Tingles Three
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TINGLES FOURTEEN
By Katharine Sexkitten
It was our last night in town, so a bunch of people decided to go out to
a sports bar and have a casual relaxed dinner. I didn't want to be
completely anti-social, so I joined in.
The food was average, the company was good. People from all over the
country, representing different regions, all working together to make
things go. There was laughter and jokes and good camaraderie and I had a
very nice time.
But there were no big tingles there.
Brad and Peter were at a ball game with a bunch of the execs, and I had
no idea where Angie was, so I was on my own.
I sensed some murmuring tingles in the room, which meant there were
probably some sexual people somewhere, but none of them ever got close
enough to me to register on my meter.
Just after seven I made it back to my hotel room. The red light was
blinking on the phone again, as I knew it would be, so I called and they
said they'd bring up my new package.
Not ten seconds after I hung up there was a knock on the door.
They can't be that fast, can they?
Just before I opened the door I felt a rise in my tingles, and then Angie
breezed in past me, headed for the living room.
"Wow," she said, sighing heavily, "what a day. I didn't think Wolfie was
ever going to let us go."
She plopped down onto the sofa, all business-like in her dark brown high-
waisted pants, white heels, emerald green blouse, and multi-colored
scarf. I noticed her nipples were in a slightly-hard mode, visible
barely, but there nonetheless.
I was still standing at the open door. She looked back down the hall at
me, and sat up.
"Oh my god, were you expecting someone else? Am I interrupting
something?" She looked around the suite. "Are you getting laid again?"
I shook my head. "No."
So I closed the door.
I had just made it into the living room when there was another knock on
the door.
Angie looked up at me, seriously.
"You aren't expecting somebody?"
"No. They're dropping off another package for me."
Her eyes shot open, and a huge grin came on her face.
"You got another present?"
"Apparently."
"From the same friend as yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Fucking cool!" she said, jumping up. She breezed past me, down the
little hall to the door, and opened it.
I heard her thank the guy, and then close the door. Then I heard the
sound of a zipper being slowly undone.
Then I heard Angie ooh and aah.
"Seriously, I need a friend like this," she said as she came back down
the hall, holding a garment bag up high in the air. "Jesus, this is
beautiful."
I was still standing in the same place. I hadn't moved.
"What is beautiful, exactly?"
"This," she said, and spun the garment bag in her hands, showing me where
she'd unzipped it. I didn't get much of a glance to see what Michelle
had given me before Angie spun it back towards herself. She oohed again.
"There's a note, in beautiful writing" she said, "can I read it?"
At this point I realized there were no secrets between us, even though I
didn't even know her last name, so I said sure.
"Jessica," she read out loud, "Peter mentioned you didn't bring anything
for going out on the town, so here is the perfect top coat for you. I
guarantee it'll keep you warm and you will look fabulous in it. Plus, I
saw a little something in a store window while I was shopping and just
knew you'd rock it, you'd look amazing in it, so here is that as well.
If it's not your size or style or color then of course wear whatever you
want. I know you'll look sexy no matter what you put on. I'll see you
at nine o'clock sharp, outside in my limo. Love, Michelle."
She looked up at me, her face a mixture of emotions. She was delighted,
and impressed, and a little jealous of the clothes Michelle was giving
me. Plus she was her usual sexual self too, all nipply and giggly and
flirty.
But there was something else there too.
Confusion? Perhaps. It looked like she was trying to figure something
out in her head, and it wasn't all computing.
And then, a few seconds later, it did.
Her demeanour changed, in an instant. She figured it out. Two plus two
equals four. Her eyes shot open, her mouth shot open, and her nipples
got suddenly massive on her chest, just like that. It was like turning a
switch on. One second not much, the next second it looked like two rifle
barrels on her chest.
Pointed straight at me.
"Peter?!?!? The VP of corporate security Peter?!?!? OH MY GOD..."
"Never you mind!" I said, playfully.
"Peter AND Brad?!?!? How many corporate VP's are fucking you?"
I looked at her, confused and slightly alarmed.
"Brad? Why do you think I'm having sex with Brad?"
