Now It's My Turn! - Part 1 free porn video

My Wife enjoyed her Fantasy - Now it's my turn! Part 1 This story is the sequel to "My Wife's Fantasy" which should be read first to fully understand the background to this tale. However, for the benefit of those who want to start reading this story straight away, here is a brief summary to get you up to speed. (The story is complete but, as I wrote it, it took on a life of its own and ended up much longer than I had originally intended! I have, therefore, split it into two parts to make it easier to read.) Peter and Sally are a young couple starting to make their way in the world. Peter is employed as a project supervisor by an international engineering firm. Sally is PA to a senior partner in a law firm. Unfortunately Peter has become immersed in the chauvinist culture of his firm and is starting to make Sally's life very unpleasant. One night in bed he, rashly, asks her what her deepest fantasy desire is. She responds by telling him that her most secret wish is to become the dominant one in their relationship and to totally take control of Peter's life. Initially shocked to his core, Peter soon comes to realise that if their marriage is going to have any future he really should accede to Sally on this occasion. Accordingly they both sign an agreement that gives Sally total control over Peter for a period of one month. If he meets her requirements, she, in return, offers to indulge one of Peter's fantasies for a similar period. It soon becomes clear that Sally is determined to use the month to cure Peter of his rampant male chauvinism. By degrees she strips away his masculinity and social standing before taking him off the Manchester's Gay Village to experience a week as a transvestite sex object. It doesn't take long for both Peter and Sally to discover that they both have suppressed, latent sexual desires. Sally finds excitement not only in controlling Peter, but also as the dominant partner in sexual adventures with other men and women. For his part, Peter learns to love the sensuality of his feminine side. He can't get enough of skirts, dresses, heels, make-up and wigs. He also finds that he is a bit more bisexual than he could ever have imagined. After various adventures, Peter and Sally's holiday is interrupted by him being called back to work. On returning to his firm he finds that his viewpoint has changed dramatically and he is appalled at the way women are treated by his colleagues. Fearful he will fall back into his old ways, he talks to Sally and they agree that he should resign his position and go freelance. Later, in bed, she reminds him that, as he had more that met her expectations in respect of her fantasy, he was now entitled to ask her to indulge him in one of his. Peter fell asleep musing.....!!! Now read on: Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx The next morning I awoke early. Having taken the decision to go freelance, I couldn't wait to get started on setting up my new business. I knew I was debarred by my previous contract from approaching prospective clients for the next six months. However as that same contract required my ex-employers to continue paying me for a similar period of time, I wasn't too worried as my financial needs would be amply covered. I also thought it would take me several months to get myself set up anyway and six months enforced space would enable me to do this properly and not rush things. I hurried to the bathroom to take care of my ablutions and smiled as I saw my reflection in the mirror. I was still wearing the nightdress Sally had given me the night before. I shrugged it off. "Well that will have to go away for a while," I thought. I am going to have to be "all man" whilst setting up my company. I moved closer to the mirror and looked, critically, at my face. After a month of playing the woman's part my features were a great deal more feminine than they had been a month ago. The hair retardant Karen had given me meant that I only had to give myself the lightest of shaves once a week. As a result my skin was soft and in much better condition - thanks to the cleansers and moisturisers I had been using. My hair was cut fairly short so that the wigs I had been using fitted well. However, it wouldn't be difficult to brush my hair into a masculine style. The same could not, however, be said of my eyebrows! They had been thinned and plucked into a more elegant, feminine line. Whilst not extreme, they were clearly not a man's brows. Also, my ears were adorned with little diamond studs where my ears had been pierced. I knew that nowadays some men wore earrings, but not in my line of business! Finally my fingernails, whilst now devoid of polish, were longer and much better groomed than was conventional for most men. I returned to the bedroom. Sally must have noticed my despondent look because she asked me what the matter was. I explained my dilemma. Over the next few weeks I would need to have meetings with banks and accountants, tax officials and lawyers; I wouldn't feel comfortable meeting them looking as I did. Sally tried to reassure me. "Darling don't worry, lots of men enjoy better grooming these days" she announced, "and not just gay men! Bankers and lawyers are used to dealing with all types of people; they won't give your appearance a second glance." However, I would not be mollified. I pointed out that I was already known to many of the people I would be meeting and they would certainly notice a marked change in my appearance. Eventually Sally came round to seeing my point of view and, sensibly, suggested I should make another visit to Karen?s Beauty Spa to see what she could suggest. Karen was delighted to see us both again and, before starting to discuss my present problems, insisted that we tell her all the details of our time in Manchester. She was vastly amused at the various hoops Sally had made me jump through and said she regretted not having been there to see me. Eventually our mutual laughter ceased and we got down to business. ?I can see why you are concerned,? Karen said. ?Actually I agree with Sally; I don?t think you would experience any prejudice going to meetings looking as you do. But I also understand the importance of feeling comfortable and confident when discussing important issues and, if you would be happier looking more masculine, I think I can help.? ?With regard to your eyebrows; I can glue in some false hairs that will thicken them up somewhat. It will be a slow and tedious process, but it can be done. As for your complexion; it will be another few weeks before the beard retardant works its way out of your system. Even then I doubt your beard growth will be as heavy as previously. In the meantime I can give you a little pad of make-up that you can use, discretely, to create the appearance of '5 o?clock shadow'. Your pierced ears shouldn?t be too much of a problem either. Most women wear their earrings during the day and take them out at night. I suggest you reverse the process; don?t wear earrings during the day, but put in sleepers at night. In this way you will stop the holes filling in through natural healing. During the day a little dab of foundation over the hole will disguise it totally. As for your nails; a little filing and reshaping will do the trick.? I was so relieved and thanked Karen profusely. As she had a spare slot in her schedule, we agreed that she should start work on my eyebrows immediately. Karen was proved right; it was a long and extremely tedious process. Using a bright lamp and magnifier, Karen painstakingly glued individual hairs into my brow-line. In the end it didn?t seem as though she had had to use many hairs, but each one had been carefully and precisely, positioned. Once the glue had firmly set, Karen gently clipped the newly formed brows into shape. The difference they made to my appearance was astounding. I walked out of Karen?s shop in a much more confident frame of mind that I had been in when I entered. Our next port