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Happily Married By Gingerfred Man Chapter One - TGIF Four forty-three p.m. On a Friday. An incredibly sexy, very beautiful, 25-year-old woman, who obviously had the hots for me, was flirting at me full force. Again. "So, Dan," Leila said as she batted her 1.5-inch lashes at me, "a bunch of us are going for drinks after work today. Why don't you come with us for once?" For the billionth time, I wondered why Leila was so persistent. She knew I was happily married and she knew my wife was the kind a man runs, not walks, home to every night. Plus, she knew we had only been married for 11 months. So she had to assume we were still actively fucking. Maybe it was the fact that whenever she would come into my office right before quitting time with one ruse or another to get me into the sack with her, she saw my quite large erection. And thought it was for her. It was not. The stiffening of that eight-inch beauty - my best feature - was engendered by my thoughts of the most beautiful woman in the Milky Way galaxy. Alicia. My wife. Alicia! Every time that Leila put the moves on me, I was reminded of what Paul Newman once said when asked why he didn't cheat on Joanne Woodward, his wife. "Why go out for hamburger when you have steak at home?" Paul sagely asked. An odd thought passed through my cranium as Leila awaited my reply. I could have said, "Not tonight, Leila. But are you free on Monday night?" But I just smiled and told her, "Not tonight, Sorry. Alicia and I have plans." She gave me a disappointed look. Followed by a scornful one. I'm sure she thought Alicia had me "pussywhipped." Leila couldn't have been more wrong. "Pussy" was a definite non-factor. As Alicia huffed off, I wondered why I was even considering Leila for Monday. I mean, OK, it appeared that part of the reason why someone as incredibly exquisite as Alicia would want me as her husband, besides my eight hefty inches, was that I was always willing to be "flexible" to ensure that we stayed happily married. And Mondays were clear evidence that I was the kind of "flexible" man whom Alicia could love forever. Since the eighth month of our marriage, and the three months since, Alicia and I, at her "suggestion," have enjoyed "no questions asked" Mondays. Which means that from when I go to work on Monday, until I get home from work on Tuesday, we are both allowed to "pursue any interest." With no questions asked. It's very enjoyable. For Alicia, at least. She's gone when I get home from work on Monday night and I don't see her again until Tuesday around 5:30 p.m. At which point we fuck as if the Titanic were going down and we need to squeeze in one last hump before we die. Which was pretty much what we did every night. Six nights a week, anyway. And all day on weekends. Mondays were not so enjoyable for me. I usually heated up a frozen pizza, watched Monday Night Football, and went to bed early. Tossing and turning as I wondered what disgusting sex acts Alicia was performing with someone else. It wasn't right. I should be the only one satisfying all my filthy urges with Alicia! But I asked no questions. It's not good to tick off someone who is giving you universe-class sex six nights a week. Even if someone else is getting the seventh night. As a disappointed Leila dragged herself out of my office, I shuddered with lust as I considered the weekend ahead. Alicia had planned another "special" weekend for us. Our fourth in a row. And I found myself enjoying those "special' circumstances as much or more as our usual knock-down-drag-out fucking. But before I tell you about that weekend, let me tell you more about Alicia and me. Chapter Two - Exposed in Exposition I was almost too pig-headed to even meet Alicia 14 months earlier when the opportunity arose. Alicia's brother, Robbie, and I had just graduated from the endophilology programs at different universities and were in a study group to prepare for our CEP (Certified Endophilology Professional) exams. The exams are tough, as you might imagine, and only a small percentage pass the first time through. Robbie and I passed! The only ones in our study group of 15 to do so. So we became pretty good friends as we considered the legion of job offers before us. Robbie and I were courted hard by Endophile Partners, a consulting firm, but we didn't want the brutal travel schedule those professionals endured. So we accepted positions as staff endophilologists at two local Fortune 500 companies. And our lucrative, fulfilling careers began. Two weeks after settling in to my new job, Robbie and I discussed life over several beers. "You know, Dan," Robbie said. "You really should meet my sister." Oh no! Red alert. This was not good. Here's how such a situation usually develops. Friend A says to Friend B, "You really should meet my sister." Friend B bobs and weaves through the sales pitch. "She makes all her own clothes. She has a great personality. All the girls love her. She doesn't sweat much for a fat girl." Yadda yadda. B is finally forced to surrender. Goes on a miserable date with A's sister. Doesn't marry the sister (or even call her once after the date). A is insulted. Friends no more. I remember gasping for air. Digging deep for an excuse. But then Robbie showed me her picture. "This is Alicia. She was 18 three months ago. She's looking at her post-high-school options and ..." I heard nothing else. My eyes were so full of Alicia's radiant beauty that they cut off blood to my ears. Alicia was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. Long, silky. blond hair. Intelligent, deep-blue eyes. Puffy, red lips. And a very healthy set of boobies! To ice an already well-iced cake, Alicia was dressed like a woman! A real woman. With perfect makeup. An amazing, almost retro, flouncy red dress with big, white polka dots. And REAL, tan stockings! With what appeared to be red, 4-inch-stiletto pumps. Was my heart still beating? Was this for real? I had to ask. "This isn't a joke, right? This is your sister." Robbie smiled broadly. "That's her, all right. And she looks way better in person. And Dan, she's been pestering me about meeting you." I shuddered. "Yes, please, Robbie. Yes. She's amazing. But she must have tons of boyfriends. I probably won't be able to see her for quite a while." "No, Dan. Alicia has no boyfriends. She seems to be interested only in you. How about dinner at Mom and Dad's tomorrow night at six." My heart took flight. Tomorrow night! And then it was 6 p.m. the next night and I was standing outside the door. Of the house where Alicia lived with her parents. Holding a huge bouquet of flowers. And a huge bundle of hope. There are no atheists in foxholes. Nor are there atheists standing outside a galaxy-class babe's house ready to meet her parents on a first semi-date. I prayed that I wouldn't fuck up. And that Alicia would like me. Even better, that she would love me. Marry me. And allow me complete liberties with every square millimeter of her amazing body. Steps toward the door. It opened and... A startling sight! An amazingly beautiful woman was standing there glowing with smiles. She had a similar, retro dress to the one Alicia was wearing in the picture Robbie showed me. Her gorgeous face was perfectly made up. And she was wearing stockings and big, spiky heels. Did I mention that she had an hourglass figure with huge titties where the sand starts coming down? I gasped. It wasn't Alicia. Unless... Had Alicia aged overnight to a gorgeous early forties woman due to some gypsy curse? The woman before me was at least 40. Though no woman had ever done 40 better. Wait. Had Robbie hit me with a bait and switch? Was this heavenly creature Alicia's aunt or mother and Robbie had shown me an