I Married Moira free porn video

I Married Moira by Throne It was supposed to be a match made in Heaven. Moira and Tipton. Instead, it turned out to be hellish for me. I met Moira when I was in my early twenties and she her mid-40s. We made a curious couple. I'm very short and built like a girl. She is quite tall, with a gorgeously overstuffed figure, all breasts and hips and thighs. She had a wide protruding bottom, two inviting hemispheres. I was mesmerized by her sweet round face, with high cheekbones and a full mouth. Her contours left me weak in the knees. Despite our age difference I pursued her, which she allowed with an aristocratic indifference. It thrilled me to see the woman I worshipped, her long auburn hair done up in a tight bun at the back of her head, smirking down at me. It didn't matter that she kept our relationship chaste, tantalizing me with her body and leaving me in a state of perpetual frustration. Being near my goddess made it worthwhile. Then things changed when she announced that we were getting married. Had I heard her correctly? I had, and very soon we were wed in a small ceremony attended by a limited number of guests selected by her. We could have afforded something lavish because she had been married previously and now possessed her first husband's considerable fortune. What had happened to him was a mystery to me. I didn't pry because Moira could be easily upset and had countless ways to make me feel guilty and unworthy. I did everything I could to avoid displeasing her in any way. There was a shock waiting for me on our wedding night. She drove us to her palatial home and led me straight to the bedroom. My bride undressed in front of me, getting my libido into an overloaded state. It was the first time I had seen her nude and she was even more stunning than I had pictured. Her skin was pink and white and flawless. Breasts firm and high, despite their size. At the juncture of her shapely legs was a neatly trimmed triangle of dark hair, in the middle of which were a pair of pouting pink nether lips. Then it was my turn to get out of my clothes. I had been dreading this moment. The truth I had kept from her was that I'm underdeveloped as a man. My penis is laughably small, with balls to match. That, in combination with my soft and nearly hairless body, had always made me unattractive to women. The few females who got to see me undressed had all been disappointed. More than one laughed at my tiny endowment. When Moira saw me in the altogether she remained calm. "Well," she decided, her lovely contralto voice like music to me, though not her words, "you're obviously underequipped to satisfy me the regular way. No matter. You can use your mouth." "Oh," I said uncomfortably. "I've never done that. It kind of bothers me, the idea of having my lips and tongue down there and..." "So you would prefer to have our marriage annulled? And never see me again? Along with observing the terms of our prenup, which would still apply?" To lose Moira was unthinkable. I had signed the legal agreement without reading it in detail. That had been another case of not wanting to annoy her. I knew in a general sense that I would suffer financially and materially if we parted. I stood there feeling lost and helpless. She had worn down my ego and undermined my self-confidence to the point where I couldn't stand up to her at all. Besides that, I was still madly attracted to her. The thought of finally possessing her body, even in such a limited and unpleasant way, compelled me to say yes, which I did, even apologizing for my inadequacies. She got in bed and stretched out on her back, legs apart. I told myself that this would all work out over time, and that soon I would be having normal sex with my new wife. "Get your mouth on my pussy," she instructed coolly. "I'll give you a few pointers. And I expect you to be devoted to my happiness while you're doing this." "Yes, darling." I put myself between her legs, with my nose an inch from her slit. The scent of a woman was simultaneously intoxicating and revolting. Because it came from Moira it attracted me. But what I inhaled through my nostrils was fishy and repulsed my senses. "First you can kiss me there to show your sincerity. Then lick all the way up and down a few times. That button at the top is very sensitive, so spend some time lapping and gently sucking it. You also need to get your tongue inside me. I think even you can tell what makes me respond the most and then keep doing it. Hmmm?" "Y... yes, Ma'am." I requested meekly, "May I touch you? I mean with my hands. On your thighs and... bottom." She sighed dramatically. "I suppose so. It will help you when you have to get your face tight against me." I pushed my forearms under her legs so I could hold those swelling hips. Then, fearful of delaying any longer, I pressed my lips to her labia and delivered an unnatural kiss. She