of call was the men?s department of Marks and Spencer. I had lost several pounds in weight over the previous month and my suits and shirts no longer fitted properly. As we weren?t sure where my weight level would finally settle, I limited myself to the purchase of two new suits and five shirts, plus a couple of pairs of casual trousers and a cashmere jumper. Sally, smilingly, whispered in my ear; ?you do realise that you have just chosen much more stylishly cut suits from their Italian range don?t you? And the shirts you have chosen are much more colourful than those you have worn previously; not to mention the fact that your new jumper is both cashmere and fuchsia! Clearly one unanticipated bonus from our experiment is that your dress sense has definitely improved!? We laughed, but I had to agree with her. I hadn?t consciously thought about buying more stylish clothes; it was just that my eye was now better attuned to cut and colour as a result of my shopping for feminine garments in Manchester. We returned home and, as had become my wont, I poured Sally a gin and tonic and then prepared our supper. I have to confess I felt no sense of regret at abandoning the effeminate ?house uniform? Sally had initially made me wear. If I was going to be feminine again at any time in the future, I wanted to go the whole hog with skirts and heels and not settle for some ?half and half? limbo state as an effeminate male. The next morning I dressed casually in a pair of my new trousers and jumper and got on the phone setting up appointments to meet with my accountant, banker and lawyer. Over the next few days all my meetings went well and no one gave any indication that they noticed anything unusual about my appearance. In the event, the process of setting up a new limited company proved much simpler than I had imagined and after about six weeks I was able to present Sally with our Articles of Incorporation which listed Sally and myself as Directors, and her as Company Secretary. The first major hurdle of my setting up on my own had been overcome. The only problem now was; what was I going to do for the next four and a half months before I could start trading? That evening I shared my frustration with Sally. ?Well, silly,? she laughed, ?now would be the ideal time for you to indulge your fantasy. Don?t forget I have promised, as a 'thank you' for you being so good for me, that I will help you with whatever fantasy experience you want.? This was a good suggestion. Once my new business got up and running I would be too busy to indulge in such a luxury. I didn?t have anything to suggest immediately, but promised to give serious thought as to what desires I may have subconsciously buried deep within me. The next day I went for a long walk in order to give myself the space to think about my fantasies and desires. One immediate idea was that I should find a way of humiliating Sally as she had done to me, but on reflection that would simply be me returning to my old chauvinist ways?and I didn?t want to do that. It also struck me, for the first time, just how easily I had succumbed to Sally?s instructions. I know I had signed an agreement to obey her, without question, but, even so, I had entered into the cross-dressing experiment much more enthusiastically than, as a chauvinist male, I should have. Clearly I had a suppressed predisposition towards femininity and, thanks to Sally, I now was aware that I had a feminine side to my personality. I thought long and hard about which aspects of my experiences under Sally?s domination had most turned me on. I considered; my being dressed as an effeminate male; undergoing a painful feminine make-over; being forced to openly stay in a gay hotel as a transvestite; wining and dining as a fashionably dressed tranny; being treated as a sex object and forced to submit to the wishes of both male and female abusers; meeting and becoming friendly with a She-male who openly worked for an escort agency. Which of these had I enjoyed, which had turned me on, and which would I never want to experience again? This was a difficult question and one that exercised me for quite some time. Eventually I came to the conclusion that although it might seem kinky and perverse, I had learned something from each of these experiences and would not willingly have missed out on any of them. I turned for home. I still had not come to any firm conclusion about what was my dearest fantasy when, quite out of the blue, I had an idea. I hurried home as I could not wait to share my thoughts with Sally. Sally was in the kitchen as I burst through the door. She could see from my face that I was excited about something. ?I?ve had an idea? I exclaimed. ?What I would really like to do is to live as a woman for a whole month and see whether I can fool everyone into believing I am the genuine article. Don?t worry love; I don?t want to become a woman, but passing as one for a full month would be the culmination of everything you introduced me to in Manchester. Before we started to indulge your fantasy I could never have imagined in a million years that I would be turned on by wearing women?s clothing, but that experience has convinced me that I have a strong feminine side and I would really like to find out just how deep those drives go.? Sally clapped her hands. ?That is a brilliant idea,? she said. ?Whilst you have been out I have been worrying that you might come up with an idea that would force me to do things I might find horrible, but this is brilliant. It not only builds on what we have already achieved but will enable me to enjoy the company of my beloved cousin Patricia for a whole month!? We sat down over a drink and, excitedly, discussed various ways in which we could bring my fantasy to fruition. ?Well,? said Sally, ?for a start I think you should give Cindy a call ? (the she-male I had met in Manchester) ? and see if you can spend some more time with her. You make a very convincing tranny but, if you are to fully convince as a woman, there are many extra things you will need to learn in terms of deportment, body language, and how you speak, for example. I can, and will, help you with some things but, as a biological man living full time as a woman, Cindy will be much better placed to give you practical tips and advice as how best to make the transition.? This was a fantastic suggestion and I rang Cindy immediately. She was thrilled about my idea and immediately said she would be very happy to get involved and help me achieve my desire. We agreed that I should travel to Manchester the next day and start straight away. ?I?ll ring the Rembrandt and book a room,? I said. Cindy wouldn?t hear of it. ?You must come and stay with me,? she announced. ?As you know I have plenty of room in my flat and, as it happens, my diary is not too heavily committed for the next week, so your staying here will give us maximum time to work on your feminine side.? This was very kind of her and I accepted with alacrity. We rang off with me promising to be with her by lunchtime the following day. ?Now how do we explain this to the neighbours?? mussed Sally. ?I know, we can let it be known that you, as Peter, have had to go abroad urgently to see one of your clients. It can then emerge that there is more work for you to do than originally thought and that you will have to stay out there for a number of weeks. When you return from Manchester it can be as my cousin Patricia who has come over to stay with me whilst Peter is away.? This was a brilliant idea and we both thought it would give us me the best chance of carrying off my transformation undiscovered. Accordingly, the next morning I packed all my feminine accoutrements into a suitcase and caught the train to Manchester. I had decided to travel in male mode and let Cindy suggest how my transformation should proceed. Cindy was waiting as I arrived at her flat in the centre of Manchester. She threw her arms around my neck and gave me a big kiss. ?I?m so looking forward to this,? she