Becoming Suzanne A Woman s Journey Part 3
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Becoming Suzanne -- A Woman's Journey (Part 5) free porn video
Chapter 5 (Final Chapter)
Becoming Suzanne - A Woman's Journey
Steven noticed Suzanne across the restaurant shortly after she arrived.
It was a large open room and she was getting a drink with Julie and
laughing with some of the others at the bar. She wore a tight black
dress, with a plunging neckline, that hugged the contour of her curves.
"God," thought Steven, at once frustrated and intoxicated. He hadn't
stopped thinking of her since that time they'd shared a smoke in back of
the studio. He couldn't forget when he first saw her as she struggled
to light her cigarette in the wind.
But Steven was married. He had four great kids and he adored his wife.
Everyone knew that. He was a big guy, handsome and rugged. He was
Catholic and well respected in his work and his family life. He'd been
an auxiliary fireman during 9/11 and had helped selflessly for days
without sleeping. He let himself think of her in his fantasies, alone
in the shower. Sex with his wife was still exciting to him.
He found himself wondering idly about her. He knew her name was
Suzanne. He learned she was with Julie, and that she was a lesbian.
That fact only made her more unreachable, more desirous.
He'd come to the party without his wife. He had told her it wouldn't be
fun. He told himself he just wanted to see her again.
It was Julie who first noticed his attentions when they standing in a
small circle of friends. Steven was across from them, pretending to
chat with those next to him, yet keeping his eyes on Suzanne.
Suzanne talked animatedly with the woman next to her. They were both
laughing. Suzanne was holding her drink in one hand and a nearly
finished cigarette between her fingers. She held her small purse in her
other hand. Her long hair was tied back. Her dress was sleeveless.
The other woman said something funny to Suzanne again and he watched her
easy laugh. Her watched her inhale quickly, deeply one last time before
putting the cigarette out in the ashtray. He saw the wisps of smoke
that came from her nostrils and mouth as she spoke. She was so relaxed,
so sexy and beautiful to him.
Suzanne had changed considerably since Steven had first seen her near
the beginning of their project. It was more than something as
superficial as her new hairstyle. But, superficially she enthralled
him. Physically, her shoulders were just wide enough to support those
breasts. There were many women with perfect, large artificial breasts
that were belied by the incongruity of their skeletal frame. He loved
the curve of her thin waist to the spread of her hips. Her dress was
tight against her tummy and went down to her mid thighs.
He noticed every detail so clearly. He loved the animation of her
gestures, how her arms splayed when she laughed, the way she'd curl her
hair back, how she'd gently touch the other woman's arm as she leaned
closer in conversation. There was such openness to her. Her body, her
face, her movements were, for Steven at least, such the perfect
embodiment of a woman.
Steven's wife knew he looked at other women. In fact, she'd often point
out a particularly striking woman on TV or when they were out. He liked
that his wife was confident, tolerant and fun like that. He also liked
knowing that she noticed attractive women. In way, he wished he could
ask his wife what it was that made Suzanne so alluring.
What was so different about her? It was all such an intoxicating recipe
to him. She doesn't know how pretty she really is. Or, it's just that
she can seem so girlish and fresh and flamboyant, and yet, there she is,
a mature, sensual woman. She arrested his senses.
And then she took another cigarette from her pack. Four of them had
formed a small circle of conversation and Steven kept watching from
several feet away. She was holding the cigarette now in her hand,
talking. He watched her continuing to hold it, knowing that she would
light it, imagining that she was feeling some need to light it.
It seemed she was waiting for a break in the conversation to light it.
Then, as some guy across from her talked, he saw the cigarette hang from
her lips and the flick of her flame. He saw the way her fingers spread
slightly as she took that quick, deep pull. He saw her chest rise as
she breathed in her smoke, and the sparkle in her eyes as she felt its
rush inside her.
Was he the only one who saw how she held in that smoke?... how that
conveyed such passion -- a hidden, deep passion of abandon and
indulgence...of command and obedience? He needed a drink.
It was at the bar that Julie came up to him.
"Hello Stevie sweetie," she said. He was happy to see her. They'd known
each for a number of years through work and even in play. Julie liked
his wife Katie. They hugged.
"You seem to be noticing our little friend," she said showing her
amusement.
