My Lovely Husband free porn video

My Lovely Husband by Vickie Tern Honestly, how was I supposed to know he was God's gift to women, an incredible hunk, broad shoulders, rock-hard chest muscles, and a cock that feels like a fat electric plug -- when he inserts it and pushes it in deeper, you shriek and glow and then go absolutely radiant! When I first agreed to go back to his place for a drink I thought OK, he's attentive, and plenty eager, and very goodlooking too. I bet he's abrupt in all his moves, decisive, very different from my lovely husband Dan -- my gentle, considerate Dan, who teases as often as he satisfies. Why not try Greg for once and see what it's like? After ten years of marriage it's about time. Dan will never know, and it'll take the edge of anticipation off both of us. A brief adventure, do it and be done. What's a little wiggle among friends? Who knew way back last Fall that Greg would be so habit-forming? Ever since then, if his thick cock isn't inside me I imagine it is and anticipate the next time it will be. And there's another consequence too! Whenever Dan's cock is sliding in and out of me I'm all the more aware of Dan's inadequacies. Really, how did I tolerate such a puny thing for so many years? What good has it been? That first time last October, Greg's first day at the office, I was so easy he probably still thinks I was asking for it. Maybe I was? I mean, there I was, on a Monday for God's sake, wearing a really short skirt and tight little silk sweater, that red knit Dan got me for Valentine's day. Dan loves to see me wearing it because it hides absolutely nothing, neither my cleft nor my protruding boobs. If I choose an unpadded bra, not even my nipples. It is a little too provocative for a work day, I grant you that, but that morning I'd felt aroused for some reason. And Dan has always argued that I should dress sincerely, dress the way I feel. What'd aroused me that day I first saw Greg was Dan, but not the way you'd think. It had occurred to me earlier that same day that I wasn't too sure about my beloved husband. That I hadn't been for quite a while. It's odd, that kind of doublemindedness. What'd always appealed to me about Dan, what'd attracted me and made me eager to be his wife and grateful that he was my husband, was .. well, it occurred to me that it was in a way perverse. Dan had a small face with wide cheekbones and large open eyes with narrow, arched eyebrows and a thin body and gentle manner, and all that was what first attracted me. He was ... well, so very sweet! Somehow maybe ... manageable. I was sure of it! Marriage material for sure! But those same traits now seemed to render him less than manly, less deserving of me. I still loved him, and still found him attractive, but in a different way. Attractive as a challenge, as something to work with, not as what he was. Fun, maybe even exciting, but not necessarily satisfying. Let me explain. Dan's birthday was coming up, and I'd meant to reciprocate for that last Valentine's Day present, the red and black outfit I was wearing, by visiting Victoria's Secret after work. Not for me, for Dan. As a kind of joke, but also as a compliment. Because ... well, I'd kid him about it sometimes. Dan's man enough where it matters, and often enough, but to put it as kindly as I can, he seems to feel comfortable enough about his masculinity to allow himself certain -- what shall I call them -- 'cross-gendered' traits. He looks and acts effeminate sometimes, and is utterly untroubled by it. He doesn't bother to cut his hair, so more often than not it's well over his ears and down his neck -- I've teased him he should get it curled or at least styled to the shape of his face the way women do, and he's only smiled. Though once he actually did it to surprise me, got a lovely page boy with bangs and wore it that way for a week before putting it back into its usual ponytail. Plucked his eyebrows to go with the look, then admired himself in the mirror. Frequently. And he has always filed his nails instead of cutting them, as if he preferred long, gracefully shaped nails. I once suggested he go the rest of the way and paint them red. Oddly, he wasn't amused. Instead he'd spluttered about that being too obvious, as if I'd advised it seriously. As if he'd already considered it himself. I wondered. He had other endearing feminine traits too, puzzling even though I'd originally found them attractive because different. From other men anyhow. I could chat comfortably with him about any of my girlfriends, about all sorts of things, their dress and behavior, their boyfriend or marital problems, even their menstrual uncertainties, you know, all sorts of girl things. Whatever I said never bored him. When I asked him how come, and told him none of my friends could ever discuss such things with their husbands, he replied simply, "What you care about, I care about." On hearing that, I remember I leaped him, and we had a wonderful few hours together, so I never found out more. But I did find myself thinking of him as my best girlfriend as well as my husband. Now and then when it seemed appropriate I'd call him "Girlfriend" and he'd never object. Maybe he cultivated that part of himself for my sake, maybe his own. He was always willing to go shopping with me, help me find exactly the right skirt or gown. Other times I'd trade office gossip with him in hushed, amused tones, as women do but rarely men. Always, ever more completely, he was my dearest companion, my closest buddy. Maybe that was one more reason I came to love him to pieces? Because though a man where it mattered, he was also a sort of girl? Without even suspecting? He also knew much more about women's fashions than I ever did. I always assumed it was because his parents had been in the dress manufacturing business and talked the terminology around the dinner table. Unlike any other men I have ever known, he knew all about basques and balaclavas and bustiers and batik, plackets and pleats and peplums. And he knew what dress models thought about their outfits as well as the sales people, because as a teen he'd worked on the firm's display floor. So, for a man he knew all sorts of things men never know about women's clothing, what displays their figures optimally, befitting what occasion, with what desired effect. Whenever I'm dressing for a date with Greg I never hesitate to consult Dan, and he'll almost always recommend an outfit that seems proper yet displays the sexy edge Greg can't resist. I'll never forget that it was his idea for me to wear that tight red silk knit to the office the day Greg first arrived, the one that entranced and seduced Greg right off. My Danny even knew professional tricks with makeup! He knew that a white streak just below my eyebrow would light up my whole face. He claimed a model he'd once dated had shared that secret with him, and that he'd he'd learned other similar things while reading "Cosmo" or "Glamour" in his dentist's waiting room. I never wondered at first why he hadn't been reading "Car and Driver" or "Sports Illustrated" instead. Then when I did wonder, it didn't occur to me to ask him. Then there were his moves. He had a certain ... slow grace of a kind more becoming in a woman. Not just delicate, like carrying his hands often bent back at the wrists. I mean, he'd sit down in a chair slowly, elegantly, his hands already clasped on his lap. I knew he admired women, but I'd ask myself now and then whether there was more to it? Did he also envy them? Wish he was one? Could he be partially transgendered and not even know it? Lots more men than can ever confess it even to themselves easily identify with the opposite sex, understand their points of