She laughed. "I looked out my peephole last night, idiot. I saw him
coming out of the elevator and knocking on your door. Don't worry, I
won't tell anybody."
I didn't know what to say. Discretion was telling me not to comment,
like an A-list movie star accused of sleeping with their co-star or
something. Say nothing and hope it goes away. True or not.
"Angie..."
"Uh uh, not now gurl, not after last night. No secrets, Miss Jessica the
Slut."
We just stared at each other.
Finally, she spoke. Her voice was quieter, more serious.
"He really fucked you good, didn't he? I heard it, which you know. What
you don't know is I crept out on the deck half naked and ended up
fingering myself listening to you two."
I was again impressed with her boldness. Her lack of embarrassment or
candor. She was a very naughty lady.
"And did you cum out there on the balcony?
She nodded.
"A little one."
I smiled.
"But not as good as when you made me cum."
I smiled again, wider.
"That," she said, with emphasis in her voice, "was the best cum I've had
in years."
I beamed. "It was fun."
"Fun? You made me gush! I haven't squirted like that in god knows how
long."
Her nipples were huge now, and were dominating my view.
She looked at my eyes, saw where they were looking, and then she gazed
down at her own tits.
"You like my tits, don't you?"
"Oh god, Angie," I sighed, "they're the most beautiful breasts I've ever
seen." Then I thought about that. "Well, the most beautiful breasts
I've actually never seen."
"Does Jessica want boobies of her own?"
I nodded my head up and down.
"More and more, the last few days, I've thought about it a lot. And
every time I ask myself the same question, over and over again. Do I
want breasts? The answer keeps coming back to me, yes."
"You'd look great with a nice set," she said.
"Like yours."
She giggled. "They're pretty nice, huh? My girls? But let me tell you,
they can get you into trouble sometimes. And they can make my back ache
too."
Which I hadn't considered before. I guess they must be a strain, the
bigger they get.
"Still," she said somewhat wistfully, "you could have it done, and then
the difference between us is that over time my boobs would sag, but yours
wouldn't."
I just stared at her breasts. Their shape, their roundness, the swell of
her curves, thrusting out at her blouse. Her gigantic nipples, pushing
at the limits of stretch in her bra.
To have breasts. The thought was consuming me. The epitome of
femininity, the symbol of womanhood, the givers of life and milk.
I wanted them!
Then reason took over a little bit.
"But at the same time, I think about how much of a drastic change it
would be, for my entire life. How could I go to work? I couldn't be in
boy mode after getting a boob job!"
She nodded. "But it's the twenty-first century, sweetie, and you and I
do work for a progressive company. HR would walk you through the
process, I'm sure, whether you stayed in guy mode most of the time or
whether you went for all the surgeries and did the total transformation
thing. But you're right. It would change everything in your life, for
sure. You'd need a whole new wardrobe for starters. And good bras ain't
cheap. But they say coming out is the best thing for you, once you get
over the initial shock of it, and everybody in your life gets on with
it."
"Coming out?"
"Yeah," she replied, "coming out. Telling everyone that you're, you
know, gay. That you're a gay cross-dresser."
"But I really don't think I can be defined by the word 'gay'."
She looked at me kind of funny. "I spent over a half hour last night
sitting on the floor of my freezing cold patio deck fingering myself
listening to you get absolutely fucking pounded by a man. Right?
Pounded. I heard it all. I could hear him thumping against you, every
time he drilled you with his cock."
Then she looked at me differently, as if a new thought had taken over.
"What position did he fuck you in?"
I smiled. "That time? From behind, standing up. I had my hands against
the sliding glass door. I didn't take my heels off. They made me the
perfect height."
"That time?" she asked immediately.
I smiled even more. "Just after midnight he fucked me again. Even
harder. It was awesome!"
Surprising me, her nipples got even harder. I don't have x-ray vision,
but to my imagination they were so full of blood they would look like
plump berries, dark red to match her horniness, which I could see was
getting higher by the minute.
"Anyway. I mean, fuck, I did your makeup for Christ sake, remember?.
You're getting sex from at least two corporate VP's, both of them men.