inhaled sharply. After some more of that I stuck out my tongue and ran it from the lowest point to the highest, several times. She tasted like poultry, warm and juicy. I remembered her next-to-last instruction and flicked my tongue against her clitoris. That produced a contented purr. I was happy that I could please her, even if not in the way I had been anticipating. When I sucked her clit, she lifted her wide hips slightly. I took advantage of that to slide my hands down under her buttocks. It was glorious to at last touch them while they were uncovered. It was as if I was receiving a reward for using my mouth on her. As much as I didn't want to, I pushed my tongue inside. She grabbed my hair and held my head in position. I probed and, when I found a spot that made her moan, gave it special attention. Soon I was varying my techniques and discovering new ones. She kept me at that submissive task while her arousal mounted. All at once she had an explosive climax. It produced a gush of excess fluids. Not knowing what else to do, I lapped them up and made myself swallow. She came down from the heights of ecstasy gradually. I had the good sense to keep my tongue moving, but with a lighter touch, which she obviously appreciated. When I finally tried to back off, however, she said, her voice thick with need, "Stay right there, Tipton. You are far from done. Start over with kissing. Now that I have finished once, it will take longer to make me go all the way again. Don't rush it. And accept that this will be your sex life from now on." "I... but..." She surprised me by asking, "Were you a virgin when met?" After months of being made to feel inferior by the middle-aged Moira, I had no ability to lie to her. "Yes." "Then you will stay one. That will amuse me. If you behave and don't irritate me, we will see to your needs some other way. Now get your mouth busy again." I was rattled by that declaration but convinced myself that she would relent later. I took her to two more orgasms and then had to gently tongue her through a final afterglow. Next she allowed me to assume the missionary position. My hopes soared. Yet all she wanted me there for was so she could finger my nipples. When she found out that they are very sensitive, it gave her obvious satisfaction. Then she mentioned that I was not allowed to wash her scent off my face. Moira explained that I needed to get used to it, and eventually to appreciate it. Finally she had me cuddle up against her from behind. It was intensely exciting to be in that position, my crotch fitted to her stupendous backside. I got a straining erection, which nestled in the valley between her buttocks. She left me like that, with my need mounting to excruciatingly high levels, while she drifted off to slumber. I didn't want to back away from her because it felt so wonderful. But I didn't want to remain where I was because it was such torment. Eventually I sank into a deep sleep. If I dreamed at all I did not remember it afterward. The next day she introduced several changes. First, I had to obey her without question. I discovered that when we went down to breakfast. Moira put on a short silk robe but made me remain nude. I got my first look at Bonnie, my wife's cook. She was a tall Black woman, her curves as well-upholstered as Moira's. I was struck immediately by her innate sexuality. Bonnie wore her hair short and natural, and sported large hoop earrings. She had on a long plain apron over a simple dress. I was humiliated to have her see me naked. She eyed my genitals critically and shook her head in amused contempt. We sat at a small table in a breakfast nook. First Bonnie brought my wife a plate heaped with eggs, bacon, and fried potatoes, along with a smaller plate on which were several slices of generously buttered toast. The meal smelled delicious. My mouth watered. Then came a large mug of coffee. There was a small jar of cinnamon at Moira's place and she added a few sprinkles of it to her mug. I sat to one side, from where I could see both women. Bonnie prepared a second generous meal, with ham slices substituted for bacon. I licked my lips as she brought it to the table. But she placed it across from me and sat her wide bottom on the chair in front of it. The cook ate with relish while I went hungry. All I could taste was the lingering flavor of my bride's pussy juices which had dried on my nose and lips. The possibility of saying something occurred to me but I couldn't summon the nerve to do it. As the women sat there enjoying second cups of coffee, they discussed a number of cleaning jobs that needed to be done. Bonnie scraped the scraps from her plate atop the leftovers on Moira's. The Black woman stood up. She snapped her fingers at me and motioned with her thumb that I should stand. I did it, not sure what was happening. She set the plate in front of me. On it were bits of potatoes, toast