Address To The Independent Women's Club free porn video

Address to the Independent Women's Club transcribed by Vickie Tern Thank you, Tracy, a very flattering introduction, and thank you, ladies, for inviting me here tonight to share my experiences. They really aren't so very different from yours. Tracy's told me a lot about this organization and its admirable purposes. How, though married and supposedly bound by obligations to one man, you all find ways to maintain your sexual independence, your freedom to act on whatever your desires. The different ways you do it. Some by swinging, so your husbands enjoy other women while you're occupied with other men, so to speak. Some by domination, choosing men you can accustom to obey you, men who know your needs come first and their first need is to meet your needs, men who will even seek out other men to satisfy you. Some using traditional feminine wiles, charm and subterfuge, to achieve a husband's consent for you to do ... whatever you wish. So he'll encourage you because he loves you, and loves the way you feel gratified and appreciative when you return to him from doing ... whatever you wish. And she's told me, of course, how you all meet here each month to exchange ideas, because it isn't always easy to indulge yourselves without your husbands feeling deprived or betrayed. One idea in particular, to discover, arouse, and then fulfill certain of their more shameful desires. Or to lead them into an act they consider shameful. Then they can't possibly object when you wish to fulfill some of your more shameful desires. Before they understand exactly what yours are, of course. I'm especially flattered that you think I can contribute to this month's exchange. That my example may provide some insight into the problem we all face, how to live most advantageously for ourselves while giving our men the lives we prefer for them. Yes, I do have an ideal marriage, I'm sure. No, I didn't really plan for it, but I didn't exactly stumble into it either. It's been a combination of luck, planning, and above all careful improvisation, always using to advantage whatever opportunities appear from time to time. I knew what I wanted and I worked toward it and I stayed focussed, and it worked out! Quite satisfactorily, I must say. Fairly, properly, and I must say, honestly, everything above board -- no deception, no secrets, no intimidation necessary. And at no point did I need to call on any of those marital aids you've got exhibited in the outer lobby. I might have if I'd known about them. Good heavens, I must say, now that I've seen them and now that Tracy's explained their uses I absolutely adore their possibilities. That chastity belt for instance -- we've all wanted to lock something like that on our men from time to time I'm sure, so they learn to truly appreciate us, never to take us for granted, above all to agree to anything if only we'll unlock them. Oh, yes. And that vibrating butt plug some of you use to teach your men to appreciate how a woman feels when she's having sex with someone else -- I especially love the long range version that enables you to share orgasms, so no matter how far away you may be when you reach yours, you can switch his on he'll soon reach his. Or the penile shock implant -- Tracy tells me it's invaluable for establishing discipline when a man won't respond to anything else. I can only imagine how a man feels, waking up to discover that there's now one planted in his own penis, that he can't remove it without dismembering himself, and that it activates by your whim with a mere press of a button that will bring him to his knees. All of these things wonderful aids to a happy marriage. But my Tim didn't need marital aids. He's loved me and been devoted to my happiness from the beginning, and that was enough. I love him all the more because of it. He's so attentive and caring that I never need to discipline him. In fact he's so solicitous that sometimes I have to send him on errands just to get him out of the way. You need to know, first of all, that I live with him as a woman. Not me as a woman, that goes without saying, I mean Tim lives with me not as a man but a woman. He didn't expect to when we were dating, nor when he proposed to me -- does any man? But he did consent at each stage, and he's been as pleased with his life as I am with mine, especially that we have nothing to hide from each other. Maybe you should meet him. He's here, Tracy suggested that if he accompanied me he could maybe answer questions and then meet with everyone afterward. Above all provide a living example of what we can all do with our husbands if we have a mind to. I thought that an excellent idea, and he's sitting right there in the very first row at this very moment. Tim, Tammy I mean, would you mind standing up so the ladies can see why I'm so proud of you? Don't be shy, you're beautiful and you know you're beautiful, and I want everyone else to know it. Isn't she? I mean he -- he's so feminine I often forget! Absolutely lovely? Yes, that's my Tim, not quite the man I married but a woman I love absolutely to pieces, more than any other in the world. You can hardly wonder why, now that you've seen her yourselves. My darling hubby! He was so nervous about accompanying me and meeting you all tonight that he spent the whole of yesterday shopping for that beautiful tailored dress he's wearing. It had to be exactly right. Isn't it stunning? Silk faille drapes so beautifully on a figure as thin yet as curved as his. And he spent all this afternoon getting his hair done, though I think it's so naturally gorgeous there's next to nothing for a stylist to do. But he did want to look his best. He's such a lovely man! You can sit down again now, dear. No, 'man' certainly isn't the right word for him these days, but 'lovely'? Oh yes! It's marvelous to wake up each morning to see his sweet doll face and huge shadowy eyes and cute little chin, all looking so sweet and vulnerable, when he's still asleep and looking so helpless, with his lovely blonde hair all spread out across his pillow. I've got to confess it, most days when I wake up I'll just gaze at him until my heart swells up for joy. Then I'll peek under the covers at his soft, round body and stroke some of those smooth curves, and as often as not I can't resist it, I'll kiss him awake by touching my tongue to the tips of his nipples until he moans and squirms. Wouldn't we all like to wake up that way? Oooh, I could just eat him up! You're smiling. Well, yes, sometimes I do wake him just that way! You'd never guess it to look at him, especially when he's wearing tight jeans or a bikini, but he still has a penis. It's soft all the time nowadays