmentionables. It's even better when you have a bra fitting such as the one I had had earlier in the day between my trips to the Spa and the Beauty Salon. I felt especially feminine now that my former male exterior frame was draped with chic silk and gabardine fabrics in the form of a semi-sheer, white, scoop blouse and a red A-line skirt with matching red, sling sandals to show off my Malibu Red toenails. As we chatted, I found myself occasionally tapping my freshly painted and expertly shaped fingernails on the table top in staccato bursts. It was both sensuous and fun. What was even more fun was watching the various guys in the place check Gail and me out. Gail was an attractive woman and apparently I was too. This added to my satisfaction and contentment. I wondered what it would be like to have sex in my new persona? I decided to find out. Forty-five minutes after Gail and I had bid adieu at the bistro with an obligatory friendship hug with hunched shoulders so that our breasts wouldn't touch and with our faces turned at right angles so as not to muss our respective make up, I found myself on the stoop of Torque's apartment house ringing his doorbell with considerable trepidation. For what it's worth, I had not gone there directly. My inner self insisted that I stop by my apartment first and change from my afternoon outfit that included sandals and casual attire to something a little more sophisticated. I elected to wear a red, silk, sheath dress, black fishnet stockings, and three-inch, "fuck me" pumps. Since it was only around 8:30 in the evening, I was fairly sure he would be home. What I wasn't so sure about was how he would react to me in my feminine presentation. The voice box squawked, "Who's there?" I nervously answered, "Slacker." There was a short pause, but then the electric release on the door buzzed and I click-clacked my way into the foyer and across to the elevator. My heart was pounding and my cheeks felt flushed. I was on final approach into a box canyon with no wave-off capability. I rapped gently on his apartment door. It opened almost immediately and my moment of truth was at hand. We silently inspected each other for what seemed like an eternity. Torque was barefoot and wearing blue jeans and green T-shirt. His hair was slightly tousled and he had a hint of beard stubble. His lean body looked trim and fit. From his facial expression I could detect nothing. I felt uncomfortable under its penetrating, neutral gaze and in an attempt to disguise my unease and shaking knees, I clutched my purse with both my hands tightly and simply said, "Well, Marine, are you going to ask me in or not?" He smirked, shrugged his shoulders, and with a sweeping hand gesture towards the interior replied, "By all means, Ms. Slacker, please come in. May I take your coat?" Since I wasn't wearing one, this was either sarcasm or humor and I hoped that it was the latter. I sat down on his couch, put my purse on the far side, crossed my legs, and carefully arranged my dress so that it wouldn't wrinkle. In bygone days, I would have flopped into a seated position. Now, it was an orchestrated entry and one that I had mastered after much practice. I was positioned on the edge of the cushion, my back was straight, and my head was held high. Why not? It went with my new image. Torque took it all in silently and I knew that he didn't miss a beat as he sat down beside me. What I didn't know was what he was thinking. Disgust? Revulsion? Contempt? Sympathy? To my immense surprise, he said, "You look nice. Very polished." At this, all my pent up emotions erupted in a fury and I began to cry. "Damn you, Torque. Look what you've done to my mascara," I eked out in between sobs. He closed the distance between us on the couch and gently embraced me. I immediately returned the favor and began hugging him as if he were a life preserver. In a manner of seconds we were kissing each other as if our lives depended upon it, and in a sense they did. He was a closet homosexual, who had long been in unrequited love with me, one of his former male pilots who now masqueraded quite successfully as a woman. As for me, I was a burgeoning, albeit artificial female, who was veering down a twisting, sexual orientation highway with a heavy, stiletto-heeled foot on the gas pedal and no brakes. Heretofore, I wanted to bang girls. Now I wanted to perform oral sex on one of my former squadron commanders who was gay! Talk about inverted flight... We continued our clawing and pawing of each other. He broke one of our frantic clinches to say, "I'm not used to lipstick and tits." I laughed, and countered, "I'm not used to beard stubbles, muscles, big tongues, and dicks." And speaking of dicks, I started to grope his crotch. His bulge got bigger so I knew that I had hit pay dirt. His breathing became heavier and his tongue had completely caused mine to retract in full retreat. He was all over the inside of my mouth. It was like getting my teeth cleaned. As he continued to grope and tongue me, I casually undid the top button on his fly. Then ever so slowly, I eased his zipper down. Next I slid my right hand inside his jockey briefs and began to massage his balls. He started to shudder. It was obviously a long time since he had had a foreign hand visit his nether region. His penis was rock hard, and when I pulled the upper band of his briefs down to unmask his manhood in all its glory, it was poised like a missile ready to leave a launching pad. It sprang to full attention and was pointed at the stars and quivering ever so slightly. Let the countdown begin, I thought! I then broke our embrace and said, "Torque, please stand up." His response was, "Huh?" I quickly jumped to my feet and said, 'Trust me." With a puzzled look on his face, he reluctantly did as I asked. Once we were standing face to face, I pulled his T-shirt off and his jeans and briefs down to his ankles. I then got down on my knees so that I was eye to eye with his Cyclops, which I noted was oozing a tiny drop of semen. In a flash, I reached into my purse and pulled out my lipstick and compact and refreshed my lips. "What the hell are you doing, Slacker?" he asked in a tone that harbored amusement and incredulity. "Just fulfilling a fantasy, Torque," I replied. "Or maybe it's destiny, but for my first blowjob, I want to do it in the classic manner. Okay?" So there I was, a male, former Marine pilot on my knees in a sheik cocktail dress, fishnet hose, high heels, a disarranged hairdo, smudged mascara, and recently acquired boobs getting ready to give my old drinking and flying buddy, and former commanding officer oral sex. If only General Walsh could see us now, I mused. Oh, well, my signal was "Charlie" as we say in carrier operations and I took the base of his shaft with my right hand and eased my open mouth like a big O-ring onto the head of his prick and adjusted it for zero tolerance. Bingo. It was a perfect fit. Subsequently, I let my tongue and lips do the walking as I experimented with how much of his love stick I could ingest. It turned out that I could handle a lot. I licked, sucked, slurped, and swallowed his "main stay" with as much imagination as I could muster. At first, he was passive and simply along for the ride. In short order, though, he got into the spirit of things and started to thrust his pelvis in my direction in sync with the piston-like motions of my mouth as I deeply inhaled his stiff erection. What I lacked in finesse, I made up for in enthusiasm. There was no doubt that he was enjoying this coupling, but so was I. Maybe there was truth to the old saw about "giving is better than receiving." As I continued to gobble away, I could feel his penis gorge and his pelvic thrusts start to take on more intensity. The end was near and when he when he climaxed, he went out with a big bang. It was as if someone had placed a garden hose inside my mouth and turned the water on at full pressure. My mouth cavity was filled to bursting with his love juice. It was all I could do to keep it from spilling it out as I gamely swallowed large amounts of his ejaculate in quick succession. Somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered something to the effect that semen was non-fattening. I sincerely hoped so because I had just consumed a massive quantity of it. Ever the good Marine, I licked him completely dry and disengaged from his appendage, which by now was rather placid, lipstick smeared, and a mere shadow of its former size. "Mission accomplished General?" I teasingly asked. "Ooh-Ray," he answered in kind. "You are one hell-of-a cocksucker, Lieutenant Colonel Walker." That said it all. Afterwards, he marched off to the bathroom with his tight buns clutching each other as if they would never part and his drooping balls clanging against each other. Omigod, and the best was yet to come! CHAPTER IV: CRUNCH TIME And come it did about an hour later after a lengthy, naked, grappling session on his large bed with him on top of a spread-eagled me. Our hands, mouths, tongues, and lips had been all over each other like prisoners on a jailbreak, when he simply said, "Slacker, it's time." There was no confusion between us. I knew what he meant and continued to tongue his ear while gently massaging his testicles. He eased up from me slightly so he could turn on the nightstand lamp. Next he opened the stand's drawer and pulled out a pack of condoms along with a jar of lubricant jelly, a pair of rubber gloves, and several hand towels. It was crunch time. "Scared?" he asked. "No. I'm curious, though. Will it hurt?" "Not if we go slow and use a lot of lubricant,' he assured me as he tore the tinfoil open on the prophylactic and carefully slipped it on his tumescent member. It reminded me somewhat of a woman easing a leg into her hose. Wow, how my perspective had changed! What really caught my attention, however, was when he slipped a rubber glove on his right hand, opened the KY jar, inserted his middle finger into it, and came up with a huge gob of the stuff attached. "Okay, Slacker, a little aerobatics are in order," he said as he recoiled into a kneeling position above and facing me and spread my legs. "Lift your legs up and place one on each of my shoulders." I did as he instructed and never in my life had I felt so vulnerable, not