old picture of her in order to get me in the house where a bovine, coyote-ugly Alicia could prey on my poor virile soul? Or... Maybe this was Alicia's mother and the lovely Alicia was upstairs finishing her last beauty treatment. My mind snapped back just in time to hear, "It's wonderful to meet you, Dan. Robbie speaks so highly of you. I'm Alicia's mother. Her father, who is an endophilologist with Endophile Partners, is on the road. Alicia will be right down. And thank you for the lovely flowers." I managed to stumble out some thanks for inviting me to their lovely home. Even then, I could see that Mrs. Goodbody was very used to dealing with tongue-tied young men. Mrs. Goodbody made a nice show of putting the flowers in water as I noted, much to my heart's palpitations, that she was wearing brown, seamed, fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings and her dress was exactly the right length to grant the attentive an occasional glance at her stocking tops. The heat in the room went up by ten degrees. And then it reached the boiling point. Alicia descended the staircase. Superlatives were inadequate. Alicia was, and is, the most beautiful, most feminine human being in human history. If her mother was a 12 on a 10-point scale, Alicia was a 100. Big, high titties! Sensational legs! Big blondeness. A body that promised delights beyond the dreams of mortal man. And the clothes and makeup to enhance it all. Like her mother, Alicia was wearing a 1950s-style, flouncy-skirts dress with a 1960s-style mini-hemline. Allowing her worshippers to glimpse the tops of Alicia's black, seamed, fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings now and then. Her smile would have to be registered with the Atomic Energy Commission. And she was aiming it at me! My throat constricted. Was she saying something? "...meet you at last, Dan. Robbie speaks so highly of you." I recovered enough to say, "Thank you, Alicia. I'm VERY happy to meet you. And might I say that you look extraordinarily beautiful this evening." OMG!!! Alicia blushed! She blushed!! Who was I dealing with here? A mega-ultra-babe, dressed in a way that would enflame 99.9% of the world's men and she was an innocent? Alicia was a 200! I know you want me to move this story along to the "good parts," so I'll only say that Alicia and her Mom and I shared an excellent dinner and our life stories. The Goodbody family moved to our city when Alicia was 12 and Robbie (and I) were 16. Mr. Goodbody was sort of an absentee father, but a good provider. My own life story was fraught with dullness. Mom and Dad had been married 25 years at that point. I had a younger sister. Alicia laughed at my jokes. She gave me shy looks when she thought I wasn't looking. I was in love!!! Please, I prayed, don't let this be the end of Alicia and me. It was not. After I said my goodbyes, Alicia saw me to the door. "I really enjoyed tonight, Dan. I'm free on Saturday. Please call me." And she kissed me on the cheek. I creamed my pants. Thank goodness, she didn't see that, I thought. Later, she told me that she had seen it and thought it was "cute." That was three months into our marriage. Between our fourth and fifth fucks one glorious night. That first "date" night, however, the only physical contact I had had with Alicia was that kiss on the cheek. When I got home that night, I began to stroke my cock and imagine more. Much more. I pictured Alicia on her back on a bed. Holding her skirts up to her navel. Her panties dangling from her right ankle. Just above her stiletto pump. Her legs were spread and I could see her wet pussy winking at me from between her creamy thighs and above her black stocking tops. Her pussy hair was blond, of course. Assuming she hadn't shaved it all off. I liked pussy hair. Alicia was too retro to shave down there, I conjectured. I kissed her sweet lips deeply, with lots of tongue and then I immersed my face in her pussy. Licking, tonguing and sucking. Putting a tiny love bite onto her clitoris that launched her from our solar system. In my waking dream, Alicia screeched in erotic agony as she gushed pussy juice onto my face. The thought of which had me shooting my own manly juices all the way to my chin. I HAD to POSSESS Alicia! And soon. But possession was a process. I called Alicia the next day. My heart soared when she agreed to dinner and a movie on Saturday night. We held hands in the movie. No way was I going to turn her off by moving too quickly. When I took her home, she invited me in. Her mother was upstairs. We sat on the couch and French-kissed for the most spectacular hour of my life thus far. My hands only roamed to her shoulders and glorious, stockinged knees. Slow wins the race, I thought. Alicia told me when I should go home and I did, making another date three days hence. That was the pattern until date five. Alicia was wearing a white blouse that night. And a tight, short skirt. Not her usual dress. When we got back to her house and made it to the couch, Alicia took off her heels and asked me for a foot massage. I eagerly complied. Oh my. As I was rubbing her left foot, it appeared that Alicia's right foot was in my crotch. Gently rubbing my painfully stiff cock. Should I zip down, pull it out and give Alicia easier access? No. Patience. Alicia moaned very nicely as I massaged her left foot, then gave me her right foot for attention. Her left foot also rubbed my horribly aroused cock. She kept it up. Knowing full well what distress I was in. Then she gave me the sweetest smile and said, "It's OK, Dan. Let it go." I did. A heaving pants-soaker. Not the way I had drawn it up in my dreams, but very nice. I then drew Alicia to me and tongue-kissed her in loving gratitude for our first sexual act. Alicia eagerly kissed back until she asked, "Will you do something for me now?" I would have jumped off the roof of the tallest building in town if she had asked. "My titties need some attention from a man. They've never had any attention from a man.. Would you pay attention to my titties?" Yes, please! Gimmee those titties!! Alicia unbuttoned her blouse, then reached back and unsnapped her overchallenged bra. Out they came! I was not worthy! By now, you probably know that I'm more of a leg man. Especially a leg- in-stocking man. Flat chested-women with great stockinged legs are still dick-stiffeners for me. But even a man who was more or less unimpressed by tittage, would be drooling like Niagara Falls at the sight of Alicia's breasts. Firm. Perfectly shaped. Big! And, this was my favorite part. Two-inch-diameter nipplage. Wow! Alicia had me sit as she straddled my legs. Giving me excellent access to her breasts. I held the left puppy in my right hand and kissed its nose. Alicia gasped. I kissed, licked and sucked Alicia's left nipple until she was moaning with lust. When I shifted my attentions to her right nipple, she cried out. Had I just made Alicia cum? Without touching her pussy? It appeared I had. My major emotion at that point was pride. I felt like the stud of at least North America. And I knew, just knew, that Alicia would be dropping her panties in a minute or two to welcome my large pussypleaser into his new home. I was wrong. "That was amazing," Alicia breathed between tonguey kisses. "But I think it's time for you to go home. I'm free the day after tomorrow." That was abrupt. But I was clearly moving around the bases with Alicia. Tit-licking should lead to even greater delights. Probably on our next date. The prospects for some real "scoring" on the next date grew even stronger when, on our last kiss of the date, Alicia said, "I'll tell Mom that you're taking me out to dinner, but you can feed me at your place, OK?" Yes!! On my homeward float that night, I stopped at