view, empathize with them, share their concerns. Some even like to imagine now and then that's what they are. Lots cultivate an instinctive sympathy with women. The desired sex feels desirable to them not only for but as themselves?. That's how Dan's been. Maybe that's why I found Greg's rough-hewn masculinity so novel, so utterly attractive? Why I couldn't help but wrap my legs around it? And once I'd experienced Greg, why I found Dan's mannerisms more endearing than sexually exciting? Why Dan seemed merely more ... lovely than manly. When I first fucked Greg last October I'd begun suspecting something else about Dan too -- that he might actually enjoy feeling or looking like a woman. He might be a wannabe girl who tries it out on his own now and then. Take my bras, for instance. They never seemed to stay in my drawers quite the way I left them. Could he be trying them on, wearing them secretly, unawares stretching them out? If so, if that's his thing, I was thinking, fine, love it. But I couldn't admire that he was doing it secretly. So last October I'd decided to go to Victoria's Secret after work and buy him a bra for his birthday, a pretty one in his own size. Mainly to see how he'd react, where it might lead. You never know. If he got too painfully embarrassed I could always claim it was for me, for him to see and admire on me, that that was his present. But if he was grateful? If it turned him on? If I asked him if it would fit and he reassured me? I loved the idea! It felt wicked. Dan in a bra also seemed just a little provocative -- there's a streak of bisexuality in me, quite shameless. I admire certain features of women's bodies as if they were men's. Dan in a bra? With boobs? Large boobs? Confessing that he does indeed harbor certain effeminate desires, that he'd love to be a girl in some ways? My girl? Take down his masculinity, take control over it, make him even more like me? Actually paint his nails red and send him off to work with a lovely new hair style? Find out if my vibrating dildo fits his pussy too? Stretch that pussy regardless until it fits? Now that would be real fun! It occurred to me that he might not look too bad as a girl, that with his face and figure he'd easily look really lovely! Maybe eventually be my girlfriend in more than the name? Let me fuck him with the strap-on dildo I still had from my college dormitory days, the one my roommate Patricia and I had used together? The double-sided one with something for each of us when it was inside both of us? I could hope so, anyway. To find out for sure had been my intention last October, to force the issue and put Dan to the test. To find out if I'd married a real man or a someone else. Not that I found Dan's occasionally feminine traits and interests problematic -- far from it! But I wanted to know more about the darling, the better ... let's say... the better to play games with him. If he actually tried on the bra and liked wearing it, I intended to see how much further he'd be willing to go. If now and then my husband was willing to be my girlfriend as well as my boyfriend, But I never did get to Victoria's Secret that October day. That morning, when I took Dan's advice and wore my tight red outfit with the deep neckline, when he saw the way my tits poked out from it, all he could say was "Wow!" Then at breakfast, eyes gleaming, he said, "I'll try to get home early today, honey. I'll finish up at the office as fast as I can." I remember I smiled at him gratefully enough. "I may be late," I told him regretfully. "There's a new head of engineering, Greg Somebody, he starts today and I'm expected to work closely with him. So Jameson wants me to get to know him well as quickly as possible." He nodded. Still, that simple "Wow!" when Dan saw me had put me into a mood of erotic expectation. I mean, it's wonderful to know that your husband still finds you attractive. That he craves your body. I figured, great, I'll pick up some whipped cream on the way home and let him lick it off me. Whipped cream is easier to wash off sheets than maple syrup, and it doesn't leave you feeling sticky between your toes if your husband doesn't happen to appreciate your toes as thoroughly as he should. So there I was at the office, my breasts poking far forward in my snug red sweater, with guess what on my mind. And in comes that new head of engineering and ... my God it's that Greg! Every girl's heart throb back in high school, and to judge by the way the secretaries began behaving as he moved between the desks, every girl's still! I hadn't seen him for years, but at a glance anyone could see that he was ... well, even more of a man, even taller and better built, his face chiseled and tanned. Handsome? Fresh-returned to town from years overseas, I heard, with no close connections to anyone else yet. To no other free or attached women, I already knew from advance office gossip. He recognized me immediately, too. He'd heard I was married now, he told me, and what a pity he thought, because he'd really intended to look me up, he was looking forward to it, because of all the girls he'd known back in the old days I was ... well, you know. Then he came out with it directly. "God, Allie, you still have that fabulous figure! A man could fall to his knees and worship that figure! May I?" I almost died from pride and embarrassment. That red sweater again! But I do keep myself trim and in shape, I knew it. To please Dan. To maintain my own self-respect. Maybe also to encourage chance compliments like this one? The stray thought came to me, if he actually were on his knees he could bury his face in my belly, or further down too. Easily. Oh, God, further down! I know I must have wriggled as that thought came and then lingered. I keep my pussy trim too -- how do I feel about a hunk like Greg on his knees in front of me, nuzzling into it ...? Well, it flashed through my mind that we'd never really tried each other out. Never gotten together in the old days before I knew Dan. Greg had dated a lot of girls his last few years, but Doris Patterson and then Ellie Costanza had hogged him whenever I might have made my play. They alternated days and nights with him that whole summer before we all went away to different colleges. So was it my turn finally now? Instead of them then, me now? It did seem so. It was only a quick impulse, no more than that, just one single moment when I thought 'Sure, why not, it would have been then, so if it's now who'll ever know?' So I replied, "Yes, Greg, I agree, I do have a fabulous figure. In some ways better than ever. Still interested?" He just looked at me with that cocky half smile. That's how come that very day we went together to lunch in a motel room and devoted hours to eating each other, then humping each other, me with my legs wrapped tight around his waist or his head and refusing to release him, him plumbing or licking me to repeated orgasms. He ejaculated in me three times in less than an hour -- can you imagine a man like that? And all the while he was nibbling on my nipples one after the other. He brought me to steady-state orgasm and then held me there! I'll have to hide these bite marks from Dan for a few days at least, until they heal, I was thinking as he gnawed at me and I went over the top yet again. But I couldn't stop him, I couldn't deny him anything! My orgasms kept coming one after another! Glorious? So of course we agreed to meet the next day, same time, same place, and the day after that! I was his, and he agreed then and there to be mine! "But what about your husband?" he asked. "Won't he want a vote in this?" "I won't deprive him," I said instinctively but categorically. "Though after a while, what he gets