even when flying combat and taking fire. It was an incredibly submissive position and I was simultaneously excited and nervous. "Relax, okay?" he soothed. I almost did until I felt his gloved finger begin to slowly enter my rectal area. The lubricant was cold and yucky feeling. I winced. He stopped. The start-stop process was repeated several times until his finger was fully inserted and the lube had been deposited. In the meantime, I wavered between desire and revulsion at my situation. As we say in the flying game, this was truly "dead reckoning" navigation for me. Just as I was getting used to the presence of the foreign object in this unfamiliar place, he swiftly removed it. I then watched in fascination as he removed the glove and this time with his bare fingers reached back into the lube jar and extracted a large dollop and lavishly applied it to his sheathed penis. After drying his fingers with a hand towel, he moved into the attack position and once again I felt a greasy, cylindrical object about to invade me. To his credit, he was gentle and unhurried. He knew when to push, when to stop and rest, and when to continue. Constantly, he importuned me to "relax and take it easy." Eventually I did and my fear and discomfort began to meld into acceptance. About the time he was fully inserted to the hilt and I could feel his balls against my underside, I felt anxiety free. At this point, we both rested. His penetration of me had produced no pain but rather strange and unusual sensations. What came next though, launched me like a cat shot from a carrier deck. He began to thrust in and out, ever so slowly at first, then faster. All at once, the sensations and nerve excitations that I was experiencing went from neutral to positive to joyfully ecstatic in a flash and I began to thrust my pelvis back in sync with him. At the same time I began to finger my nipples. Waves of pleasures began to engulf my entire body starting from my toes and spreading everywhere. Even my long dormant and atrophied penis was affected and I could feel that it was dripping. I had never experienced an orgasm like this and it was multiple. By now, Torque and I were thrashing together like wild animals in heat. Each of us wanted to fuck the other's brains out and we almost did. I came for the last time at the same time Torque shot his load. And what a load it was. His panting reached fever pitch, his thrusting became frenzied, and his cock engorged to what felt like twice its diameter. Bam, bam, bam, I could feel his prick shudder as each of his ejaculation salvos was fired. It was the most satisfying sexual encounter I had ever had. As Torque pulled out, I was so happy I started to cry. "Hey, Slacker," Torque intoned gently, "I've never had a guy cry before after I balled him. I guess underneath all those girly clothes you are a chick after all. Congratulations, dearest." Then he was off to the bathroom again with his limp dick, tight buns, and swinging balls. It had been quite a night so far and it wasn't over yet. I shuddered with happiness. An hour later we were once more engaged in coitus only this time to fulfill a sexual fantasy of mine, we did it "doggie" style on the floor with me on all fours wearing my fishnets, heels, and garter belt. My hair was disheveled and my tits were banging against my chest in consonance with our mutual thrusting. I never before had felt so sexy and horny and powerful. I had Torque at my beck and call. His hard-on had reached the edge-of-the-cliff mode. He had to get it off. There would be no backing off or pulling out prior to his orgasm. I fully understood now the power of the pussy a woman has or in my case, a transwoman engaged in anal intercourse as the recipient. It was awesome! Just as he was about to come, he removed his hands from each of my hips and started to stroke my breasts with emphasis on my nipples. The effect was electric as well as immediate. We soon climaxed simultaneously in a glorious finale that left both of us gasping. This would be a tough act to follow I silently mused CHAPTER V: THE CHOPPING BLOCK It would be an act that was never to be repeated verbatim, however, because two weeks later I checked into Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore for my sexual reassignment surgery. I traveled alone and in civilian clothes. General Walsh was insistent that I keep the Marine Corps out of my bizarre personal situation as much as possible although the operation was being paid for through a government insurance program. Anyway, that was the least of my worries as I was administered anesthesia and went out like a light. The "big knife" was next. I was on "bingo" fuel as we say in the military when you divert to your alternate airport with no fuel to spare. My problem was a little more extreme. There would be no "wave off" if I screwed up the approach. When I woke up I would truly be a feminine Terri. My old self, namely, Terry with the large Rolex watch, Wings of Gold, and a macho personality would be as extinct as the great piston war birds of the past. So be it. I felt like I was being reborn, only this time I would be swaddled in pink rather than blue. Blissfully, everything went black I awoke many hours later to an unreal scene. The images were blurry but someone was stroking my brow. Another was holding my hand. An authoritative voice from somewhere was asking me, presumably, "How do you feel?" I wasn't sure. It took me a long time to focus and to recapture reality. As my senses re-entered the world, I realized that it was my doctor who was stroking my brow and none other than my gay boyfriend, Torque, who was holding my hand. Relief and joy instantly trumped my uncertainty and fear and I started to come alive. My rebirth went all the more quickly as both assured me that the operation had been a smashing success. My male hardware was gone and I was now the possessor of the female species' most powerful characteristic, an operational vagina. I squeezed Torque's hand in grateful acknowledgement and once again succumbed to the effects of the anesthesiology and fatigue of the operation and passed out. Subsequent hospital awakenings were less dramatic and more mundane. As the days sped by, I was poked, prodded, and examined by doctors and nurses as well as bathed and fed. There were assisted trips to the bathroom where I experienced my new style of urination. There would be no more uplifting of toilet seats for me. Hereafter, they would be battened down. I was also introduced to the necessary practice of dilation of my new sexual acquisition. Suffice it to say, it was painful and time consuming. I was told, however, that pleasure would eventually take the place of pain as my vagina was shaped into a permanent opening. Naturally, I was anxious to find out! I prayed that Torque would like sex face-to-face as much as he liked it chest- to-back. My hospital rehabilitation went quicker than I anticipated and in about two weeks I was again ensconced in Torque's apartment in Crystal City where I was told to take it easy, rest, recuperate, and dilate, dilate, dilate. For six weeks, I diligently did. Sometimes, Torque helped, and that was fun. As his reward or incentive, I would give him a blowjob afterward. He was one compliant and "happy camper." As a tease, whenever I was ready to blow him, I would apply heavy coats of lipstick beforehand. This became our code. In fact, he started to carry a tube of mine around with him in his pocket. When he became horny, which was quite often, he would pull it out with great fanfare, and place it on the coffee, end or kitchen table before me. I would smile coyly and pretend to examine it as if I didn't know its significance. This in turn would drive Torque rock hard and a huge tent pole would form in his pants. The more I dallied, the antsier he became. In fact, one day, I lingered too long. Out of a sense of power or control, perhaps, I slowly and provocatively applied lip liner, lipstick, and gloss to my botox-enhanced lips. I thought that I was being cute and sexy. Torque thought that I was being difficult. Although I was seductive, I was sending mixed signals. Not good! He was horny and the twain didn't meet. Too my dismay and chagrin, he slapped the compact mirror and gloss out of my hands. They flew to various scattered landing points in the living room The next thing I knew, he manhandled me onto the floor, flopped me on my stomach, raised my dress, pulled my panties down, and shoved his penis into my anus without lube or protection and began to pound me like this was the last chopper out of Saigon back in 1975. I was both surprised and overwhelmed. My good side knew that I was being raped. My bad side enjoyed it! In short order, he came like a tidal wave. It was massive and engulfing. So much so, that I could feel his semen leaking out of me. We were past the point of no return. He had marked me as surely as a wolf marks his territory. I was his and he was the Alpha Male. I quivered with a mixture of disdain and delight as he slapped my ass, marched off to the bathroom to clean up, and left me crying and whimpering in a fetal position on the floor. It had been the best fuck of my life! We never discussed this lovemaking bout again, but it was always understood thereafter that Torque was one horny guy and needed a lot of servicing. I was more than happy to oblige. In the course of a typical day, I would give him a blowjob when he woke up in the morning before I made his coffee and toast. In the evening before dinner I would give him a scotch and soda along with a hand job. At night, before we went to sleep, I would have him nuzzle one of my tits, which he absolutely adored. Then, when he was rock-hard, I would guide his cock into my faux vagina and make sure that he had come. On occasion and just for fun since I had no duties to perform at Head Quarters Marine Corps (HQMC), I would don my new, female, Service 'A" Uniform complete with black pumps, gloves, and a purse and breeze off to his office at the Navy Annex on some official pretext. Invariably, I would first stop by the Assistant Commandant's office, if General Walsh was not around, to see my friend, Master Sergeant Mancillas, for the latest gossip on what was taking place in the building. She seemed to know