a supermarket for a "sleeping aid." "Panty Boy" magazine. I always sleep better when my ball bag is empty. And "Panty Boy" had been doing the job for me since I was 16. It wasn't the sissy cocks erupting on practically every page, I told myself. It was the femininity those sweet angels projected from the page. All I wanted in my love life was a bit of femininity. And the best I had ever seen was coming from Alicia, her mother and the pantyboys of Panty Boy. I picked up the latest copy at the checkout, paid my $39.95 plus tax and headed for home. In my bedroom, I stripped naked and got myself a nice white towel and a half-empty bottle of Slickyboy Masturbation Cream (a Spermbutt Industries product) . I removed the wrapper from the Panty Boy, lay on my back and applied three nice globs of Slickyboy Masturbation Cream to my aching cock. Very nice. I was picturing Alicia as I began to stroke, but then I turned my attention to the world's leading print publication. The first "pictorial" was called "After School Fun." It showed 18-year- old high-school boys, Steve and Rick, walking briskly from their school. "I told my Mom I'd be spending the night with Mr. Bumsplitter at his house," Steve said. "I told my Mom that too," Rick replied. "I know he won't try to 'do' us both again, though." The boys laughed. "Yeah," Steve said, "Mr. Bumsplitter didn't enjoy the emergency room." The boys giggled. They arrived at a nice two-story, four-bedroom colonial, suburban house, found the key under the mat and let themselves in. The boys were next seen in a bedroom filled with frilly feminine delights. The nest two pages showed the boys transforming into magnificent pantyboys. Perfect makeup. Big-hair wigs. Garter belts and seamed, fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings. Filmy babydoll nighties. Three-inch stilettos. The boys marveled at each other's beauty and began to express their obvious (nice erections) attraction to each other through some very erotic tongue kissing and penis fondling and I was convinced that sperm would be spouting soon. But just as the boys' flushed faces began to foreshadow orgasms, Mr. Bumsplitter and a friend burst into the room. The boys were startled. And broke off their embrace. Mr. Bumsplitter bellowed, "I hope you too weren't shooting off your sissy cream before Mr. Hardman and I sucked your pretty peckers, were you? If you have, this love session will begin with some hard spankings until I see tears!" "Oh no, sir," Stevie said. "Ricki and I are saving all our girlish goo for you, Mr. Bumsplitter. And that handsome man you brought us, of course." Mr. Bumsplitter wasn't completely convinced, but he nodded to his friend and both men stripped to a very buff nude and sat at the end of the bed. The boys sissied over to the men and each fed their man a pretty, pink sissy penis. Stiff and ready. And so the fun began. Page after page of exquisitely photographed man-pantyboy sex. Cum in every picture. Spectacular! Everyone was having such a good time that it was infectious. I was having a good time. My cock was having a good time. It was dangerously close to the edge when I focused on Stevie shooting her sissy juice as Mr. Bumsplitter thrusted his BIG cock in and out of the pantyboy's tiny asshole. A thought flashed through my mind at that instant. Would Alicia allow me to have anal sex with her? As early as our next date? That was the little extra that had me crying out loud as I emptied my balls I would probably have to fuck her vagina first, I thought as blood was released from my cock and was allowed to return to my brain. But I was pretty sure that her vagina would be mine on our next date. Or the one after that at the latest. I was wrong. About a lot. But as you already know, things turned out very well for me. And Alicia, of course. At that point in time, however, I was having some next-steps anxiety. How would I move forward my guy agenda - pussy-and-bumhole-fucking- centric activity - while not looking like either an overly aggressive beast or a timid jerkboy? So far, I had been following Alicia's lead. Not a bad strategy going forward, I decided. Two days later, at 7;10 p.m., Alicia entered my apartment for the first time. I had her all to myself. No anxiety about Mom coming downstairs to catch us satisfying our filthy urges. At my place, we could satisfy our filthy urges in private. Nature's way. I had prepared dinner for us both. All I had to do was heat it a bit. I asked Alicia if she was hungry and she answered by unzipping her dress and letting it drop to the floor. She then unhooked and removed her bra and stood before me wearing only black, seamed, fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings; a ruffled white garter belt; four-and- a-half-inch spiked-heel sandals and the granniest of black granny panties. My heart leapt. And so did my penis. Aside from the panties, it was the sexiest tableau I had ever seen. The panties. What were they made of? Not nylon. Or polyester. Or silk. It looked like Kevlar. Which would stop a bullet. Or a lover. "I'm sorry about the panties, Dan," my angel said. "But I promised myself that I would stay a virgin until I was married. But whatever else you see is all yours." I was taken aback by that. Certainly the parts of Alicia that I could enjoy in large quantities were the stuff of men's dreams. But, having consumed Alicia's kisses, kissed her toes and sucked her titties, I wanted to FUCK her! NOW! And if not now, ten minutes from now. Max! Wait. There was a solution. Why hadn't I thought of it? "Will you marry me, Alicia?" Did I just say that? I did. Alicia blushed again. Then almost said, "Oh. This is so sudden." Instead, she said, "Oh! I don't know, Dan. You are a very pretty young man. You have a nice, fit body. It's clear that you adore me. And I have strong feelings for you as well. You have a real financial future as an endophilologist. And you are not a ravaging, all-hands beast like some men. "On the other hand. I'm only 18. And you're 22. Are we too young to get married? You're also only an inch taller than I am, so when I'm in heels, you look shorter. Hmmm." Alicia appeared to be thinking. I was too. What did she mean that I was "pretty?" Alicia stopped thinking and said, "There are two more factors I need to consider. First, drop your pants, Dan." Huh? Was Alicia basing her answer to my proposal on what she saw of my cock for the first time? Certainly not. Cock size was only half of what she needed to know. Confidently, I dropped my pants and watched with pride as Alicia gasped at the beauty of my eight manly inches. For the first time, Alicia touched it. Her soft, girlish fingers explored all of my cock's nooks and crannies. She hefted my balls. Snapped my foreskin up and down. All the while, smiling with feminine delight at the rammer that would ravage her after the wedding. Which I hoped would be in Las Vegas the following weekend. It was a very exciting penis exploration. I hoped that my almost (I hoped) fianc?e would put the knob in her mouth, then swallow what was about to be a large, creamy load. But no. Alicia gave me an excellent hand job, then watched with delight as my sperm flew in thick ropes. When I had recovered, I had to ask. "What's the other factor affecting your answer?" Alicia smiled. "Why the size and beauty of the ring you're offering me on our next date in three days, of course." Chapter Three - Engaged, then Married Three days later, I showed up at Alicia's parental home with a 2.5-carat, boulder of a diamond ring. I would have gone to three carats, but couldn't get the shylocks (and their 10%-per-week interest) to lend me anymore. And the blood bank would only pay me for a gallon of my blood. I exaggerate. But I did scrape together