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TINGLES EIGHT By Katharine Sexkitten I awoke Saturday morning wondering how my life could get any better. I awoke wearing panties, and a satiny cherry-red camisole. I awoke with my pussy telling me that it had been very active last night. In a good way, I assure you, since I'm becoming more and more aware each day of the physical after-effects of a lot of sex, and I know for a fact that my pussy could have felt a lot worse. I wouldn't go so far as to describe it as discomfort. But there was no mistaking that I'd been well and truly fucked last night. Twice. My bum cheeks felt a little sore, from where Brad's pelvic bones kept slamming into me. My pussy hole felt a little sore from his cock stretching me over and over and over again. My insides felt alive, like they'd experienced profound movement within them, from the shaft and head of his fantastic cock moving in and out, pistoning in rat-a-tat fashion back and forth inside me. Even my hips felt a little used, from where his hands had gripped me, like a vice. Holding me, moving me, guiding me. My tingles had known no bounds with Brad. Our second time was even better than the first. He told me he couldn't wait to see me on the business trip. I couldn't wait either. I lay in bed Saturday morning and analyzed my life, the new direction it had taken, from last Saturday on, the profound and enormous changes I was experiencing, and the heady and provocative elixir I'd discovered. The elixir called femininity. I realized how remarkable it was that my tingles had flared up in the way they did at the party, in such a public setting, in such a non- sexual atmosphere. I mean, it was a congratulatory bar-b-q for the staff who had worked on a big project and we all needed to blow off a little steam, but still, it was an event at the estate of one of the bigwigs. It was supposed to be politically correct. Yet that night, just one week ago, turned my life in ways I never could have imagined. My tingles, exploding at nearly touching Brad, became so much more later, in the master bedroom. The one he shares with his wife, Carol. How his tingles mixed with mine, how they inspired me to lose the bonds of clich? and normalcy, how I wore his wife's panties and thigh-highs, how I let him hold me in his arms, how we kissed, how he took his passion for me, how I'd sucked his amazing penis, willingly, the feminine part of me suddenly and fearlessly blossoming. Swallowing his cum, the most magnificent thing I'd ever done up to that point, it's taste exotic and tangy and delicious, it's consistency unlike any other drug on this planet. How I'd then most wantonly laid down on his bed on my tummy while he'd laid his entire weight on me and slid his hard wet cock straight into my ass, piercing my soul. How I'd lain there and gone through the absolute best times of my life, cumming over and over again in little deaths while reveling in my new-found sexual freedom. The freedom to be my feminine self, and the freedom to be my most sexual self. Then I thought about how much had happened since those life-altering experiences. Shopping for sexy clothes, playing with dildos, secretly wearing lingerie under my male clothes at work and out in public, the delicious thrill of being sexy right underneath everyone's noses becoming an addiction to me, a night with Vladimir I'll never forget, meeting Cynthia, my newest bestest cross-dressing friend, my encounter with Peter and the promise of so much more from him, and my formal date with Brad last night, with his wife's approval and encouragement, where I'd sucked him again, wearing the sexiest of lingerie and skirt and wig and heels and jewelry and makeup, looking so much like the sexy classy slutty woman I felt like inside, once again feasting on the taste of his cum as it slithered it's way down my gullet, and then the absolute rapture of being fucked again. Fucked hard and fast and long, by my very own Greek god. Twice. Both times from behind, the way he likes it. And both times so fucking good for me. My tingles had never known such freedom or levels of intensity. I ran errands most of Saturday, including buying the biggest suitcase I could find. I'd have to pay a little more for it every time I checked it in on my trip at whichever airport I was in, but I needed enough room to pack four days of business attire AND four nights of feminine clothes. Jessica had a date on Sunday night for sure, with Peter, and one on Tuesday night as well, with Brad. We'd made that date as he was kissing me goodnight, while his wife watched. It cannot get any better than this. I did chat for a couple of hours with Cynthia. She had had a busy week herself, with a couple of dates to tell me about, hers ending much like mine, with her getting cock shoved inside her. She was a bottom gurl, as was I. Then she invited me to a party, later in the evening, at a friend's place. Just cross-dressers and TV's, she said, probably about a dozen or so. She said there would be lots of kissing and cuddling and dancing and sucking of gurly cock and some gurls fucking and some gurls getting fucked. A typical Saturday night, she laughed. And I was oh so tempted. So very tempted. It sounded amazing. A party of nothing but gurls, all allowing their feminine souls to shine free, to revel in soft pretty clothes and soft skin and soft kisses and soft gurlcocks getting hard and then being sucked and slid into sexy sissy CD pussy holes. Ooooooooooooooh YUM! So I was quite amazed with myself when I took a rain check. Truth was, I felt like a quiet night at home, resting. Revelling in anticipation of what lay ahead of me, in my new feminine life. Sunday I packed and re-packed my suitcase three times. Finally, when I had it right, I headed for the airport in a cab. I checked in wearing a golf shirt and chinos, with just panties on underneath. I couldn't NOT go without panties, but I hesitated in adding any more lingerie, in case someone saw something on the x-ray machine and made a fuss. Not that I was worried about what people would think about my panties. I had already come to the conclusion days ago, at Peter's bidding, to be the real me. And that meant wearing panties. I had thrown out all my male underwear after my on-line purchases had arrived. I was a panty gurl now, through and through. Neil Diamond sang about 'Forever in Blue Jeans', but Jessica was going to be 'Forever in Panties'. I just didn't want the fuss, not on my first National Team trip. The others arrived in ones and twos. Peter arrived quite late in the game, and greeted me the same as everyone else, with warmth and camaraderie and respect. But