of course, but he still loves it when I take it into my warm, moist mouth and lick it. His whole body orgasms, just as we do when we're with the right partner and he's licking our clits. That's always his reward when he's been especially good. Pretty, adorable, lovely, all those words certainly apply. But as I say, and you'll agree I'm sure, 'man' is definitely the wrong word for him -- he's not a man, not any more, not by any stretch. Not that he ever was much of a man, not even when I first met him. He didn't need to be. I never did feel attracted to those big guys we call 'real men,' those thick hard bodies shoving at you and always bumping into things. Oh, like everyone else here I suppose I took on a football player or two in high school. But for prestige rather than pleasure. Jocks are so occupied with themselves at that age, and they're often clumsy when they haven't been coached. I could always take them on or leave them alone. Not that I've ever denied myself. I enjoy a hard fuck as much as the next woman. These days the bigger the bruiser, the more of him there is for me to wrap my legs around, the more of him there is to stuff into me, the more I enjoy him. I've got a healthy woman's appetite for the thick meat men have hanging from their crotches. Some men. I love provoking it, wriggling my hips until what was dangling like a thick snake rises up to get as rigid as a post. It's a kind of magic, isn't it? I can't deny myself the pleasure those things provide. So like you, now and then I'll find one and make good use of it. But the thing is, I have to confess it, when I was in college I had a roommate named Adrienne, and we got to be very close. We shared makeup and clothes as well as beds, sometimes even boyfriends. But mainly we shared each other, all through college and for a few years afterward too. With her I learned all about women's bodies and desires and how to arouse and satisfy mine as well as hers. We experimented endlessly, cherishing and cultivating our delicacy and femininity. When Addie finally transferred out to the West Coast she'd ruined me for the heavy-handed, hairy beasts we both used to ream out our cunts and open them up and puff them out for our tongues. Men were useful, but it was women's bodies that drove us both mad with passion. Then I lucked out. The very first office that hired me, there was Tim sitting at the next desk. My darling Tim. He was perfect! Not a big man, not at all, only about Adrienne's size. I didn't know until later, of course, but it turned out eventually that all of the dresses Adrienne left behind fit him perfectly, even eventually a few of her brassieres when he grew large enough to need them. In those days he was already smooth, nearly hairless, with a sort of baby face. A little pudgy like Adrienne too, soft in some places even then. I could tell at a glance that if he thinned down in some places and developed a few curves in others he'd be gorgeous, that given what he'd become, there'd be no way anyone would suspect what he'd been. But then, I'd check out lots of men that way, with no thought that any would ever consent to doing to themselves what I thought needed doing. Girls dream a lot, don't they? Best of all, he fell in love with me at first sight and told me so on our second date. He told me he'd do anything for me, anything. True enough, I'd noticed that even on our first date, when I kissed him good night he'd melted into a puddle, couldn't even talk or move for a minute. Never even asked if he could come in for a moment, so I had to ask him. He was a good fuck, nothing special. But devoted? It was true, he'd do anything! Then after our second date I invited him to move in with me and I took shameless advantage of him. I insisted that he bring me breakfast in bed, and cook and clear the kitchen and straighten the place out on weekdays, and fix special dinners for us on the Sundays I was home, and thorough-clean on weekends whether I was home or not, even if I was still sleeping in after a late night with someone else. He loved doing little things like that for me. He hoped against hope that I'd appreciate him all the more for it, and eventually I did. When he proposed marriage I told him I couldn't possibly, that it would be too unfair to him. He didn't believe me, so finally I sat him down and told him about my life with Adrienne. All about my life with Adrienne. How that was how I anticipated living in the future, if I could. With someone like Adrienne. Not with a man. Now and then I'd want a man of course, but for recreation, the way I'd use one or another now and then -- he'd seen me leave the house dressed for seduction -- didn't he ever wonder why? Or I'd use one as a convenience, the way I used him. Not as a partner for life. He needed to think about that for a few days, but then he came back and swore to me that if I'd marry him he'd be everything to me that Adrienne had ever been. Everything! He insisted he would, that he could do it! That he'd live with me exclusively if I'd accept him to live with me forever. But he didn't insist that I live exclusively with him. Well, I thought he was only testing my resolve, and maybe he was, so of course I doubted he meant what he said. I suppose I was feeling bitchy that day, so I suggested that if he meant it, if he thought he could fill Adrienne's shoes, he should go try on some of the clothes Adrienne had left behind. Well, amazingly, he did, and they fit him! Even more amazingly, he looked rather nice in them, cute even! Not like Adrienne, of course, but not like a man in drag either. More like himself, more the way he is now. Sweet and lovable. That annoyed me all the more, so I raised the ante -- I insisted we go out for dinner just like that, just as Adrienne and I did sometimes, nothing elaborate, only a modest meal at our local bistro, but he'd have to go looking like Adrienne. He'll never agree to that I figured -- men can't stand looking like women, they think that looking effeminate is humiliating, degrading. It's not their fault -- they start mocking each other's supposed sissy weaknesses and enforcing what they call their masculinity from a very early age, from way back when they're still little boys. I suppose they remain little boys in some ways. That may be why so many end up the superior, smartass bastards we tend to marry if we marry too young, before we know better. The kind we know now are useful only for overnight hookups, when we don't really care what they are as long as their thing keeps performing. But Tim actually did agree! Very uneasily -- he swallowed hard and I saw his eyes roam the room briefly as if looking for a way to escape. But he did want me for his wife, so he did agree. He