every farthing. I wanted Alicia! And from the way Alicia was squealing and jumping up and down, then kissing me within an inch of my life after she put the ring on, she wanted me too. Engaged. To be married. To Alicia. It was a lovely condition. Which got lovelier as Alicia took me to her room, got undressed to her impenetrable panties, stockings and garters, then fell to her knees and took my cock into her mouth. Being sucked off by Alicia was a stunning experience on two levels. Being sucked off by the most beautiful woman a man had even imagined is a banquet in itself for the male ego. But being sucked off by someone who was also a strong contender for the World's Greatest Fellatrix award.... And Alicia was all that. Really. She swirled her tongue around my knob. Digging into my peehole a bit with her tongue tip. She seemed to know all about the particular sensitivities of the arrow point under the knob. And gave that spot the majority of her tonguish attentions. And then there was the digital intervention. As I approached liftoff, Alicia stopped her astounding attentions and did two things. She produced a tube from Goodness knows where and slowly and carefully refreshed her lipstick. As I panted in pre-orgasmic disorientation. Then she licked two fingers of her right hand. And stuck then into my bumhole. Finding my prostate and torturing it as she licked my knob. It was at that moment that I first wondered whether Alicia had been completely honest about the virgin thing. Then I stopped thinking. I gasped for every oxygen atom in the room as my former self left my body and I became one with Alicia. At least my sperm and she were one. She swallowed every molecule of it. Astonishingly erotic. Stupefyingly ball-draining. And from a virgin, no less. My emotional neurons ached to return the sexual favor in some ways. To make Alicia cum. Hard. Serially. Seeing her shudder and hearing her gasp, pant and squeal. But the "best stuff" was locked away for the wedding. Still, I remembered how adoring Alicia's titties had produced an apparent orgasm for her, so I tried that route. Alicia was perfectly docile and extraordinarily responsive. After a delicious half hour of nipple adoration, Alicia did shudder, pant and squeal. Ha. So there, Miss Alicia Goodbody and your rules that prevent your fianc? from loving you fully. At that time, I figured that I would have Alicia's panties down in a week, my cock in her pussy in ten days. and my cock in her bumhole three days later. Wrong, wrong and wrong. Alicia stuck to her rules. She didn't take her panties off for me until our wedding night. Which was two months later! Two months!! I wanted to go to Vegas and do it all over a weekend. Alicia looked at me as if I were the dumbest kid in the class. "A girl wants her wedding to be perfect, Dan. Two months is warp speed. It could have been over a year if Mom and I hadn't already taken care of details like the guest list, flowers and the gown." As it turned out, Alicia and her mother had been planning her wedding for over two years. I was just the last piece of the puzzle. Even though I knew I was getting one of the Universe's greatest prizes in two months, it was very painful to me to have all of her except for the really sexy parts. Not that it was bad to be getting bonecrushing blowjobs on our every- three-days dates during that time. But I was very impatient. And very bummed out that she would only see me one of three days. Was Alicia seeing someone else? No way. But to this day, all she will say about that is, "Wedding preparations, Honey." There was no turning off my libido on those two-day sex deserts, so "Panty Boy" and I sustained our long-time friendship. I remember one issue in particular during that time called "Pantyboy Spunk Party." It was a real trendsetter, as I guess you know. But at the time it was a brand-new concept. It began with eight attractive, 18-year-old boys leaving high school one Friday afternoon with their extracurricular-club teacher, Miss Silklegs. The extracurricular activity was the local chapter of the Miniskirt Club, a group where aspiring young crossdressers can learn their femininity in a safe, sex-free environment. Sex-free on school grounds, of course. Off campus, the young pantyboys were most popular with their peers. Regular "readers" of "Panty Boy" knew all about the Miniskirt Club. They also knew that once the pantyboys turned 18, there were more interesting, off-campus activities. Such as the monthly pantyboy spunk parties Miss Silklegs arranged at her four-bedroom , colonial house two blocks from school. The eight 18-year-old pantyboys entered Miss Silklegs' house and went right to her living room/dining room, where she had set up a vast array of mirrors, cosmetics, lingerie, stockings and high heels. The boys set to work on their transitions immediately. The magazine featured a slender, delicious, barely-18, blonde angel named Jeanette. It showed Jeanette's artful transformation within an hour to an exquisite sex object, who along with her seven classmates, was made-up and dressed- to-fuck. At first I thought that the pantyboys were so exquisite that the "story" would include a cum-splattered, semi-orgy among the boys before the men arrived. But the text pointed out that Miss Silklegs allowed no spunking until the men joined then party. The men soon arrived. Eight virile specimens. OK. Not all textbook hunks. But rich enough to pay Miss Silklegs $20,000 for 12 hours of pantyboy delights. Which can be very attractive. The pantyboys acted a bit shy as they started pairing off with the men. But everyone in the house was clearly there for 12 hours of sex. So the tension was quite low. Jeanette, ferociously lovely in all-pink: seamed, fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings, panties, garter belt, push-up bra, and four-inch spike heel; was matched with a 30-something rich guy with a slight gut, but big cock and handsome face. They commandeered a corner of the family room and got to it. The magazine's focus was on Jeanette and her paramour of the hour, but one could glimpse other man-pantyboy carnality in the background throughout the magazine. Lots of closed-mouth kissing. Then lots of tongue-kissing. Panties off. Cocks out. Stroking. Then the man sucked the boy's cock until Jeanette squealed and squirted all over the man's face. I remember wondering why, in Panty Boy magazine, a man always seemed to want to suck his pantyboy's pretty popsy before he fucked her. I guess he wanted to show her that her pleasure was important to him. Or something. Anyway, Jeanette then presented her pre-lubed bum to the man, removed a large, well-lubed butt plug, got on all fours, and wiggled to be fucked. The man was very obliging. As were the other seven sweet lads, all of whom switched partners at least three times that night. The magazine showed Jeanette with two other men partners, then an interlude where she went to the dining room to change into an all-black outfit similar to her pink set. She looked spectacular in it. The pantyboy who was changing clothes while Jeanette was, agreed. As did the nest two men partners. They all made Jeanette cum quite ferociously. Reading that issue always made me fantasize about going to a pantyboy spunk party. Not to mention that I also blew two or three big loads as well each time I read it. I'm only telling you this, so don't repeat it: sometimes I wondered what it would be like to be Jeanette. But I never dwelled on that notion. Really. Never. Today, of course, pantyboy spunk parties are "the thing," with neighborhood get-togethers, weekly or more frequent sessions in almost every municipality. But I digress. What I'm trying to say is that, the 67 days I had to wait between the ring