crusts, and chewed up bits of ham fat that she had delicately removed from her mouth while eating. Bonnie told me, her voice husky and containing a hint of threat, "That's your breakfast. Get your hands behind your back and keep them there. Bend over from the waist with your knees locked, and eat it. Get going." I looked at Moira for help but she just held me with an unwavering expectant gaze. This couldn't be happening. As demeaning as it was, and with all the implications about how I would be treated generally, I still obeyed. My arms went behind me and I gripped one wrist with the opposite hand. Then I lowered my head until my nose touched the plate. Using my lips and tongue, I found a piece of crust and drew it into my mouth. Then I did the same with a masticated gob of fat. It sickened me to have to consume something coated with another person's saliva. In that awkward position, naked, memories of my wedding night still haunting me, and my own sexual needs unmet, I ate everything I could find. Then I licked up any egg yolk that was stuck to the plate. It took a while and the females watched in silence, occasionally snickering at my performance. At last I was allowed to straighten up. I dared to look at Moira. The top of her robe was open so that I could view her magnificent cleavage. Despite everything else, I yearned for her. She took a sip of coffee and then dribbled the dregs from her mug onto the plate I had just cleaned. Bonnie did the same, making a puddle. She nodded toward it and I understood. Resuming my bent over posture, I sucked and lapped up the coffee that had come from the bottoms of their mugs. When I got a faint taste of Moira's cinnamon it made my heart pitter-patter. My bride told me, "Time to get you dressed." That made me feel better. I followed her to another bedroom. My relief was short-lived. She began producing items from a dresser and I was distressed by what I saw. First there was a big, floppy red beret. That was followed by a tube top with wide horizontal strips in clashing colors. Then there were mini-shorts that I could see at a glance were much too small for me. Finally, she took a shoebox off the floor and showed me a pair of garish orange shoes with chunky one-inch heels. Just thinking about wearing all that made me shudder. Even so, I was deeply ashamed of being nude. From having Bonnie see me in the buff, I was experiencing flashbacks of shame. Moira held out the top and I accepted it. Pulling the stretchy garment over my head, I brought it down to chest level, where it hugged my narrow ribcage. Then came the shorts. I sat on a chair and worked them up my legs with difficulty. Then I stood and struggled to get them over my admittedly chubby bottom. Once they were on, the rear seam pulled itself up between my butt cheeks. Then I had to sit again to slide my feet into the ugly shoes. She tossed me the beret and I missed it. Bending over to retrieve the headwear was difficult in those undersized shorts. It felt like their crotch was crushing my nuggets. I settled the hat atop my head and then my wife tugged it slightly to one side. "Let's see you walk around. And don't pretend you're a real man. Act like what you are, candy ass." So I minced across the room and back several times. The shoes were tight and those awful shorts chafed. She chuckled. That was when I remembered something important. "My pants," I said. "All my stuff is in the pockets. Cash, wallet, credit cards, ID and keys. I need all that." "Why? I'm keeping you here where I can turn you into what I need. Because you don't qualify as a husband, I'll have to think of you more like a house pet. And a bed pet. Speaking of which, it's time to give you another lesson in dining at my 'Y'." She had me undress her, which got me excited. My poor dick couldn't comfortably get hard. It was bent back and nearly squashed. In that demeaning outfit, I got between her outstretched legs, with my lower face touching her split mound. She hadn't washed since the previous afternoon, before our wedding, and still smelled from her sexual secretions of the night before. My nose crinkled as I inhaled her aroma. Then I got busy lapping and slurping. She told me to suck on her labia and I did that too. The disgusting act was again combined with being able to touch her below the waist. My arousal made me work harder to please her. This time she had two orgasms, and then a third onto which she piggybacked another. By the end she was happily exhausted. "Go see Bonnie," she told me. "I gave her a list of jobs for you to do." "But I... Can't I lie down with you and...?" "Shut up. Do as you're told. I expect you to do enough housework to make yourself worth keeping. Now get out." I left. As I passed the lavatory, I considered washing my smelly face but thought better of it. I didn't want to anger my bride. When I got to the kitchen, Bonnie was in the middle of preparing