stood there in Addie's blouse and skirt and bra and pantyhose, feeling silly I'm sure, but he did agree. And we did go! I got him a pair of heeled sandals to match his skirt, and a scarf for color, and I teased up his hair and gave him his first lesson in how to use make-up -- just the basics, foundation and blush, eyeliner and eye-shadow, and of course a really bright lipstick -- I figured if he's Addie he better get used to wearing lipstick all the time the way she did, and get used to fixing it all the time too. That's all the girly disguise I allowed him -- I figured let him fill in the rest for himself, derive somehow from his own body the way girls stand and move and sound and so on, and that'll tell me if he has any real talent for this thing. If anyone spotted that he was really a man pretending to be a girl, I wanted to know whether he'd feel humiliated or proud, ashamed or unconcerned. So it was also a test of character -- if I wanted it, would he want it no matter what anyone else thought. Understand, he didn't look anywhere near the way he does now. That was before facial surgery gave him that mixed expression, both wide-eyed innocence and pixie curiosity. Then again, it's nearly two years since we started soaking him in estrogen and progestin, more of it than we needed to become women. And T-blockers of course. Now this will surprise him I suspect, because I've never told him, but he's also been on tranquilizers. Lots of them, so he'd never feel the least bit worried or anxious as his manhood vanished, no matter what new thing I might propose he try. He's now a real girl in almost every respect, and no one ever thinks him otherwise, not even those who've gotten pretty intimate with him and then reaped the benefits -- he's quite generous with people who make him feel good. Not unless they try for the ultimate intimacy. You may well smile, but of all the men he's dated while supposedly on the rag and entertaining Aunt Flo, only one has ever felt him up under his pad and found his cock and balls. And that one was already deep in his ass at the time and no way inclined to pull out, so he just clutched at my darling's genitals and kept pumping away. He even called Tim a few days later to ask for a return engagement, and offered to suck Tim's cock the way Tim had done his. It happens I suppose -- when men are as beautiful as Tim there's always a chance their men will find they've been turned, that they've suddenly gone gay. This one did. We talked about it, and I was pleased when Tim turned him down. Because I want to be the only person who knows exactly what Tim is and is not and loves him because of what he is and not despite it. He's a feminized man, a girl. I don't want him ever thinking he's a gay man! That would defeat the whole purpose! He knows that now and he's comfortable with it. But last year Tim was a lot more unsure of himself. He got terribly frightened when I suggested we go out for dinner as two girls, turned bright red and began to quiver, you all know the symptoms when we've put our men under stress. Fearfully embarrassed. Yet, he gathered up his gumption and he went, trying to behave the whole time as if it was all perfectly natural, we were just two girls together with nothing much on our minds. I made a show of chatting mindlessly away with him, making girl talk about who we know who's getting on well and who's cheating, and so on, and who bought this marvelous chemise dress, and he made a show of seeming fascinated. But he clung tight to my hand the whole time. You know, I think that's when my heart went out to him. That's when he became my dearest love. He was trying so hard to do everything I wanted just because I'd told him I wanted it. And he was doing it beautifully! Not that there weren't a few surprises. It happens that his hips are wide-set, like ours, so when he walks in heels it's with a sway and swing very much like ours. And when he nods his head it's with a tantalizing little swirl, so feminine it makes me damp down under whenever I see it. And he hunches his shoulders and forearms close in as if to make himself smaller, as if to occupy less space and need more protection, the way lots of us do. Best of all, you know, when women talk we don't usually face each other the way men do. It seems too confrontational I suppose. We face a little away, and then constantly check each other out with sideways glances. With women that seems to say, 'We both already know and agree, don't we,' and with men it always seems flirtatious, as if we were saying, "I'm not that interested, but try harder." Well, Tim was doing that naturally. His shyness had him looking mostly elsewhere, but his politeness kept his eyes returning to me. Really 'come-hither,' just darling. He was perfect! Maybe that's why when we sat down and started to order dinner, two guys actually hit on us! Stopped by the table and said they were delighted to run into me, wasn't I a friend of someone or other, you know the line. They were cute, and I confess I was really tempted to lead them on a bit, but Tim began to unravel so I had to send them on their way. A pity, though we've both made up for that lost opportunity many times since then. That wasn't the end of it. By the time we were having coffee Tim was accustomed to looking girly and no one noticing. To being a girl. He saw it pleased me and he actually began enjoying it, tossing his head and his hands about, making darling little moues, acting like whatever his idea was of how girls behave. A little exaggerated, but I've known real girls who behave even more over the top. By then he'd accompanied me to the ladies and tinkled sitting down, then fixed his own face while a few other women were using the same mirror -- with no self-consciousness at all. He was like any other girl. I was thinking when we got back to our table that yes, I want to get this paragon back to my apartment and kiss his lipsticked lips and push his head between my legs the way I used to push Adrienne's and tell him 'Yes I Will Marry You,' and then wait for him to show his gratitude. Then drag him off to bed to teach him a few of the other things Adrienne and I did with each other. But at that moment, along came Bruce. Yes, Bruce. A guy I'd dated a few times -- Adrienne knew that for me a dildo isn't always enough, that now and then I need the feel of a man, the way they move inside me when they're excited, those hot fleshy tubes stretching me as they slide in and out. She never objected as long as it was only now and then. But Bruce is one of those guys who, you know, you blow their cocks once and fuck them once and they think you're available any time anywhere, that you're now part of their harem. Over-endowed