and the "I do's" was hellaciously long! At last the wedding day arrived. Alicia was astoundingly beautiful and wedding-crashers numbered in the dozens. Alicia's Daddy, whom I finally met, gave her away. Her brother Robbie, my best friend, was best man. Finally, after the cake-cutting, the reception and the chicken dance, Alicia was mine. We were alone. In the honeymoon suite of the hotel where we had the reception. Alone. The door triple-locked. Alone. And no more excuses allowed. Alicia was quite kissy and affectionate when we got into the room. But I sensed some anxiety. Was she truly a virgin? Afraid that I would harm her when I broke her hymen? Thinking about it a bit, I had often wondered how a virgin managed to give the best blowjobs in world history. And I was reminded of the great lines from the old Ray Charles song, "You said before we met that your life was awful tame. Then I took you to a nightclub and the whole band knew your name." But deep thinking didn't seem productive at that stage of my life. Was she afraid that I would be a wild beast and tear her virginal anus and intact vagina apart with my furious fornicating? I had no such plans. I was about to tell her all that when she broke off from me and said, "Please unzip my wedding gown, Darling. I have everything in the bathroom I need to look pretty for you, but I may be in there for a while. You just get naked and get under the covers. Watch TV for a while. I'll be out soon and I'll be all yours. More waiting! Crap. There wasn't a window in the bathroom, was there? She couldn't climb out. We were on the 32nd floor. I did as instructed. Too nervous to watch TV. Too impatient to be calm. It took Alicia 37 minutes to "get ready." At first glance, it was well worth it. I sat up in bed and was bathed in Alicia's radiant beauty. She was wearing all white. A silky, sheer peignoir covered a white babydoll, white garter belt and white seamed, fully-fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings. Her lovely feet were encased in puffy spike-heeled slippers. Her makeup was the sluttiest I had ever seen her do. It was the perfect counterpoint to the virginal white motif she had adopted. She sort of angled out of the bathroom, so that I could catch sight of her spectacular ass for the first time. It was galaxy-class. Wow! After being initially stunned, I noticed two unsettling things. Alicia was trembling. In what appeared to be real fear. I needed to comfort my darling. Calm her unwarranted fears of being ravaged in her virginal state. But then I saw "it." I wasn't sure that "it" was what I thought "it" was. But then I was sure. "It" was a hard cock, perhaps a bit shorter than my own, poking through the open peignoir!! I gasped. Alicia could see that I had seen "it" and her terror tripled. I can tell you, 11 months later, exactly what went through my mind over the next 15 critical seconds. I was a bit pissed off that Alicia withheld what most would agree was a significant fact for someone one intends to marry. That passed quickly. Then I thought, "My pantyboy dreams have come true! Alicia's sex drive will be as insane as mine! We'll fuck ten times a day! No periods! No PMS! No moodiness! No kids mucking up our sex life until we adopt a couple of house-broken ones when we're in our 50s. No typical, female- engendered nagging, manipulation or emasculation." Though I did feel a bit manipulated at that moment. Still, I was way better off than any Lotto winner in history. Loving sex is way better than money. Gathering what remained of my sober dignity, I took a swipe at Alicia's honesty. "You deceived me, Alicia. How can I ever trust you again?" A sobbing Alicia sat on my lap, threw her magnificent body into my arms and swore to me that she would never lie to me or deceive me again. We both knew, and so does everyone else, what a preposterous promise that is. Any relationship where both parties are completely honest with each other would never last a year. But it was a key ritual. And we went through the motions. We stood and hugged. As Alicia held me and sobbed out her eternal promises, I could feel her considerable penis stiff against my stomach. Even then it occurred to me that while Alicia was projecting fear of reprisal for what some could even call "breach of contract" (thought I was getting a woman...), her cock was projecting intense sexual arousal. Like almost all of the men in the Panty Boy "pictorials," I felt it necessary to investigate the cockage before any real sexual shenanigans began. I kissed Alicia tonguingly, listened to a few more apologies and promises of eternal, intensely sexual devotion, then said, "Let's have a look at what you felt you had to hide from me in those horrible panties. Alicia stopped sobbing and went into shy, semi-vamp mode. I sat. She pulled back the white, filmy folds of the peignoir to reveal a very pretty popsy! Perhaps an inch shorter than mine, with a lovely foreskin that was peeled back to reveal a pink, throbbing head that was oozing girlish pre-juices. It was almost as beautiful as Alicia's face, Of course I went through the usual progression. I touched it. I stroked it. I kissed the head. Licking up a nice string of sweet sissy juice. Then, though I had never sucked a cock in my life, I took Alicia's knob into my mouth. I licked, sucked, kissed and stroked Alicia's delicious "little girl" until she was squealing and squirting. I wanted to swallow (it's what a gentleman does) and I was very pleased that I was able to slurp it all down. Alicia was VERY pleased as well. Her danger of decapitation by her husband-of-six-hours having past, Alicia was ready to make me the happiest man in the solar system. When her orgasm had subsided, she turned around, dropped the peignoir, lifted her babydoll and pretty much stuck her ass in my face. "Do you like my tushie, Honey?" she asked with a giggle. Her tushie was astonishingly magnificent. I had to pay proper homage to it. So I began to kiss and lick the soft pillowed cheeks, moving toward the center a bit with each smooch. I parted the cheeks with my thumbs and was delighted to hear Alicia moan as I kissed and licked the parts of her bum that usually don't often see daylight. By the time I arrived at her anus, Alicia's penis was stiff and drippy once again. I stuck my tongue into her "wrinkle" and pushed it in as far as I could muster. Alicia screamed. And shot her sissy cream a good three feet. It's so nice when one's work is appreciated. I resumed my task. Though I had never eaten ass before, and my technique was far from what it is today, 27 minutes of delicious digging seemed to make Alicia quite happy. She was so lust-crazed that she could only mumble, "Fuck me!" I was eager to oblige. But on my terms. Because I was the man. Alicia's Lord and Master. I laid Alicia on her back on the bed, slid two pillows under her hips and got ready to climb aboard. Alicia's eyes sparkled as she saw my cock in full horn. Ready to defile her virginity. But not quite yet. Alicia pointed to the right. "In the drawer. Please," she mumbled. What? Oh. A large bottle of Spermbutt Anal Lubricant. Good idea. I slathered the stuff onto three fingers of my right hand and used them to lubricate and dilate Alicia even more. Then I used a big glop of it on my achingly stiff stiffie. At last. I covered Alicia's beautiful body with my own. Lined up A with B and pushed. Sublime! Magnifico! I was in at last. And it was worth the wait. Anal grip has vaginal grip beaten big. Alicia's pootie was incredibly tight, but careful preparation won the day. Her beautiful eyes were wide and moist with love as I pushed and pulled my cock within her most private place. She moaned and gasped and grunted her love for me. We kissed with fierce