and what you get might not be anything like the same things." My trip to Victoria's secret to buy a test bra for Dan or for myself was forgotten. In fact I got home only a few minutes before Dan did, with no time to shower, with my face flushed and my nipples puffy and bruised, my panties drenched, and my pussy filled full, overflowing with Greg's creamy cum. And Dan had been anticipating this moment all day -- that was why the red silk sweater to begin with! I looked so hot, so sexually charged up, that he took one look at me and got so excited he pulled me into the bedroom fully dressed and pushed me straight down onto the bed. To keep him from away from my marked breasts I pushed his head down between my legs and hoped he wouldn't drown. He didn't. Instead, before I could stop him he began to eat me enthusiastically, the way he always does to warm both of us up. Eagerly! He noticed of course that my pussy was soaked, exuding a thick, slick, cloudy goop much like his own -- sometimes when I felt wicked I'd ask him to suck his own cum back out of me to clean me up. So he knew what male cum looked like. And how it tasted. Yet, "You're so wet!" was all he said. "And it's so thick! All from thinking about me?" "All for you!" I replied. It was, too! And what could be better? My Danny couldn't distinguish a girl's juices from a man's cum! So I told him I'd been imagining him down there all day licking me, and that was why I was so soaked. I had been, too, some, even when Greg's pounding penis was driving me altogether out of my mind! How can I do this to Dan, I'd been thinking with what was left of my mind after the rest went orgiastic with pleasure. This is how, my mind had replied joyously. We'd spasm together and I'd lunge down to suck Greg erect again, and ... well, you know how it can go on sometimes. Dan's respectable-sized penis inside me was quite satisfying, but Greg's big one stretched me, overwhelmed me, filled me full to bursting and then stayed there, moved back and forth, wouldn't quit until the pleasure exploded all through my body. Then, his balls were a bottomless well! "Suck me empty, sweetheart," I told my Danny as I felt his lips clamp down tight on mine, the ones lower down. "Fill your tummy! My pussy is full to the brim, from deep down to the very top -- drink it all down sweetheart! Lick it all up!" He did. His mouth and tongue were so avid he brought me off twice more, and with each new spasm more of Greg's sperm oozed or squirted from my depths into his mouth. And Dan swallowed all of it gratefully. I can get used to this, I was thinking as our session ended and I hugged him and kissed and licked his cum-covered face, then sucked him off before he could insert himself and discover how open and loose I was. Then we both fell asleep. I did get used to it, too. The next day with Greg was even better! We both signed out for the afternoon and then I really went wild, out of my mind. The poor man worked me over and over for hours, poking and feeling and twisting my tits and my mouth and my cunt and my ass with everything he had, and rubbing me everywhere with his own mouth and nose and tongue and fingers, whatever was closest, pressing that massive muscled chest of his flat against my boobs or the backs of my thighs as we fucked, depending on which position we were using this time. He was like a tiger, he seemed to coil and then spring and then devour me, over and over. The whole afternoon! Who knew sex could be this complete? So utterly absorbing? So, every afternoon the rest of that week we went to a nearby motel. I just couldn't quit, and quitting never occured to him ever! If you want to tell me that I'm happily married with a great husband who loves me, that I must have been out of my mind, well, you are so right! God, such bliss! Saturday morning rolled around and Dan slept late, Greg's dried or sticky cum still coating his face as it had every night that past week. I wondered if his belly felt as full of Greg as mine does when I've been sucking him off in between fucks -- the man was a fountain! I kissed Dan, tasted Greg, and then sneaked out to see Greg again, this time at his small apartment. We had a long talk. We both knew this was madness, so when I straddled him this time I rode him up and down only slowly, and told him this was too much, too hot and heavy to last and I wanted it to last. But I was risking my marriage. Sooner or later Dan would have to sense something was wrong, even though he'd been eating Greg's cream pies all week and still hadn't a clue. I mean, Greg's huge cock had left my pussy so stretched out, so swollen open that the one time Dan had entered me I could hardly feel him. Could he feel me? Sooner or later he'd slip out of me and I'd be fucking air yet still making moaning noises about how great his cock felt, and he'd grow suspicious. So I made Greg agree, we'd fuck for only an hour or two each time no matter how much more we wanted, and only a few times each week. And always at his place, never in some back office or motel where we could be seen or traced. That way we'd be relatively safe, and we could keep going all winter. As we did. Every working week, all winter. I have no idea how much of Greg's cum Dan sucked and licked out of my pussy that winter. If only a teaspoon for each fuck, still, that added up to many gallons. I didn't worry it, because I was dealing with another problem by then. As Greg's manhood took on towering stature in my mind, earning my enormous awed admiration and respect, my respect for Dan's manhood disappeared altogether. It was nowhere. Not all at once. Around the second or third month I was fucking Greg, now and then pulling an all nighter when Dan had to be out of town, I realized that much as I loved my poor darling husband, that was all he was now. My poor darling husband. I loved him as much as ever, but I couldn't admire or respect him any more. He'd become my sweet fool, my ignorant cuckold, a hapless, ridiculous, almost effeminate man obviously unable to satisfy his wife. All this all the more true the longer Greg and I kept up our separate relationship, if only because Greg could fuck non-stop no matter how often he climaxed, while Dan was usually done for the night once he'd managed to bring me off and then himself, twice at most, but that was rare. Afterward all the sucking and licking in the world wouldn't bring his cock back till the next morning. So until the next morning the bottomless desires and expectations aroused by Greg were left unsatisfied by Dan, compromised by my cuckold husband's inability to meet them. As a lover he was just plain inadequate. He was nowhere. At most a warmup exercise for Greg. I disliked it but I couldn't help it, I felt a little contemptuous of him at that point. He deserved to be a cuckold, I decided. And when I shared that attitude with Greg, he inclined to agree with me, and smiled at his own superiority. But even so, he was unwilling to put Dan down, not altogether. "We're all better at some things than others," he commented. "Dan married you. That took a certain amount of love and commitment and devotion. I can't say I've ever felt that for any women. For you, I feel gratitude, and admiration, and of course there's always kindly affection whenever I look down and there you are nursing on my cock. I'm glad you feel I'm the better man, but that's no credit to you, because I am! Don't blame Dan though. Work with him. I'm sure you'll find he's good for something, even if he's got no talent to be a real man like me!" No, he was not a real man. His talent was for cleaning Greg out of me when Greg pumped his rich cum into me. Whenever I left Greg, I found I was already anticipating