and oversexed. I must say, I did daydream a few times about that cock of his. Not real long, only seven inches maybe, but thick? I well remember, when I first saw it I knew immediately that I had a problem. No way could I let him try to ram that fence post directly into me. I had to sit down on it and work it in very carefully. Oh, God, yes, I did that. Then when I did finally fully impale myself I found I couldn't move. But also that I didn't need to. Orgasmic waves were passing through me one after another while he just looked at me and grinned -- he knew what was happening! When I finally finished cumming -- it seemed like hours later -- that was when he began moving, a little at first, then faster and faster. And I began cumming again, but in a different way, this time all at once everywhere! God! When he finally came, he squirted so far up into me I couldn't speak for days. All that time I just held on. I was so weak when we were done that he had to lift me up and off him. Well, after that I really was part of Bruce's harem, but Bruce was so desirable and easy that I made him part of mine too, at least in my own mind. He'd come when I called. Well, here he was standing over our table. He looked down at the two of us and I introduced him to my friend 'Tammy,' who looked away and muttered something that was supposed to sound cordial I guess. He glanced at her and then right away, then and there, he asked me if I was free to go to the Red Dog concert with him next Saturday. 'Maybe have some fun afterward,' that was what he said, meaning no 'maybe' at all, meaning afterward while we were still stoned from the concert we'd fuck each other silly and try to keep it going all night. Well, I looked at Tammy ... I mean Tim. Tim was looking down into his coffee cup and revealing nothing. He knew I knew he wanted to marry me, and here was a guy asking me for a date. And he could tell from the expression on my face that I found the offer attractive. He couldn't know that what I knew was attractive was Bruce's awesome cock and the prospect of wriggling and rolling around on it for hours, maybe even into the middle of the next day. He may have thought it was just that I was a Red Dog fan and that was why my eyes were gleaming while I considered Bruce's offer. Any which way, he was worried how I'd respond. What would I tell him? What I was really doing was asking myself, does my relationship with Tim have to be any more restrictive than my relationship was with Adrienne? Here's how to find out right off. So, looking straight at Tim, I answered Bruce. I said, "OK, sure, call me some time during the week." Tim didn't wince, though his head sagged a little. He thought I'd just rejected his proposal of marriage. That darling! I was two-timing him to his face and he still wanted me! That settled it then and there -- my whole heart went out to him! "Can you get a ticket and a date for Tammy too?" I then asked Bruce, suddenly inspired! Now that would really be a supreme test! For Bruce because Red Dog tickets were impossibly out of reach, they'd sold out twenty minutes after the first offering -- there just weren't any to be had. We would see what he could do, how high a price he was willing to pay some scalper for access to my cunt. But it would be a supreme test for Tim too! For a straight man like Tim to date another man had to be an ultimate ordeal, the furthest measure of the devotion he felt for me, how much he was willing to endure for me. He'd suffer personal but also public humiliation if he was found out. Or worse. It could get a lot worse. Would he suck another man's cock for me -- that was the least a girl would have to do for the guy who'd taken her to a Red Dog concert. Could he take a savage beating for me, if his date found out about him and took offense, the way these macho types do? Most agonizingly, could he endure the jealousy when we paired off after the concert and I went off with Bruce and didn't show up again till after the weekend? Not even Adrienne had ever double-dated with me, willingly accompanied me on a date with someone else. I'd never have risked it. Adrienne had a quick and aggressive temper -- any man I dated with Adrienne in the vicinity had a good chance of ending the evening with a her furious face one inch from his while she shouted her opinion of him. If he even winced, he'd end with a face full of scratches, maybe also of Mace. But Tim? Could Tim bear it? I might as well find out now, I was thinking. I might as well see what marriage to Tim would be like, see what it could be like. This was a supreme moment indeed! "Tammy's brand new in town and doesn't know anyone yet," I added. I looked directly into Tim's eyes and said carefully, pointedly, "So far I like everything I know about her. A lot! I feel really close to her, and I've got a feeling I'd like us to stay close for a long time, maybe forever. But that depends on whether or not she can stay with the program, go with me wherever I want to go. Red Dog now, for instance. Can you help us out with that, Bruce?" I knew Bruce could -- Tim was the question mark. I never took my eyes off him. I saw him lift his head wide-eyed, hopeful -- he'd proposed marriage and he'd just heard a conditional 'Yes' from me. But the condition was that he go along with whatever I proposed, in this case that he be a girl with me while I was with one guy and he was with another. So, even more than hopeful, he was terrified. Scared to death. As well he might be -- for all he knew this date I was proposing could indeed be the death of him. Certainly it meant the death of the innocent, conventional affection he'd felt for me till now, the emotion he thought was love. Something else would replace it, he could sense that. Something more submissive, even servile? Something even stronger? But what? I smiled as warmly reassuring a smile at him as I could. It practically told him 'Do this and I'll marry you.' And I know he got the message, because his expression suddenly changed to something desperate yet joyous. Resigned, yet prepared to endure almost anything. I looked away from him up into Bruce's face, and found that Bruce was asking me with his expression whether Tammy was like me the kind of girl who'd enjoy a good time afterward. He needed to know what he could promise whoever he'd be asking to join us on a blind date. Does she put out? I nodded and smiled, glancing at Tim so he'd understand too. He'd have to put out. "No problem," Bruce then replied with easy assurance. "It'll cost, but any friend of yours has got to be worth it. I know lots of great guys eager to spend time with girls as gorgeous as Tammy. Next Saturday then. Nice meeting you, Tammy, I know we'll get