where all the bodies were buried and delighted in telling me their location. I in turn would later pass this on to Torque and it gave him an edge in the political machinations that took place at HQMC. Then so armed, I would visit Torque in his lair as if I were on official business. Monkey business was more like it because as soon as his office assistant left and closed the door, he would swivel back comfortably in his chair while I unzipped his fly, reached though his boxer shorts, and grabbed his dick. I would lick the underside of its head to get his attention, which took about as long as a heartbeat. I was highly experienced at sucking his cock by now so I could easily ingest it whole in my mouth without a gag reflex. I thought of myself as an expert flute musician and masterfully played tunes on it that I knew he liked. And like them he did. Just before he would come, he would purr softly, almost like a cat. His ejaculation was always boat- threatening capsizeble, but I was ready and never spilled a drop on his trousers. He had to be carefully groomed in case he was called to the General Walsh's or the Commandant's office. CHAPTER VI: THE PINK SLIPPER On one of my sexual forays to Torque's office, though, Master Sergeant Mancillas had some disconcerting news for me when I stopped by her office to gossip. She told me that General Walsh had become aware of my intimate relationship with Torque and was making threatening noises. Just as she started to go into the details, a cavalcade of visitors and phone calls interrupted us. "I'll meet you tonight at the 'Pink Slipper' at seven," she hurriedly whispered. "We need to talk. Do you know where it's at?" "No, but I'll find it," I replied. "Where is it?" "Southwest DC. Here's the address," she said as she scribbled it quickly on a receptionist's card. "Don't overdress, but wear something soft and summery." Then with a conspiratorial wink, she was gone. Duty called. I expected the "Pink Slipper" to be a "ladies" bar and it was, but not quite the kind I had in mind. From the outside it was an innocuous looking, just another out-of-the way, watering hole. Once inside, though, it screamed something more than mere sisterhood or feminine solidarity. It was as if the distant Isle of Lesbos had been transplanted to our nation's capital in total. This was definitely Lesbian country and I in my "soft and summery" thin frock was eye candy for most of the bar's occupants. There was an obvious dress code. The Alpha females were for the most part wearing baggy pants, sneakers or boots with laces loosely tied, and tank tops without bras. Headbands were favored and make up was non-existent. These women varied in size, shape, and attractiveness; however, one thing was certain: it was all very butch. I felt as if I were hanging on a hook in a meat locker waiting to be picked up and carried off for slaughter. It was intimidating, but exciting at the same time. I was evaluating my next move when seemingly out of nowhere, Master Sergeant Mancillas or "Jane" as she was known to me when we were alone, appeared at my side. True to the bar's dress code, she wore dessert- cami-cargo pants, dessert-combat boots, and a dark green tank top with no bra. Her nipples were large and distinct. Beads of sweat dotted her brow and I noticed several black hairs protruding from her armpits. Outside of black eyeliner, her face was bereft of makeup. In one hand she had a pencil-thin cigar. In the other, a longneck bottle of beer. "Hi, Slacker," she greeted me. "I can see why Torque has the 'hots' for you. Let's sit down and get out of the limelight." That was okay with me as I followed her to a booth that offered considerable privacy from the bar's patrons. I slid in first, and to my surprise, she sat alongside of me rather than across. No doubt, bar etiquette. "General Walsh is on to you and Torque," she began, "And he is royally pissed. He says your relationship is contrary to quote, 'good order and discipline,' unquote not to mention Torque's future as a General Officer. In short, I'm supposed to tell you to knock it off. If you don't, he'll take it out on Torque. Do you get the drift?" She ended her monologue with a long swig of her beer and a deep inhalation of her cheroot. "I get the drift," I replied, "But I'm not sure what to do. Torque and I are not threats to the Marine Corps. This just doesn't seem fair." My eyes misted up and I could feel my mascara start to run. Just what I needed. So much for grace under pressure! I took a scented hankie from my purse and dabbed at them ever so gently. That didn't help and I began to cry softly. "Hey, Slacker, take it easy," Jane intoned gently. "I've got a plan. Let's go over to my apartment and discuss it. We chicks have to stick together. It's called solidarity." With her right arm she began to hug me and I felt better for it. Her left hand found my left thigh at the panty line and she began to finger it. I knew what she was doing and for some reason it didn't bother me. In fact, I encouraged it by moving her hand closer to the center of my crotch. She might well be Torque's career lifeline and I wasn't about to let it go. "Okay, Jane," I said. Meet me outside and I'll follow you." An hour or so later, Jane and I were ensconced on her queen-size bed, naked as jaybirds, and busy as bees with our tongues, mouths, hands and vibrators as we repeatedly visited each and every orifice of the other's respective bodies. I hadn't been with a woman in some time and certainly not since my "chop" operation so I wasn't quite sure how it would go. It went well! Women are more finely attuned to erogenous zones, and the pace of love making between them is slower. Plus it's a lot of fun when there are four tits to play with as opposed to two. I noted with amusement that her genital area was bushy as opposed to mine, which was shaven clean. There was also the question of competition between us as to who had the better vibrator. She had the home court advantage in that she could draw on an assortment of pleasure makers from her bedside light stand while I could only fall back on my small "Pocket Rocket" that I always carried discreetly in my purse. Still, I held my own in our jousting and in fact brought her to a galactic orgasm before she did the same for me. After multiple, mutual outbursts, we both became satiated and it was time for "pillow talk," the real reason for my visit. "Here's the deal, Slacker," Jane began as she occasionally rubbed my clit with her right index finger. "Next week, General Walsh is going to call you into his office and tell you that he is about to transfer you to a remote and usually unfilled NATO liaison billet in Norway where you'll serve out the rest of your time until you hit your magic 20 years which is about a year-and-a half from now. As for Torque, General Walsh is going to warn him never to see or communicate with you again as long as Torque is on active duty. If he does, General Walsh plans to kill his career either through a backwater assignment or poor fitness report so that Torque won't get his second star and will be forced to retire. Do you get the drift?" "Yes, I do," I replied as I casually fingered her left nipple with my right hand. "And it seems so unfair and hopeless. Why can't he just leave us alone?" I could feel tears welling in my eyes. Damn that estrogen! Jane laughed before she said, "He used to be an okay dude, really fair, but in the last year or so, he has become a right-wing hypocrite, and that's why he won't be able to pull this off." I bolted upright in bed. "What do you mean?" I gasped for air and then almost in a squeak asked, "Why not?" "Because 'sweetie', I have some highly incriminating evidence against him that would greatly embarrass the Marine Corps and make him look like the proverbial 'laughing stock.' Put something on and I'll show you." With that, she rolled out of bed and jumped into a set of white, male briefs and matching crew neck, T-shirt. I followed suit but donned my pink panties and lace-lavished-full slip. Barefoot I followed her out to the kitchen where we sat down across from each other at a table and I eagerly awaited her proposed solution to my dilemma. It was not long in coming. In short order, she produced a thick manila folder crammed with color pictures of General Walsh along with a chronology of web site visits, times, and dates that made my head swim. It was almost unbelievable! I knew immediately that I would not be going to Norway and that Torque would not be denied his second star. Unbridled joy replaced my misty eyes. "This is incredulous, Jane," I gushed. "How did you get it?" Jane smiled wickedly as she began her explanation, "It was easy. Like many, older folks, the General is not a computer whiz and has lax security with regard to his personal laptop. Frequently, when he leaves the office to attend meetings or what not, especially on weekends, he leaves it unattended on his desk. That's when I raid the cookie jar. I'm good at math and hacking comes naturally to me. In his case it was child's play. I tinkered around with some of his tactical call signs and squadron numerical designations from his flying days, and bingo! I had his password. It must have taken me all of an hour," she laughed. "Once I was in, it was easy to find where he spent most of his time." "And you've never disclosed it to anyone?" I asked. "Nope, I held off because of my alternative life style which you saw and experienced tonight. Thus, I was willing to let him have his private forays on the wild side until I saw the hypocrisy in his righteous attitude towards you and Torque. By giving this information to you, I think that in my own way, I'm striking a blow for Human Rights for the entire Gay, Lesbian, and Transgender Community." "Can he trace this disclosure back to you," I asked more in amusement than from concern. "He might be able to, but so what? He could never prove it, and besides, any threat or negative action that he made to me, and I would automatically 'out' him. The military has a term for it: 'Mutual Assured Destruction.' We'll both live with it. So, don't worry about me. Look out for yourself and Torque." "I will, Jane, but how can I ever thank you?" "Come back to bed, honey, and fire up your vibrator, hands, mouth, and tongue." With