I could read more in his reaction, in slightly prolonged eye contact, and the subtle way he scanned me up and down, stopping at my eyes, his eyes seeming to ask me wordlessly if I was wearing something feminine and my eyes telling him in no uncertain terms 'YES YES YES!' Imagine my surprise when we were all seated in First Class. How wonderful! I'd never flown this way before, and it was marvelous! There were several limos at the airport to take us to the hotel, where I received another surprise when I found out we all were staying in our own suites. A couple of others told me with pride that the National Team got 'nothing but the best.' I was so glad. I would have been satisfied with a single room with a shower. A few people agreed to settle into their suites and then join up again to head to a local restaurant for dinner. I was invited, like everyone else, but I gratefully declined. I told a little lie and said I had some last-minute work to finish so I'd just order room service and unwind after the flight and see them all for breakfast in the morning. When I got to the counter, I realized Peter was standing right behind me. I could sense him. Certainly his after-shave or cologne. But, I knew I was also sensing his pheromones, his scent, and his physical expression of his own tingles. And they were all aimed at me! I was given a key card to suite 820. I moved off to follow the bellhop who was wheeling my extra-large suitcase to the elevator for me when I heard the counter person tell Peter he was in suite 809. Down the hall from me! YUM! I was in my room for about five minutes when I received a text. From Peter. I would be honored if you would join me in my suite for some appetizers and champagne. It would give us the chance to get to know each other better. Perhaps we could unwind together. My tingles went sonic at that point. My heart raced, my insides quivered in the most delightful way, full of heightened delight, and glee. I realized I was as happy and gleeful as I'd ever been, in all my life. I texted back that I would be delighted. And I asked what time was to his liking. He responded shortly afterwards with two sentences. The first was respectful and gentlemanly and made my heart smile. It said 'whenever the real you feels comfortable'. The second sentence shook me. It challenged me. It tempted me. It teased me. It's underlying message rattled the foundations of my world, and pushed me beyond anything I'd ever contemplated or done. Ever. 'Please come as your true self, and let the world see the real you.' He was asking me to cross a line I'd never known before. Walking in public from my door to his. In public. Forty feet, perhaps fifty. Not a long walk at all. But a walk of a million miles to someone who would be dressed and made-up as a woman. A feminine sexy sultry woman. In public. In full view of others. My co-workers, in a few cases. Someone who they might recognize, someone who they'd only seen before as a male. Peter was challenging me, exhorting me, and, I suddenly wondered if he was perhaps advising me, to break the walls of conformity down. To push the envelope wide open. To go where no me had ever gone before. He wanted me to knock on his door as Jessica. Fully. And completely. Other people's reactions be damned. To hell with propriety, as it is defined by a very uptight and arbitrary world of pleasure-deniers and other religious idiots. He was asking me to throw society's preconceptions out the window, and to have the courage and self- confidence to show the new and very real me off, proudly, for all to see. To let Jessica shine. To let my soul soar in ways I couldn't imagine, I realized, because I'd never actually done it. I'd never thrown off the bonds of other people's prejudice, let my true self sail on the wings of passion, and touch the face of god, brazenly, without apology or shame. Two hours later, and after a quick trip to a local drugstore four blocks away for an enema kit, I put my room card into a small clutch purse I'd brought, along with a lipstick, a small spray bottle of perfume, and a credit card. That last item made me cringe, but I realized there was always the possibility that something weird could happen, like a fire alarm, and while I would probably be okay getting out of the building, being dressed as I was without any way of buying or paying for anything wasn't the best scenario. So the MasterCard came along. And then I took a deep breath, looked at myself one last time in the full-length mirror, and finding myself as sexy as I could get, opened my suite door, and stepped out into the wide expansive hallway. I closed the door quietly behind me and looked up, scanning as far as I could see. My heart was fairly beating out of my chest. Which was rising up and down in a very quick and rhythmic way. Heavy breathing. I was excited, greatly, and in a new and delicious way. I was in public. Outside. No longer just in the comfort of my own condo, running to my car with a man's overcoat on, hiding my gurly clothes, or at Brads house. No longer being secretive, slipping about in the shadows of society. I was in public, for the very first time. Vulnerable, perhaps. But never more excited and on fire. I was in public. Out. Exhilarating. Freeing. I suddenly knew what astronauts felt like, the first time they popped out of their space capsule to do a spacewalk. Every sense is alive, because every sense is experiencing reactions for the very first time. LOOK AT ME! My soul was screaming out from inside me, as I stood at my door, the biggest smile on my face. My soul was rocketing through the tingles stratosphere. LOOK AT ME! I AM A FEMININE CREATURE. MY NAME IS JESSICA. I AM HAPPIER THAN I HAVE EVER BEEN IN MY ENTIRE LIFE! I AM A SPECIAL WOMAN. PASSIONATE. ROMANTIC. SEXUAL. I AM A SEXUAL, SENSUAL SPECIAL WOMAN! LOOK AT ME! I walked. My heels made almost no sound in the plush carpeting, and I regretted not hearing the clack clack clack of my stilettos. My hips swayed, perhaps with a slight exaggeration over my normal gait. My pace just became casual. I realized I was walking slowly, and on purpose. I was challenging any and all of the doors I was passing to open, daring everyone inside to see me, to bear witness to my epiphany, to look at another human being revelling in their own joy and passion. My head moved from side to side, the smile never leaving my face. I was so happy. Two thirds of the way to Peter's door, I heard a door behind me down the hall open, and at least one person walking out, closing the door, and then walking away sounds. I ventured a quick look over my shoulder, flipping my hair in a very feminine way, and saw the back