Men. As in the only human beings who have cocks. Hello? That's more or
less most people's definition of gay. So coming out is the thing to do,
for gay guys, right?"
I nodded. "But before all that, I ate your pussy and made you gush,
remember? That's not something a gay guy typically does."
"True," she admitted, "you're right. Okay. So you need to come out to
everyone as mostly gay, but partly bi. But still, come out as the tranny
that you are. And that way, you can get some tits. Although it'll cost
you."
"How so?"
"I hear they're like ten grand a boob now, those operations. Do you have
that kind of money?"
"Not right at this second, but yes, I could raise it."
She smiled. "Then you may have to rely on generous friends. But we
already know you have at least one of those, judging by the gifts you
keep getting. I mean, sweet lord, this coat has fur lining, around the
sleeves and neck. It probably cost more than I make in a week, and I
make a lot of money, darlin."
I almost laughed at the world 'darlin".
If she only knew.
"Plus," she continued, "there's also a fucking gorgeous dress in here,
you little slut."
"There is?"
She let the garment bag drop, and I could see two hangars. One held a
woman's winter coat, a gorgeous dark grey with sparkly tufts and a
beautiful white faux fur trim on the sleeves and lapel. I could see it
was thick and had padded shoulders, and would be knee-length on me,
keeping me warm but still showing off my legs.
At least I hoped it was faux fur. For the humanitarian reasons, of
course, but also because I knew if it was real fur then Michelle had
spent a whack of money on me. Again. Which made me feel warm and loved
and yet slightly guilty all at the same time.
Then Angie placed the heavy coat on the sofa and turned the other garment
to me, in the plastic wrapping. It was slinky. That was the only word
to describe it. Fully sleeved, with a plunging neckline, it was a
cocktail dress that stressed the 'cock' syllable.
I knew instantly that wearing it would make most cocks within eyesight of
me get very very hard.
She looked at me. "Your friend said she'll see you at nine. In her
limo. Are you going out tonight? As in, out? Outside? In public?"
My reaction was natural. I giggled, with pride.
"First time?" she asked.
I nodded yes. "We're going to a tranny night at some gay club she
knows."
"Oooh honey," she cooed, and I could see her squeezing her thighs
together, "can I watch?"
"Watch?"
"I'll sit in the lobby, totally casual. I just want to see you walking
through, from the elevators to the front door. With that wicked hip
swish of yours. Please?"
Of course I said yes.
Then I studied the dress again.
It looked like the softest leather I'd ever seen. It smelled new. It
was periwinkle blue. Under the bust it was gathered, all the way to the
hips, giving it the appearance of an hourglass shape naturally, and then
it flowed down to a gathered hem. It was gorgeous. It just screamed out
FEMININE!
And it looked way too small for me.
"I don't think that's my size," I sighed.
"It'll fit," she said, "it's lycra. It's stretchy! It's meant to be
that way. It'll literally be form-fitting and you will look like a sexy
feminine slut."
Then she looked at it more closely.
"It's a fucking Prada! Oh my god," she spat out, "it's a fucking Prada!
Do you have any idea how expensive this is?"
I shook my head.
Then we just stared at each other. Me in my boy clothes with my panties
and thigh-highs, her in her professional pant-suit office attire. Both
of us breathing heavier. I could see her nostrils flaring slightly. Her
magnificent chest was rising up and down faster too.
A look passed over her face.
"I am so wet right now."
I didn't say anything.
"Could you make me gush again?"
I so wanted to say yes.
But I said no.
Right after checking my wrist-watch and seeing that it was twenty minutes
to eight and I had to meet a limo at nine o'clock.
"We don't have time."
She looked at her watch, a dainty little strap on her lovely wrist. Then
she nodded to herself.
"Fuck. You're right. Okay," she continued, "same as last night. Give
me your key card, and then you jump in the shower and get clean inside
and out."
"Yes ma'am," I replied.
So I did.
By the time I was out of the shower, freshly shaved, douched and washed,
she had a whole bunch of stuff all over the counter. The little bit of
makeup I had brought with me, plus a pile of hers.
Plus a plastic drug store bag.