the evening's conclusion to my lovemaking, Dan's lips and tongue licking and sucking my lower parts, and the lesser but nevertheless satisfying orgasms they sometimes provided. Yet, as our affair continued, I began to feel terribly guilty. Dan seemed to me increasingly emasculated, moreso daily, and by me! I'd made him that way! Unawares, innocently, ignorantly, he was a mere servile cumsucker, lapping semen out of me as eagerly as any gay man or slut woman sucks it out of a cock. And I'd done that to him! Made him a cuckolded creampie cumsucker. Lower than any genuine, honest cocksucker, man or woman, because he never earned the gratitude due to a man or woman who sucks cock and thereby provides pleasure to the cock's owner. The poor man knew nothing of the deep satisfaction to be felt when there's a round, hot prick swelling up larger and larger in your mouth until it bursts and spurts hot viscous cum down your throat. He knew nothing of the pleasure that's as great in the receiving as the giving. He knew nothing and I had no desire for him ever to know anything. I had no wish to break his heart. Why torment my darling Dan with the knowledge of his own inadequacy, that he wasn't good enough for his own wife, that a better man had a better claim to my pussy by virtue of a superior cock. I did still love my Dan. Yet, each time I returned to him from Greg's apartment at the end of the day, and he took me in his arms, then lay me back and once again sluiced Greg's spent cum out of my snatch like some vacuum cleaner, then entered my gaping cunt and tried to bring me off, he reminded me of a pennywhistle imitation of a trumpet. I felt more disdain for him than ever. And more guilt too, because after all, I'd done this to him. I'd made him less of a man and more of something else in my own eyes. Something more like a palace eunuch, one of those castrated men who tend the desires of women in harems, trusted to live with women because they're unable to perform anyhow. Not quite women but not men either. Well, I thought, why not? Make Dan a eunuch! Remove him from the competition altogether! Why shouldn't my emasculated man become my very own harem attendant, looking after my needs, assisting me each time I prepare myself for my Sultan? Let him help me to douche and dress and make myself up and perfume myself so Greg will go mad with desire each time he comes near me? Why not quietly, subtly, commit him to a sexless life of service to my own personal desires? As I considered the matter, it seemed increasingly sensible, kind, even generous. Once he loses his own physical desires, I realized, I'll no longer feel I'm depriving him, and I'll lose my current pervasive sense of guilt. Moreover, when Dan can't get it up any longer, when he can't slip around inside my Greg-stretched cunt, there'll be no more risk that he'll wonder why it's so stretched out. Our marriage will be much safer, more sound and secure, no longer subject to accidental discoveries or petty jealousies. Yes! Decency and prudence alike required that I render him impotent. Castrate him! My college girlfriend Patricia, now a gynecologist, had told me once in casual conversation how to do it chemically -- she wanted it done to every rapist! Simply feed him enough testosterone blockers to overwhelm his male hormones! Once a man's well-launched on those he'll lose all tumescence and be unable to enter a woman, no matter how loose or stretched out her pussy. You can't poke anything with a wet noodle. Soon after, he'll lose his desire to poke anything anywhere. Would that be fair to Dan? Yes, I decided, because I can make it up to him other ways. I can give him oral the way he usually gives me oral, the way women give each other oral, by taking the entirety of the thing -- be it a penis or a clit -- between their lips and into their mouths and tonguing it. With my darling Dan there'll be no problem of the kind I often had with Greg, when I was sometimes unable to deep throat him, even to grasp his monster with both hands while fitting its huge head between my lips so I'd at least have something to suck. When Dan's thing couldn't swell up any longer I'd be able to hold the whole of it in my mouth and tongue it to all the orgasms it could tolerate, if any. So he might not even mind! I knew of a similar situaation. Before she'd divorced her philandering husband, my friend Helene Matthews had avenged herself by feeding him heavy doses of birth control pills, soaking his body in female hormones without his ever knowing. Every time he came home from a session with one of his girlfriends, she told me, she'd feed him a month's supply with his dinner. "Sure he grew tits," she'd told me exultingly. "He was a big, heavy guy, so he never noticed until they were almost as big as mine! But that wasn't why I did it!" She did it of course to humiliate him in front of those very girlfriends when he couldn't get it up any more. At first he wasn't as stiff as before, then not stiff enough to penetrate a vagina, and finally not stiff at all. No erections -- and as the thing became merely floppy, useless, one by one the women in his harem abandoned him. As she'd planned. Not only that, Helene told me delightedly, his prick shrank along with his balls until the whole package nearly disappeared under his groin. "He ended up with a smaller clit than mine!" she exulted. She did provide him with sex of sorts. Helene told me that toward the end, before her husband lost it altogether, his penis could drool only clear fluid, and very little of that. "After that, I'd move my finger around in his ass to make him blissful." When I took note that her revenge deprived her as well as her husband, she shrugged and said merely, "Not me, I had a stable of stallions by then. And after a while I shared some of them with him. He accepted them when he realized he had no alternatives -- if you can't fuck, you're otherwise fucked! Then again, there are always men around who like to lick clit as well as fuck and are happy to do one when they can't do the other. For a while I'd pass one of my dumber studs on to him. He'd eat and get eaten by guys who couldn't tell the difference if only his clit was exposed, and he learned to enjoy it. Until one day one of them felt for a cunt further down and found only shrunken balls, and got angry and bit down. The poor man. Then there was nothing for it, there was this gasping wound, so my hubby had a vagina surgically installed instead. Though I made sure it was Barbie-sized, fit for a finger or a tongue and not much else." Well, that seemed to me a little extreme. Even so, cautiously at first, then generously, I started drowning Dan in T-blockers. Enough to neuter him and no more, make him my willing eunuch, that was my original intention. At first only one pill a day, then as his body began to accommodate several. I brought him to Patricia to monitor various of his vital functions -- his liver especially -- to be sure he remained healthy. And sure enough, a month into this new regimen Dan was too embarrassed to approach me as we lay together in bed, unable to do anything but suck my juices and Greg's out of my pussy. He tearfully confessed to me that his penis no longer worked, and moreover that it and his balls were getting smaller! He could no longer get it up. I assured him I didn't mind, it happens, don't give it another thought, and then I kissed him. At first passionately, and he responded affectionately. But as time passed with less and less passion, until finally there was none at all. I could pass by him stark naked or in my most tempting negligee, and he'd scarcely notice. If I tried climbing on him he'd hug me but he was uninterested in more than