of a person who was probably whats-his-name from Operations heading away to the elevator lobby. He didn't see me. Not that it mattered. I wouldn't have cared if he had. I was being me. If he couldn't deal with it, that was his issue. I knocked on Peter's door gently. I'd been letting my nails grow since my metaphoric birth last Saturday night with Brad, and while I hadn't put any colour on them, just a gloss, I had shaped them to a much more pleasing and feminine curve. And just thinking that I didn't want to do anything that might break a nail sounded soooo girly that I giggled, so pleased with myself that I'd begun thinking about the common sensibilities of everyday life from a new and pleasingly feminine perspective. Then the door opened. Peter stood there, a soft glow of light coming from behind him. He was wearing a dark blue suit jacket, a white crisply-starched shirt, a dark blue tie with some sort of repeated insignia all over it in gold, dark blue pleated pants and dark shoes, which had a remarkable shine to them. He looked every bit the consummate professional, masculine, impeccably dressed gentleman, ramrod straight owing no doubt to his military and law enforcement experience. Everything squared away and in shape. The look on his face almost made me cry. His eyes were sharp and focussed, and hungry. His mouth was curved upwards in a smile, his lips full and opened just a very tiny bit, where I could see a sliver of teeth. His nostrils were a little more flared than normal, giving him the overall look of someone whose senses were alive. All in all he struck me as someone who was seeing something even better than he'd expected, and how it was enraging all his joy levels and passions and how he was responding the way a virile passionate man would react. For the longest time he said nothing. Our smiles never waned, as we stood there and eyeballed each other. The look in his eyes were thrilling me, enflaming me, exhilarating me. Then, finally, I heard his voice, his tone desirous and baritone and respectful and excited all at the same time. "So lovely." I'm sure I blushed. "Thank you for accepting my invitation. Won't you please come in." With that, he stepped back and the door swung open even more, and the entire suite could be seen. There were flowers in vases, and trays of food strategically placed in various spots. His suite, like mine, had a sofa and two big comfy chairs, as well as a couple of other chairs and tables. It was a very spacious suite. He closed the door, and I felt his left hand settle gently and respectfully on my lower back as he escorted me into the big room. Then he turned, his gaze loving and intense and aimed straight at me. He stood in front of me, and extended his right hand, palm facing up. "We haven't been properly introduced. My name is Peter." I placed my hand palm facing down gently in his hand. His skin felt warm and inviting and loving. "I am Jessica, Jessica Kurva, and I am very pleased to be here. With you." "Kurva. An interesting name." "?t's Hungarian," I added. "Is it? And does it have a special meaning or interpretation?" "Yes," I said, full of pride and titillation, "?n Hungarian, Kurva means slut." He smiled more, as if he was so proud for me, that I was being so open and honest. Being real. Being my true self, I suppose. Then he leaned down and placed the softest of kisses on the back of my hand. The feel of his lips on my skin sent my tingles coursing through me again! Then he stood back up straight, about two inches taller than me in my heels, and looked at me again, devouring me with his eyes. "? am delighted to meet you, Jessica Kurva," he whispered. Then he stood back, his gaze never leaving mine. His hand turned over, with his fingers facing down, and he twirled them, motioning me to spin for him. "Please." He wanted to see me. All of me. I looked him in the eyes and nodded. He eyes were drinking me in, memorizing every little detail. My hair, long dirty blondy brown, and curled, a little like Farrah's famous mane in her swimsuit poster, a string of the whitest pearls around my neck, a large gold hoop hanging from each ear, my lips the brightest shade of candy red you've ever seen, blush on my cheeks, highlighting them, my eyebrows thin and tweezed, a sky blue eye shadow, the tightest sexiest little black dress, clingy lycra and full-sleeved and with a plunging neckline that showed an awful lot of my cleavage, which was accentuated by the push-up qualities of my A-cup bra, turning my little man boobs into real ones, with a definitive line inside both breasts he could obviously see, my dress molded dreamily over my hips and down my thighs and held together by one single zipper, from bottom hem to my tits. And the bottom hem was barely below my crotch. The miniest of mini skirt length. He couldn't see the colour of my panties, barely, but almost! He could see the skin of my upper thighs, white against the black lace elastic tops of my stockings, the sexiest fishnet with a deep thick single black line running up the back of my legs, all the way down to my black four inch stilettos. And, of course, around my right ankle was the jewelry that Cynthia had given me. The ankle bracelet, with the heart and the words CD and SLUT. Truth in advertising. "Please sit down. I will get you a glass of champagne." There was soft music playing, from somewhere. The door to his bedroom was closed, I noticed, and wondered how long it would be until I got to see inside. Jessica! I admonished myself. Don't be so presumptuous. Then he returned with two glasses of champagne, handing me one and smiling like I haven't seen him ever, and proposed a toast. And I knew right then I wasn't being presumptuous. "To the most feminine vision of loveliness these old eyes have seen in a long, long time." I drank to his toast, and then chided him. "Peter, you're not old." We sat, on the sofa, me on his right and he on my left. Respectfully apart. I crossed my legs in a most feminine way and smiled at him. "? can't thank you enough for inviting me tonight, and for encouraging me to be my true self. This is all quite new for me, and yet with your invitation I experienced new levels of thrill and excitement, things I'd never considered possible before. So thank you again, Peter. I hope I have pleased you, by showing you the real me." "Oh my goodness, yes," he whispered. "And at the same time, I have been wondering something since the other day, in the washroom, and I don't even know how to ask you this, but...but..." "How did I know?" he said, matter of factly. "YES!" I said. "How?" He smiled, even more. His eyes shone at me, like a midnight pool with moonlight