something. I was hungry and it smelled good but I knew better than to ask for anything. She sneered at me and flung the crusty end from a loaf of French bread in my direction. I almost caught it, bobbled, and saw it hit the floor. She ordered me to pick it up. "That's your snack. Eat it or go hungry." I felt obligated to say, "Thank you." Biting it in half, I gratefully chewed and swallowed. She took a dirty cereal bowl from the sink. It must have been soaking because there was water in it. She set it on the counter. "Hands behind your back when you drink," she warned me. "Yes, Ma'am." I couldn't stop gazing at her bulging breasts and bottom. She took a piece of paper that had been attached to the refrigerator by a magnet and consulted it. "Your first job is to wipe off the baseboards on the first floor." "Which ones?" "All of them. Start at the main entrance and work to the sides and then toward the rear." I almost pointed out that she was giving me hours of work but caught myself in time. Bonnie told me there were rags I could use in a bucket in the utility room. I went and got several, moved to my starting point, got down on my knees, and began the Sisyphean task. I felt it in my leg and lower back muscles, and those terrible shorts caused endless discomfort in my groin. Of course my knees hurt. While I rubbed, I thought resentfully of Moira in bed resting. But that mental image was replaced by one of her posed sensually atop the covers. I couldn't stop lusting for her. Visions of her fulsome curves filled my thoughts. About an hour later I was interrupted by a familiar voice asking, "How's it going, sucker?" It was Bonnie. Her apron was gone. I said weakly, "There's a lot of work here." "Sure is. I better hang around to keep an eye on you. In fact, I better be up close so I won't miss anything." She came to me, slung one leg over where I was laboring on all fours, and sat heavily on my back. Her weight was a challenge to support. And her broad sitter was bare, pressing against my bare skin between the tube top and tiny shorts. It was awful but also weirdly arousing. I felt my pecker try to grow inside the crushing garment containing it. Bonnie's rump was damp with sweat, especially in the center. Her nether cheeks were somewhat spread by her position, so that I got the full effect of having her skin against mine. Every time I moved forward to reach a new area, she raised her legs so that her full weight bore down on me. Sometimes when I was staying still she let her toes or even the fronts of her feet rest on the floor, which gave me a slight respite. Bonnie laughed. "This is fun. Let's take a ride around the house. Giddy-up, horsey." I groaned and moved away from the baseboards. She crossed her ankles under my body as I struggled along. When we got to the kitchen, she took a big wooden spoon off the counter. The next thing I knew, she was using it on my backside, swatting me over and over to coax me to go faster. I moved as rapidly as I could, which wasn't very. Every time she whacked my bottom, with the shorts providing almost no protection, I whimpered. By then I was sweating more than her. The mingled scents of perspiration from both of us grew stronger. I blinked as sweat ran into my eyes. It was all intolerable but I had to keep going. Suddenly, Moira appeared. She was back in her brief robe. I gawked at her very full and very shapely legs. She came near and got my head between her lower limbs, closing them like a vise on my skull. Bonnie gave my tail a half dozen spirited smacks, which had me wailing and fighting not to cry. She must have sensed that I was on the verge of a breakdown, and delivered the same number again. My bottom cheeks erupted with fresh pain and the tears began to fall. I made pathetic blubbering sounds. The women laughed. "Look at you," my wife said. "Looking so ridiculously girly, your bottom being turned red, and those hot tears on your sad face. You weren't much of a man to begin with, and you're becoming less and less of one as we go along. Aren't you ashamed of yourself, Tipton? Or should it be Tippy? I like the sound of that. Let's call you Tippy." "Haw." Bonnie obviously agreed with her. "Tippy Tutu. A pretty name for a pretty sissy. Say it, Tippy. Tell us who you are. And what you are." "I... I'm Tippy," I responded with a sniffle. "A man who wears clothes meant for girls." "Not a man," Moira corrected. "A former man. Try again." "My name is Tippy," I sobbed. "I'm a former man who wears girly fashions." "And you don't ever want to be called Tipton again," Moira declared. "Isn't that right, Miss Tutu?" "Yes, if you say so." "Not if I say so," she snapped. "But because it's what you sincerely want." "Okay. All right. I want to be called that stupid name." "Bonnie," my bride said with sighing exasperation, "would you persuade Tippy to show a better attitude?" "My pleasure," the cook said. All at