that, she headed toward the bedroom. So did I and for about the next two hours, I gave her what she afterward claimed was some of the best sex of her life." CHAPTER VII: CAT FIGHT AT HEADQUARTERS MARINE CORPS Four days later, I was summoned to appear in General Walsh's office on a Tuesday at 14:00. Although I would wear my Service 'A' Uniform with skirt, my underpinnings were absolutely sensuous as well as luxurious and gave me an inner confidence like a top-flight showgirl. Ever the professional Marine, I went to great lengths to be immaculately groomed. This included a trip to my beauty salon in the morning for a touch-up haircut, manicure, and light, professional make over. By the time my appointed hour approached, I was more than ready to bust some glass ceilings and kick some ass. For good measure, I wore my Naval Aviator Wings, Distinguished Flying Cross, Air Medals, and Purple Heart Ribbons. I knew that would get both the General's attention and ire. Master Sergeant Mancillas with a poker face greeted me upon my arrival. You would never know from her cool, business demeanor that five nights earlier I had reduced her to a quivering, groaning and sweating state of sexual bliss. She had really gotten it off and I must confess, so had I. My neo pussy twitched reflexively as I remembered our joyful, bedroom acrobatics. Ever the professional, though, she maintained her neutral fa?ade and simply said, "Colonel, the General will see you now." "Thank you," I replied as I purposefully entered his office, stopped two steps before his massive desk at attention with my uniform pumps at just the right 45-degree angle, and announced, "Lieutenant Colonel Terri Walker, the Marine Corps' greatest female pilot, reporting as ordered, Sir." It was hard to keep a straight face, but somehow, I did. He did not. His face contorted with anger and distaste seen only in movies as he leaped up from his chair and shouted, "What the fuck do you think you're doing Carson?" "It's Walker, Sir. Lieutenant Colonel Walker," I replied soothingly. "Lieutenant Colonel Carson died about six months ago at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore from wounds he received in Iraq. I believe you are intimately familiar with the circumstances." "I know who the fuck you are." His words were spat out like expended tobacco juice. "And I'm about to do something about it. Ever hear of Norway? If you haven't, you soon will. Two days from now you will report to the American Embassy there in Oslo on detached, special assignment where you will serve for the next year-and-a half playing with your vibrator until your retirement when the Marine Corps can finally cleanse you from its ranks. You are to cease all contact with Brigadier General Hanson. Do you read me, Colonel?" "Yes, I do, General, but I don't care for the Norway assignment. The winters are too cold. Besides, it will separate me from Torque, excuse me, I mean Brigadier General Hanson, to whom I am engaged, and I don't think that's in my best interest. So, General, I respectfully decline the assignment. No, I have decided to stay right here in DC in my present job, which consists of nothing more than making my man happy. Are we clear on that, Sir?" Suffice it to say, General Walsh was speechless and his brow was furrowed. I could almost hear his mental gears slowing grinding under a great load. Rather than prolong the awkward pause and the unnecessary sparring between us, however, I deftly pulled the thick, manila folder from my attach? case and plopped it on his desk as I said, "General, I'm not going any place, but if you're not careful, and contrite I might add, you may be." At first he stood motionless, but not for long after I opened and spread color picture after color picture before him. He turned beat red and I could detect the hint of a tremor in his hands. A small moan escaped his pursed lips and his eyes closed in shock and disbelief. The displayed pictures said it all. The accompanying web site and chat room logs only made his lack of leverage worse. It was not my intent to overplay my hand, but I couldn't resist fingering one incriminating photo in particular where the resolute General was completely submissive in his maid's costume with partially exposed ruffle panties while affecting a curtsey. The "pics" that followed were more of the same: the General in a Cheer Leader's outfit with huge, bulging tits; or stuffed into a too tight, Nurse's uniform in which he held a catheter device in one hand and a enema bottle in the other; or reveling in a mini-skirted, flight attendant's attire and a lecherous grin; or demurely sheathed in a lacy bridal gown clutching a bouquet with a coy smile; and best of all, this resolute, masculine, paragon of John Wayne values was draped in a female Marine's Evening Dress Uniform complete with full-length skirt and a great fitting, bobbed wig. He looked almost "passable," and instinctively, I complimented him on it. The irony of the situation caused me to laugh. The General didn't, though. He immediately went into a damage control mode. "Okay, Colonel, what do you want?" "You know what I want General. I want you to lay off Torque and me. For starters, I am to stay here in Washington until I retire and Torque is to remain as the Deputy Chief of Staff for Aviation until the Commanding General, Third Marine Air Wing (Forward) billet in Iraq opens up in about four months." "And if I don't agree?" "You have no choice, Sir. If not, when I leave this office today, these pictures and logs will be e-mailed to every Major Command in the Marine Corps plus every General Officer starting with the Commandant. In addition, I will deliver copies to the Washington Post, New York Times, Navy Times, and Marine Corps Times." "If I agree to your terms, Colonel, how do I know you won't later release this stuff anyway?" "You don't, General, and that will keep you on your best behavior with regard to Torque and me." "Alright, Colonel. I agree." His shoulders sagged and there was complete resignation in his voice. It was unconditional surrender. "Before you leave, I'd like to try and offer you an explanation for this, if you're interested." "Yes, I am, General, but it's not necessary. As you know, because of my own peculiar fate, I am an expert on gender confusion." "That's why I want to talk to you, Colonel. I think you can relate to my situation. Let's sit down, please." With that, he ushered me over to the same couch upon which I had sat a year earlier when he had emphatically expressed his concern that my sex change was not in keeping with the good order and discipline of the Marine Corps. What a difference a year makes, I mused. "Terri," he began. "From as far back as I can remember, I've lived a double life. I was born a male, but I always wanted to be a female. Naturally, I repressed those feelings. Back in the 40's and 50's when I grew up, you didn't talk about these things; but never a day has gone by when I didn't want to slip into lingerie, a dress or skirt, and sashay off to a beauty parlor to get my nails and hair done. To make a long story short, I lived in this shadowy, twilight world until the inter-net came to be. To my amazement, I found out that there were thousands of people just like me and I took great comfort in that. So, I went from a net surfer or voyeur to an active cross dresser when I began to order women's apparel on line. To store the stuff, I rent a self-storage unit in Arlington that I've made into a mini bedroom with clothes closet, a makeup table, full-length mirror, and couch. Most of these pictures you've seen are from makeovers at various transformation salons across the country. I visit them discretely whenever I can." "Does your wife know, General?" I asked. "No, of course not. For obvious reasons it's a closely held secret. Up until today, I thought only a few fellow cross dressers were privy to my obsession. Needless to say, I have always kept my identity hidden, even from them. It would be a major news story if this leaked out and a tremendous public relations blow for the Marine Corps." "Yes, it would," I answered. "But why have you been so vengeful with regard to Torque and me? My conversion to femininity was certainly beyond my control although I will confess that I am enjoying it thoroughly, and I can see now why some men such as you are driven to cross dress. Women do have more fun in life and I do prefer sisterhood to brotherhood." "I don't know," he replied. "Jealously, perhaps. Frustration, too. You see, Colonel Carson, you are the woman I want to be. I guess I wanted you out of the picture so then I wouldn't be so envious." He paused, grasping for words to convey his complex thoughts. Finally, he continued, "I really am sorry for how I have handled your situation. Will you please accept my apology?" As he said this, he took both of my hands in his and clasped them firmly. His sincerity was palpable. "Yes, General, I will." Our eyes met and held. Implied between us was that Torque and I were free to pursue our happiness and that the General's double life would not be exposed. "I'd better be going now," I continued. "I'm meeting Torque for cocktails and dinner tonight at the Army/Navy Club." And I did. We had a great dinner and afterwards a great roll in the hay. As a special treat for Torque, I strapped on a huge dildo that I had recently ordered on line and told him to "Bend over, General, and assume the position." He did and squealed in delight like a little boy as I rammed it home, again and again. Three weeks later, Torque and I were married in the Chapel on the grounds of the U.S. Naval Academy at Annapolis, Maryland from which we had both graduated in what seemed like lifetimes ago. He was resplendent in his Blue-White Dress Uniform along with his fellow General Officers, eight of which, made an arch of swords for us as we left the Chapel and entered our new life together. General Walsh walked me down the aisle and gave me away. No doubt he vicariously shared my satin and lace and all the rustle and bustle. I hope so, anyway. In any event, confetti reigned and so did the champagne and war stories that I could no longer participate in. So be it! Most of them were bullshit anyway. I felt ultra sexy in my Versace knock-off wedding gown. Torque pro