rippling over it. I saw love and admiration and desire and genuine pleasure on his face. "Before I tell you," he said, "and now that I've seen the real you, your true self, ? would ask that you indulge me for a few more minutes. I would love to hear about you. Your story. About how Jessica became to be. Your feelings, your realizations." I was so comfortable in his presence, my spirit unbridled and free and safe and comfortable. He made me feel warm, and welcome. And natural. As if there was no more proper place for me to be than dressed up in feminine attire in a man's hotel suite. I was proud to be there, and to share with him. So I told him my story, from beginning to end. A small preface about my past life, including marriage and divorce, and then in full detail with everything that had happened to me since the party at Brad and Carol's. Since Jessica appeared in the world. Since accidentally meeting up with Brad, almost nose-to-nose and enticingly close to lips-to-lips, the laser beams of lust and desire in his eyes drilling into mine and setting off my tingles, like the big bang. I left nothing out. I recalled every feeling, every sensation, every remarkable thing any part of my brain remembered. I felt an instant trust to the depths of my soul with Peter, and knew instantly that what I told him would forever stay in trust, so I told him Brad's name. He nodded, the slight grin on his face not changing. I told him about that night. Losing my virginity. And everything in between. He occasionally asked questions, all of them centering not on the physical but on the spiritual. How did it feel the first bold second when I realized there was a man's cock in my ass? I answered him honestly, instantly, that it felt like the most wonderful and natural thing in the world. I felt alive, and empowered. I felt emboldened. Did I enjoy the sexy clothes without it being sexual? Yes, of course. I talked about the exquisite delight of sliding silk stockings up my freshly-shaven legs. The absolute joy of slipping on panties, encasing my cock and balls in luxurious material, the unearthly pleasure of cleaning myself, inside and out, moisturizing and make up and all the things my ex-wife used to complain about, how they all made me think she was insane. The prep time was to me the most magnificent prelude, because it was time spent on myself, preparing myself, readying myself, loving myself, and I wouldn't cut short any of it, any day. I revelled in it. He politely asked if the male part of my soul was in any way concerned or ashamed or embarrassed or offended by my feminine desires, or the fact that I'd become so sexual so suddenly. That I'd crossed the "straight" line and let another man fornicate with me. Was I in any way regretting being a slut? And my emphatic answer was NO. I'd felt liberated. I felt empowered. I was free! Free to be the real me, the sexual, sensual me. The slut! I was unabashedly in love with a man's cock inside my pussy. Being made love to, or fucked, was the single biggest joy of my life. Rather than being stifled by the puritanical views of the religious "straight" world, I was drowning in a sea of real passion and pleasure, mine coming from taking cock. Pure and simple. Each day held new and exciting discoveries and realizations for me, and I shared them all with him. My absolute and utter adoration of everything lady-like. Everything feminine. It inflamed my soul, and made me understand my most honest and inner desires and beliefs. I was a feminine creature, a special woman, and each and every nanosecond I spent this way was just increasing my desire for more. He nodded often, a knowing smile on his face. He seemed to be so delighted in the experiences that I was having. It was almost as if he was sharing their intensity and joy with me, vicariously. He was appreciating me, on a spiritual level. By the time I was done, he'd refilled both of our champagne glasses, and we'd each had a couple of the nibblies he'd had brought up by room service. But our attention was on each other. Fiercely. Then I asked him about himself. His journey. And how he knew, about me, in the office washroom the other day. "How did I know? Well, the truth is, my dear Jessica, that I have had a great deal of relevant experience. So. My story. I was in the military, and then in law enforcement for many years, and they taught me how to pay attention to the small details in life that many others don't see. And I can see things, with my experience, that can lead me to surmise certain things about people. At times. I was trained to put things together that way. I notice small details, which many times can lead to bigger pictures. "? came from a very small town, born sixty years ago. My father was a strict disciplinarian, in the military himself, and like a lot of young men I followed him into the service. I grew up, without knowing it, in a very sheltered life. Small town things. I grew quickly, I was a big kid. I played sports and did well. I was attracted to girls and did well, in a small town way. I was in my senior year of high school before I lost my virginity. Which should be a major event in a young man's life. But, the truth is, it wasn't. "?t was fine. I enjoyed it. But it didn't reach the levels that I thought it should have. Something seemed to be missing, although it took me years to understand that. I went to college and got a degree, paid for by the military, and then I joined up full-time. I majored in criminology, so after a lot of specialty training I went into the military police. I served for five years. In my second year, on a weekend pass, I met a young woman and we began a relationship. She was from the local town, outside the base. I'd see her on weekends. She became pregnant. I did the honorable thing, and married her. Over the course of the next two years, we had another child. Two boys. My pride and joy." He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out his wallet, opening it up, searched for a bit and then pulled out a photo, which he showed to me. It was a younger version of himself standing in between two even younger versions of himself. His two sons. Both strapping big men of their own. "They're both in law enforcement. They followed the old man as well. After six years of marriage, though, my wife told me one day that she was leaving. And the sad truth is that I was perfectly fine with that. We rarely talked, our sex life was zero and had been since Ben was born, he's our youngest. I wasn't interested in sex with her. It honestly just did nothing for me. I'd always just thought, oh well, I guess I'm not sexual. So I poured myself into my work, and more or