tongues. And then I spunked. Would have wanted to wait a bit there, but it was not to be. Fortunately, being 22 years old. I didn't even withdraw before getting hard again. The second round lasted 47 minutes. The best 47 minutes of my life thus far. And I know Alicia enjoyed it too. She spunked twice. A pantyboy can't really fake an orgasm. We uncoupled. Kissed and cooed. Then went again. Alicia on all fours that time. Incredible. Nobody ever had a better wedding night than we did. Or a better honeymoon. We went to a spa that Alicia had suggested in Arizona. Little did I know that it catered to newlywed pantyboys and their husbands, as well as pantyboys on a fling with their manfriends. It was a sensational experience. Nudity was outlawed. But provocation was encouraged. At the pool, where we took a breather from fucking now and then, the pantyboy swimsuits were astonishing. Not the least of which was Alicia's. She wore what I believe is called a "slingshot bikini," which was two narrow straps behind the neck that went south to barely cover Alicia's nipples, then farther down formed a gauzy patch around Alicia's big cock and heavy balls. Two things worth noting here. Though I saw men and pantyboys drooling over Alicia all during our three weeks at the resort, Alicia never gave the smallest sign of being interested in anyone but me. And, I don't know who invented the material that, throughout Alicia's panties and wardrobe, covered her "sissy things," but it was an engineering marvel. The material felt like silk, but expanded effortlessly to cover Alicia's frequent arousal. No matter how "pointed" her response to stimuli. No more balls falling out of the panties when Miss Pantyboy got a stiffie. No free looks for the other guests at my wife's "gear" when she looked at me and got aroused. Isn't science beautiful? We usually took our breakfast and lunch in our suite, but we often went to the hotel's excellent restaurant for dinner. Dinner was always a lingerie fashion show. All the lovelies there had apparently forgotten to pack dresses, skirts and blouses, because they all showed up in bras, panties, stockings and heels at a minimum. Sometimes peignoirs and naughty nighties added to the excitement. I tried very hard not to look, which Alicia found amusing. "Go ahead and look, Honey. But remember who you'll be fucking later tonight." And with that she squeezed my stiff cockhead under the table. I remembered. The only other non-fucking thing I remember about our honeymoon is that the resort had a seven-nights-a-week pantyboy spunk party available for guests who brought their own pantyboy. It was WAY too early in our marriage to do that swapping thing. Darn it. Cause it sure sounded like fun. Anyway, Alicia and I returned from our honeymoon and settled down to married life. Exquisite married life. We didn't go out much. Quiet evenings at home. You know what I mean. I would usually walk through the door at around 5:30. Alicia would have made an excellent meal that could be kept on a low simmer. She was always dressed in the naughtiest lingerie. In a rainbow of colors, though pink, black and white were my favorites. Yellow was good too. Or baby blue. Anyway, Alicia kissed me as if I were being shipped out to war. Then she would always pull my pants down, get on her knees and give me a blowjob beyond a prurient imagination. Most of the time with manicured fingers massaging my prostate. Sometimes just rubbing the entrance to my anus. Either way, mortal man was not made to endure more than five minutes of that tasty torture. I always spunked. Sometimes onto Alicia's beautiful face. Sometimes down her throat. And she would always suck me to a second stand. Alicia would usually then bend over the dining room table or against a wall, or just get onto the floor on all fours and present me with her glorious ass for a five-star fucking. Most nights, Alicia would extract a well-lubed butt plug before she wiggled her ass and begged to be fucked. Doing the preliminaries herself before I got home so I could fuck her sooner. Can you see why I believe pantyboys are far superior to women? I always obliged, of course. Fucking my amazing wife until she cried out with her own orgasm. Which usually triggered mine. Dinner usually followed. Followed by three or four more hours of filthy sex. I know. Sounds like the same thing every night. Boring, right? Not really, but it did need some spicing up around month eight of our marriage. Chapter Four - Marriage in months 8-11 Have you asked yourself yet whether I had any answers to questions a normal husband might ask of his normal wife. Such as: How did you become an amazingly beautiful, big-titted woman with a big cock? Or, what was it like growing up as an amazingly beautiful, big-titted girl with a big cock? Or, if you were a virgin before I married you, how did you learn to suck cock like that? And how about, what do you do all day while I'm at work? I didn't want to mess with the goose that was laying big, golden eggs, so I tentatively asked only question number one. Alicia distracted me from an answer on that for a week by sticking either her cock or her bumhole in my face and having me eat my fill. But eventually, she answered. She started with the usual. She knew from an early age that she was a girl in a boy's body. But she was blessed with understanding parents, who let her dress and act girlish at home until she was 12. At which time, they moved the family to our town, changed Alicia's name, enrolled her in school as a girl and got her hormone treatments that kept her stiffies and gave her titties. She even admitted to a few nip-and-tuck surgeries, such as Adam's apple removal. But she made it clear that she wasn't big on the Q and As. In fact, she suggested that, to spice up our marriage, we should begin "no questions asked" Mondays. I've already told you my feelings on that, but I went along. The six nights a week with Alicia were too precious to be messed with. As month 11 began, however, the rules of marriage changed again. One Friday night as we lay in bed, chests heaving from yet another miraculous fucking, Alicia asked ME a question. "Ever since our first date, I've noticed your particular love of stockings. Is that just because you like seeing them on me, or would you like to try a pair on?" How could I answer that question? If I answered that I only liked seeing stockings on Alicia, my manly hetero credentials would be intact. But if I said that, Alicia might never ask me that again. And the aching truth was and is that I would ADORE an opportunity to see what it felt like to wear Alicia's stockings and garters. I said nothing. Alicia smiled knowingly. "I have my answer," she said, So she got out of bed and returned with a pair of brown, seamed, fully- fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings and a ruffled, white garter belt. Oh! My legs weren't very hairy to begin with, but she insisted on shaving them. Which felt erotic already. She then showed me how to roil each stocking into a doughnut and then unroll/slide them up each smooth leg. Oh! I was, at the time, ashamed that I spunked. Alicia was delighted, and caught the last two spurts in her mouth. Then she gave me a deep tongue kiss, sharing my own spunk with me. Alicia had never done that before. By the time Alicia had shown me how to straighten my seams and attach my garter belt, I was hard again. And I stayed hard as Alicia laid me on my back, tongue-kissing my mouth as she ran two Spermbutt Anal Lubricant- slicked fingers up my asshole. I didn't resist. It felt amazing. Nor did I resist when Alicia rubbed some Spermbutt Anal Lubricant onto her hard cock and, with me lying on my right side, slid her thick penis into my bumhole. I had two