that. He'd been neutered! Sex was uninteresting to him no matter how I tried to arouse him. When I asked him why, he evaded an answer. Of course he didn't know why. I knew. So I felt better at first. No more guilt or risk of exposure. And after all, I still have sexual needs to satisfy, so now who can blame me? Then one morning as I dressed myself for a session with Greg it occurred to me that I wasn't being fair to my beloved husband. Nor to me as his wife -- I did miss the feel of his mouth ardent on my pussy, cleaning Greg's creamy juice out of me whenever I returned home from a session with that real man. I'd rid myself of concern for his penis, but I'd lost a great muff diver. An even greater weight of guilt descended on my shoulders, and a greater burden of responsibility. I'm not indulging myself, I realized, I'm depriving myself when I deprive my beloved Dan. And that poor dear is thoroughly deprived! He has no sexual desires at all! That night I looked at him closely as he watched his evening TV programs -- not even occasionally basketball or whatever the sport in season, but now -- God's truth -- old romantic movies! Chick flicks! His gaze was rapt and his chest heaved as some woman long deprived of her lover ran toward some man returned from the wars and clung to him, and "The End" appeared over the clutching couple. His eyes glistened! His romantic emotions were still there, but now they were merely sentimental, aroused by other people's feelings! Wishful, like a woman's? Did he feel unloved? I wondered if he desired anything like that for himself now! And I'd done it to him! I felt really terrible. Then it came to me! If he's now less than a man and no longer feels like one, why not make him more of a woman? He's always been halfway there, take him the rest of the way! He'd make a fine woman! Yes! Do what Helene did! If he can't enjoy his penis any more, give him breasts! Maybe also a pussy? As I watched him carefully wipe away a tear with a tissue, I noticed that behind his elbow, under his T-shirt, there were two already faint bulges. Well! Of course! Without his male hormones, his body's traces of female hormones were slowly feminizing him! Why hadn't I bothered to notice? I knew now what I was thinking and I agreed with me! Go the distance and make him my true girlfriend! I bet he'd enjoy discovering and developing his own femininity? I certainly did, when I was a girl, and I'm certainly enjoying the rewards now! He was always something of a girlfriend -- sharing in all my girly gossip and advising me about clothes and so on, even helping me cook and clean up and maintain our house. Making the bed each morning, for example, while I was making myself pretty for my lover. So why not finish the job? I now remembered my intention way back last October, nearly a year ago. The day I'd begun with Greg, of all days. I'd intended that day to stop into Victoria's Secret after work and actually buy Dan a bra. To test him, to see if he'd expose what might well anyhow be a secret desire to wear it, to live as if a woman. I was amused by my own ambivalence back then -- if he'd put it on, I'd feel contempt, he'd be showing me he's less than a man, that instead he's an effeminate wimp, and afterward my passion for Greg would feel fully justified. But now? If he were to put it on now, he'd be my marvelous mate taking a first step toward becoming my lovely girlfriend, a soulmate with whom I share everything. I realized now that that's how I wanted him! It suddenly occurred to me, those soft bulges on his chest have been growing for some time! Maybe he now really does need a bra to contain and support his new boobs! The more I considered what I'd been doing to him, the more likely it seemed! Especially if that's what he's always wanted? What if last October I'd deprived him of an innocent girlhood when I turned my attention toward Greg, then later eliminated his competing male sexuality? He didn't seem to mind. But maybe he'd appreciate increasing his femininity? The feminine shape he was assuming anyhow? Was I denying him a full womanhood he'd always secretly coveted? If so, that was doubly selfish! The least I could do now, to compensate Dan for not being Greg, was encourage him to become a woman! Make him one! Yes! I was sure I should do it! The more feminine he became, the less he resembled a man, the less risk there was that I'd lose what respect I still had for him, that I'd be turned off and away altogether by his inadequacies. The less guilty I'd feel for having turned him off! And the more respect I'd have for what he's becoming, not just a cumsucking collaborator but my dearest girlfriend! The more secure we'd be in our marriage! Eventually I could tell him all about Greg, especially if by then he had a boyfriend of his own! That would be true sharing! It was late morning when I came to this realization. No hesitation now, no delay. I'd do what I'd meant to do many months earlier when I'd first run into Greg and then Greg had run into me, all the way into me with that magnificent thing of his! I changed into my now-ceremonial black miniskirt and red silk sweater and set out once again for Victoria's Secret. There I bought my darling husband, no longer my eunuch-in-waiting but my incumbent girlfriend, a complete set of alluring underwear of his very own. I couldn't wait to see him in it! Nor should he have to wait -- if he was going to become a sexy woman, he should enjoy some of the pleasures immediately! Further down the Mall I passed Frederick's of Hollywood and bought him another far more enticing set. A provocative bra, a scanty thong, and a lacy teddy. Because who knows, those things all possess the mysterious power all women possess, the ability to seduce men. They would seduce my own neutered man into the primal joys of womanhood. Who knows, when he's altogether a woman he'll want to seduce a man of his own some time, and then at least he'll appreciate my gift! Last of all, I stopped by to see Patricia, who'd been monitoring his hormone treatment, and told her what I wanted. "Can I move him along further?" I asked her. "Get him interested in sexual things again?" "Not as a man," she replied. "You've disabled that equipment altogether. But desire is triggered by testosterone in both sexes. Traces in those of us who are women, large amounts in those monsters we take into ourselves as husbands. Dan's body is producing none, not any more. That's why he's lost interest in your body and all others. But enough can be re-introduced into him to reacquaint him with the pleasures of having a body. And I don't see why you can't start him on a regimen of female hormones to give him a distinctively female body. I'd guess from his present proportions he'd make a rather attractive woman." She suggested an injection to kick him off, let him discover titty pleasures at the outset. Then pills to sustain further change. "He'll welcome them!" I brought him in the next day, and Patricial shot him full of estrogen and other female hormones, easily a month's worth, while alluding vaguely to flu shots. "He can take pills when he himself wants to go further," she said to me confidentially. "Or when she wants to. With where he is now, his boobs will feel and look lovely when this wears off. She'll want to!" She nodded reassuringly. Later that afternoon, while I was leisurely riding Greg's cock, rolling my crotch around on him and smiling each time he groaned, I told him what I'd done and what I was planning. He was amused. "Great!" he said. "That would give us all the more time and freedom to do whatever we wish. Maybe we can double date with him and maybe some guy I can line up once he's presentable -- I know a few