to know each other a lot better." And he was gone. It was an utterly baffled, dejected, exhilarated, and frightened Tim who came back with me to my apartment. "I don't understand," was all he said in a thin voice as I brought out a bottle of champagne. What was there to celebrate? Despite what he'd thought was a 'Yes' to his marriage proposal, it now seemed equally likely that by agreeing to date Bruce and fix him up with another guy I'd told him 'No.' And that I'd told him why, that he wasn't manly enough for me. That when he'd agreed to put on Adrienne's dress he'd failed my test. That we might become occasional friends but could never be lovers. Certainly not committed, married to each other until death do us part. I poured us each a glass of champagne and offered him one and held up my own. "To us," I said. "And to the happiest years of a long, happy, married life together." Now he was even more baffled. Choked up. Astonished. "What...?" was all he could say. "Tim honey," I said slowly. I was now altogether sincere, and I wanted him to know I meant every word. Here listening to me was the love of my life! "You haven't picked up on it maybe, but let me explain. I swing both ways. I like guys for some things, always have, maybe always will. But for everyday company, for sharing my life, I much prefer girls. I want to spend my life with someone who looks like you and for my sake is willing to look like you. And that's what you are. You're everything I want, a man who's willing to be a girl who wants to be everything I want him to be. So sip your champagne," I told him. "If you still want me." He looked at me as carefully as I was looking at him. It crossed my mind that I might have gone too far. Expected too much of someone who loves me with a simple, open heart. Tears started into my eyes and I felt a pang of fear in my chest. Perhaps I had gone too far? He held silent for an interminable time, looking into my face. Into my soul. He saw my fright, I'm sure of it. Then he smiled slightly, lifted his champagne glass to me, and sipped it. And set it down and smiled as bright and wide a smile as I have ever seen on any human face! His happiness lit up my life that very moment, and it has ever since! We both felt amazed and grateful. The deed was done. I'd agreed to marry him. His heart's greatest desire had been fulfilled. I lifted my face to be kissed, and he came forward and covered it with kisses. Over and over on my closed eyelids, my cheeks, my forehead, my neck. My lips. I opened my mouth and he filled it with his tongue. A short while later I lay back and pulled off my panties and opened my legs wide and asked him to fill that part of me with his tongue too. And did he ever! He was far better down there than even Adrienne, and until that moment Addie had been the best cunt licker and pussy eater I have ever known! An ecstasy I have never known overwhelmed me and almost at once I came. Oh, God, yes! Then yet again. And again. Orgasms rolled through me like arpeggios as his tongue played up and down my pussy. The mere tip did to me what it took Bruce's whole cock to accomplish. One touch sent me cascading to the stars. And it never let up! Oh had I ever made the right choice with this man! But not as a man. Finally, I pulled my Tim's slick, smeared face up next to mine and we talked. Gently, I explained to him what he'd committed himself to do. Repeatedly I marveled that he'd agreed to indulge me, and I told him about my overwhelming gratitude and affection, and the unfathomable love he'd aroused. I left him no opportunities to back out if so inclined, because I wanted this man passionately just as he was! He'd be my beloved spouse and I'd set the conditions that would prevail in our marriage and he'd accept those conditions. Incredibly! I couldn't believe my good fortune! He knew now that even after our marriage I'd occasionally go out with other men, and I knew now that he'd understand and allow me. That as a gift of love he'd never object, that instead he'd encourage me, and afterward we'd have no secrets. As my dearest girlfriend he'd hear every last detail of whatever I'd done with whoever I'd been with, all the dishy dirt on how it had felt and whether I wanted more. As my dearest girlfriend, he'd smile and ask to know more. But not only that. He knew that now and then he'd be accompanying me on those dates. As often as seemed convenient. Double-dating as a woman, and that meant he'd also be doing what women do with men when they date. I pointed out that he'd probably worry less about me with other men if he was with us whenever he wasn't preoccupied with his own man. At times we'd each want to be alone with our dates, of course. But as I affirmed over and over, he'd always know that he was my dearest friend and my dearest husband, that when I was with a man who was giving me vast pleasure I'd always want to know that he knew and approved. Also, that no matter how pleasurable, he knew I'd always return to him. I'm not sure how much of this Tim understood. Through much of what I said my sweet man seemed to be in a state of shock. He must have been, because whatever I said, he simply nodded. Trying to swallow his champagne, now and then managing, and then nodding some more. The champagne helped. Good heavens, he nodded even when I told him he'd soon be helping me solve a mystery, that I'd sometimes wondered whether every man's semen tastes different and has a different consistency after he's eaten different things for dinner. That we should both pay close attention to those things when we go on dinner dates with different men, and we'd compare notes afterward. "This will be such fun!" I exclaimed. "A lifetime of loving each other and all the things we each love!" I hugged him so tight that at last I broke his trance. Thank goodness he didn't run off! He actually hugged me back. A little. That encouraged me, so I continued. Beginning now he'd need to practice full time the femininity for which he had such obvious natural talent. That meant that from now on, as far as the world knew, he'd be Tammy. Tim would be only an occasional visitor, called on when needed. He'd show for his featured role in our marriage ceremony, of course, but he'd disappear immediately after, when Tammy and I left for our honeymoon. If he reappeared at all during the next glorious days away, when we were both devoted only to lovemaking, it would have to be because we couldn't find another man, someone who could keep us both occupied. I wrapped my new baby in my arms and expressed my undying love and gratitude and respect and awe that he'd agreed to this, and I poured him another glass of champagne, then another. By now he looked pleased in an addled