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Your sweet lips spread so wide Showing their pinkness way up inside Your nectar flows freely from within covers my lips my tongue and my chin How sweet do you taste as I lick your smooth flesh Your arousal excites me to do my very best I lick each lip with the most tender of care set my sights at the clit hovering up there I push with my fingers on the hood that is there covering your clit from my amorous care I expose your button to the view of my eyes I lick and I suck and listen to your...

Erotic Poetry
2 years ago
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The Princes Flower

Hana put her cell phone down on the table and sat on her bed for a few minutes. For the past six-month her and Oji chatted online, on the phone and even in person, but to her Oji was only a friend. At the time she was dating someone else, but the guy broke up with her and now she sat there on the bed unsure about her feelings towards Oji. He had cheered her up when she was down, she always had a great time hanging out with him and she found that she was comfortable talking to him on the phone....

3 years ago
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An Opening of a Flower

An Opening of a Flower. By Samantha White [email protected] How can a dream turn so sour in a few weeks? Let me explain, my name is/was Thomas Burns, I am now twenty-six years old, I weigh about one hundred and thirty pounds, and am about five foot six inches in height, and always had slightly feminine features. They had always been particularly useful for me as I had always loved dressing up as a girl, when I did dress I was passable as a sixteen- year-old girl, just. I...

2 years ago
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Allies Flower

Dawn crept over our camp like a soft sonata two lovers enjoy by candlelight. Soft and damp with dew. I breathe deep. Everything green and wonderful – spring. Allie awakes to join me. The rest of our camp near comas from last night's drunk. While the rest pounded cheap beer and passed joints, Allie and I sipped and shared. Her eyes held me then – something lingering about her irises that hinted at a lifetime beyond what most girl's in college had felt. Kindred spirits. “Good morning.” She yawns...

Lesbian
3 years ago
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Jasmine my new favorite flower

"Break one-nine," blared out of the speaker on my dash. I reach over, grab the mike and respond, "Go ahead breaker." "Thanks for the break, anyone wanting a little commercial company go to five," a sultry voice responds. I drop down to channel five and hear, "Anyone make it?" "Go ahead darling, you got some company, where you at?" "I'm mobile, around the front street area, how about you?" "Coming up on the exit now, where you want to meet?" "You know where the empty warehouse is on Corporate...