less ignored my wife, and we grew apart and she left me. We settled everything without too much fuss and we both moved on. "Which included me moving on from the military. I had always wanted to be in law enforcement, so I became a civilian. Studied hard, worked harder, took whatever training courses anyone would offer me, worked my way up in education and experience. I loved the work. "?nd then one day, a few years into it, I had to interview several people, all potential witnesses to an armed robbery. One of them was to change my life. This," he said, pulling a different photo out of his wallet, "?s Josie." Again there was a younger version of himself, at some formal party, standing next to a radiant and very sexy Asian woman, and I was instantly thinking that she was perhaps Polynesian. She had long sexy hair, dark, and skin that glowed the warmest honey-gold, and a gorgeous plunging neckline evening gown, looking like a million bucks. And the best part of this gorgeous woman was her smile and the look on her face. She was loving life. She was exuding joy. She was in love and showing love. "From the first second of speaking to her, she filled me with energy, with vitality, with joy and laughter and life and passion. She was the most alive person I've ever met. I was enthralled just talking to her, hearing her observations of the day in question. And I knew almost instantly that all she'd seen was the back of the van the bad guys had been driving, and we already knew the make and model, so I could have easily cut off the interview and left. But I couldn't. I just couldn't. She was captivating. She was making me feel levels of living I'd only imagined before. I was smitten, from the get-go. "About three weeks later, after I couldn't get her off of my mind, I called her again. I made up an excuse to take her out for lunch, to bring her up to date on the case. Which I could have done on the phone. Which would have been one sentence, come to think of it. Your testimony will not be required. The suspect was caught and has pleaded guilty. Two sentences. That's it. But I wanted to see her. It was actually unprofessional of me, I suppose, but at that time I thought to hell with the rules. "She met me. She was wearing a halter top sundress, yellow. Her hair was flowing in the breeze of the day. She walked up to me and I watched her do it and I thought she was the most beautiful and womanly woman I'd ever seen. I bought us coffees and pastries, and we sat a table. I gave her the update. It took about a minute. I tried to make it last longer, but I was failing miserably. "She smiled for a while, and then she started giggling. It was like the sweetest music to my ears. I asked her what she was giggling about. She said me. I confess now that at the time, I still didn't know how to read all these new feelings I was being assaulted by, so I was trying to walk the line of not offending her. Then she beamed at me, and told me that she knew I had asked her out because I was attracted to her. And then she said she agreed to meet because she was attracted to me. "?nd that's when my true self began. I was suddenly aware of so much more of myself, my senses, my desires, my feelings. I knew it was because of her, and only her. I was in love. "?nd then her smile disappeared. And she got deadly serious. So much so, that I became concerned. Instantly. I knew she had to say something to me, and it took her a few moments to find the words.' I was enrapt by his story. "What did she say?" "She looked me in the eyes and told me that she was a very special woman. That was how she said it. A special woman. I told her, of course, you are special. She said, no, not that way. I asked her what she meant." He paused. "She told me that she was a special woman. A woman in every way, except that she'd been born with male genitalia. Then she reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet, and showed me a birth certificate. Her given name was Jose. "She'd been born to Samoan immigrants to our country. She had a small penis and scrotum when she was born, and her parents named her Jose. She was raised as a boy. But she began displaying entirely feminine aspects to her personality. Her interests, her toys, what games she played, all of them were girly. She believed she was a girl, from her earliest memories. Her parents were old-world, and fought her all the way. They made her live as a boy. When puberty came about she began changing physically. Her features became decidedly feminine, and beautiful, with high cheek bones and a slim strong jaw and beautiful full lips and the sexiest eyes ever. She grew breasts. She began to want to interact with others, to be young and sexual, like her peers. She wanted to be the woman she was, in a world that wouldn't let her. "?s soon as possible, she left home, and began to live as a woman. She worked multiple jobs, and financed her own education. She studied chemistry, eventually graduating with a Bachelor's Degree, and began work for a research company in town. As a woman. She had some terrible, awful experiences in her teens and early twenties, finding men to be with who were enlightened enough to understand her special situation. None of them could. She suffered physical and psychological abuse at the hands of several bastards. But she was never daunted, never bending to society. She would live her life on her terms, no matter how hard it got sometimes. "?nd despite the terrible things she went through, she had the most radiant and loving personality of anyone I'd ever met. She exuded the joy of living, the joy of loving, the joy of pleasure, the joy of laughter, the joys of open and honest sexuality. She was a breath of fresh air, every second of every day. "?nd the truly interesting part for me was that while her news startled me for a moment, since I'd no idea about her being anything other than a fantastically gorgeous woman, within seconds I was not only at peace with her words, but the idea of being with someone like her had suddenly become the most important idea in my life. I was on fire with desire for her. "We began a relationship. The first time we made love, I realized that all those years with genetic women were a waste of my time, except for my two boys. What Josie and I did for, and to, each other, was the stuff of dreams. All my walls came crumbling down. The walls of normalcy, the walls of conformity, the walls of puritanical society. I began my journey to discover my true self, my true sexual being." "Which is?" I asked. He leaned over towards me, so our faces were only a few inches apart, and I could see the passion and fire and hunger in his eyes. I