squealed. ?I think it is so brave of you to want to push your feminine exploration to the limits and I feel privileged that you want me to help you. Now let?s grab a taxi home so that I can get you out of those horrid male clothes and make a critical assessment of your good and bad points!? Once we arrived at Cindy?s flat, I quickly stripped off to the buff. Surprisingly I wasn?t embarrassed to be naked in front of Cindy. ?Well you are quite slim but perhaps a little too thick in the waist,? she mused. ?Obviously we will need to sort out long term prosthetics for your boobs, bum and hips and do something about your hair; you won?t get away with relying on wigs if you want to pass long term.? And so she carried on until we had drawn up a long list of things I would need to address. ?We will start with your body shape? Cindy announced. ?I have a good friend who now lives in Manchester. He used to be a senior make-up artist in the film and TV industry and specialised on prosthetics work on many of the major fantasy films such as 'Lord of the Rings'. He was the top man in his field but now has retired and moved back here. I know he still keeps his hand in by working with some of the ?girls? and female impersonators, and I am sure he would be willing to help you out, if I ask him nicely.? And so it proved; Claude, for that was his name, agreed to see me the next day at his home in another part of Manchester. Cindy now insisted I that I put on my burgundy evening dress. ?I just love that frock,? she enthused, ?wear the blonde wig I gave you. I?ll put on my glad-rags too and we will go out and celebrate in The Village.? So we did. I was thrilled to be walking up Canal Street again listening to the sound of my heels clacking on the cobbles. We found ourselves a table in a restaurant I hadn?t tried on my previous visit to Manchester. It was very nice and we settled down to a pleasant meal and a bottle of wine. We started to map out the things I would need to work on during the next few days and to draw up a lesson plan. We were deep into our conversation when the shadow of two men fell across our tablecloth. We looked up; it was Giles ? (the gay man who had forced me to pleasure him a few short weeks ago and had left me feeling used and abused). He was with a man-friend and both clearly had already enjoyed a few too many drinks. Giles leered down at me. ?Well if it isn?t the lovely Tricia,? he sneered. ?Have you come back to enjoy a second taste of my cock?? ?It was OK,? I replied coolly, ?but, given the way you ignored my needs and buggered off just as soon as you had received your satisfaction, if I went down on you again there would be a real chance that I might bite it off!? Giles blanched; clearly I wasn?t quite the dominated sissy he had imagined. His friend burst into laughter and Giles scowled. ?It?s OK,? I smiled. ?I probably wouldn?t do anything quite that drastic but I don?t think we are likely to get together again, do you? Let?s kiss and be friends.? I rose, put my arms round him and gave him a tonguey kiss. After all there was no point in making an enemy of him. He had only behaved in as chauvinistic a way as I had been prone to. He returned my embrace with equal fervour and we parted friends. Cindy and I got back to our meal and discussion. In Cindy?s opinion, the first challenge would be to get my physical appearance sorted. Once I was confident I looked like a woman, it would be easier to get into role and work on all the myriad of mannerisms that differentiate men from women. ?We can work together during the day,? Cindy enthused. ?I have some commitments with the agency to fulfil on some evenings ? (Cindy worked for an escort agency, going out with men who preferred their ?women? to have that little ?something extra?!) ? but you can use that time to go out in The Village and practice what you have learned.? That seemed a very sensible approach and we both said how much we were looking forward to my visit to Claude the next morning. As I had a busy day ahead of me, we didn?t stay out late and, after our meal, returned to Cindy?s apartment and went to our, separate, beds. The next morning I arose early and dressed in a simple sweater and skirt outfit. I chose my auburn wig and put on a light make-up. I was so excited I could hardly wait to get started and bolted down a quick cup of coffee and slice of toast. Cindy insisted in coming with me. I knew she not only wanted to give me her support but was genuinely intrigued to see what ideas Claude would suggest. Claude lived in a large detached house in Chorlton-cum-Hardy, one of the suburbs of Manchester, - (a particularly appropriate place name for me, as a bisexual cross-dresser who enjoys going down on men, to visit, I thought!) It was Claude who opened the door to us. ?Come on in; you must be Patricia. Let?s see what we can do to help you achieve your ambition to become a realistic woman.? Claude was a silver haired man in his mid 60s. He was in no way camp and, indeed, after he had ushered us into his house, introduced us to Marjorie, his wife. Marjorie had also been a make-up artist/hairdresser in the film industry and she greeted us equally warmly. Claude showed us through to his workshop, a spacious room on the first floor of the house, well lit and with very many mirrors affixed to the walls. To one side there was a workbench covered with unfamiliar pieces of machinery. ?I make all my own prosthetics,? he explained, ?and these are this is the equipment I use. Now let?s get down to business. Please take off all your clothes and stand on this plinth.? I did as he asked and waited whilst Claude walked slowly round me examining me from every viewpoint. I did feel a little embarrassed to be standing there in full view but realised this was an essential part of the process of progressing my transformation. ?I think I will be able to make something of you,? Claude eventually announced. ?You are not overly tall, have narrow shoulders for a man, and are quite slightly built. However, it won?t be cheap,? and he quoted a price that caused me to sharply draw in breath. I assured him, however, that I realised I would have to pay to achieve my transformation and that the price he quoted was a fair one. Claude then produced a tape measure and proceeded to take my measurements in a very thorough way. This involved not only the usual height, weight, chest, waist, etc but many more up, down, and diagonally across my body. Eventually he pronounced himself finished. ?As you will appreciate it is vital that I ensure that, in your female form, all your parts are in proportion. To achieve this I need to be able to produce a detailed map of your body. Now the next thing is to ensure your body is totally free of any hair. I am about to make moulds of various parts of your anatomy and I can assure you that if you have any residual body hair you will regret it when I come to take them off!? He handed me an aerosol of hair remover. ?This is a particularly strong and effective product,? he announced, ?you cannot by it on the retail market, but I can assure you that, if you apply it properly, you won?t be able to find a single hair afterwards.? He suggested that if I concentrated on my ?intimate parts?, Cindy might help apply the solution to my back and legs etc. She was only too happy to help out. The hair remover was a sweetish smelling clear gel and I started to apply it to my chest, tummy and genital areas. I could feel Cindy?s hands spreading it over my back and legs. There was one potential moment of embarrassment; as Cindy reached my lower back, she started to apply the gel to my buttocks. ?Make sure you clean off any hair around his arse,? Claude instructed. Cindy clearly felt no qualms about providing this intimate service and I felt her fingers gently exploring my back passage. Needless to say there was a corresponding ?rising? elsewhere! When Claude expressed himself satisfied that between us Cindy and I had covered every square inch of my body, I