once the air was filled with the splatting sounds of that wide spoon cracking against my already abused rear. I yelled and begged. "Please, no more. I'm sorry. I said it wrong. I want to be called Tippy. I really do. Thank you for giving me that name. It's perfect for a wuss like me." "That's more like it, Tippy," said Moira. "Now take a cooldown lap and try to relax. You still have plenty of cleaning to do." "Yes, Ma'am. I will." So I set out again with Bonnie's punishing weight on my back, my butt cheeks blazing and head spinning. About a quarter hour later the heavy cook at last dismounted. She gave the tender backs of my thighs a series of rapid-fire slaps with the spoon before sending me crawling back to my original job. I had to keep at it through the rest of that room and two complete others before I was at last given a break. My body and limbs ached all over. Moira observed how much I'd been sweating and decided it was time for another change of costume. I had to crawl back to the bedroom. Once there, I was allowed to stand, which cost me more muscle pain. Then I was shown what they expected me to change into. It was a maid's uniform, except that it was pink and black, and so brief it would cover almost nothing. I was a nervous mess by then and began to whimper just from seeing it. They chuckled as I got out of what I had been wearing. Then, while I stood there ashamedly naked -- again -- they took their time examining the damage done to my soft buttocks. "That chubby bottom looks extra pretty now," Bonnie announced. "Sure does," my wife agreed. "We'll have to decorate it like that all the time. I'll make sure to get some nasty toys to use on it. Like a riding crop." "And one of them sorority paddles." "Plus a couple of bamboo rods. I want some different lengths so I can find just the right one to use on Tippy. They'll leave some impressive marks on the backs of her legs." I had to stand there, my body on display, listening to all that bad news. And then it was time to get into my maid's outfit. The top had short sleeves and left my midriff bare. The skirt barely reached past my male parts. I could feel in the back that it left my decorated bottom half uncovered. Then there was a tiny apron that Bonnie tied around my waist, along with a pink lace cap that Moira perched atop my head and pinned there. Finally, I had to fit my feet into tight black shoes with square toes and two-inch block heels. The footwear pinched my toes with every step I took. They applied light make-up and did a quick job of fluffing up my hair. "Lovely," Moira declared. "She looks all ready to do some real maid work." She produced a feather duster and handed it to me. "Well, look like you appreciate what I gave you." I managed a smile, which was probably simpering. Then I gave her a curtsey. My bride took me by the shoulders, turned me back toward the door, and slapped my throbbing fanny. She told me to go back to where I had started cleaning the baseboards, but that now I was dust everything that might possibly need it. She also said that I was to pay special attention to items that were down low, and to bend forward from the waist to reach them. Then she wanted me to demonstrate that technique. As soon as I obeyed, I realized that every time I did it, my barely-there skirt would ride up in the back and show all of my bottom. They didn't go with me but, for the next several hours, repeatedly made spot checks of what I was doing. Bonnie still had the wooden spoon and Moira had procured a rubber spatula. My reddened backside received much more discipline, for failures both real and imagined. Near the end of that housecleaning ordeal, I came to a full-length mirror. For a long moment I stopped and just stood there gazing at myself. It was mortifying. There I was, a young man, made by my middle- aged wife to resemble some sort of dweller in a sexual twilight zone. I was neither male or female in appearance. The black and pink maid get-up left me looking like a boy in drag. The make-up and hasty hair styling enhanced the effect. What had they done to me? And what was yet to come? The answer to that second question came a few days later. My morning started by me giving my wife a wake-up kiss -- right between her legs. That had become a daily ritual and always led to me lapping her pussy, always a bit gummy and swampy smelling first thing in the morning, until she had a climax. Then, after doing plenty of chores, like hand washing the women's delicate underthings and buffing their shoes and boots, as well as the more traditional cleaning tasks, I was informed that my wife had guests coming. The last thing I wanted was to have anyone else see me. But I had no say in the matter. Worse, I would be serving them drinks and snacks. The good news, she told me with a devilish smile, was that I would be allowed to wear my new maid outfit. Just my bad luck, what I was