Oral Sex
4 years ago
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Law of the BloodChapter 19 Visions of a Flower

They were riding back to Notabir. Soon the sun would vanish behind the mountain chain in the west. All through the lines of the one hundred guarding riders people were excitedly talking about what happened at the gathering with the Manthakin. The seven, attendant at the meeting, were talking as well. “I always thought what you did to me was mind control, but now I truly understand the difference. You let visions flood it, but it’s still MY mind, my reactions, my own feelings. This was...

3 years ago
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Wallflower

Every community has one, larger communities may have several, but if you look closely, you will find the Wallflower. They are friendly yet quiet, seemingly self-contained, seldom sitting in a group although not always alone, and never the center of attention. They are pretty, they are not, they are plain, mysterious, tall, short, slender and not so slender, but without exception, they know they are a Wallflower. As young children, the Wallflowers were often alone on the playground, or they...

4 years ago
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A Message in Flowers

When I went to my car to go to work on Tuesday, there was a small bundle of flowers waiting on it, the stems trapped under the driver's side windshield wiper. They were delicate, white blossoms and they were covered in dew, like the rest of my car. I looked at them for a minute, finally deciding that someone must have made a mistake and left them on the wrong car. They were too pretty to throw away and such a shame to waste, so I ran them back into my apartment and put them in water. Then, I...

Love Stories
4 years ago
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The Fucking Flowers

The first dream. I felt Jason’s hand as he cupped my right breast and began to squeeze me as he sighed “Goodnight, sweetheart, as usual you were a terrific fuck. Sweet dreams, baby.” he said as he lightly pinched my nipple and kissed me on the cheek. He watched as Mistress continued to tie me for the night. My legs were tied together at the ankles and the knees and my wrists were tied together and then a chain was attached from my wrists to my ankles. Keeping my hands just above my pussy...

4 years ago
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Flowers

New TG: "Flowers" by Vickie Tern M/F Wife No minors! Flowers by Vickie Tern "Why are you changing your shirt? We're late as it is! They're expecting us!" My wife, a little exasperated, her eyes snapping. "Sara!" Me, also a little exasperated, feeling pressured from two directions. "I can't go like this! I'm still wearing my bra! They might see! You're always worried about the neighbors, what will the neighbors...

4 years ago
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Linda Wallflower

Linda was a very quite girl with no confidence. She was put down and out by her over bearing mother and father. She was the girl no one ask to dance, no friends to speak of. Her mother drove those away and would never allow her to stay out. Today she was 17 and 364 days old. Tomorrow was her 18th birthday as like every other birthday no party organised. Her parents always celebrated their birthday with big parties and she was expected to stay in her room. Looking at herself in the mirror, her...

2 years ago
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Charlies Flowering

Warning: This story contains depictions of intersexuality and menstrual periods that may not be completely faithful to reality. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Charlie's flowering. Charlie Merton was a typical 11 year old boy. He was in sixth grade in elementary school, and he was about to finish it. He was nervous, like most boys on his last year on elementary. He was about to stop watching the friends he had made. His school was small, so...

4 years ago
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Dont Fuck the Flowers

"Have you ever fucked a fish?" Ennis Ezquerra chose to drop that little gem, casual-like, around the campfire during mess. "Ezquerra, what the fuck are you talking about?" Donald Finney asked. The whole unit knew Ezquerra was a completely disgusting fucker with few, if any, redeeming social graces. Picture the greasiest excuse for a building super you could think of. You know, the kind of lardass that spends his days squatting in the basement of a part-firetrap, part-cockroach breeding...

3 years ago
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Hearts and Flowers

Hearts and flowers. Damn it, Tori was surrounded by hearts and flowers, and she hated every second of it. Of course, it was no different from any other Valentine’s Day. Tori had been working at the candy shop for five years now, and every year when the red and green of Christmas gave way to the red and white of Valentine’s Day, she felt like screaming. It was a good job other than those couple months a year, but damn, those couple months were hell. Tori couldn’t remember a time she’d liked...

2 years ago
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Lynn Flowers

LYNN FLOWERS By Jane Howard The following story is copyrighted by the author and cannot be duplicated or reproduced anywhere or for any purpose without the author's consent. This story is a continuation of Jane Howard's RUNAWAY, which is also available on FICTIONMANIA. Reading the prequel first is not mandatory. Actually, it might be more fun to read this story first and then read the prequel. LYNN FLOWERS is rated R for mature situations and...

4 years ago
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Carla the Wallflower

The wallflower, everyone I know knows at least one. You know that girl or guy that is always there but know one wants to be in a relationship with them. They are usually a little nerdy, and are always there to help sort things out. They are usually on the chess team or the math team or something like that. Carla, was the one wallflower that really stands out in my head. I knew her in high school, and although we talked all the time, I didn’t really feel attracted to her. Right out of high...

3 years ago
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The Wallflower

                      The   wallflower.    She sat at her table, quiet, watching the noisy throng in front of her.  She had dreamt of this moment, and now it was here- her very first taste of what she had read about and chatted about on her computer was here in front of her- and it was everything she had dreamed- and yet nothing like it. Why had she come, she thought ruefully. Online, she could at least pretend she was attractive; here in reality, even with her best on, she was what she’d...

2 years ago
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Black Orchids and Wildflowers

Black Orchids and Wildflowers by Armond 1. Friday, 5:00 PM Sam was all about helping people. But for Samuel Albert, Esq., this week of endless legal counseling needed to end. Friday had stretched into three forevers, crawling by like a turtle, appointment after appointment. Or was that sliding by like a snail? Tricky things, metaphors. His last of the day, appointment, not metaphor, was Last Will and Testament drafting time with sweet Mrs. Beasley and her son...

3 years ago
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Madhavi Flower Between Flowers

Hi, this is Radhakrishna once again with a hot encounter with a sexy flower selling beauty. I am 28 years of nice looks and a horny guy. Whenever I have free time, I used to roam on the roads to chase the girls. In the process I found a girl, who sells the flowers at a flower stall near my house. First let me describe her. Her name is Madhavi of 25 years and unmarried girl. She always wears chudi. She is fair in color and has very cute face. But her main drawback is her personality. She must be...

4 years ago
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One Red Flower

The following is my true story. Funny to recall that I was once so naïve I didn’t realize that a girl could get pregnant having sex if the boy had already cum once. I blew Anthony off and then I agreed to have sex with him. We came so close… so incredibly close and I remember how bad it hurt with him trying to get inside me. Then my grandfather knocked on the door and that was the end of it. I was still a virgin… thank god. I started dating Michael six months later and our relationship was...

3 years ago
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The Mayflower

The Mayflower I had worked for two summers on my uncle’s farm to save up enough money for my first car and my insurance too. She wasn’t much but I loved her. She was a 1966 Ford Mustang. There was lots of rust and the seats were worn badly but she was all mine. With four on the floor, bucket seats, and enough power to get up and go, I was in heaven. The engine was in the best shape of anything else in the car. I named her “The Mayflower.” I figured that with my own car I could start...