way, certainly addled by the champagne. I didn't need for him to approve my plan in every detail, just not disapprove. Even so, despite his placid manner I detected a certain uncertainty. A certain doubt. Could I blame him? None of this had been anticipated by either of us -- I had to grant him that. But I kept assuring and reassuring him that we were laying the foundations for perfect bliss for both of us. That I loved him beyond reason especially for his willingness to become the perfect husband I've always dreamed of having. Ladies, I think you know now that he did became that husband. Or, all things considered, he decided to become that husband, that I was worth it, and then reconciled himself to living a double-life, or rather, a single life on the other side of the gender spectrum. To become what he seemed -- my perfect spouse. I worried all through the next day that once away from me he'd reconsider what I was proposing, what he'd agreed to do, and then flee for his life. But right on schedule he showed up at my place the next day after work. And you know what? He'd bought us both presents. A set of his and hers bras and panties, gorgeous wisps of scanty nothings, each one frothy with the most delicate lace work imaginable! 'The first of many,' he said shyly, as the present of just himself wasn't itself enough. Also for himself he'd bought a padded panty girdle, practically invisible, a garment that would give him a woman's hips and ass until he could grow his own, but would also squeeze his genitals between his legs and give him a girl's smooth, Y-shaped crotch. Open in back to expose his rear end in case an exposed rear end should seem ... desirable. We were both sure that sooner or later one would seem desirable. Maybe even as soon as this coming Saturday. Bruce and his friend, I was thinking, will cum in their pants when they see us in this lingerie. I resolved that we'd undress together, so Tammy's date would be too distracted by me to notice that his bra lacked occupants. I also resolved that Tim would grow them as soon as possible. That night I told Tim how Addie and I usually made love, and I assured him that he'd be replacing her in my bed as completely as he'd already replaced her in my affections. Then I dressed him in a nightie and slowly, carefully, tenderly, taught him how women make love. We licked each other everywhere, breasts and clits and ... well, everywhere. Then we made man love, me fucking Tim with one of the dildos Adrienne and I had often used together, then Tim returning the favor with his own natural dildo. That dildo felt very good indeed! His dong wasn't small, it was quite adequate really. Yet I was delighted that I wouldn't be feeling deprived when his new hormones made that natural appendage less and less like a dildo and more and more like ... well, like a small, boneless finger. An overgrown clit. That then he'd never be able to object when I explained to him my continuing need for the power and urgency invested in the cocks of bigger men. Other men. Real men. He flinched when I mentioned that, but he didn't back away. "You're mine, aren't you?" I asked him. He nodded. Last of all we made little boy and little girl love, cuddling each other to sleep. The next morning the same again. My sweet Tim was so lost in his erotic euphoria that he scarcely questioned me when I gave him his first estrogen pills -- a double dose -- and made him his first appointment with a gynecologist and another with a hairdresser. "You'll love me, and I'll love you," I kept reassuring him. "And we'll both love our lives together." If he doubted it, I never did. I can't imagine that he's doubted it since then. Because we do love our lives together! Well, not much more to tell. From then on Tim was a girl. He had some private income, and his work was fielding customer questions by phone in a cubicle, so we expected no serious problems with work associates in nearby cubicles, there'd be no ridiculing of Tim or hitting on Tammy. In fact when he told his boss he was going to be a girl, so his phone voice would be sounding different, his boss was delighted -- women representatives are more profitable and paid less, so no problem. We got him a home permanent right off so I could shape his hair right off -- he had to be a girl at work the very next day, before he lost his nerve. Later that week Sally kept him for hours in her hair salon and he became a changed man for good. A changed woman I mean. But right off at the office Tim had to be woman enough, and he was. Skirts, not dress slacks, and full make-up of course. A brief stop at the human resources office to let them know his intentions, a formal announcement of Tim's change of gender and our upcoming marriage to everyone while Tim stood shyly by, and that was that. No problems. Most of the girls at the office were marvelous -- they treated us both to lunch, where we told them all about everything, how it had all come about. They kept asking Tim if it was true, what I was telling them, some of it seemed so unbelievable. That a man would unman himself for the love of a woman? All for love? Unbelievably romantic! But he answered all their questions well enough, and they did agree that in appearance and manner he was already more of a girl than they were, some of them anyhow. No wonder. I could see him then and there imitating their different little mannerisms and inflections, trying out what the girls at our table were doing and saying to see what kind of a girl he could be. He was transforming himself before my eyes. Just one lunch with the girls and he was already one of us! I knew I had the right man for life when I saw that! I sometimes do wonder how I have lucked out so completely? Stumbled into such a marvelous man who is already such a marvelous woman and without planning it arranged such a marvelous marriage, one that meets my every desire. Pardon me for ... I guess I start crying every time I say this but I ... but I ... I can't help it. I ... I love my Tammy! My Tim! I just love him! Maybe I'd better just take questions now. I'm afraid if I keep talking I'll gush, and that won't tell anyone anything helpful. Yes, you're right, lately we've been a lot more like ... well, more like girlfriends than like ... a married couple, though we're still married and we want to stay that way forever. In some ways we're more like roommates. We share everything -- panties, bras, dresses, even our jewelry. No, we don't share our boyfriends, not yet. Tim has his and I have mine. Though he did once fluff a boy for me. You know, suck his cock to get it up for another try at satisfying me? He'd been boasting that he gives better head than I do -- well, why shouldn't he, that's