"Geez. Is it that noticeable?" he said, laughing a little. "Scotch
please. What would you like Julie?"
"I'm having White Russians for the first time in a long time," she
answered. "I expected to see Katie here," she said smiling with a mock
accusatory tone.
"And Trish too," he said. "How's she doing?"
"She as busy and beautiful as always," Julie said. "And, yes, it is
that noticeable."
"I'm sorry. I just find her completely fascinating."
"Does that mean sexual," Julie asked? She could be very direct.
"I'm afraid so," Steven said.
Julie patted his arm. She felt his large bicep. "It's ok. Suzanne's
very special," she acknowledged tenderly. "You just need to be careful
big guy."
"Tell me. What's that like? Sex. With her?"
Julie laughed. "I can't tell you that. But it's wonderful," she laughed
again.
"All lesbian," huh, he said to confirm that.
"Well...no, not really," Julie said thoughtfully. "But what difference
does that make to you Stevie. I know you and Katie too well."
"Just curious. Living vicariously I guess Jule," he smiled a little and
took a sip from his drink, thinking over that last new revelation. And
what did she mean by saying, "no, not really."
The "no, not really" answer was of course a reflection of their night
with Antonio. Julie really hadn't been sure of how her planned tryst
would transpire. But Suzanne's reaction that night, as that young
Argentinean had pushed his cock into her, had been so strikingly
overwhelming. There was such an ethereal, incredible passion that exact
moment that it even affected Julie profoundly as she watched. It was
like watching Suzanne's entrance into a transcendent new world of
feelings. It was remarkable that she had never been fucked before.
Julie was intrigued by complex individuals. She was curious to see how
Suzanne would deal with that new appetite.
"Would you like to meet her," she asked brightly. "Come on." She took
his elbow and they walked in Suzanne's direction.
Suzanne noticed them as they came up behind her and twirled around.
"I know you," Suzanne said holding out her hand.
"Suzanne, this is Stevie...Steven...the king of studio equipment, a
great guy who is very married and wanted to meet you."
"You are such a brat," she said slapping Julie's arm. She was laughing,
hiding the fact that she was blushing.
Suzanne did remember him. But now, when she saw his eyes again, she
remembered how different it had felt that first time. There was some
connection between those two that Julie saw immediately. Maybe it had
been a mistake to introduce them. She hadn't done it to provoke him or
to tempt him.
She quickly brought up a silly story about a project she and Steven had
worked on. The three of them talked easily. Another friend joined the
conversation. And then another who Julie hadn't seen in ages. When she
looked up a few minutes later, Steven and Suzanne were paired off in
their own conversation.
"Can I steal her now, Stevie," Julie said, taking Suzanne's hand.
"Bye Steven," Suzanne said over her shoulder as Julie led her away.
Wow. He took a deep, calming breath. He could see in her eyes that they
both felt something.
It was much later that evening when Julie spotted them sitting in a
booth at the dark edge of the restaurant, a single light hanging low
over their table. They seem to be engaged in deep conversation.
They had sat there an hour ago. They talked easily, openly. He felt
privileged to be there so closely, to know her, to watch her smoke with
him so unselfconsciously. She could feel the seduction of his
attention, and any woman, in that situation of chemistry and pheromones
and gentle intimacy, would feel the same light energy that Suzanne felt
over her body.
Ironically, it made her smoke more. She could feel a tender urgency
that teased her nicotine craving. The cigarettes substituted, or eased,
her need to be touched. He listened to her voice, her words, her
thoughts and he watched, he watched how she took her puffs, how she held
them effortlessly, gratefully inside her, and he saw the gentle wisps of
her smoke, continuously escaping from her soft, full lips.
He wanted to just tell her that if she would only kiss him, he would go
away. He imagined so vividly how exactly how her kiss would be. He
imagined it so distinctly, so passionately that she could not help but
feel what he was imagining.
Their conversation was so open, so genuine. He confessed the weakness
he felt for her. He told of his wife and their deep love.
In return, she wanted to tell him everything. She wanted to confess who
she had been, the tangle she felt. She wanted to tell him the limited
time she had left as Suzanne and how real, how surreal, it was to be
here with him, feeling that urgency in her pussy, that tension in her
breasts, that electricity that flowed over her soft skin.