expected to get into started with a corset. It appeared to be too small for me. Sure enough, as Moira and Bonnie wrapped it around me and fastened everything, my middle was uncomfortably compressed. Then they tightened the ties, making plenty of effort, until I could barely breath. When they were at last done and had me walk around, my posture was restricted and I found myself taking even smaller steps than usual. It pushed the soft flesh of my chest up into faux boobs. My wife and the cook crowded in on me, Moira in front and Bonnie behind, sandwiching me between their voluptuous bodies. "Look at that," Moira jeered. "Even when he's being crushed by that feminine corset, the shrimp still gets hard." "Maybe," Bonnie suggested, "it's BECAUSE we put him in that. I think he's developed a taste for being dressed girly. And I've noticed how often he messes up -- like it's on purpose - so we'll punish him." The Black cook reached around from behind to pinch my nipples and twist them. She found the right balance between causing pain and pleasure. I moaned and involuntarily bucked my hips in a sexual way. They laughed at my helpless performance. "But right now," my wife pointed out, "we have to finish getting our Tippy ready for the arrival of our new friends." I quivered with shame. This was going to be just awful. They produced the rest of my maid's outfit, which was as brief as I had feared it would be. The top was sleeveless and fit much too closely. And it was made of rubber. My body heat began to accumulate under it at once. The bottom was a tight skirt of the same material that clung to my bottom and upper thighs. There was even a miniscule rubber apron, edged with rubber ruffles. They sat me on the bed, which made the corset punish my midsection. The shorts put terrible pressure on my encased genitals. Low boots were put onto my feet and buckled tightly. As I was stood up again, I tottered on the three-inch, chunk heels. This time when they made me move around I was more limited than before, mewling piteously with each step. The maid's cap they pinned to my hair was tall and made of starched lace. "Let's give him a pretty face," Moira said. Bonnie steered me over to the vanity table and sat me on the chair, again reminding me of how I was trapped in that cruel outfit. The women took turns applying cosmetics. They did it recklessly, giving me an overdone look on purpose. There was too much dark make-up around my eyes, accompanied by two sets of overly long lashes, and a triple-application of shiny crimson lipstick that went outside the natural lines of my mouth. They finished the intentionally sloppy look with wide blotches of blush on my cheeks. When they stood me in front of the tall mirror and I got my first view of the costume and face-paint together, I recoiled. Bonnie messed up my hair and sprayed it, so it would stay that way. "All right," Moira informed me, "you're ready to attend the prince's ball, Sissy-rella. Now go clean the toilets while we make ourselves pretty, too." I went off disconsolately to complete one more thankless task. When the women reappeared they were both in leather sheath-dresses. I was stunned by how seductive they were, zaftig figures shown off and plenty of bare skin offered by cut-out areas. Under different circumstances it would have been an erotic dream come true. As it was, however, the sight of them only added to my pent-up frustration. Then the doorbell rang. I struggled along in the punishing corset and awkward heels to admit whoever was there. When I opened the door I was confronted by Wolf, my wife's tall muscular lover. He had a bristling blond crewcut, small blue eyes, and a cruel, thin-lipped mouth. Behind him were two strangers. There was a tall woman in a full-length fur coat. She radiated intense dominance, with her dark hair in a long ponytail, piercing eyes, and high cheekbones. Cowering at her side was a man as short as me. He had on a cheerleader uniform and a curly gold wig. His face, made-up like a trampy teenage girl's, was a mask of shame. I stepped to the side to let them enter. Wolf waved the others ahead of him. He followed and, as he passed, gave my shoulder a hard squeeze that made me wince. I led them to a sitting room where my wife and her cook were waiting, with champagne opened and filled glasses for everyone except me and the other sissy. After Wolf gave my wife an open-mouthed kiss, he made introductions. The woman was Vanya and her wimp hub was called Pearl. There was no mention of whatever male name he had formerly been known by. Vanya was dripping with jewelry, so I assumed she was wealthy like my spouse. She shed her coat and wore an elegant dress underneath. Her figure was as zaftig as Moira's and Bonnie's. And Pearl was so obviously a defeated and made- over loser like myself, that I imagined she Vanya had a lover like Wolf. Moira told me to keep the champagne