guys whose tastes run that way. Maybe by then we'll be able to go out of town together for a weekend with his blessing, leave him home happily bedded down with one such guy. That'd be better for all of us all around! Do you think you can make him attractive enough?" Probably, though I hadn't given it a great deal of consideration. So while slowly rotating myself on Greg's cock, I thought it through. Yes, he has a small, regular face I've always thought cute, with a curved, unassertive jawline and a characteristically gentle expression. A delicate nose. And large, wide-set eyes given to looking unblinking at whatever. Oooh, delicious! Properly made up, get him looking at a man and I'll bet the man will swoon! And do his hair properly -- it's now quite long and full, as in his early hippie days! His body's nowhere near large for a man's, but I could easily imagine it under a real man's, his legs wrapped around that man's waist. "Yes," I said. "With the right hairdo and makeup he can be truly lovely." And I leaned forward on my hands and clamped my cunt down hard and twisted Greg's cock around some more. "Ohhh, God!" he groaned. "When he's ready to suck some guy's cock, make sure it's mine!" "No way, Greg baby," I said to him with a wide smile. My third orgasm of the session was now rising and beginning to absorb my complete attention. "You're mine. Anyhow, the flavor would remind him of me, and he might figure out what's been happening. He'd never forgive me. But when he's ready to be fucked, I promise you, you'll be his first. A girl's first should always be memorable. Your prick can be one of our fondest memories, one we share as we all grow old together." As we grow old as two women, I told myself. We can even go through menopause together, came to the back of my mind. If he grows ripe from taking female hormones, from soaking in them for years, and then eases off them as my body eases me off mine. What a lovely idea! Then I concentrated my attention on my lover full time. Bliss! An hour later, as we lay helpless in each other's arms, spent, exhausted, I knew that I was about to do my husband an enormous favor. I would introduce him to my most profound pleasure, attracting and fucking men! I wanted him to feel what I was feeling at that very moment! I was glowing, especially around my tits and deep inside my cunt -- I wondered if his ass could ever feel as ripe, as satisfied. I owed it to him to try to find out. Because marriage is a partnership, after all! We should share our pleasures! A few days later, on a Saturday, Dan provided me an opening as wide as the Grand Canyon. I was up ahead of him, dressing in a style suitable for mere shopping in the neighborhood, casual. I took only ten minutes to put my on my bra and panties, a pair of control top tights to shape my butt, an ordinary blouse and tight skirt, and low heels. Then maybe another ten minutes to put on my face -- you know, foundation and then powder to take off the sheen, a quick brush of blush, and mascara, eyeliner, only two shades of eye shadow, and lipstick. The minimum for daytime. I hadn't yet done my hair. That could be a lengthy process, so I was thinking I'd just pin it up and wear a scarf. Or maybe cover it with one of the several wigs I use when I need to look decent and don't want to take the trouble. While I was at it, Dan woke up and lay in bed watching me. Patricia's shot had gotten him interested again! Did he feel awe or admiration? Maybe envy? "You don't have to do any of that, Allie honey," he said, amused by my exacting care as I adjusted my blouse on my shoulders. "You're beautiful just as you are. Even when you come back from your shower wearing nothing at all, I can see you have a perfect figure and a perfect face!" "Awww, sweetie," I said, my heart surging, feeling the kind of love for him that starts in my belly. Immediately I stood, leaned over the bed, and kissed him on the cheek. He still tasted of Greg, even though last night I'd licked and kissed his cum-soaked face passionately after he rose from my crotch -- yes, he was licking me out again! As earlier when he often tasted of Greg. I loved it! It helped my excitement rise that when my husband Dan was making love to me I was still kissing my lover Greg's leftovers, that I was still with my lover even in the arms of my husband. Then I realized what kind of opportunity Dan had handed me. I chose my next words carefully. "Perfection is an art form, baby. It isn't at all natural. There's a poem that reminds us of what all women know, 'That we must labor to be beautiful.' I don't look like this when I'm coming back from my shower." And then the challenge began. "Naked, I'm no more beautiful or feminine than you are. We're so similar!" He stared at me as if prepared to scoff, weighing whether a snort of disbelief would seem insulting. But I could also detect an air of wistfulness, as if I was dispraising something he coveted. "Your body is extremely feminine compared to mine," he said, and yes, his tone did sound a touch regretful. "And I'd say your face is too. As the French say, 'Vive la difference!'" This last said with obvious bravado! And I thought, unmistakable envy! "All artifice," I said, sitting down again and pretending to correct the shape of one eyebrow. "True, you don't have my body's shape, but neither does my body, not really, until I'm wearing a bra and pantyhose and the other things designed to exaggerate the differences between boys and girls, to give me a shape women can envy and men can desire. Especially when draped in clothes that hint everything underneath is even more different, more girly." "You really believe 'clothes make the woman'?" he asked, disbelievingly. I sat still for a moment, then decided to plunge ahead. "Of course! You're thin enough. I bet I can dress you to show off a body that looks as feminine, as provocative as mine. With a face to match." "No way!" he replied. He said "No way!" almost as a challenge. I looked at him. 'No way' wasn't a refusal! It wasn't even applicable! This was too easy! Greg would take his cherry and Greg's friend would be plunging in and out of his ass within a month, I was sure of it. But no, I wasn't being fair! If he has secret girly desires, then when that finally happens I want my Dan to be a really lovely girl, and feel it! Know it! To feel completed when he's fucked, the way I do. Exalted by the gift of himself he's granting his lover. I want his lover's cock to become a transformative magic wand that renders him beautiful and keeps him that way forever. That's how I'd felt when Jimmy Swenson's prick took my virginity and made me a woman back in high school. Well, I'd thought so then anyway. I knew better now that Greg had made me into a real woman overjoyed repeatedly to be just that! I considered things more closely. His tits were on the way, but Dan's bare buttocks also needed reshaping to resemble mine, or any woman's. I estimated his own loss of virginity for six months from now. Six months of high dosage feminine hormones in his system would round him out nicely, top and bottom. He'd have buns he'd feel proud to display to any man, as I do mine, and six months would round out, extend his chest too. Men love to grab onto those things when they're bending over us doggie style, and they love to suck on them any time, as if they were still infants. Time to begin both body-shape changes, time to dress him up in the bra sets I'd just bought for him. That's depending on art, not nature, his pretending he's a woman, not celebrating it. Well, so be it. Begin now. Then in six months when his mind has become a woman's, his body will express what he's already become. Completing him. Or rather, her. 