I stepped from the roomy shower completely naked, my smooth milky-white
body shining with moisture as I dried myself. I was as hard as I get,
which is hard, no question, but not very big.
She turned and looked at me, and then down to my cock.
Then she smiled.
"Want me to take care of that?"
I laughed. "Slut!"
She laughed back. "Says the bi tranny getting ready to go to some gay
nightclub for who knows what kind of debauchery!"
I belly-laughed at that. "Debauchery?"
She held up my butt plug in her hand.
"Yes?"
I nodded. Of course. A no-brainer.
Then I watched her pour a huge blob of lube on the plug, and spread it
around with her fingers. Then she did the whirly thing with one hand,
and I turned and pointed my ass at her.
She poured another blob of lube right onto the opening of my pussy,
freshly shaved and cleansed inside, and wriggled the plug around my hole.
Spreading the lube.
"Ready?" she asked.
I groaned my answer.
She applied a little pressure, and the tip of the plug sank into me.
With her left hand, she began caressing my left bum cheek.
"Open up, sweetie," she whispered.
So I did. My brain sent the message to my pussy, and it opened, and the
plug slid into me, making a little thud as it bottomed out in me.
I had cock in me again. Sort of cock.
Good enough for now! YUMMY!
"Good gurl," she said, and I heard her washing her hand while I closed my
eyes and enjoyed the plug up inside me.
"Now," she said, back to her commanding voice, "are you ready?"
"For what?" I asked.
"For looking like a total fucking babe."
From my limited wardrobe, she'd picked a panty and bra set for me. They
were from Victoria's Secret, and black with lace trim. The a-cup bra
perfectly made my little man boobs sit up, and gave me a handful, with
real cleavage. I loved it! Plus, the panties matched, and were a G-
string, which she insisted I had to wear because the dress would be so
form-fitting that anything other than a G-string would show panty lines,
and not be slutty enough.
Her words.
Then she did my make up. I thought after a while that she might be
overdoing it, but she kept telling me to trust her. Then she giggled and
told me that she was loving this, helping with clothes and make-up.
"You're like the little sister I never had," she laughed.
Then she laughed again. "Well, really more like the little gay brother I
never had. All three of my brothers are the exact opposite of you."
"Really?" I asked.
"Uh huh. Come to think of it, I bet all three of my brothers would take
one look at you and get an instant chubby."
Now I laughed.
Then her face got serious. "Hey, don't think I'm joking, gurl. All
three of them are hung like horses. Believe me! I've seen them, around
the pool or at the cabin by the lake."
At one point she grabbed the drug store plastic bag off the counter.
"What's that?" I asked.
"This is your lucky night for presents, Jessie-poo. I stopped on my way
back to the hotel for a couple of things, and decided to get a couple of
things for you too. My treat."
She had bought me glue-on fingernails, in a glowing neon white. Then she
showed me how to put them on, and more importantly, how to take them off
at the end of the night.
"Presuming you want to," she added.
She did the same instructions with my next present, which were false
eyelashes. Then she asked me if she could "just tweeze out a couple of
hairs" from my eyebrows, which is way less fun than it sounds, and
promised me that I could still go in guy mode and no one would care.
Her last gift to me was a pair of hoop earrings. Clip ons.
"You should get your ears pierced. Lots of guys do it now."
Then I put my Farrah wig on, and got dressed.
A few last minute adjustments later, she finally let me look in the
mirror.
My hair was dirty blonde and curvy, my eyes glowed, with thick lashes and
a soft lilac eye shadow, my cheeks shone and stood out, and my lips were
full and slick and inviting in a neon fire-engine red. My neck was
covered with my slut choker, of course. The cocktail dress fit me like a
glove. It hugged me. The material was as smooth as silk on my skin, and
caressed me like a gentle breeze. The silky quality extended to my
thigh-highs as well, which were fresh out of the plastic and a brand I'd
never tried before. I'd be trying them a whole lot, based on the way
they made my legs shimmer.
I had gorgeous small breasts, and hips, and long slim legs, and sexy
three inch heels on. I had a small-banded silver watch on my left wrist,
and three silver bangles on my right wrist.
I had my CD SLUT ankle bracelet on too.