was told to wait for 15 minutes and then shower off. I had thought my body to be relatively free from hair as a result of previous hair removal treatments, but I was amazed at the amount of hair I washed down the plughole. When I had towelled down, Claude gave Cindy and me a second aerosol. ?This will sooth the skin after that, fairly harsh, treatment,? he said. ?It is also a hair-growth retardant and, if you apply it once a week, you will find that your skin remains soft and hair free. This is even better than being a real woman, as they have to shave their legs and armpits on a regular basis and you will be spared that chore!? Having ensured that my body was totally hairless, Claude then had me lay down on a couch and proceeded to apply a layer of some plastic material to my chest and groin. The mould material set fairly quickly and, as he peeled them off, I was very grateful that my pubic hair wasn?t going with it!!! Having taken a cast of my groin in its natural state, Claude then proceeded to gently ease my testicles back inside my body and tuck my penis between my legs. He then took another cast. ?I need to be able to create a prosthetic that will give you the appearance of a realistic vagina? he explained ?but that will be comfortable for you to wear for days at a time.? Once he was satisfied he had all the moulds needed for the front of my body, Claude had me role over and he repeated the process to obtain casts of my bottom and hips. ?Well that is all I can do today,? he finally announced. ?Come back tomorrow and I will have something ready for you to try on.? I started to put my clothes back on. ?Leave your wig off,? said Claude. ?Marjorie is going to weave in some hair extensions for you so that you won?t have to rely on wigs.? This was an unexpected bonus. I had been worried that the fact of my wearing wigs might be a give-away to the fact that I wasn?t a genuine woman. Having my own full head of hair would be wonderful. Marjorie joined us and had me sit in a reclining chair. She fastened a cape around my neck and laid me back. ?You two can go off for a coffee and a chat,? she instructed Claude and Cindy. ?Patricia and I are going to be busy for the next hour or so and it would be very boring for you.? So the two of them left the room and Marjorie set to work. As she had warned, the weaving of extensions into my natural hair was very laborious, but the time passed very pleasantly as we chatted about my plans and Marjorie explained about the importance of ensuring my hair was well cared for. Once the extensions were in place, Marjorie asked me whether I had given any thought to what colour hair I wanted. ?Well, I had thought maybe auburn?? I suggested. ?Yes, I think auburn is one of your colours,? Marjorie replied, ?but would you object if I tried a brunette tone with auburn highlights? I think it suit you very well and also help you blend into the crowd; a 'flaming redhead' tends to be a centre of attention and I don?t think that is the effect you are trying to achieve!? I hastened to agree with her and said I would put myself entirely in her hands to decide what would be for the best. So, Marjorie first died my hair a rich, deep brown and then applied all the foils, clips, and paste necessary to produce the auburn highlights. Once all this was done, she rinsed off my newly extended hair, wrapped it in a towel and suggested that, as it was well past lunchtime, we should join the others for a bite to eat. As we entered the lounge where Claude and Cindy were sitting chatting, Cindy looked up and laughed. ?Welcome to womanhood,? she chortled, ?you are starting to learn just how long it takes us girls to groom ourselves and make sure we are pretty for our men!? We all joined in the laughter and I had to confess I had been surprised just how much work was involved in giving me a proper hairstyle. ?And we haven?t finished yet,? smiled Marjorie. ?After lunch it is back in the chair for you my girl whilst I cut and set your hair into its new style.? We only had a light snack and in about half an hour I was, indeed, back in the chair whilst Marjorie cut, snipped and teased my hair into a style she thought would suit me. Eventually she was finished and, after a final brushing out, I was allowed to look at the finished product in a mirror. I could not believe the transformation; my new hair fell below my neck at the back and in a fringe across my brow. It was teased into loose waves at the side and the rich brown colour with reddish tints was really striking. I was thrilled and said so at once. I told Marjorie I could not thank her enough and that she was a real magician. She smiled and accepted my praise graciously. ?You will need to use a different, stronger make-up palette as a brunette she advised and proceeded to explain what colour combinations I should try. As she talked she was deftly applying foundation, powder, eye-shadow, mascara, and lipstick. The end result was very striking and evoked a round of applause as I made my entrance back into the lounge. ?You are going to make a beautiful woman, my dear,? announced Claude. ?Now I will see you back here first thing in the morning and we will see what we can do for that figure of yours!? I expressed my gratitude for all the work Claude and Marjorie had put in and, it now being quite late in the afternoon, Cindy and I took our leave. As Cindy drove us back to the centre of Manchester, I could not resist taking occasional peeps at my new image in the vanity mirror. ?Typically vain woman,? laughed Cindy, ?all you can think of is your looks!? We got back to Cindy?s apartment and poured ourselves a couple of stiff drinks. ?You deserve this after all you have gone through today,? said Cindy as we clinked glasses. Cindy prepared us a light supper as I practiced walking around the apartment wearing heels of varying heights. I found I had no difficulty in walking with heels up to about three inches in height; over that it became a little more difficult. ?You need to practice until you can walk comfortably in heels at least five inches high,? said Cindy. ?Some of my gentlemen expect me to wear shoes with a heel even higher than that, but I don?t expect Sally will require that of you!!? The next morning found us back in the car driving back to Claude?s house. He gave us a warm welcome. ?Everything is prepared,? he announced ?I have made up your body aids and they are ready for fitting.? He ushered us through to the workshop and I proceeded to strip off my clothes. By now I had started to become used to my longer hair and was able to brush it aside without thinking twice. Once I was naked, Claude had me lie on my back on the couch. He produced two very realistic breast forms and, after carefully positioning them on my chest, glued them into place. I had to lie still for ten minutes whilst the glue dried. Claude then applied a little make-up around the edges and asked me to stand up. From my previous experience of wearing breast forms I knew I would experience a sudden weight gain on my chest, so wasn?t surprised to feel the forward pull as I rose to my feet. What I hadn?t expected, however, was the sensation I experienced when Claude cupped them in is hands. My previous breast forms had been totally insensitive; but as he touched these new ones I could feel the contact and looked, with amazement as my nipples engorged. ?These forms are really something special,? Claude explained. ?They have tiny, in-built sensors which react to touch and then transmit sensations to your own nervous system. As you are aroused and your own nipples start to react, so will the ones on your forms. In due course you will find the same is true of your vagina and hip forms.? My new breasts were larger than the ones I had used previously and were very impressive, standing proudly on my chest. It was impossible to see any seam. Cindy helped me into a pretty white lace bra, which helped take the weight strain off my back. Looking at the label in the bra, I realised I was