could feel his breathe on the skin of my cheeks. "? am a lover of special women. I am in love with special women. The full gamut of the arc of the rainbow. From full-out transsexuals to TV's to CD's to sissies to panty boys and everything in-between." Then he leaned back. "And, I will confess, the occasional sexy twink, too. Which is what I thought you were, when you first were hired at the company." "Me?" I asked, surprised, "? twink?" "You are young, and thin, in good shape, and vibrant. I would never have done anything with you other than be a respected colleague, of course. I have a career to pursue and I treat everyone with dignity and respect, not just because it's the law or the policy, but because knowing people like Josie and how they are discriminated against every single second of every single day, I go above and beyond. I would never have approached you as a twink. But in my dreams, you were a twink in my bed. I noticed right away, in the coffee room one day, how you had a definite curve to your ass. I saw it several times over the years, in your office attire. Believe me, I notice these things." We both laughed and each sipped our champagne. "Josie and I moved in together, and we became a couple. We learned to love each other in every conceivable way. But my biggest debt to her is that she showed me that all humans are sexual creatures, and while most of them never let that part of themselves come out, that we both obviously did, and then she explained that also meant we would both be attracted to other sexual beings and we should both take advantage of those situations. She told me flat out that while she was in love with me and would never lose that, I shouldn't expect her to be sexually faithful to me. And neither could she expect me to be sexually faithful to her. As she said one night, while we were fucking, that there was a new guy at work who made her pussy quiver and if she found out he was into fucking special women she'd drop her panties in an instant. That made me cum, quickly and seriously. Our motto was simple. A thrill is a thrill. Be smart, and be safe, of course, but enjoy every moment of your life. It's short, and we are capable of so much passion and eroticism, if we only allow it happen and drive to explore it. "So we began to explore the sexual world out there. And we discovered that there is an undercurrent everywhere, of discrete sexual people, who search out others, who live a lifestyle of heightened and frequent sexuality. Groups, clubs, associations. Have you ever heard of the 'Darlings'? I shook my head no. 'The 'Darlings'are a world-wide group of people who dedicate their lives to the exploration of sensuality and sexuality. People who know and understand that no individual person, and therefore no society, can ever truly be free unless all forms of sexual expression are accepted and encouraged, by everyone." He stuck out his hand towards me. "I wear this ring on my right hand for a reason," he explained. As I looked closer at it, I saw a simple gold band with some engraving on its surface. The letters, in a fancy font, spelled out the word 'Darlings'. "This ring lets others know that I am a member. Josie and I both had them, and wore them with pride. Members of the 'Darlings'are everywhere, from all walks of life, all religions, all social strata. They are fellow members of the most natural and beneficial group ever known. Enriching their own lives and the spirit of the entire planet by celebrating human sexuality in all its guises, openly and passionately, creating the most positive energy source known to the universe. Human sexual potential." I took this all in for a few moments, while we continued to stare fiercely into each others'eyes, sipping champagne. "Josie and I began slowly in the community, but worked up to being very active socially as well as sexually with some very lovely people. Soon we became members of the 'Darlings', which can only happen by invitation, and our erotic world opened up even more. No desire was looked down on, or denied. Our lives together were lived to the fullest, all the time, for just over twenty years..." I sensed some sadness in him now, as if he was nearing something emotionally painful. "? lost Josie just over six years ago. It was sudden, and brief, and then she was gone. I can't begin to describe the depths of the sorrow I felt. For me, and for the whole world. The world had lost the most inspirational and beautiful sexual special woman there'd ever been. I was beside myself with grief, for a while. I saw his eyes get tear-filled, and I moved closer to him on the sofa, so our legs were touching. I gently placed my left hand on his leg, mid-thigh. I was sending him my support for his loss through my touch. I knew he could feel the love through our joining tingles. "But her lust for life and zeal for the here and now, and living life to the fullest attitude had become a part of me. I continue to this day to socialize with some very special people. It's my joie do vivre!" His joy of life. We gazed into each other's eyes for a few minutes, just enjoying the moments, gaining strength and communicating passion and love and romance back and forth. The quiet in the room was lovely, just our breathing and the gentle romantic tones of some old sweet song on the radio. "And you, sweet Jessica," he whispered, "how are you feeling about your life now? What are your dreams? Your desires? Have you thought about any of that? I shook my head. "No, I assume I'll just continue on this path I've found, further and further exploring my femininity, my raison d'etre!" If he could quote French, so could I! His smile widened, and he let out a wonderful laugh. Then his eyes narrowed, right at me. He became silent, but I could see a billion thoughts running through his mind. And I was confident in guessing that nine hundred and ninety nine million of them were about fucking me. Only a special woman for one week, and already I'm learning to spot these things! We each finished our glass of champagne. Slowly, with refinement. We weren't kids, in a mad rush. We took our time. We enjoyed each other's glances, and gentle touches. Over the course of a few minutes we moved quietly more towards each other, until I was next to him, his right arm on the back of the sofa, resting also gently on my shoulders, his right hand caressing my right arm. I looked up at him at one point and saw nothing but need and want and desire in his eyes, and I returned those emotions to him in my stare. I knew what I wanted. I wanted this handsome, virile, passionate older man to make love to me. Soon, we'd finished our wine, and he stood, holding