flowing. Vanya snapped at Pearl to go fetch a tray of snacks he would find in the refrigerator. He padded off on pink running shoes, nervously tugging down the hem of his tiny plaid skirt. His legs were hairless and I had no doubt that the rest of his soft and slender body was equally smooth. He returned with a wide platter that Bonnie must have prepared earlier. As he offered it to each person he bent far over. His itty-bitty skirt rose in the back and I saw part of his bottom, with no panties visible. The poor guy was probably naked under there. I could relate to his obvious mortification. When he served Wolf last, the big man openly stroked Pearl's inner thigh, making him squeak in a most unmanly way. Then my wife's boyfriend hooked one thick forefinger into Pearl's mouth and forced him to bend even further. This time I saw that the sissy husband definitely had no panties and that his male parts were as small and unimpressive as my own. We were two of a kind. Wolf said something too him, softly enough that I couldn't hear it. Then my wife needed her glass refilled, which I did. Pearl was allowed to go stand against the wall, still holding the tray. Everyone chatted about us cuckold husbands and how silly and incompetent we were. There were comments about our penis dimensions. "So tiny. Like a mini-biscotti." "That's true. It's as if he never reached puberty down there." "And their junk looks so much smaller once their pubic hair is gone." "Right? Sometimes I dress mine so his pee wee is outside his clothes." I had the desperate idea that they might just ignore us from that point on. No such luck. Moira told me to take the tray from Vanya's husband and offer it around. As he passed it to me, Wolf said I should stay there. He went on, "You have to thank Pearl for letting you share her duties. I think a sweet little kiss would be the way to do it." What? I was supposed to put my lips on another man's mouth? Or should I say, another sissy's? When I just stood there, frozen by distaste and indecision, Wolf shot to his feet. The big brawny man strode up to us and got his hand in my already disarrayed hair. He slowly pushed my face forward, making me crane my neck, until I my lips were mashed against Pearl's. The tray dug into my ribs, just above the corset. We two whipped husbands turned that unwanted contact into something approximating a chaste kiss. When Wolf pulled my head back, I saw that Pearl looked as upset as I felt. Maybe it was his first time, too. "Now," Wolf said harshly, "you pansies are going to try that again, without my help. I want to see those pretty mouths opened and some tongue action going on. Do it." His voice was calm but deadly. Shivering uncontrollably, I opened my lips and got my mouth on Pearl's. Our tongues slid over each other. Then I realized that Wolf couldn't see the French in our kiss, so I kept the tray against Pearl's flat chest and pushed myself back a few inches, so my tongue was visible outside my mouth. Pearl didn't extend his tongue, so I licked his lips, which tasted of artificial strawberry flavor. He took the cue and poked out his tongue, so that they were both in plain sight as we swapped spit. It was nauseating but we didn't stop. Vanya came over with her phone and took a few pictures from the side, to catch our profiles and active tongues. After she captured several embarrassing images we were permitted to stop. I took the tray around and served everyone. All of them smirked at me and my latest disgrace. Then I was told to set the tray on a low table off to the side. "Okay," said Vanya. "My Pearl has been practicing her cock sucking skills on a few dildos I got for her to use. She's pretty good at it. But now she needs to test herself on the real thing. Everybody want to watch?" They all did. In fact, they sounded more than eager. OMG. She was going to make her hapless husband suck off Wolf, right in front of everyone. It turned my stomach. But then the situation became even more sickening. "Go on, Pearl," she ordered. "Take down Maid Tippy's pants and show us what you can do with a dick in your mouth. I know the wimp is a shorthorn, like you, but it least it's warm and I'm certain you can get it hard." No, no, no. I didn't want that pathetic figure giving me a blowjob. Except that I was an equally sorry sissy. Moira ordered me to stand in the center of the room, so everyone had a clear view of what was to come. Pearl, lips quivering, plainly distressed, got onto his knees before me. His slim fingers went under the waist of my tight rubber shorts and worked them off my hips. I sniffled as he got them around my thighs, where their tightness kept them in place. Then he blew lightly on my penis, making it tingle. Oh no. I was responding already and he hadn't even touched me. Looking down, I had an overhead view as he poked out his tongue to lightly lick the head of my dick. A few repetitions of