'Her.' I loved it! My darling Danni! Meanwhile, Dan doesn't think clothes make the woman? 'No way!' he says? He doubts I can make him into a sexy female? "You think I can't make you look gorgeous? Irresistible? Sexy? Wanna bet?" Had I gone too far with that last? I glanced again at his body and facial structure. No, he'd be gorgeous, I was sure of it! Now to find out if he really had been into my bras and other undies. Here was a clear excuse for him to try out his feminine side, if he had one, and with my full knowledge -- indeed my collusion. I looked at him in that cute, challenging way I knew he could never resist. When we were still dating, I'd tried it out one evening when we were at a dance-bar, and his susceptibility had helped me make up my mind that this was the man for me, that no other man would ever be as safe, as caring, or as likely to give me whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it. I'd bet him I could get some man seated at the bar to send over a drink for me even though I was sitting with him and was obviously taken. That I could do it without saying a word. And when Dan looked worried, forseeing a battle for my favors that could get violent, I added that I'd send the man away with a single statement and that he'd never bother us again. He'd looked very uncomfortable but was unable to resist me, so as I'd pre-arranged with my room-mate Deborah, the moment I saw her heading for the Ladies' I stared seductively at her boy friend Scott standing alone by the bar. Then tossed my head. Two minutes later he appeared at our table bearing his own drink and a fresh one for me. "I saw what you were drinking, and I saw that your friend here isn't looking after your needs," he said, smiling charmingly. "May I sit down?" "Thanks," I'd told him with a grateful smile. "But my friend right here is everything I need. I'll keep the drink though, if you don't mind." "How can I mind?" he'd replied. "It's my homage to a beautiful woman!" He turned and left, and there I was, all the more valuable in Dan's eyes because another man had desired me and I'd preferred him. Dan didn't realize it was a setup until our wedding three months later, when he met Scott and Deborah at the reception. "You really are all I want and need," I told him to placate him. "Was there any other way I could have persuaded you of that?" He was indeed the only man I wanted as my husband, though not the only one I ever wanted to fuck, I knew that even then. But he didn't know that. "'No way!' you say? Well, Dan, do you wanna bet?" I asked him again. "I say you can look like the kind of woman men drool over." I laid on my most radiant, irresistible smile. "I bet that I can get you looking passably feminine, enough so we can go out together and no one will glance at either of us except maybe admiringly. Beautiful enough to attract armies of boys, and we'll check that out at the bar where I first accepted your proposal, you remember? You'll be the girl who scores the free drink from a proper stranger. I'm sure you remember how pleased you were that night when I proved I had what it takes. You lost but you won." He stared at me with a wary half-smile, unable to decide if I was serious. "I can do it in a month, but will you allow me more? You've just gotten an enormous settlement, anyhow, now that your firm's been bought." He had. Closing that deal had required so much concentration he'd been too busy to notice what I was doing to him. "You can now work full time becoming a lady of leisure! You don't dare?" I raised my head to look down at him disdainfully, as if I doubted he had the guts. He fell for it! I saw him screw up his face to grant me the month, to overcome all my doubts about his courage, his ability to appear feminine. Before he could speak I decided to push it further, all the way! "Moreover, I'll bet you that in six months you'll be so beautiful and attractive, you'll enjoy it so much that you'll want it no other way!" He'll have no choice by then anyhow, I added to myself. "That then we'll be going out together as girls as often as we go out now as husband and wife, just for fun. And you'll look forward to it every time! And never look back!" That was an extreme claim, but I was pretty sure I could make it good. In six months I could get him three months pregnant, I was sure, if he'd had the equipment. But this was the test. He kept staring at me. Had I snared him? "But not out to that bar where you set me up about your ability to cadge drinks," he said finally. "And anyhow, I never proposed to you there. I meant to, but you accepted me before I had a chance to ask you, so I never had to." Yessss! In six months he'll be getting laid as often as I am! I was right, all along he'd had secret yearnings whenever he looked at my bras! He probably had tried on the ones I'd found stretched out! Now I can give him the most wonderful gift imginable, complete compensation for all of the screwings I'm getting from Greg! His own femininity! He'll love having real titties, though he doesn't know it yet! And getting screwed by real men? We'll see! He'd accepted my bizarre 'bet' so readily he didn't even notice that there was no penalty assigned to me for losing it! He didn't intend for me to lose! This really was a secret desire of his! Now he could play the lady with me, act out his femininity, be a girl, without feeling the slightest shame! "Any bar of your choice," I replied. "But you have to do what I say. Everything I say, when I say it! For six months!" God, this was heavenly! I couldn't contain my excitement! "Deal?" "Deal!" he said, looking a little puzzled by my enthusiasm. A little worried, too, about what he was undertaking. With reason -- during the next six months I intended to change his gender altogether, and his desires too! Maybe even his physical sex, though unlike Helene I'd give my hubby a cunt fit to fit a horse. But only if he wants one. Then when my hubby really was my best girlfriend, or my ladies' maid, or whatever, I'd give him Greg for his first fuck, so he'd want to be a girl forever after! Just one taste though -- after that Danni would have to go out and find his own guys. Her own! This was so exciting! Would we stay married? We'd see, that was up to both of us. And maybe Greg -- maybe by then Greg would want to marry me? Or maybe by then my affair with Greg would be over, and I'd be fucking someone else? Six months was light years away!" "All right, Danni honey. We begin now. Get up and fix yourself a floral oil bath, the same kind you fix for me sometimes, and while you're in it shave off all your body hair. I'll come in by and by to reach the parts you can't reach, and the parts that especially interest me." I had to make a phone call instantly to my Patricia -- I wanted a presciption for the most massive female hormone pills Dan's body could take. Most girls take several years to go through their pubescence, but some blossom like puffballs on a hot spring day. I'd gone from a boy shape to a distinctive girl shape in about six months. If I could, Dan could too! "There are hormones of the kind you describe," she said when I explained what I wanted without exactly saying why. "We use them to jumpstart delayed puberty in adolescent girls, also to fast-track transgendered men for sex re-assignment when they're so desperate for womanhood they've attempted suicide." "Dan needs them," I told her. I didn't tell her why. But suicide would be one of his options when he finally found out about me and Greg, as must happen some day and he felt devastated. Fury and revenge were yet another other options, though those didn't sound like Dan. "You want them for Dan? They'll fry his ballsm whatever's left of