out his hand, which I took in my hand. He helped me stand up, so we were facing each other. I had to look up a little to stare into his eyes, which were the most yearning I'd ever seen. "Jessica Kurva." I nodded. "Jessica Slut." I nodded again, more emphatically. "May I kiss you now?" "Yes," I whispered, "kiss me, my darling." His lips came to mine, I was craning my neck up to meet them. His lips were full, and warm, and radiating his passion and love. I was beside myself with tingles. Rippling through me at the speed of lust. Broadcasting themselves out of each and every pore on my body, sending out signals to the universe that I was Jessica Kurva, a slut, a feminine sensual and sexual being. In my glory. We stood and kissed for almost an hour. Our bodies became moulded to the others. His arms were around me and I felt like they were my armor, protecting me from any negativity or pain or heartache the world might throw at me. I was safe. His breathe on my cheeks was sweet and inspiring. His tongue took command of mine, and we danced back and forth from mouth to mouth. The smacking sounds our lips made every time we changed position of our heads was the sexiest sound I'd ever heard. Ever. Eventually, he walked us slowly to the master bedroom. There were flowers in vases, and the lights were very low. The room smelled sweet. The bed, like the one in my suite, was a pillow-top king, and very high off the floor. Peter manoeuvered us so the back of my legs and ass were pressed up against the mattress. Our kisses were still constant, and longing, and both of us were slowly revving up our erotic intensity. We kissed for minutes longer, up against the bed. Then his right arm moved slowly between us and his big fingers found the tab on the zipper of my dress and began inching it downwards. His tongue never left me, his lips sealed to my sticky ones. His left arm still held me, strong and masculine, reminding me I was his. I had never in my life felt so hot. When the zipper was completely undone he gently began pushing the fabric off my skin, starting on my tummy and working up to my shoulders. The dress yielded to his ministrations and slowly found its way to the floor, landing with the softest of sounds. I stood in my heels, my thigh-highs, my panties, my bra, and my wig and makeup and jewelry, in his grip, my mouth open to his, inviting him to take all of me, my skin aflame with desire. His right hand came to rest on my left bra cup, my left breast. His thumb and forefinger began a slow pulsing squeezing motion on my nipple, by this point enlarged and distended and urgently begging for his touch. How he knew I needed that, I realized, underscored what he had said earlier. He is a lover of special women. He knows what we need, what we want, what we desire. Always. A few dozen twists and turns on my hard nipple later, his hand began caressing downwards. First, over my belly, which was quivering to his touch. Then over the fabric of my panties, which matched my bra, black trim with a light grey almost-opaque mesh, his fingers finding my boy- clit, harder than it's ever been, and then stroking me through my panties. My tingles exploded again, reminding me that I could experience levels of them far beyond this, that there was so much more to come. Finally, he broke our kiss, and when I opened my eyes his were boring little holes into my soul. The intensity of the emotions coming through his look at me was overpowering and fantastic. A dead person could have seen the primal fierceness in his soul, the yearning and desire and feral animal lust he was emitting. A masculine sexual creature, holding his feminine sexual counterpart. This was where he should be in the context of the universe, and where I should be as well. Yin and yang. Male and female. His left hand moved to my right shoulder, and began gently pushing me away from him. With the back of my legs against the bed frame and mattress, there was only one way for me to move. I fell backwards, landing on my back on the mattress, my ass sitting right on the edge. His eyes never left mine as both of his hands moved slowly down me to grip my panties, and I knew to raise my bum up so he could slide my panties down, and off my legs. Then he brought them to his nose, and sniffed them, still staring straight at me. I moaned out loud. So did he. Then in one swift movement he threw my panties off to the side, bent at the waist, brought his head down to my crotch, and swallowed my cock in its entirety, sucking me unlike anyone who'd ever sucked me. He was devouring me, pulling me into his mouth and by such into his soul. I'd never known having a mouth on me could feel this way. Within a minute or two, I was hyperventilating and moaning out his name and almost-screaming that I was about to cum and then before I could even register that it was happening I exploded from inside me and filled Peter's mouth and throat with my gurly cum. My world became stars. White glowing bursts of energy, taking up my entire field of vision. I could still make out the room and my lover, but they were secondary to the stars. Millions of them, some big, some small, some brighter than others, some piercing into me and some propelling away from me. Peter just continued to suck me, swallowing everything I could give him and forcing me to experience new thrills, new levels of tingles, as my body responded in a way I've never experienced before. The moments of extreme sensitivity which might have normally convinced me to ask him to stop were soon outpaced by new kinds of tingles as my body churned into lust again, like a steam engine on a railroad, slowly hissing and puffing but eventually speeding up, gaining momentum, building energy. He was priming me, I realized, for the next movement of our sexual symphony. I've no idea how he did it, but while he continued to tease me and elevate me with his mouth, his right hand had found its way between my ass cheeks, running his big finger up and down my valley. He began toying with the base of the butt plug in me, and around my expanded pussy ring, sliding his fingertips through the lube that I had applied just before I'd left my hotel room. Gently sliding the plug out of me, I heard it hit the floor, as the stars dissipated and my concentration came back to Peter's eyes, which again were laser-focussed on mine. Then he stood, and shed his jacket. Then the rest of his suit and tie, me oohing and aahing at each new revelation of body. He was sixty years old, and he looked like he could go many rounds in a title fight. He was firm, and muscular, and in very very good shape. His skin was tanned and toned and vibrant. He had tufts of