now a 34C. Claude then asked me to stand back on the plinth. He produced what looked like a pair of very thin rubber knickers. He carefully coated the inside of the garment with a thin layer of glue and waited while it dried. ?This is a special form of adhesive,? he explained. ?You can now step into the panties without any glue smearing over your legs but, once we have it in place, the application of a little heat will bond the garment firmly to your skin.? He then indicated I should step into the panties; which I did. With Claude?s help I was able to wriggle then up my legs. As they reached groin level, Claude eased my testicles back into my body cavity and inserted my flaccid penis into a condom-like tube arrangement. (How my penis remained flaccid through all this I am just not sure!!) Once firmly pulled into place, the panties gave me the smooth front and rounded hips and bottom of a woman. Claude switched on a hair dryer and carefully played the hot air over the entire garment. I noticed that the rear of the panties fitted smoothly between my buttocks and had an opening that would enable me to use the lavatory. I assumed the tube arrangement at the front was, similarly, there so that I could do my ?business?. When Claude was sure the glue had dried, he allowed me to look at myself in the mirror. The image I saw was amazing. The top of my head was crowned with the new brunette hairstyle Marjorie had created yesterday. Coming down my body, a pair of D-cup breasts spilled proudly out of my bra. But my groin was the piece-de-resistance; my tummy curved, seamlessly into a smooth crotch with a triangle of fake pubic hair framing the lips of my new vagina. The colour of my pubic hair matched that on my head. ?As I have already explained, these new prosthetics all have inbuilt sensors, so you will be able to experience sexual arousal if allow yourself to get into that sort of situation,? Claude outlined. ?In fact your vagina has a small reservoir of fluid so that, as you get aroused, your pussy-juices will flow. This will be helpful if you decide to surrender your virginity to some handsome gentleman. I have arranged things so that you will be able to accept a penis into your vagina without your partner being aware that it is not genuine. You will be able to make love as a true woman!? This was overwhelming and I couldn?t stop myself crying. Claude?s workmanship was so much better than I could possibly have imagined in my wildest dreams. It was the reflection of a woman I saw in the mirror; not some cross-dressed man! Claude was looking me over with a critical eye. ?I thought you had the potential to be a good looking woman, and you are,? he said. Maybe you are a little thick in the waist but, if you ever wanted to correct that, I have a friend who is a plastic surgeon. He would be happy to remove each of your bottom ribs and, with a bit of liposuction, no one would ever doubt you were born a woman ? and I have another medical friend who specialises in sexual reassignment. Let me know if you ever want to avail yourself of their services.? I smiled and assured Claude that the transformation he had achieved was quite sufficient for me. I could not envisage ever wanting to undergo reassignment surgery. For a start it would totally change my relationship with Sally and this was definitely not on my agenda! Claude said he had one last check to make. He had me lie back down on the table and put my feet into a pair of stirrups he attached to the end of the couch. ?I just need to make sure everything fits correctly in place,? he explained. ?Any slight misalignment will prove uncomfortable over time. Now this might be embarrassing, but just think of my as your gynaecologist!? So saying he took a spatula and inserted it into my new vagina. To say the sensations I felt came as a surprise would be the understatement of the year! And when he then inserted his fingers and gently felt around, I thought I would orgasm on the spot! ?All?s well? he announced with a smile. ?Most of my girls have a similar reaction the first time they discover how sensitive their new vaginas can be.? Clearly my wild eyed stare and indrawn breath were not anything new for Claude. Cindy helped me get back into my clothes. I found that my new curves helped them fit better and, as I smoothed my skirt over my hips I was amazed how much I could feel my hands moving across my bottom; the sensors Claude had built into his prosthetics were unbelievably effective! As his final treatment, Claude sprayed a little liquid from an aerosol into my throat. ?This tightens your vocal chords,? he explained. ?A quick blast of this every twenty-four hours or so will give a slightly higher register to your voice.? I thanked Claude and Marjorie profusely and paid Claude the, not inconsiderable, sum we had agreed. The changes he had wrought to my body had been expensive, but so worth it. Before we left, Claude explained that, because the materials he used enabled my real skin to breath, I would be able to keep the prosthetics in place for several weeks at a time with no ill effects. He did, however, give me a can of the solvent for removing the garments. ?They are stronger than they look?, he said ?and shouldn?t tear when you take them off. However, I will keep your moulds here and if you ever need repairs, just give me a ring.? He also explained how I should care for the prosthetics once off my body and gave me another can of the special adhesive to glue them back on. It was now lunchtime, so Cindy insisted we call in at a bar on our way back to her apartment for a celebratory glass of champagne. She raised her glass and toasted, ?My new girlfriend Patricia; all woman!? We spent the afternoon back in the classroom. Cindy had me sitting and rising from chairs of differing heights whilst wearing a variety of skirts and dresses, some very short and tight, others loose and diaphanous. It proved much harder than I could have envisaged moving elegantly whilst, at the same time, retaining my modesty! Eventually I seemed to get the hang of it and Cindy pronounced herself well pleased with my progress. As we had chatted the time away, I gradually became accustomed to hearing myself speak in a feminine register. Cindy constantly checked and corrected my use of words and expressions until it became second nature for me to use phrases that were appropriate for a woman but would sound unnatural coming out of the mouth of a man. Cindy had already told me she had booking from her escort agency for that evening, so around 6 pm we stopped working and she started to get ready for the evening. I sat with her in her bedroom as she was putting on her make-up. ?What are you thinking of doing this evening?? she enquired. ?I don?t know,? I replied, ?I haven?t really had time to think about it, we have been so busy. I guess I?ll get myself a pizza and curl up with a bottle of wine and some fashion magazines. I may as well use the time to see what sort of styles might work for me.? ?I?ve got a better idea,? she responded. ?There is this bar in Sackville Street called the Tribeca. It is not the meat-market sort of place where I first bumped into you. It?s more where folk go for a quiet drink and a relaxing chat. It is very popular with the entire Village crowd and most evenings there is a good mix of gays, lesbians, and trannies, as well as a number of straight people. It is very friendly and accepting of all. Why don?t you go there? You can try and see if you can pass as a woman, but if you are read it won?t matter because you will just be congratulated on being such a pretty cross- dresser.? I thought this was a brilliant idea and agreed immediately. ?As your main objective is to see whether you can pass for a woman? Cindy mussed, ?I don?t think you should wear anything too dramatic. On the other hand, it would never do to appear dowdy. I know I have just the dress to lend you.? She produced a lovely maxi-dress in lightweight cotton. It was basically purple in colour, printed with