Watching the clock, she stood behind me as I turned and twirled in front
of the full-length mirror. I was gobsmacked. The dress was fabulous,
and you could see a hint of my black lace bra underneath, as well as the
triangle front panel of my panties.
But you couldn't see any lines on my curved ass. Angie was right.
G-string it is!
Then she helped me into my new winter coat, marvelling again at the fur
trim, and then handed me my clutch purse.
"Inside is your phone, the key-card to your room, that little vial of
perfume that just about made me cum, your little tube of lube, a couple
of condoms, and your credit card. I found your wallet and stuck the
MasterCard in there, just in case you have to make your own way home."
I nodded. "And so I can buy drinks, too."
"Oh honey," she said, breathy, like a proud sister, "you won't have to
buy a single thing looking like you do, dressed like that. They'll be
falling all over themselves to get at you. Even some of the lezzies."
I looked at her, studying her.
"Have you ever..."
Before I could finish my sentence she laughed and nodded and said yes.
"A few times, years ago. My first husband, Huey, was an animal in bed,
and he pushed for a threesome right from the get go. So we found other
women, time to time, to bring home to bed."
"And?"
"And it was always fun, yeah. Girls are soft, and smell nice, and
smooth, usually, and yes, I like pussy."
"So why don't you come with me? I bet there'd be some ladies who would
love to make you gush!"
She shook her head. "That doesn't happen all that often to me, Jessica.
Even back then. What you did last night, well, shit, I haven't cum like
that in forever."
"So..."
Angie laughed, in that throaty kind of way. "No, babe, you go, you have
fun. I have reports to read anyway."
Then I hugged her and she whispered into my ear.
"Have fun, Jessica. Be a good gurl."
Then I let her go, and gave her a five minute head start. She insisted
on watching me traipse through the lobby. In public.
For the very first time.
Well, other than two mornings of strutting down the hotel hallway from
Peter's room, doing the early-morning slut walk. That's how I met Angie,
on the second morning. But while titillating and thrilling, I knew it
wouldn't even compare to actually being 'out there'. Around people, of
all shapes and sizes, doing whatever other people do. Going through
their lives. Probably understanding that there are people like me in the
world, but quite possibly never having seen one, or ever expecting to see
one.
They were going to see one tonight.
Five minutes later, I was in the elevator.
At the sixth floor it stopped, and a hotel cleaning woman got on with me.
She smiled, and nodded courteously.
Then she looked at my fur coat, and I saw her eyelids flex a little.
"Going out for the evening, Miss?" she asked.
I breathed the word "yes".
"It's chilly out. That coat looks like it will keep you warm."
I nodded, agreeing with her. The truth is I didn't know.
Then we landed and the doors opened and I walked out, into an atrium
area, which at this time of night was darkened glass, but some early
stars were visible. It was a large area, between the huge concierge
station and the front desk and two different lounges filled with
luxurious furniture for sitting around in, so I had a fair distance to
get to the doors.
I was nervous, beyond anything I'd ever experienced before. And yet, at
the same time, I felt comfortable. Natural. Because this was the real
me, I reasoned. I know that for a few moments my brain was just
screaming "HOLY FUCKING SHIT YOU'RE DRESSED LIKE A FEMININE SEXY SLUTTY
SPECIAL WOMAN AND THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD CAN SEE YOU AND THEY'RE ALL
GOING TO START POINTING AND LAUGHING AND YOU'LL BE EMBARRASSED AND...
But then my rational brain kicked in, and I knew I was wrong. I didn't
stick out like a sore thumb. I was doing fine. I saw the occasional
head turn, men and women, but that would happen anywhere, to anyone.
Nobody freaked out, or even made the slightest hint that I'd been made.
My heels made a clacking sound on the tiles of the floor, which sounded
like rifle shots, and I wondered if that would make people look up who
wouldn't have otherwise. Then I realized it didn't matter.
If they looked up, they see what they see.
If they don't like it, that's their problem.
I am Jessica Kurva.
My hips swayed, in a gentle way. I didn't want to overplay it, and
besides, at the languorous pace I was strolling a gentle roll was
perfect. I felt natural, and feminine, and womanly, and sexy.