3 years ago
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aunt Kim deflowers

This is a true story.i am Claira . the hot sun shone threw the night sky as I saw her.aunt kim gazing at me. Spellbound. As I felt the satin against my warm firm breast. she glared spellbound. Locking the door *I fell into a slumber,as a ghostly touch warmed my nipple.and I felt a warm ghost like kisses softly rubbing my breast. Caressing..me..rubbing me..’ silence relax’ I heard as slow soft kisses embraced my nipple.as I felt a warm pinch of my nipple. And my nipple being slowly...

2 years ago
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Aunt Kim defloweres

I am clara this is based on a true story. .. destiny is remarkable—- The cabin creaked as it was old Victorian . It was warm and filled with candles all the lights were off. As the rainstorm thundered from outside. Darkness becomes, as the rain storm showered the walls. Crackle crackle. In darkness she rose. Like a ghost. The cabin lit with candles and the smell of lavender filled the room as I slept. .. as if in a dream aunt Kim entered.. sliding herself next to me and caressing my breast....

4 years ago
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Sheena8217s Defloweration

This is my first submission to this site and if you like it please leave a comment so that and I get to know your feelings. Any suggestions are also welcome in form of comments. all dialog are in Hindi while the narrative is kept in English according to your comments I would come up with complete Hindi or complete English version as soon as possible. Now enjoy the story. I hope you enjoy the experience like I did. Another summer day in Delhi and the mercury was shooting above 40. Sheena was...

3 years ago
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The Irresistible Deflowerer

Samantha lived with her mother and father in the suburbs of New Brunswick, New Jersey. Right behind their house was another that faced onto the next street over, the boundary between the two back yards marked only by a few shrubs. Samantha’s mother told her that Mr. Burns, the man who lived there, wanted to pay someone to water his plants and take in the mail while he was gone for a couple weeks. She went over before he left so he could show her what needed to be done. He also asked her about...

2 years ago
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Wallflower

Author’s note: This story is inspired by rachlou’s wonderful story series, ‘Show Me Heaven.’ There is nothing much similar about these stories, except the basic premise of a shy girl who is lured from her shell by a caring girlfriend and a patient man. ^ ^ ^ ^ Jane Smith finished filing the last of that day’s work, and neatly stacked the leftover documents in her In box for when she returned to work on Monday. She was particular about leaving work with a clean desk, a trait that extended to...

3 years ago
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Wallflower

Jane Smith finished filing the last of that day's work, and neatly stacked the leftover documents in her In box for when she returned to work on Monday. She was particular about leaving work with a clean desk, a trait that extended to her private life as well. She lived by the motto, "a place for everything, and everything in its place." Her little house was neat as a pin, without a bit of clutter anywhere. Nothing was out of place, and you eat off the floor in her kitchen; that's how...

2 years ago
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Texas Flower

Texas, 1848 My name is Susana Jackson. I was widowed two years ago at a young age after my husband Jacob moved us here. I did not like living in this hot place after my native Ohio, and after he died, I was so lonely. I now have two friends here and I need to run Jacob’s general store, so I am busy and do not have time to think about my loneliness. About a year after Jacob passed on, I was tending the store one day and a young Mexican came in. His staring at me filled me with anxiety. But I...

1 year ago
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Room Of Flowers

She slowly walked through a room full of flowers, she knew something was strange about a room full of flowers, but the scent of them filled her senses and she no longer cared about something as strange as that. She slowly smelt each of the feet as she walked over many different flower petals, not knowing how they got there; they looked so fresh. She reached over to grab a red rose, and smelt it, not even caring when she cut her finger on one of the many thorns the one rose held. She followed...

Erotic
2 years ago
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Flowers

FLOWERS by dkb Amy walked down the street with her menfolk. Little Tommy sat astride her shoulders, holding on to her forehead, little lord of all he surveyed. He was still a constant delight to her, even after three years of being a mum. He was a paradox, clumsy, helpless and dependent and yet also supremely confident, as if everything was there for him and nothing could possibly go wrong. Oh, he cried sometimes, when something startled him or when he hurt himself. But he could...

3 years ago
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April Showers Bring May Flowers

I sit in front of the gravesite and place the flowers on her grave, which I have been doing every April first for the past forty years. I read the head stone as tears come to my eyes. Forty years ago... It’s ten-o-clock at night, I am sitting in my broken down car, and it’s raining like a motherfucker. If I had gone to spring break in California, I’d be sitting on the beach right now. I’m feeling sorry for myself when I hear a tap on the window and see May from school standing there. I am...

2 years ago
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The First Gay Guy I Deflowered

This is a first time story about the first gay guy who's anal virginity I had the pleasure of taking.I am bi and had been having gay sex for sometime. I had my first gay sexual experience when I was 18. He was a friend of my girlfriend. She was bi too but we never did a threesome with her gay friend and I. He taught me how to fuck a guy, how to get suck and suck a cock. He never fucked me. I was not fucked for the first time until a few years later. Here is the story of how that happened:It was...

2 years ago
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Summer Flowers

(The following story is a work of fiction and any reference to any individual, living or dead, is coincidental. This work also contains material of a sexually explicit nature and is not intended for readers under the age of eighteen or where such literature is forbidden under law. Criticism is solicited and appreciated, but only if you’ve voted.) * * * * * It all started in the late fall of 1953. I was stationed to Thule, Greenland as part of the Air Force detachment there that provided...

4 years ago
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FlashedSay it with Flowers

Kevin had been in the pub with his mates since leaving the office. "Another one, lads? My shout." He rose unsteadily, staggered to the bar, winked at the busty barmaid and ordered more beers. She flashed him her stunning smile in return. When his mobile phone rang, he looked at the screen before answering and let out a resigned sigh. "Hey, Sal." "Where the fuck are you, arsehole? It's fucking Valentine's Day!" "Eh?" "We were going for dinner. At Chico's. That posh Italian...

4 years ago
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Desert Flower

Running Eagle, naked except for a leather breech-cloth, a red headband and moccasins, heard the melodious humming coming from the camp before he could see the owner of the voice. The naked figure of his female patient, extending her arms above her head greeted him. She looked like a mountain lion stretching her limbs after a rest in the shade. Despite the apparent danger, his gaze zoomed in on her taut breasts and her long spread-out legs. Her smooth pussy was prominent and the sight caused the...

2 years ago
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The Forbidden Flower

The town I lived in was pretty small with about twenty thousand people. I could do whatever I wanted. Go downtown, go to the park, hang out with friends. My parents never worried about me. I was an only child so I didn’t have to worry about a sibling bothering me. All my friends were close to me and there were no secrets between us. Because of that I told them about my new obsession. I enjoy playing with myself, and started doing it quite often. They all thought I was weird, and so did I. We...

2 years ago
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My Young Flower

"Brandon, time for dinner!" yelled my mother Kassy from outside my door. "ALRIGHT MOM! JESUS!" I yelled as I stood up to walk out of my room, turning my computer off before I left. I was at 16 years of age and sadly still a virgin, also roughly 5 feet, 11 inches tall with green eyes. "Wow Brandon! Yell a little louder next time and maybe my ears will fall off!" yelled my sister Rose, rubbing her ear in pain. "Well who would complain, would be an improvement on your.... Hideous...

4 years ago
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Lotus Flower

‘Does this feel good? Just relax, let yourself go.’ I moan involuntarily as I feel Lori’s hands, covered in warm oil, work their way down my spine. Her expert fingers massage my muscles in a circular motion, her hands sliding lower, her fingers hesitating where the towel rests loosely on my hips. I take a deep, shaky breath. ‘Jasmine, you have been coming here for a month now, you need to relax.’ Lori’s voice is soft, deep and sexy, which sends chills down my spine. She moves, her fingers...