a vaguely African pattern. Towards the hem the dress become much more colourful, being banded with bold patterns in yellow, red, turquoise and black, as well as the underlying purple. She also produced a beautiful purple triangular shawl that went over my head and fell across my shoulders and down my front and back in a long fringe. It was a totally gorgeous outfit; eye-catching but not ?over the top. I LOVED it! We teamed the dress with dark brown hose and black, peep-toed shoes. A coral coloured necklace and earrings, together with a couple of ethnic bracelets completed the ensemble. I carefully painted my nails a deep pink, to compliment the purple colour of the dress and used a bright red lipstick. I settled on brownish tones for my eye make-up and, as it was an evening look, added a pair of false eyelashes. If I say so myself, I was very pleased with the image I saw smiling back at me from the mirror. Cindy found me a black clutch bag, into which I slipped a little lace hankie, my lipstick, a compact, some money, my mobile phone, a key to Cindy?s flat and a couple of credit cards. (Note to self: need to sort out a credit card that just shows initials, without any ?Mr? or ?Ms?!) I was amused at large number of things a girl has to ensure are in her handbag whenever she goes out! And we hadn?t finished yet. Cindy insisted I take a packet of condoms! ?Well you never know when you set off where you might end up at the end of the evening and it is better to be safe not sorry!? she cautioned. I blushed and assured her that I had no intention of getting laid that night. Cindy responded with a quizzical smile! At 8 pm Cindy set off for the hotel where she was to meet her date. I left at the same time and, after a girlish peck air-kiss, we wished each other a successful evening and set off in opposite directions. I was still in a state of euphoria at being out and about in Manchester dressed as a woman, wearing fashionable clothes and attracting only admiring glances from the men I passed in the street. I just loved the sound of my heels clacking on the pavement and the rasp of my nylons as I sashayed along. I couldn?t resist taking glances at my reflection in shop windows as I walked and found myself pausing to pat my hair back in place. Eventually I arrived at the Tribeca Bar. As its name indicates, it has a New York theme and is very attractively decorated in red, black and silver, with plenty of places to sit, including some of a more intimate nature. I took care to sit at one of the more public tables! When I arrived the bar was already well populated and, after ordering myself a Margareta, I could only find a seat on a banquette at the end of an already occupied table. I politely asked if anyone minded me taking the vacant seat. The response from the group of girls already seated there was a friendly smile and an indication I was welcome to sit down. I returned their smiles and sat sipping my drink, looking round and taking in the atmosphere of the bar. One of the girls leaned over and spoke to me. ?Excuse me. I hope you don?t mind my asking, but are you waiting to meet someone or are you on your own? Its only I don?t recognise you and I do know most of the folk who come here on a regular basis.? I replied; explaining that I was visiting Manchester for a few days and, whilst I have been to the Village before, I had never, previously, been in this particular bar. The girl introduced herself as Carol and invited me to slide down and join her and her friends. ?I know what it is like to be drinking on your own? she said. You start off gently but, with no-one to talk to, you end up drinking too much and not really enjoying yourself!? She and her friends, Suzie and Fiona, came to the bar most evenings for a quick drink before deciding what they were going to do for the rest of the evening. ?There are usually four of us? she explained, ?but my partner Veronica has had to go to London on business, so there are just the three of us tonight. Why don?t you join us to make up the numbers? The girls made no secret of the fact that they were gay. Suzie and Fiona were an ?item?, as were Carol and the missing Veronica. I introduced myself as ?Tricia? and explained I was staying in Manchester with a friend but that she had had to go somewhere else this evening, leaving me on my own. The girls clearly thought I was another lesbian in partnership with my ?friend?; and I did not, initially, disabuse them. I said I would be delighted to join in whatever they had planned for the evening. Suzie said that they had settled for a quiet night; a few drinks; a bit of conversation and gossip; and not too late home as tomorrow was still a working day. It was clear that their kind offer for me to join them was made out of warmth and good nature towards a fellow woman. Although they assumed I was another lesbian, there was no sign of any sexual ?come-on? and I really enjoyed my time with them. For the first time I was having accepted into a female conversation as a woman and was amazed at how wonderfully salacious and gossipy their talk became. Obviously I didn?t know any of the people they were talking about, but the conversation drifted through many topics and I found myself laughing and joining in the general chit chat. The evening passed pleasantly and very swiftly and, all too soon, Fiona was suggesting that it was about time we all retired to our beds. The girls had been lovely towards me, making me feel welcome and at home. I knew, instinctively, it would be wrong to say goodnight without being honest with them about myself. I might not ever meet any of them again, but that was not the point. They had taken me at face value and made me welcome. It would be wrong to deceive them. I therefore offered one final round of drinks, as a ?nightcap?. ?You have been very kind to me,? I said, ?and I have had a wonderful evening. However, I do have something I want to share with you before we split up. You have welcomed me into your group as a woman like yourselves, but I am actually a man.? I then went on to explain that I was trying to learn how to live 24/7 as a woman; not as a transvestite, but to be accepted as a genuine woman. I also told them about Sally and our ?fantasies? agreement. To say they were open-mouthed would be an understatement. Carol broke the silence first. ?You mean you are not a lesbian?? she exclaimed. ?Not unless you are now accepting male members of the chapter!? I replied. ?But you are so convincing. None of us, even for a second, took you for a cross-dresser ? and, as you can imagine, we know a lot of those around here!? ?You?re not cross I didn?t tell you sooner?? I nervously enquired. "Only I have been having such a lovely time, I was worried you might not want to include me if you knew who I really was.? ?Well it was bit naughty to lead us on,? said Suzie, ?but we forgive you because, we too, have enjoyed your company. We wish you all success in your experiment.? We kissed; said our farewells; and left the bar. I waved as the three of them walked away. I suddenly welled up with tears and felt so privileged to have spent an evening in the company of such genuinely nice people. Cindy had warned me that, even though Manchester was a very tolerant city, it was not safe to walk around on your own late at night ? particularly if you were a woman. So I walked around the corner to a mini-cab office and took a ride back to the flat. Cindy was not yet home, so I undressed; cleaned off my make-up and slipped into my nightdress. I was accustomed by now to the difficulty in finding a comfortable sleeping position without my breasts getting in the way, andbut eventually settled down and drifted off to sleep dreaming about all the exciting things I had done that day. The following morning I blasted into wakefulness by an excited Cindy busting into my bedroom clutching a cup of tea for me. I thanked her, in a somewhat sarcastic manner and sipped my tea as I struggled to wake up. ?Well,? Cindy demanded, ?tell