all he's got to offer when his ass gets too sore to use, that and a kind of girlish sympathy when his partner complains he has no proper place to put his ... thing. So I asked him to do one of my fellas -- his name was Greg. Greg was a little high and he simply couldn't harden up for me for a third time, so it occurred to me, maybe a different girl could get him ready. And it worked, Tim did get him ready! But all the next week Greg was calling Tim and not me, trying to ask him out. So I never tried that again. No, you'll have to ask Tim that. I think he did see Greg a few times, but I'm not sure. We don't tell each other everything, only the interesting things. Shouldn't I be saying 'Tammy has her boyfriends,' not 'Tim has his boyfriends,' is that what you're asking? Shouldn't I be calling him a her by now, you mean, now that he's been a girl for after all, for over a year? Well, maybe. It's true, Tammy's boyfriends all think they're with a girl and getting blown by a girl, or that they're rear-ending one, and when they grab Tim's tits while pushing themselves in and out of her -- I mean him -- they're absolutely persuaded, because he's got that wonderfully round rear and those big heavy breasts -- good heavens, it never occurs to them he could possibly be anything other than a she. I mean he does look gorgeous, doesn't he? Even I'm envious sometimes! But I still think of him as a guy, a girl guy. First of all because whatever kind of hunk I use for fucking, this girl guy is my guy for loving. Second, because reminding myself he's a guy, I'm reminded he's an accomplishment -- he is what I made him, after all, so I can feel proud of both of us for both of us. Third, he's still a man technically and legally -- he still has a penis and it's holes and poles that make us what we are under the law. In the end, the shape of your bottom is the bottom line. I do have to admit, these days there's not much more than a flab of flesh hanging there between his legs. It swells up a little when I take it between my lips, and sometimes it dribbles clear fluid from its tip when he gets excited. A drop or two. But I've tried calling it a clit, and ... well, you know, you and I have clits and ... well, it just isn't a clit. Not yet. That'll be up to him, eventually. No, the first time he wasn't at all eager to take a man's cock in his mouth. Not at all. But he had to, and that was that. He was going to live like a girl with me, and that's what girls do when they want to give their man pleasure and feel especially girly and ... well, you know. And coming up was that date with Bruce and his friend. No date, no marriage. So he had no choice. I told him blowing Bruce's friend was no big deal -- one prick's the same as another except for the man attached to it, and we all have to lose our virginity sooner or later, don't we? And none of us regret it, do we? But he'd never done it, so the first thing we had to get him ready. We couldn't wait for Saturday and the Red Dog concert for Tim to have his first cocksucking experience, that would be taking much too big a chance. What if he panicked and froze? That would ruin everything! I wanted Tim to enjoy that first date ever, to look forward to it the same as me, so any later dating would seem to him as easy and natural and pleasurable as it does to the rest of us. You know how it is these days -- we're with a guy, and one moment we're chatting away, maybe smooching, and then the next moment our mouths or our pussies are full of cock and feeling ... well, very good indeed. In Tim's case it would be his mouth or his ass or both. Not too hard to take, a lot to look forward to in fact, especially if you're a little stoned, and at a Red Dog concert who isn't? But still, a first time is always a first time. That's why the Red Dog date had to be his second time with a guy, not his first. No matter how fearful we may feel about our first, we all look forward to our second. So there's this huge guy, Otto, he unloads trucks for Gwen's husband's firm, his wife had left him -- she got tired of all his misdemeanor arrests, disorderly conduct and so on, he gets mean drunk and picks fights in bars, you know. No prize but I knew he was available. I called him and we arranged for him to meet us at the Round Robin, that dance club south of town where they have a decent band. Then I talked Tim into going dressed. If I do say, he was gorgeous -- satin skirt and sleeveless blouse to show off his thin arms, and just one delicate chain around his neck. Heavy make-up of course, just this side of slutty. At the last minute, thank goodness I thought to cover his privates with a Kotex pad held in place with a tight elastic, or who knows what else might have happened. So we sat and enjoyed ourselves through a first drink, and gossiped, and I corrected Tim on how to hold his cocktail glass and sip from it, and tried to get him commenting on different couples' ways of dancing. Since he was being a girl, I insisted he tell me what he thought about what the girls were wearing, and also how he felt about the different guys who were dancing with them. He was uncomfortable at first, but he knew that this was what he had to be noticing and thinking about from now on, so he got into the spirit of it. When our second drinks arrived we were chatting away cheerfully enough, like any two girls out for a good time. We didn't order those second drinks, however. Otto did -- he'd brought a friend to keep me company while he made his moves on my supposed out-of-town friend Tammy, like he'd promised. The friend asked me to dance, so I nodded for Otto to do the same with Tim. Poor Tim was so frightened when this big hulk introduced himself and took Tim's hand and practically lifted him out of his chair. Three dances later he wasn't feeling any calmer, because by then Otto had both his hands on Tim's ass and the sanitary napkin on Tim's crotch was pushed tight against Otto's fair-sized package. Otto was the right choice for this all right, I saw -- he meant business! When we went to the Ladies Tim was pale and petrified, his eyes pleading with me, we should go somewhere else, anywhere else. I had to tell him there would be no wimping out, he should be a man and brace himself for what was coming, suck cock and try to enjoy it. Then I warned him not to get Otto angry, he could be dangerous. I reassured him, just go with whatever Otto wants and you'll be fine. So I wasn't at all surprised when soon after they both disappeared into the parking lot for a while. On the other hand, I was a lot concerned when Otto delivered Tim back to me, thanked him abruptly, then disappeared. Because poor Tim's make-up was a mess, and he could hardly walk. It seems Otto