She put her small hands over his and wanted to tell him.
That's when he confessed that he'd become erect when he first saw her,
physically aroused just from the sight of her. He confessed that now,
his cock yearned for her.
Perhaps, if Steven had said that before she had experienced the physical
presence of a man, then his last confession might've been too much for
her. But now, having experienced the deep, primal excitement of
Antonio, of his strong arms, his penetrating heat, his powerful
orgasm...she just wanted to hold him, to feel Steven hold her.
Julie saw them as he held Suzanne's coat for her. She saw them walk out
into the night.
Two nights. Two nights and then never, ever again. He promised. He
asked her to promise him too.
When they shut the hotel door behind them, they both just stood there,
facing each other for a long moment. Their hunger was palpable, still
they just looked. His eyes soaked her in until she felt weak, his
gravity unbearable.
She stepped closer and her arms reached up high to his shoulders to pull
him into her kiss. That kiss never ended. They caressed and explored.
He held her tightly, so small, he breathed in her hair, held her breast.
They tasted the passion in each other's mouth. Almost frantically, she
felt his arms, his whiskery face, his thick hair, his chest.
Calm, for a moment, he pulled off her dress. She wanted to hold him but
he held her back by her shoulders, looking at her in her bra and her
panties. She rocked on leg impatiently. He could see her desire. She
saw his erection, how it bulged in his trousers. She tried to step
closer again. He held her back.
"Take off your bra," he said. She undid it quickly. Then she stepped
from her panties. She wanted him to see her body. She instinctively
knew it would make him end this delicious torture. He still held her
back. He saw her shift on her legs, he saw her frustratingly pull back
her hair, her saw her try to bite at her breasts. He put his hand under
her crotch, she moaned involuntarily. She was wet, pliable there. It
was too much for him to keep her away.
She was instantly next to him, looking up into his eyes, as her hand
went up and down, rubbing him. They kissed as he helped her with his
belt, as he took off his socks and pulled down his shorts. Her hand
held his cock. She jerked at it. She rubbed it. They kissed. She rubbed
his broad chest. The cock was like hot human steel, arching and hard.
Her hand felt its length, under and over it, her moan was a plea of
frustration and need. She put it near her cunt but he was too tall. It
rubbed in her slit. She rubbed herself on it.
He took her on the bed, lying on top of her. She was frozen again at
first. It was such an utterly abstract feeling of pure, intense
pleasure. Then she opened her eyes and saw his face so close. Rational
awareness slowly, incrementally dawned over her: this man's hard cock is
inside me...in my vagina...he is fucking me. She reached to feel his
balls squished against her. She tightened her legs around him. Her arms
wrapped around him. They breathlessly kissed each other's mouths. They
fucked and they fucked. He fucked her from behind, her breasts hanging,
shaking violently as he banged her. She squatted on top of him,
positioning his shaft inside her, lifting herself off him and
deliciously back again. He lied back, his hard dick deeply inside her,
and watched as she frantically rode him, gyrating her pelvis, grinding
against him. They bit, they squeezed, each wanting to devour the other.
They feel asleep in each other's arms. As the sun was coming up, she
woke him, tasting him, enamored by the pleasure of his anatomy.
They fucked more in the morning. They ate breakfast naked. They drank
coffee. She smoked.
He asked the most probing questions, he was hungry to know her. They
talked frankly and intimately. He was gentle and thoughtful. His eyes
only showed his honesty, the strength of his character and his passions.
He'd apologize for probing so, then tell her how utterly captivated he
was. It was disarming and powerful to her. He made her feel so
wonderfully sensual, erotic.
She'd answer his questions with elaborate details. It shaped his
understanding of her. But her answers and recollections shaped her too,
forming an intricate mesh of experiences that had made her the woman she
was now. It provided a context that helped her better understand who
she was.
He asked her when she started smoking. She told him she began at 15,
just as she'd told others. But he probed further.
"Did you think it was cool or something?" he asked.
"No," she said. She was thoughtful for a moment. "I guess it was just
different for me."
That part was true. For some unknown reason, she'd begun smoking during
that first transition period. Sometime, a month or so later, she'd felt
that first pang of addiction. The truth be told, the unspeakable truth,
was that that vague craving for smoke created a sort of tangible
connection in his 'male self' to Suzanne inside him.