me ALL about it. How did you get on last night? I was dying to know last night, but I was very late back and when I looked in on you, you looked so sweet sound asleep, I didn?t have the heart to wake you.? I struggled into a sitting position and Cindy slipped into bed alongside me ready for a good old girly chinwag! I told her about my evening; how I had succeeded in convincing three genuine women that I was one as well and that, furthermore, they had mistaken me for a lesbian! I explained how, at the end of the evening, I had felt bad about deceiving three such lovely people and had told them all about my fantasy experiment. Cindy was enthralled and, excitedly, pressed me for more details. Eventually I managed to satisfy her curiosity. ?Now it?s my turn to tell you my exciting news,? she announced. ?The gentleman whom I escorted yesterday evening is going to a race meeting at Aintree this afternoon and has asked me to accompany him. When I told him that would be difficult because I had a friend staying with me, he suggested I bring you along as well. When he discovered you were also masculine under your female finery, he became VERY excited, if you take my meaning!! What do you think? Would you be up for it?? I thought carefully before replying. After all, Cindy was a paid ?escort? and made no secret that frequently her services included those of a personal and intimate nature. I had no problem with that, but had the sense to realise that if I went along with them to the races today I would have to be prepared to cope with being propositioned in a sexual way. How would I feel about that, and what would Sally?s reaction be when, eventually, I told her? Well, Sally had given me carte-blanche to explore my feminine side during my ?fantasy-time? and both of us had enjoyed ?off-piste? sexual adventures during our previous stay in Manchester. Deep down I knew I would regret it if I didn?t take this opportunity for further experimentation. ?OK,? I eventually replied, ?I?m in, but I have never done anything like this before; you are going to have to guide me as to what is and isn?t appropriate behaviour.? ?Don?t worry, I?ll look after you,? responded Cindy. ?This is one of my regular gentlemen and he really is very nice. I am sure you will have a great time.? As it was now 9.30 am and as we were to be called for at 12 o?clock, there was no time to waste. ?Let?s dress in similar outfits,? suggested Cindy, ?that way we will be sure to attract attention and my friend will love that. Being seen at the races with two beautiful women on his arm and only he knowing what lies under our skirts, will be a real turn-on for him.? We hurriedly showered and started to get dressed. I checked carefully to ensure my new prosthetics were still firmly in place ? (they were) ? and that I had no beard or body hair growth ? (I hadn?t)! I slipped into a pretty white bra and matching pair of lacy panties. It was lovely not having to wear the heavy-duty padded control knickers that I had needed before going to see Claude. Cindy suggested we both wear stockings and suspenders, rather than pantyhose. (I could see the sense of that if one was going allow hanky-panky with ones ?gentleman friend?.) I wasn?t at all sure how I would react if he tried anything on with me, but went along with Cindy?s suggestion and clipped a deep suspender belt around my waist, taking care to thread the suspenders under my panties. I was already sufficiently experienced in womanly ways to know that this would facilitate any trips to the lavatory! Cindy handed me a pair of nude hose and I rolled them up my legs and clipped them to the suspender tabs. The nylon stockings felt so sensuous as they slid over my hair-free, ultra-smooth legs. I took care to ensure they were tightly gartered and that there were no wrinkles. Cindy then produced my dress from her closet. I was a simple, jersey dress in white, overprinted with an abstract pattern of pink and black. It was sleeveless and had a rounded neckline that came just above my breasts. It had a tulip shaped skirt, being full over the hips before narrowing at the hem, which fell some three inches above my knees. Once on, it was very flattering and went well with the colour of my hair. The dress was teamed with a little black lace shrug that tied just under my bosom. A pair of simple white court shoes and black jet jewellery completed the ensemble. Cindy wore a white dress cut in a similar way, but hers was decorated in a navy and burgundy pattern and her shrug was also burgundy coloured. She chose a lovely pair of burgundy suede peep-toed pumps with a matching handbag. She also decided to wear one of her long, blonde wigs, but with her hair ?up?. She looked gorgeous! The pair of us were sufficiently similarly attired so as to be seen as a ?pair?, but not so alike as to appear ?twins?. Cindy thought her gentleman would approve. She explained that often when she went to the races, her skirts had to fall beneath the knee and that the wearing of hats and gloves was essential. This particular meeting, however, was lower key and had a more relaxed dress code. Promptly at 12 0?clock the apartment bell rang. My heart started beating faster. This was the moment of decision; if I stepped through the front door, I would owe it to Cindy to go along with whatever emerged. ?Well, in for a penny, in for a pound,? I thought as I picked up my handbag and followed Cindy to the lift. Her ?friend? ? his name was Stephen ? greeted us warmly, kissing Cindy on the cheek and holding my hand in a, slightly over extended, handshake. We were ushered into the back of a chauffer-driven limousine. I had never ridden in one of these before and carefully seated myself on the backseat, next to Cindy, making sure my skirt was firmly tucked under my bottom and that my knees were tightly together. Stephen seated himself on the seat facing us and we set off through the Manchester traffic en-route for Liverpool and the Aintree Racecourse. There was a small fridge to one side of the seating compartment and, opening it, Stephen produced a bottle of champagne. ?Here is to a successful afternoon?s racing and my getting to know Tricia better? he proposed as a toast. I raised my glass in response and took a large mouthful of the delicious wine. I needed a little bit of ?Dutch courage? but knew I would need to take care not to drink too much and let down my guard. After that first gulp, I sipped decorously and started to settle down. Stephen proved to be very pleasant company. He was clearly very wealthy and entertained us during the drive with tales of visits to other racecourses and different events. It seemed no time at all before we were drawing up outside the principle Grandstand at Aintree. The chauffer helped Cindy and I alight from the car and I managed to descend without, I trusted, allowing anyone a glimpse of my knickers! Stephen offered each of us an arm and, chatting, we made our way up to his box. As we entered I noticed there was a well stocked bar and luncheon buffet to one side. ?I will need to keep my wits about me,? I thought. Stephen got out his wallet and peeled of five ?10 notes for each of us. ?Have a little flutter on me,? he enthused. ?No point in going racing if you don?t have a little bet!? Well I am not a follower of horse racing and had no idea even about how to place a bet, let along on which horse. ?Don?t worry,? whispered Cindy, ?I?ll show the ropes; it is quite straightforward.? Anyway, without wishing to bore anyone with an in-depth account of a day at the races, suffice it to say that Cindy did show me how to place bets, both at the Tote and ?in the Paddock?. Having no idea of how to pick a horse on which to bet, I fell back on the old and trusted formula of picking ones whose names I liked or which seemed to have some relevance to me. ?After all, Stephen clearly is expecting us to loose his ?50,? I thought, ?and one way is as good as another.? To my surprise, ?beginners luck? took over and, although I lost my first