thoughts about my first ass-fucking. Ow and wow! Ow because it hurt. Not that badly. Thank you, Spermbutt Anal Lubricant! But it hurt at first. Then it didn't. Wow because it was an amazingly intimate and submissive act. And each time that Alicia rubbed her cock against my prostate, I visited other galaxies. I knew I should have resisted, Been the man. Put my foot down. But it was the flip side (or perhaps the feature side) of the dreams I had conjured when reading Panty Boy all those years. When Alicia spunked my bum, I cried a little. Saying goodbye to some of my manhood. Though it was an amiable separation. Just to show Alicia that I was still her Dan the Man, I flipped her onto her back and gave her a good, macho seeing-to. So. We now had options. I adopted a girl name. Jeanette, of course, but only for Friday nights. The following Friday, I got a makeup lesson, And I looked pretty good. The week after that, I wore a babydoll and learned to walk in three-inch stilettos. Mostly. The week after that, we extended "Jeanette time" to the entire weekend. It was delicious. And finally, we come to the Friday mentioned at the beginning of this true-life account. Chapter Five - Out and about That Friday night, Alicia greeted me with the usual "breadwinner's welcome" of an on-the-knees blowjob, followed by a bent-over-the-family- room-couch fucking. Then we had dinner. Followed by the opening ceremonies for our second special weekend. I was getting better at dressing myself and doing my make-up. Alicia upped the ante a bit by painting my toe- and fingernails. Which was OK, I guessed, since we would be staying home all weekend. I wore a yellow babydoll and black stockings. Alicia was all pink. She fucked me twice. I buggered her three times. A great night, as always. On Saturday, things changed. I woke up first so I got to fuck Alicia. We had some breakfast. Then shared a soapy, active shower and set about putting on our lingerie. Alicia insisted I do all black, including a black bra. She did the same. Then the dresses came out. That's right. Plural. Dresses. One for me. One for Alicia. That didn't make much sense. Why wear dresses when we would be taking them off moments later for sex? Unless... No! She couldn't. She wouldn't. She would. "You'll look so cute in this little blue cocktail dress, Jeanette," Alicia said. "And I hope you're not going to show me that you're a scaredy-cat sissy about going out. I'm only taking you to where I buy almost all my clothes. It's time Jeanette got her own stuff." At least that's what I think she said. I was too terrorized to catch it all. Go out!?!?!?! Dressed!?!?!?! "Keep calm, Jeanette," Alicia continued. "Everyone there is either a pantyboy or someone who loves a pantyboy. No one will 'out' you or embarrass you." I gulped. And manned up. As much as I could while wearing black lingerie, blue heels, a blue dress and lots of makeup. "Where are we going, Alicia?" "Why Timmy's Girlish Secret, of course." Alicia drove. I almost complained. But didn't want to upset a cart with some very nice apples on it. And I have to admit, it was almost fatally exciting to be walking alongside Alicia in the parking lot. In our pretty dresses. The breeze flowing up my skirts. Garters tugging at my stockings with each step. Timmy's Girlish Secret is one of the few retail operations to thrive in an expanding world of online shopping. Good customer service. Wonderful products. Great selection. And a very interesting clientele. Pantyboys. Dozens of them. Many attractive ones. Some less so. 90 percent of whom appeared to be with their "daddies," who were intent on buying their little angels whatever their sissy hearts desired. Was I the only pantyboy with his wife? Oops. Did I just call myself a pantyboy? Well, I guess I was in that setting. But only on the weekends. And I could stop whenever I wanted. Anyway. The front-of-the-store display was oceans of panties. Most of which were in that silky material that expands with erections. Nothing was cheap. But it was all good quality. Alicia and I selected 15 lovely pairs for me. At which point we were joined by the store manager, Mr. Loveboy. "So wonderful to see you again, Mrs. Everhard," he said in his I-like- you-because-you're-beautiful-and-my-best-customer voice. "And who is your lovely companion?" "This is my husband, Jeanette, Mr. Loveboy. She's new at crossdressing, but shows great promise, don't you think?" Did Mr. Loveboy smile at me or was it a leer? "I'm so glad to meet you at last, Miss Everhard. Your wife is a wonderful customer here, not to mention that she's the most beautiful person ever to walk through those doors. I can see that you're not trailing her by much." Huh? Did that store guy just say I was beautiful? Was I? I was getting more confused about my place in the order of things, but Alicia just kept shoveling stockings, nighties, garter belts, bras, dresses and makeup into our cart. $1,667.44 worth! Which the checkout clerk informed us would entitle us to two free visits to the store's "relief suites" that day. Plus another visit at a later date. I wanted to ask Alicia what a relief suite was, but she was arranging to have our purchases shipped home. After which, she hustled me to a place called "Relief Suite Six." She said, "Go ahead in, Honey, and enjoy yourself. I'll see you at the front of the store in one hour - 12:15 p.m." Huh? I watched Alicia hustle over to the other side of the store, until she disappeared. I shrugged. Best to follow Alicia's instructions, I reasoned. I knocked on the door and went in. It looked like a hotel room at a mid-range lodging chain. It had an attached bathroom. A king-sized bed. Two nightstands with lamps. And a man sitting in the room's only chair. A man! A cold icepick of fear stabbed my heart. But my penis stiffened. What was that, that man doing in a so-called "relief suite?" I thought a relief suite might be a place where I could pull my foreskin up and down as I reviewed the latest issue of Panty Boy. For relief. You know. A man! I couldn't do ANYTHING naughty with a man. Ever. Was he EXPECTING me to do something with him? Was he going to throw me onto that bed face down, lift my skirts, pull my panties down and RAPE me? Oh! I almost spunked at that horrible notion. Was I disappointed when the man acted more like an uncle than a rapist? "Good morning, Jeanette. May I call you Jeanette? My name is David." David, huh? Well you are about to be very disappointed, David, I thought because Jeanette does not associate with men! The man seemed oblivious to the mental barbed wire I was showing him. "I understand that you're Mrs. Everhard's husband. Congratulations, my dear. You must be an amazing person to land Mrs. Everhard. She's a once-in-a-lifetime beauty. But I can see a lot of that in you too." That drew me back. This man thought I was beautiful too? Just like Mr. Loveboy did? I didn't want to look into a well-placed mirror to confirm what that man said. But I did. Clearly, I wasn't in Alicia's league, I thought. She's off the charts. But I was about an 8 of10. Maybe an 8.5. and I had only been Jeanette for a month. And not every day in that month. I had potential. I was only 23. Real potential. Wait. Was the man, David, I think he called himself, flattering me to get into my panties? I decided that he wasn't. Everything he said about my beauty was true. Don't know how long I looked into that mirror, but it was a while. And David was very patient. When my eyes finally met his, he said, "Did you get those stockings here at Timmy's Girlish Secret? Your legs look amazing in them." I blushed and spoke for the first time. "I don't know. My wife bought them for me." David smiled. It was a very nice smile. A handsome smile. "I'm very curious, may