them," she commented. "Though I gran you, they're pretty well- shriveled now. Are you sure you have no further use for them?" "I don't," I said. "And I'd just as soon that when the process is complete, he doesn't either and gets something put in their place he'll find more useful. It would be easier on everybody." "OK," she said. "We'll send him to a lab for more baseline blood tests, and if they check out I'll mail you the prescription." She did. His skin developed acne at first, then cleared to a beautiful softness -- in fact after a bout of morning sickness his whole body softened as it re-proportioned itself, a side effect of the hormones that after all make us the women we are. Patricia saw, shrugged and suggested I finish the job as soon as possible. So after several months I was sprinkling teaspoons of powdered estrogen, progestin, and t-blocker onto his morning cereal as if they were sugar. "You do know that his body's drowning in far more estrogen than most women's, don't you?" she told me. "When I saw him at the Hollisters' swim party a few months ago his gynecomastia was quite distinctive. I suppose he thinks they're pectoral muscles. But the way his nipples poke out there's no doubt they're breasts." Her voice got a little mischievous. "When you caress them, his nipples, does he seem to melt? Are they erogenous?" "I don't know," I replied. I should have tried that out ages ago! "But now that you ask, I certainly intend to find out." "Well, do," she replied. "If you're doing what I think you're doing, and I don't want to know anything about it, you'll find it's easily done. Just suckle his boobs and see if he follows you anywhere. By the way, did I see you at the Burgundy Room last Tuesday with Greg Masterson? I thought so. You seemed so ... intimate with him at that moment that I didn't want to disturb you. He's quite a hunk." I'd allowed Greg to give me a heated kiss at that restaurant, I remembered, in full view of all. To make his mark on me, as it were. Not too smart. But soon it won't matter, I consoled myself. That night I leaned over Dan as he soaked in his nightly floral bath, flicking his nipples with my tongue and finger tips. They immediately became as hard as iron, and Dan ... he really did melt! ''Oh, my God, honey!" he exclaimed. "Heavenly!" I held each in my hand and grazed my thumb over those nubs, and he became jelly, eyes shut, the most darling smile cuving his mouth. Then "Ohhhhhhh," he whimpered aloud in what I realized was a mild female orgasm. Just from having his breasts caressed! How could I not smile delightedly? So there was no problem at all fitting him into one of the bras I'd bought him. And right off his figure was stunning! "You'll break hearts, sweetheart!" I told him, and I decided then and there that we were going shopping as soon as I could make up his face passably. That starting now he would never wear men's clothes ever again. He didn't. How was I supposed to know that he would end up God's gift to men? Dan I mean. I had him cooperating with me almost immediately as we went into shop after shop and he tried on different bras and panties and skirts and dresses, at first for size and then for style, to find the look that was truly 'Dan'. Then to the Gloriana Spa for a full makeover week. They're mainly for women, but they advertise that they can take on any challenge, and Patricia told me what that meant for certain men and certain of their women's intentions. He accompanied me to the front desk looking like a thoroughly feminized male, which he was by then. And eight days later the two of us left shoulder to shoulder as two lovely females -- me with my customary stately dignity, and Danni with a cute strut and all sorts of girly mannerisms. One of the "guides" as they called the staff had taught him to mince as he walked and make helpless little hand gestures as he spoke, and he looked darling enough for any man to eat. In fact one did! The third day another male "guide" -- by my pre- arrangement -- came up to him as he lay back in a bikini recovering from an hour's tanning, offered his hand, and led him to some private place beyond the pool area. A half hour later my darling Dan returned smiling, his face relaxed and his bikini only loosely, hastily re- tired. "Did he do you?" I asked, knowing the question would make sense only if he had. "Yes. Man to man. Then I did him, woman to man, and that was even better!" I decided it was just as well -- he's satisfied enough, so much the better when Greg eventually shows him what real fucking can be like. The following day he disappeared with that same guide and returned limping ever so slightly, wearing a different bikini! Had he gone up to the room to change? Apparently so, because I found the other one soaking in the sink, semen still not dissolved out of the fabric into the rinse water! My husband's ass was no longer virginal, I surmised - - and when I slipped my finger into it that night I confirmed the fact. There was even some pearly residue on my finger. "Was it good?" I asked him as I re-inserted my finger, a question out of the blue that would puzzle anyone not already single-mindedly dreaming about an "it." "Incredible," my darling Dan said with a broad, relieved smile. "I was so afraid you'd be angry, because now I've been unfaithful. I've wanted to believe what my guide Paolo assured me, that I can't be unfaithful to you with a man, only with another woman. So I should think of myself from here on as a woman, and take on only men. Except you of course -- then I'm a lesbian. He assured me that my residual genitalia were no longer of use, but any other man's could pleasure me as much as either of us might desire, so no harm done. His certainly did." He said that with a near-triumpant grin. "True enough," I responded. "I'm glad. To the degree that you're now a woman, you can't possibly be unfaithful to me with a man. We can both of us only feel mutually pleased for each other. So keep thinking of yourself as a woman and behave accordingly!" I phoned Greg to share my news with him. He was disappointed not to be Dan's -- now Danni's -- first. But that evening he appeared unexpectedly at the Spa to share our dinner with us and become Danni's second. As I'd anticipated, Danni was altogether enchanted by Greg, and I worried about my own jealous feelings when they spent that whole night together. But the next day Paolo claimed Danni again, and Greg claimed me. By the time we met a day later for breakfast, the process had completed itself. My lovely man was clinging to Paolo like a newlywed! From then on, no problems. Greg did introduce him to several of his accommodating friends, who kept him busy while we kept ourselves busy. And the nicest part of it all? We still live together as intimate girlfriends, We still share the same bed, as always. But we've taken to sleeping together with our pillows on opposite ends of the bed! My sweetie sleeps every night -- every night we aren't with our men, that is -- with his head resting between my legs, inhaling my aroma and licking me clean of my cum or Greg's semen -- a few other men's semen too, now and then, I must confess -- as one or the other leaks out of me. I kiss his clit gratefully, and he's promised equally gratefully that soon he'll have a pussy down there for me to nuzzle. What most persuaded him was a buzzing dildo I sometimes insert into his ass, so that much-used opening can feel soothed and comforted as he recovers from exertions elsewhere earlier. We each take all night to recover. But meanwhile, we hug and kiss each other more passionately than ever. A true marriage! (c) 2014 by Vickie Tern. And now I can finish some of the others also too-long incomplete!