bet, I then won the next three at decent odds. On the last race of the day I bet all my winnings and my horse came in at 20 to 1. I had accumulated a pot of ?780!!!! Naturally I offered it all back to Stephen, but he absolutely refused to accept it. ?This has clearly been a great introduction to the noble sport of horseracing for you,? he enthused. ?I doubt you will ever be as lucky again, my dear. So keep your winnings and enjoy spending them.? I thanked him profusely and, on an impulse, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. He pulled me into his arms and returned my kiss full on the mouth, firmly inserting his tongue between my lips. I thought about resisting, but then?..this was what I had been expecting to happen at some point in the day, so I opened my mouth and returned his kisses with interest. Eventually we had to break off for air and I turned to see Cindy grinning broadly and giving me a big wink. Clearly I had done the right thing. During the course of the day wine and food had flowed in plenty. Whilst I had been careful not to over-indulge, I had had my fair share and was, at the very least, slightly ?merry? as, after the final race we made our way back to Stephen?s limo. Although not one of the major meetings of the year, there was a goodly crowd at Aintree, including some stunning looking women. As the three of us made our way out of the Grandstand, one on each of Stephen?s arms, I noticed we were receiving admiring glances from some of the men ? possibly in admiration of Stephen for having a pair of escorts whilst they only had the one ? and some icy glares from a few of the women. On balance I thought Stephen would not be too displeased with the success of his little outing. Back in the limousine more champagne was on offer. I had no choice but to accept a glass, but I took care not to drink any more. Stephen was full of himself and kept saying how much he had enjoyed the day and what a lovely pair of companions we made. He soon moved over to our side of the car and settled down between the two of us. He turned to Cindy and started kissing her. ?Here we go,? I thought, ?but still, I have been waiting for something like this to happen.? Stephen?s hand disappeared up Cindy?s skirt and she gave a little moan as he started squeezing her groin. I knew she was wearing a gaff and that things could not progress too far unless she started disrobing. It wasn?t long before Stephen turned to me. I resigned myself to a bit of groping and opened my mouth to his kisses. I felt his hand on my knee and then, with gentle caresses, move slowly up my leg under my skirt. I knew I would have to go along with whatever he had in mind, as I had already taken that decision in agreeing to come on this outing. Stephen?s hand paused when he reached the welt of my stocking and he idly played with my suspender straps. Eventually his hand continued its journey north and came to rest on my crutch. As he caressed me Stephen paused. I realised his probing fingers had found the lips of my false vagina and not the suppressed erection he had been expecting. ?Cindy told me you are a man? he exclaimed, as he quickly withdrew his hand. ?I now find that you are actually a real woman. What do the pair of you mean by deceiving me?? We hastened to explain that we were not playing any tricks on him and that I really was a man. I explained about my prophesises and that underneath I still retained all my male equipment. Stephen was amazed and insisted that, as soon as we arrived back in Manchester, I should show him. I wasn?t too sure about that but decided I would cross that bridge when I came to it. In the meantime, to distract him, Cindy sank to her knees on the floor of the car, unzipped Stephen?s trousers, and proceeded to give him a blowjob. It clearly had the desired effect as Stephen did not return to the question of my anatomy for the remainder of the journey. I took my part in playing up to him by holding his head in my arms and gently running my fingers through his hair. He seemed to like this. The car reached the outskirts of Manchester, but, instead of driving to Cindy?s apartment, it drew up outside the Crowne Plaza Midland Hotel. An old railway hotel, the Crowne Plaza has been beautifully refurbished and is now one of the premier places to stay in Manchester. Stephen hurried us out of the limousine and into the lift. In next to no time I found myself admiring the view from the windows of his suite. As he poured yet more drinks, Stephen suggested we girls ?make yourselves more comfortable.? Cindy took my hand and led me into the bathroom. ?Are you OK with this?? she asked. ?I know you realised something of this might happen if you came along today, but this is all new for you and if you want to leave I?m sure I can make it right with Stephen.? ?No,? I replied, ?I?m a big girl and I knew what I was getting into. I?ll see it through now we are here.? ?Good girl,? said Cindy squeezing my hand. ?I?ll take the lead; you just play along for as much or as little as you want.? We both removed our dresses and returned to the lounge clad in just our underwear, stockings and heels. We posed at the door to allow Stephen to enjoy the view! He was seated on the sofa with a large drink in his hand. He indicated that Cindy should sit on his lap, which she did, and then turned to me. ?Right then Tricia, time for you to prove your true gender to me.? There was nothing for it; I reached round and unclipped my bra. My C- cup breast stood proudly on my chest. I then, nervously, put my thumbs in the waistband of my panties and slowly slid them down my legs and stepped out of them. Clad only in my suspender belt and stockings, I stood in front of Stephen. ?I can?t believe these are not real,? he said, indicating my breasts and vagina. ?I can assure you they are not,? I replied. ?Would you like to feel for yourself?? Cindy raised a questioning eyebrow and I gave her a little nod to indicate I was OK. I stood in front of Stephen as he ran his hand over my fake vagina. He gently inserted his finger between my thighs. ?I can feel that this isn?t skin,? he said, ?but it is very realistic.? He continued with his finger movements until he slid inside my slit. He could just feel my manhood, tightly constrained by the prosthetic. Suddenly it was all too much for me. The inbuilt sensors were transmitting the most wonderful sensations to my groin and I could feel lubricant start to flow. This was something I had to experience; I had to know what it felt like to be made love to as a woman. I moaned loudly and sank to the floor, dragging Stephen with me. ?Please fuck me? I begged, spreading my legs wide on the carpet. Stephen did not need a second invitation. He rapidly divested himself of his trousers and lay on top of me. I could feel the tip of his cock probing at my entrance ? and then he was in! As mine was not a true vagina there was a limit as to how far he could penetrate me, but, from the urgency of his movements, it was clear we were both getting very pleasurable sensations. The tightness of my prosthetic meant that I could not come, but, as I felt Stephen shudder beneath me, an amazingly warm glow spread right through my body. With a gasp Stephen came. I could feel his juices spewing out inside me; it was a truly life changing moment! Slowly we came down from our respective highs and Stephen gently kissed me. ?That was wonderful,? he said, ?and so different from taking a boy up the arse.? We gently disengaged and Cindy gave me a warm smile. ?Well done,? she mouthed silently, ?welcome to the club!? Stephen did, subsequently, take Cindy through her back passage, whilst I sat, naked, sipping another glass of champagne. Eventually Stephen indicated he was spent. Cindy and I retired to the bathroom to clean up. We fell into each others arms giggling like a pair of school girls. ?You were amazing? she said ?I never expected you to go as far as that!? ?Neither did I? I replied ?but when it came to it, I just couldn?t resis