I see your stocking tops? Just to see if they're our product. We put our name on them up there." That seemed like a perfectly innocent request. Just wanted to see if his store's products had helped make me beautiful. So I stepped over to him in my big heels and lifted my skirts up to my belly button. David gasped. "That's a magnificent clitoris you have there, Honey. Mrs. Everhard is a very lucky lady. I blushed again. Then I submitted to David's careful inspection of my stockings and panties. "I thought so. These are from our super-premium line of seamed, fully- fashioned, reinforced-heel-and-toe stockings. Your wife really wants you to look good. Let me just check one more thing. Ah. There it is. The little yellow tab on your panties. If I just pull it." What happened? My panties fell apart in four places when David pulled that tab. They were puddled around my ankles! I looked at David in a panic. Would he RAPE me now? No. Calm yourself. OK. He actually chuckled. "Sorry, Sweetie. Didn't mean to scare you. I thought you knew that you were wearing 'panty remover' panties. Quick releases for quicker fun, I think we said in the ads. I can fix them for you and get them back on you quickly. But judging from what I can see right in front of me, that's not what you want, is it? I whimpered. Why did I do that? I guess I wanted things from David. Things I knew I shouldn't be getting from a man. My fierce erection was a lot more articulate than my vocal chords. My fierce erection found its way to the seated David's warm, wet mouth. David's finger found my prostate. The fact that it was WRONG tripled my excitement. And I was soon juicing down David's throat. Oh! It was amazing! So filthy dirty. And homo! And a crime against all sorts of things. The ice having been broken, I helped David remove my pretty dress. David removed his trousers and boxers. I sat my bare bottom onto his bare lap. Oh, dear. His cock was rubbing against my stockinged thigh. And it was a really nice one. I didn't get a chance for a closer inspection at that point, though. David and I were tongue-kissing and teasing each other's cocks manually. Until... "Sweetie, if we keep that up, I'm going to cum in your hand and I think you want me to cum in your mouth, don't you?" OMG! David UNDERSTOOD me! Which is the greatest aphrodisiac of all! Yes. Yes. I did want him to cum in my mouth. I got to my knees and finished him off with the Las Vegas pro techniques I had learned from Alicia. Including two fingers up his bum so I could give his prostate a good seeing-to as I sucked him. It was delicious. Had I become a little homo in record time that day? Or was I a homo for all the times I swallowed Alicia's sperm? Too much to think about. My cock was hard again and David had coaxed me onto the bed. Lying side by side. Kissing wetly. Hotly. Stroking each other's cocks. Yum! Then David upped the ante. He removed my bra and began to lick, suck, kiss and nuzzle my as-yet- ignored-in-my-life nipples. Wow! No ow that time. Cowabunga! David was acting as if I had big-girl titties and it was his lifelong dream to worship them. I adored being titty-worshipped. Yes, I was having a rather good time with Jeanette's first man. It surprised us both when I shot a big spunkload, just from having my nipples orally adored. A quick look at the clock revealed that it was 12:00. Fifteen minutes before I was to meet Alicia. Which was good. Because I had had enough of that homo stuff for one day. Maybe I had had enough for my lifetime. Yeah. That's it. I was going cold turkey on men. The same day I took the turkey out of the oven for the first time. And then I felt David's tongue in my bumhole. I had never had a tongue in my bumhole. I LIKED a tongue in my bumhole. Oh dear! Was he going to fuck me?!?!!? I didn't want that. Or did I? But I didn't want my bum cherry-for-men to be taken in a rush. So I did the only thing I could do. I switched into a 69 position and ate David's ass as he ate mine. I was a good ass-eater. Perhaps a great one. Just ask Alicia. And if we were eating each other's asses, there would be no fucking. David shot his load at 12:08. Mine flew out at 12:09. I got dressed hastily. Kissed David. Thanked him. Was about to say goodbye forever when he said, "That was awesome. I would love to see you again, Jeanette. Please. I get off work here at 7 on Monday. Are you free?" "Yes. I mean no. I don't know. It's very confusing." He kissed me again and I considered just letting him bend me over, lift my skirts, pull my panties down and fuck me. No matter what Alicia thought. But I wasn't very good at defying Alicia. For good reason, right? "Maybe, Monday" I breathed, as I pulled myself away. I met Alicia at the precise time and she drove us home. All she asked was, "Did you have a good time?" My face got red. "It was OK," I said. I never did ask Alicia what she did in her relief suite. Chapter Six - Full relief. I wasn't really distracted when Alicia and I enjoyed the rest of our weekend of "lesbian sex." But I did occasionally think about David. And what disgusting liberties he might take if I showed up for him on Monday night. When I got home from work on Monday, Alicia wasn't there, of course. Would it be a microwave frozen pizza and Monday Night Football again? No. I was going to do something useful. Like practicing Jeanette's makeup techniques and walking in heels. While I was at it, getting fully dressed as Jeanette would be good practice too. Looking in the full-length mirror in what was now "Jeanette's room," I was pleased with the results. I looked at my watch. It was 6:30. Maybe I should go for a drive as Jeanette. Gain some confidence driving in big heels. Good idea. I drove. Say. Isn't that Timmy's Girlish Secret over there? Did I get everything I needed there Saturday? I should go in and check. My goodness. Is that Relief Room Six? Who's coming out? It's David! He's smiling and walking toward me. Kissing me. Driving me home in his car as I fondled his exposed cock. Moments later, we were in Jeanette's room. He was naked. I was in my all-black lingerie and stockings. Yum. Oh dear. Would it be ow and wow time again? I certainly hoped so. David looked deeply into my eyes. I wondered what he saw. A pantyboy's husband playing dress up to please his sexy wife? I hoped that wasn't it. I liked to think of myself as a sexually adventurous young man who demolished all the barriers to full sexual pleasure. Maybe that was too many words. And David didn't seem in the mood to talk. Though I could testify first hand that David was exquisitely oral. Which was probably why he took an early opportunity to extend his oral skills to places he had neglected in our first, rushed hour. David took his time. And it was worth it. He began by kissing each of my painted toes through my black stockings. Which I found to be powerfully erotic. And made me squeal, squirm and almost squirt. But not yet. He moved on to my pubic area and I thought I would be getting a nice blowjob to take the edge off before we started the fucking that I was sure was my fate that night. But not yet. David hadn't kissed, licked or sucked my balls or my peehole the last time through. And he was eager to make up for his omission. He was a very good ball sucker. And the way his tongue tortured my peehole was something I will never forget. After lots of that, he capped my knob with his mouth and I gave him the pantyboy lover's big reward. All wow. No ow. I wanted to return the favor, but David said, "Not yet, sweetheart. Let me fuck you with this erection." How could I resist such a delightful offer? Though it was still a bit scary that I would soon be under a rutting, heaving, brute of a man in full sexual heat. And [sigh} so exciting. David slathered