that had me growing hard. That enabled him to get his tongue under the end of my member and lap the sensitive area there. I whimpered as he coaxed me into a full erection. His open mouth was poised in front of my straining penis. I felt his warm breath on it, smelled his overly sweet perfume, and felt his hands on my bottom as he steadied himself. His lips closed around me, just behind the small knob of my organ. He ran his tongue over the receptive underside. Obviously his practice with artificial cocks had paid off. He sucked gently, making me take hold of his wigged head, close my eyes, and moan in appreciation. But I didn't want to react that way. I wanted to at least appear to be rejecting what he was doing. Except that my sex drive took over and, to my deep shame, I began to work my hips forward and back, just a bit, but more than enough for everyone to notice. "Is Pearl giving a blowjob?" Wolf wanted to know. "Or is Tippy screwing her face?" "It looks like a little of each," Vanya suggested. "That's my squishy husband," Moira added. "Half queer before this even started." "I know the type," Bonnie contributed. "And once they get their pecker taken care of by a sissy sister, they can't never go back to even pretending they're straight." She punctuated that conclusion with a hearty laugh. I glanced toward my wife in desperation. She had Wolf's mammoth cock out of his pants and was happily stroking it at half-speed, making sure he would last until she was ready for him to move to the bedroom. The floor seemed to tilt under me. Pearl slid his lips over the rest of my limited length, so that his chin touched my undersized balls. He worked me like a practiced hooker, like he was starving for my cum, like his existence depended on milking me dry. Moira hadn't allowed me to ejaculate for more than a week, so I was overdue. My scrotum pulled up tight. I panted. The sound of my rapid breaths grew higher. I was passing the point of no reversal. My buttocks clenched and, against my will, I spurted my small load into Pearl's mouth. He had backed off enough that only half my dick was beyond his lips. All of my cream must have ended up on his tongue and under it, rather than being spurted down his throat. I didn't see any sign that he was swallowing. Vanya said, "I'm sure Tippy wants to thank your for that lovely ball- draining you gave him. He'll want to give you another kiss, sissy." That was unthinkable. I didn't want to have to taste my own spunk. I was dry-heaving from just the possibility. But Pearl was already rising, bringing his lips level with my own. I took one last hopeful look at Wolf but he just grinned maliciously at the tableau that we presented. Pearl pressed his mouth against mine. With no alternative, I opened my lips and accepted his slimy tongue. It made me gag. He pushed my cream from his mouth into mine. Vanya must have coached him ahead of time in what to do. Maybe my wife had agreed to staging this mortifying scene. Moira might even have been the one to conceive it. Pearl locked lips with me and kept up his probing, making sure I was fed the maximum amount of secondhand ejaculate possible. When at last Wolf let us separate, Pearl delivered the added indignity of licking my lips and even my nose, making sure that I had my own semen where I would feel and smell it. He sighed and then stepped away. I stood there in a daze. My only consolation was that this godawful scene seemed to be played out. I didn't want to ever experience anything like that again. Bonnie said, "Damn. That was some show." "You know," my wife offered, "our two sissies get along so well that we should put them with each other about once a week." "At least," Vanya agreed with brio, rubbing her hands together, making her bracelets glitter. "There are so many more ways they could get to know each other." "That'd be cool," Wolf asserted. Moira still had her hand on his tool. "But right now I want to go and slam some pussy." He took her wrist. "There's better things we can do with my Johnson." They stood happily and started for the bedroom. My bride said, "We'll leave the door open and make lots of noise, Tippy. You know how I love to cheat on you and rub it in, every chance I get." I knew that about my middle-aged wife. But for a change I had something even more worrisome to dwell on. Vanya would be bringing Pearl to visit again and again. I could only wait and dread what would happen during his next appearance and all the ones which followed. ********* (This story was written in response to the readers who liked my earlier effort, HE MARRIED NORA, and wanted more like that one. It only took me from 2010 to 2020 to do this similar story for them. What's a decade between friends?) (Would love to read your thoughts on this one, as well as NORA and any of my other previous tales. I am currently accepting short reviews, long ones, and anything in between. ??)