hair on his chest, and nipples which were hard and red and turgid. Then he removed the last object of clothing. His boxers. And it was like everything in the world suddenly became irrelevant, unnecessary, superfluous even. There was this gorgeous sensitive masculine man, his cock rigid and rock-hard, like the rest of him. And pointing straight up, ramrod, like a pole. About as long as Brads cock, but thicker. Much thicker. It was cut, and oozing precum. I could see the glisten of it, all over his mammoth cock head. The sight of it alone had me soaring, my feminine tingles swooping and racing and exploding through me and out of me. There was nothing else. This was it. The entire meaning of my life. Hard cock on a masculine god. Open wet pussy on a feminine gurl. Both wanting and needing to fulfill their divine mission. In one smooth movement, he inched forward and I flared my hips out and pulled my legs back towards me, opening myself to him wordlessly. He knew, just as I did, that this was what we both were put on this planet to do. Seconds later, I felt the bulbous tip of his cockhead touch my skin, perfectly placed, at the entrance to my pussy, the opening to our mutual joy, the ring that he would pass through and send us both to spiritual places heretofore unknown. He leaned his body forward, placed his elbows next to my head, and kissed me, the tip of his cock still touching me, but not entering me yet. His kiss was hot, and passionate, and needing, and desirous. His eyes were open, as were mine, neither of us breaking that intimacy. Then his kiss stopped, and then the tips of our noses were touching, and then his eyes got deadly serious, and a smile appeared on his lips. And then he whispered to me. "Jessica," he said, "my darling." "Peter," I responded, "my love!" "Please keep looking at me, will you?" I nodded my answer. He smiled even more. "I want to watch every second of what you're feeling, every moment. I want to see you go through it." "Yes, I want that too," I whispered. "I want to witness every feeling you have, and you can witness me. We'll go on this journey together, and share every moment." I moaned my approval. Then he pushed his cock into me, opening me instantly with his thickness, a moment or two of initial discomfort disappearing quickly, replaced and transplanted by the most insane feeling of fullness. Inch by inch, he gently fed me his cock. His eyes never left mine. "Can you feel my love for you?" "YES!" I locked my legs around his back and began pulling him into me. The tip of his nose never left the tip of mine. His eyes never left mine. The only thing moving was his magnificent cock, thick as anything I've ever seen before, slowly and tantalizingly inching its way into the center of my being, into my body, the intimate niches of my insides that have never been touched and pushed and stretched and moved this way before. Paradise. "I'm almost all the way inside you, Jessica." I was breathing much harder now, as was Peter. "I want all of you inside me, darling!" He smiled. "I want you to be my darling," he whispered. "Would you like to be a 'Darling'with me?" I realized he was asking me to join a group of people that up until an hour ago I'd never heard of, never knew existed. A group of sexual people pursuing sexuality. Did I want to join? "Yes, of course, oh my god YES, darling!" I cried out. As I did, he slid the last of his cock into me, thudding his body into mine, his balls touching my ass cheeks, his pubic hair touching and tickling my gurly balls, and his cock... OH MY GOD his cock was inside me, filling me unlike anything before, stretching me, but not painfully, a billion of more nerve endings inside me going absolutely bat-shit crazy, totally unprecedented in my new way of life, and my entire scope of consciousness changed. It was as if I was orgasming on a spiritual level. My soul was blasting out rays of pure sexual bliss, as if the sound system for a Metallica concert was set up in my skull, reaching volumes I couldn't have imagined in all my normal life. Everything became hyper-focussed. My eyes, his eyes, our noses touching, our bodies molding to each other, me wrapped in his masculine cocoon of protection and powerful love, him taking me, his cock inside me, more than any others have ever been, the universe outside of our coupling completely gone, unimportant, superfluous. All that I needed, all that I wanted, and all I was capable of, were all mine. We made love. His pace drifted from slow and beautiful to fast and powerful to plain old intense and back again, as we went through our dance. "There is no greater act than love-making," he whispered, "no loftier ambition, no nobler accomplishment, no higher enlightenment, than what we are doing right here, right now," he paused, taking a breath, "can you feel me, my love? Can you feel every part of me, inside you, pulsing, throbbing with my love for you?" "YES!" I grunted, my entire being rocketing towards euphoria, towards orgasmic wonderland. It was like I was being wound up, pumped and primed and ready for propulsion to explode me to heaven. He was grunting too. "We are as one, Jessica!" his words lovingly confirming what I knew already. "You and I are one creature now! One beast! One union! ONE ANIMAL!" At that point he began hammering into me, both of us moaning and screaming and panting and breathing. He was on final approach, as was I. A few minutes at most of feral unrestrained primal fucking followed, both of us just oblivious with fervor. I can't imagine any drug being able to make me higher. Completely gone. Overdosed on cock and man. I came first, in one massive physical burst from within me, as if suddenly and briefly a veritable firehose was turned on inside me, a cascade of my own cum spewing out between our bodies, hitting us both on the underside of our chins. Then he came. We both watched each other go through it, the exquisite sight of another human being experiencing the majesty and sacred joy of sexual completeness. I began to cry, at the sheer and utter beauty of it. I noticed tears in Peter's eyes as well. We both shed a few, as our breathing and our heart rates came down. His cock was still inside me, my insides practically flooded with his cum. Nature put a firehose in him, as well. "That was beautiful," he whispered, and I could see the sincerity in his eyes, and the awe. "You," he continued after a pause, "are beautiful." I nodded at him. "I never want this to end." His smile was a thing to behold. "Join me in the 'Darlings', and I'll make sure it never does end for you. For us." What else was there to say? "Yes, Peter, of course yes. Yes, forever!" The End.