had taken him out to his pickup and spread a blanket on the truck bed and then used Tim at both ends. First he'd pulled out his cock, a monster from the way Tim described it, maybe inaccurately but I'd guess it was the size you'd expect on a guy like that. He pulled Tim's head onto it and when Tim resisted he pinched his nose. When Tim had to open his mouth, Otto became his first. That's how my hubby first became a cocksucker. Also a cum swallower, because when Otto finally spurted he didn't dare not swallow it. What happened next I didn't expect. Otto had incredible recuperation, almost immediately afterward he wanted a fuck. So he pulled up Tim's skirt and saw the Kotex. Thank God he didn't investigate further -- men are so finicky about menstrual fluids, they're such babies. So Otto never found out that Tim was a man, that he'd already danced with a man and been blown by a man, and fucked a man, that by any definition he was practically a homo himself. And that Otto never found out was what saved Tim's ass. Or lost it, because when Otto saw that Tim was on the rag he just turned Tim over and shoved his big prick into Tim's virgin asshole. No, Tim's saliva was the only lubricant. Sometimes we have to make do and hope for the best, and in this case it was enough, just barely. It's hard to imagine how he felt about it though. Helpless, maybe even terrified. I remember my own very first anal fuck -- it hurt, even though it was a relatively small penis, a high school boy's, and we used KY, and I'd prepared for the evening by using a dildo on myself the whole previous week. But Tim had no preparation at all. I didn't think there'd be any need, not for months and months, maybe not even until after we were married. Yes, it tore him a little, but soothing salve took care of that. And it turned out there was one big advantage. Otto's cock must have found his prostate, or his G-spot, or something nice, because afterward Tim didn't mind dildos up his ass. Not at all. The very next day he was taking in my healthiest mock cock and wriggling away on it enthusiastically -- he'd found he loved it! That was the first time it occurred to me that when Tim became my girlfriend full time, he might not be only my girlfriend! Anyhow, that's how Tim lost his virginity. He was trapped into it I guess, and did it to please me and because he couldn't help himself. But since then he's had sex for the usual reasons, same as all of us, because he still can't help himself. He's something of a slut! Since then I've tried to wean him away from it, ass-fucking, a little, anyhow. I've arranged for different gay guys to suck him off while he's sucking them off, so he'll always feel especially good while giving head. The same when his tits began to get sensitive and grow -- oh yes, they're real -- I made sure there was always someone to suck on them whenever he sucked on anyone else. Now he's such a dedicated cocksucker I have to restrain him sometimes. He just loves it! What he says is, "Every man's is different, and they're all beautiful." When he's down below doing a crotch he doesn't have to look a man in the face, so there's no risk he'll be reminded he was once one of them himself. Even so, he loves ass-fucking. I suspect he does it more often than he tells me, though I feel the same way about pussy-fucking, so no complaint. It's sort of funny -- he's forced to be promiscuous by his situation. He can't take on a steady beau, no one can ream him out regularly, he needs someone different every few days. Because otherwise one of his partners might notice that he's never not having his period. So for Tammy, it's always different strokes with different folks. How did the Red Dog concert go? Amazing! That group is fabulous, you know? They played their latest hits and a few oldies, and when Pete Khan picked up his guitar .... Oh, you mean what happened with Tim and Bruce's friend after the Red Dog concert? How did his first real date with a guy go? Tim, would you like to answer that one? No? Well, I'll tell you what I know, which isn't much. It was no big deal after all, because like I say, Otto opened up Tim's desires as well as his asshole. After the concert we went drinking, and when I went to a motel with Bruce Tim went along eagerly enough with Clifford, that was his date's name, and I didn't see either of them again till the next night, when Clifford brought Tim home to my place. Poor Tim. He was exhausted, and he had a tampon in his ass, and when he hugged me hello he wriggled his chest on mine and told me he couldn't wait till he had real breasts. Talk about instant conversion? He said he adored being a girl, he couldn't thank me enough. He wanted to show his gratitude and affection by making love to me then and there, woman style of course. And we should set the date for our marriage because he now had no doubt in his mind that I'm the one girl in the world for him. So we did. We made love, and we got married, and everything. My darling goes though a long list of guys every few months, breaking hearts because he can't date any one of them more than a few times. Leaving me free to do the same of course. Mainly though, we have each other, and for that I do remain eternally grateful. You know, you may be right. It may well be time I shifted him over all the way, got him to acknowledge what's been happening, let him know that he's now a woman and from now on he should think of himself that way and accept himself that way, as a woman. Call him a her after all, and get her to see that's what she is. She does realize she isn't just playing at it, not any more. Maybe get her a vagina and everything, so she can't possibly imagine she's still a man and maybe take up with some other woman. It's happened before. I mean, Adrian -- he got a complete sex reassignment only a year after I moved in with him, practically the day we graduated from college. When he became Adrienne he became my one true love and constant companion, in his own way of course. And Adrienne wanted no other women but me, not until she moved to the West Coast, that is. She was a lot the way Tim is now, the way Tammy will be I hope for life. Any other questions? No? Well, Tim and I will be happy to chat with any of you when tea is served, and I see they've just about finished setting up at the far end of the room. Tracy has our phone and our e-mail if you should ever want to know anything else about either of us. We all have our own ways to preserve our independence while married, our own ways to live in the best of both worlds, and that's mine. Tim's too, he's an independent woman now too in nearly everything but the name. Thank you for listening, you've been wonderful! End (c) 2009 by Vickie Tern