Addictions can be very physical and psychological. The addiction
Suzanne had now had grown with her. She had experienced an incredible
transformation in these past several months - and in these past several
hours. She had confidence and a self-awareness that was now strong,
positive.
Her body was natural to her. The shift of her breasts, her balance, her
strength and her height were all that she knew. The long hair, the
menstrual periods, the way that she sang in the shower - none of felt
new just so deeply appreciated. Those cravings were familiar and part
of her, just like the craving she'd felt for his cock and the relief it
provided when she finally had it inside her.
She smoked because she liked it. She liked how the smoke would curl up
from her cigarette. She liked how it felt between her fingers. She
loved feeling its craving. She liked being a smoker. Somehow, it all
came to mean much more to her. It was her most noticeable vice.
So, when Steven probed, and asked why she really started, she told him
of a past that just came to her. It was a past linked to all the things
she'd told Julie, the things she'd told Trish, her mailman, new friends
and new colleagues. He, his passion, his lust and hers, had shaped her.
She was just a woman, an individual woman.
"I started because my daddy smoked," she told him, sitting at the
table, absently picking at her fruit cup.
"I was the youngest, my brother and I are a year apart -- but look very
much alike. I adored my daddy and would always be first to get his
newspaper or to go with him to the store. One time he let me light his
cigarette. I was young. I'd watch his face when he took his puff. I
could tell that he liked that. I liked doing that for him."
"How old were you," he asked.
"I guess I was 8. I probably did that until I was 11 or so," she said,
walking over to the bed and sitting up against the headboard. She took
a cigarette from the night table as he watched.
"Then what? When did you start smoking," he asked as he lied down
alongside her.
"I stole one when I was 11. I took a few quick puffs and immediately put
it out. But it was very exhilarating to be doing something so
forbidden," Suzanne said, as she took a deep puff, to playfully
elaborate her point to him.
"I just continued to have those sneaky cigarettes, every so often, you
know how it goes. Then one day you notice how much you look forward to
it. Until you suddenly realize what it feels like to not have one when
you want one. I'm not sure I like that feeling - not having one,"
Suzanne said. "I'm still in awe of that feeling."
He pinched her butt, making her squeal and jump. "I'm going to have to
fuck you again, you know," he said inching up toward her. His big dick
slid easily into her, reaching only halfway, because of their awkward
position. He rubbed his hairy chest against her. She slipped down
further beneath him, feeling him fill her. She squeezed his butt until
he started pumping her again. It felt glorious as she watched him. He
soon came again inside her. It was the second time since their shower
that morning.
Afterward, she sat back up against the headboard again and lit another
cigarette. "You've filled me with a lot cum you know," she said
purposely provocatively. They watched her pussy as she squeezed. He
patted the gooey white liquid that peeked out.
He took the cigarette from her hand and took a quick drag. He put the
butt into her pussy again, in the V at the top her hole. Closing her
bottom labia, he waited for her to do it again. This time all his cum
inside reduced the cavern of her vagina and when she squeezed, the end
of the cigarette burned brightly. She did it again. He took a puff
from the messy end as smoke wisped from inside her.
He lapped at her. They held each other and kissed, exchanging smoke,
tasting the other, breathing the other, long into the second night.
As checkout time approached, she slipped on that black dress from the
party. He held her and bent down to kiss her.
"You know that I love that you smoke." She knew that of course.
"But someday you'll need to quit. Especially when you have children.
If you have children." He held her chin and looked at her, waiting for
her agreement. She just looked up at him until he kissed her again.
There was one lie she had told him. One lie unlike the fabrications of
her past. This was a real, current lie.
Before he had first entered her, he had asked about birth control.
She'd nodded and then arched herself to push her wet pussy closer to
him. He had cum a number of times inside her. He had also cum on her
breasts and in her mouth.
But the thing was, as remarkable at it might've seemed once, she was
ovulating now. Inside her there was a tiny egg just like any female
would produce. And just like any other female, who was penetrated and
inseminated by a male, there was the chance that her egg would be
fertilized - and continue to grow.
It's a natural miracle. It always changes a woman. Suzanne knew that.
There's a poignant epilogue to Suzanne's story. Maybe someday it will
be told.
Gert
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