THE TINGLES WERE EXPLODING WITHIN ME. RIBBONS AND STREAMS OF TINGLES
WERE THRASHING AROUND INSIDE ME, CAROMING AND ZOOMING AND SPIRALING AND
BURSTING.
As I strutted, I tried to appear casual, but I delicately looked around,
to spot Angie.
I didn't see her.
As I got to the front glass doors, the two outside doormen opened them
for me, each of them tipping their top hats, looking regal in their long
formal coats. There was a black sleek limousine, long and shiny, just
pulling into the front. I began carefully walking down the six elongated
tiers to street level, watching as a slim fit Latino man in a suit and
cap came around from the driver's seat and scooted up two stairs to meet
me, extending his hand out. So I placed my right hand in his and he led
me down the remaining way to the car, opening the door for me and gently
guiding me inside.
To where Michelle sat, regally sprawled back on the massive soft smooth
leather bench seat. As I turned my head, the first thing I saw was her
legs and heels, black pumps and fishnet stockings. Very sexy. Scanning
up to see her own winter coat, and under that was a sexy dress, knee-
length, fuscia, with as deep a plunging neckline as mine. Her hair, her
natural grey, was short, and styled to make her look very much like Helen
Mirren. Her lips were glimmering, in a sparkly pink.
She looked sexy as fuck!
As the driver closed my door, I sat down and leaned over across the seat
and kissed her, softly and gently, holding my lips to hers, lightly
moving against her pulsing mouth. We didn't touch tongues yet, but each
of us had opened our lips slightly, in anticipation.
Then I felt the vehicle rock, as the driver got back in the car. I
realized he could easily see what was happening, so I broke the kiss off,
sadly, and looked towards him.
Michelle saw what I was looking at.
"Jessica, don't worry about Jimmy. He's a professional, through and
through, entirely respectful and discrete and unfortunately undeniably as
heterosexual as they come. Lord knows I've tried to convince him of his
foolishness, but he's stood firm in his boring straightness so far.
Isn't that right, Jimmy?"
I saw the back of his head move up and down, and then his voice, saying
"Yes Ma'am."
Then reaching one arm around me to pull me back to her, she hugged me
close.
"Besides, Jimmy has seen everything back here anyway. We couldn't
possibly do anything he hasn't witnessed. Nothing to worry about, right
Jimmy?"
"That's right, Ma'am."
Just before she began kissing me again, she said, quietly and with
determination, "Jimmy, the screen please."
I heard the electric motor buzzing, and the privacy screen working its
way up from inside the front bench. I didn't see it, because I was
kissing Michelle and both of us had our eyes closed and both of us were
breathing really fiercely through our noses and both of us were sucking
each other's tongue and both of us were caressing each other and both of
us were delicately squeezing each other's tits and both of us began
grinding our bodies together as both of us slid into a much more laying
down position, with me on top of her, and then both of us started sternly
rubbing our hard little cocks together through our dresses, as both of us
shared copious amounts of saliva.
This woman had made me feel so loved, so grateful and so special in the
last three days, that I had to show her my love.
So reluctantly, I broke off our kiss, and stared at her eyes. We were
both panting, our chests rising and falling like professional athletes in
a championship game. But this game was different.
In this game, all the players win.
I looked at her. At her smile, at her mature eyes, with the little
crinkles, the crow's feet. She was beautiful.
"Michelle, you are so lovely, and you've been such a friend to me since
we met, and you've been so generous to me, and..."
"Jessica," she admonished, "I haven't done anything that I wouldn't do
for any other lovely sexy new friend and lover."
"I know," I said, "but right here, and right now, I get to give you a
present."
She smiled. "Ooooh, yummy! I love presents! What did you get me?"
"This," I said, as my right hand slid up her leg, under her dress, and
right onto her pantied cock. She was hard as nails, and I could feel a
little wet spot too, which meant pre-cum, which made my mouth water.
"Mmm," she whispered, "that's my favorite kind of present!"
I smiled. "It gets much better!"
I LOVE MY TINGLES!!!
The End.
Stevie
- 08.07.2021
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