1 year ago
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The Forbidden Flower

Introduction: This is part one of a long story. Enjoy. MY LIFE WAS GREAT. I had lots of friends, a wonderful home, and lots of freedom. I couldnt imagine anything better. The town I lived in was pretty small with about twenty thousand people. I could do whatever I wanted. Go downtown, go to the park, hang out with friends. My parents never worried about me. I was an only child so I didnt have to worry about a sibling bothering me. All my friends were close to me and there were no secrets...

4 years ago
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Allies Flower

Dawn crept over our camp like a soft sonata two lovers enjoy by candlelight. Soft and damp with dew. I breathe deep. Everything green and wonderful – spring. Allie awakes to join me. The rest of our camp near comas from last night’s drunk. While the rest pounded cheap beer and passed joints, Allie and I sipped and shared. Her eyes held me then – something lingering about her irises that hinted at a lifetime beyond what most girl’s in college had felt. Kindred spirits. “Good morning.” She...

2 years ago
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Jasmine my new favorite flower

‘Break one-nine,’ blared out of the speaker on my dash. I reach over, grab the mike and respond, ‘Go ahead breaker.’ ‘Thanks for the break, anyone wanting a little commercial company go to five,’ a sultry voice responds. I drop down to channel five and hear, ‘Anyone make it?’ ‘Go ahead darling, you got some company, where you at?’ ‘I’m mobile, around the front street area, how about you?’ ‘Coming up on the exit now, where you want to meet?’ ‘You know where the empty warehouse is on...

3 years ago
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mature lady as blossom flower

....while it was dark one day in amid of my walk to nearby small garden area in solitude, i was much tired up, had no energy to do any sort of activity, simply while walking few steps towards my solitude i bummed a smoke just to get some relaxation to reach till garden, but completely unaware of what i am gonna see right ahead next to my way, while it was not much walk i seen on my right there was a hut , i seen it with all curiosity that hut seemed to be some abondoned place, there was just a...

1 year ago
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The Skimpy Cafe Mays Flower

It did until she got on the bus and sat down and had a moment to scan for anyone else. And there he was. The drunkard from a few nights ago. The one who assaulted her at the Inn. He was asleep in the back and she suppressed a squeak as she hurried to the front of the bus, as close as she could to the driver. May practically held her breath the entire forty minute ride to the print shop and just as she stood to leave the drunkard’s eyes fluttered open. His expression grew dark as he...

2 years ago
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The Gathering Book 1Chapter 13 Mary Leibowitz the Lotus Flower

Marilyn walked into Adrian 's ten minutes early and although there were few people sitting at tables, heads did turn and eyes followed her as she made her way to the bar. Besides being a very good-looking woman, stylishly dressed, she carried that well-fucked aura about her as well. To the young woman behind the bar she said, "Hi, I'm meeting a friend here for lunch, but I'd like a vodka martini with two olives, please." The bartender smiled at her and asked, "Will that be on the...

1 year ago
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DominionChapter 20 Glass Flower

The chaos years affected all religions, either weakening them or making them stronger. For the Mormons, they had to go underground to survive the reborn Wild West. Old mines in Utah were converted into homes and churches, where people could escape the roving marauders. They reinforced their beliefs, galvanized by both the threat of enemies and the privacy they clung to. When the reconstruction movement began, they continued to hide, now from the government, out of fear of persecution for...

4 years ago
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Fertilizing Flowers

From the corner of my eye I saw some movement in my backyard through the window. I went out quietly through the garage and couldn’t see anything until I looked behind the shed. There was a young girl squatting down and taking a piss. When she finished and stood up, pulling up her jeans, I confronted her, “What are you doing here?” She was so startled she stuttered, “I had to pee so bad I couldn’t stand it. I’m on my way home from school and this was the first place I found. I hope I didn’t...

2 years ago
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Winning A Genie Harem Chapter 7 Virgin Deflowered

Chapter Seven: Virgin Deflowered By mypenname3000 Copyright 2020 Note: Thanks to Alex for beta reading this! Characters Main Characters Corey Derrickson: College senior, friend of Kyle Unmei, given the chance to marry one of four genie, each from a different tribe, if he can find them at St. Maria Theodora Catholic College! Aleah Buckley: Corey's first sex slave. College senior. He claimed her after Kyle suggested she'd be a good candidate for starting Corey's harem. Tania Buckley:...

4 years ago
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One Big Horny Weasley Family Chapter 18 Take Time to Enjoy the Flowers

Take Time to Enjoy the Flowers Ron was surprised to see there was no one in the den as he walked in. From what Angelina had told him earlier, the den was the de facto gathering place to pass time during parties like this. That had led him to ask how many parties like this there had been here. Angelina’s answer had been evasive and non-specific, but it was more than one and less than a hundred; one hundred would have been very impressive since the family had only come into possession of...

2 years ago
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The Flowering

Eighteen year old Ashley Chester nervously smoothed her white shirt. So this was the biker's spring festival? Freddy had dreamed of coming here? It was horrible! All the noise and the smell of beer and exhaust fumes! Ashley put a strand of her short mouse-brown hair behind her ear. Freddy Mason, her boyfriend, had been so excited. He had finally talked his rich father into buying him a Harley Davidson. He had been so cute, like a boy opening a long awaited Christmas present. And now he wanted...

3 years ago
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May Flowers

May Flowers On a warm and balmy spring evening, You and I went to the movies. I wore a turquoise halter top and a dark denim skirt. At around seven, we had a nice italian dinner and saw a horror movie. Heat seared my skin as she leaned her head down to the nape of my neck. I waited for the moment that would cause me to cry out in sheer pleasure. I didn’t have to wait long because the second your lips met my throat your sharp teeth bit my neck. A loud moan escaped my lips and I held your head...

Lesbian
1 year ago
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Briefly Bloom the Flowers

Foreword Once upon a time I published "Ten Months for Olga Turlovna", an autobiography that described my experiences on an ill-fated airline flight known as 252. As the aircraft was shaken apart by brutal turbulence, we were each engulfed in an intense expanding ball of white light, brighter than the sun. I expected to die along with all the other passengers, but we were destined for something far stranger. A touch from this sphere transferred our spirits into new bodies, peppering...

4 years ago
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At The Stables ndash Maryrsquos Deflowering

I’m David, 35 attractive with a hard body. Toned after two years fixing this place up. I was your average horny husband and never strayed. My wife and I enjoyed an active but vanilla sex life. I have no complains. We would fuck at the drop of a hat and enjoyed oral especially, if one was tired or we had time limitations. That ended two years ago in a car crash in which my wife died. The compensation from the crash paid for these rundown stables and the money to fix them up. Oh and I can’t...

3 years ago
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My Deflowering

This story is an excerpt from a book I read, and if you like it half as much as I did, comment, friend me, and I will give you the title and author. It is a long passage, but you will be glad that it is. read-on, and enjoy.I was in a girls finishing school, renowned throughout merry Olde England as the finest disciplinary establishment in the country, if not the world. The occasion was of my deflowering, a ritual that Rev. B., the headmaster reserved for himself. I was led to the chamber by...

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