Trust Me!Chapter 8 free porn video

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What could I say? I called Denise, and she asked me over for supper and the evening -- Tinka was trying out a variety of mushroom souffles to see which should be served at the baby's christening, and they wanted me to settle an old dispute between them about onions versus garlic. They sounded like an old married couple, I thought to myself. But then, that's what they are.

So when I arrived, the first thing they did was take me into the nursery. There lay Mikki, the sweetest little creature in all the world, all dimples and puffy cheeks, sound asleep, working his teeny, delicate lips as if he was nursing, now and then jerking his little limbs as if dreaming, and as I watched, a miracle, a full-scale sneeze from someone much too tiny to accomplish anything so complicated. So very, very precious! I was absolutely smitten, and they had to lead me back to the living room, or I'd be there yet.

"Have a stiff drink, Andrea" Denise said. "At least you're not pregnant. Not at the moment, anyhow. I can tell you've been spinning in one of your wife's webs, and that's why you're here. She's a wonderful woman and we all love her, and you're lucky to have her and that she loves you to pieces, and that's the truth. But she does make her own plans and keep her own counsel."

So I just unburdened everything: Monica's affair with Ben, her sudden change of heart about my cross-dressing, her encouraging me, no, pushing me into a womanhood I now knew was irreversible, and didn't want to reverse, how my little liaison with Eric had prepared me to suck and be fucked by her lover Ben and even to enjoy a brief affair with a young man she hired for the purpose, even her too-swift assumption that I would be willing to care for the child of her adultery, her infidelity, my rival's baby, just because she knew I was sufficiently tender-hearted, and had also gotten laid by the father. I set it all out. I assured them that I loved Monica this side of distraction, and that life without her was inconceivable to me. But in all of these matters there were questions that had never been answered, and without answers, I just didn't know what to think. How to feel.

Denise asked Tinka to bring me another double, and waited until I had it. We were sitting in the living room, and our conversation continued through dinner -- a delicious dinner I want to cook for Monica real soon, maybe even also Ben, so I left with all the recipes -- and it didn't finish until I was standing on their front steps saying good night yet again, many hours later, thanking them profusely for all their help. Because finally, I understood.

Denise took charge. "Andrea, to begin with, Andrew is dead. I saw you with that baby. I've listened to you. Give up on him. Cut off his balls. Castrate him as punishment for distracting you >from your proper role in life. You're a woman. Maybe you never were a transvestite. Maybe you were always a woman, or most of you was, but you were too womanly, too hesitant, too scared to take the plunge. Anyhow, it doesn't matter now. Monica did you a favor, bringing your real femininity out into the open, and letting you learn to enjoy it."

"But she didn't do it for your sake alone. Like most women she was raised to think that effeminate men are contemptible, not admirable for wanting to be the same thing they are. It's a kind of self-hatred many women feel, maybe. Especially wives. Or maybe, like Monica at this very moment filled to the hilt by that thing of Ben's, they get hung up on a single concept of cock and cock alone being desirable, and then they just hang there. A man who doesn't act like a man isn't a man, they think. Well, duh! So he must be a woman. One or the other. But why? Different strokes."

"You must certainly have noticed that a lot of things happened at the same time around five months ago. Monica got bored with your gentle decency and fucked someone with balls, and got her cunt planted by one of the great cocksmen in this part of the country. Then she breached a hard-argued three year old agreement with her husband never to say anything about his compulsive cross-dressing, and instead she started to encourage it, in fact to push him over the edge. And she stopped fucking her husband, who was more and more becoming her wife, and turned exclusively lesbian with her -- only with her husband, not with the big prick she's still teamed with and is no doubt at this very moment twisting into her pussy. And she sends her former husband off to a willing endocrinologist for hormones, to get him physically converted as quickly as possible into a wife. Complete with breasts. Breasts are crucial in this equation. Real ones, implants need not apply. How they hangin'?

"I may need to shift to a C cup," I replied. "They're beautiful. I love them. So does Monica. She's always kissing and sucking on them."

"I'll bet. Puts you in the mood, doesn't it? Tinka, do you want to tell our sister here something that she ought to know?"

The baby had awakened and started crying, so Tinka said, "Just a moment. I want to get Mikki and change his diaper. Then I'll bring him back in here for his feeding."

She did. That sweet little thing was already nuzzling her breasts. She opened her blouse and unhooked a flap on one of her bra cups, and the darling dived right in. In a moment he was nursing and sucking and grunting on Tinka's breast, and Tinka had blissed out while she hugged him. But, I realized, it was Denise who had had the baby, not Tinka. How could this be?

"Easy," said Denise when I asked her. "I had the baby. Tinka had the breasts and the desire to nurture another human life. Our endo had the hormone women secrete at birth that causes breasts to make milk. Put them all together, and what you see is what you get."

Tinka smiled up at me. "That's right, Andrea honey. If you have real breasts, you can make real milk. You do have real breasts, courtesy of your pregnant wife. Does that suggest anything to you?"

"Did Monica know about this plan of yours, Denise to carry the baby, and Tinka to nurse it?" I was feeling resentful yet elated. Cheated yet victorious. I couldn't sort out my own feelings. What had Monica done to me? Did I mind?

"Not when we decided on it," Denise said. "Only when she first found she was pregnant. I'll bet just about when she discovered that having a sweet-tempered, cross-dressing, home loving husband has certain advantages. Especially if he likes filling his bras with real tits."

Tinka broke in. "Oh, Denise, you're too harsh on poor Monica. Let me put it a different way. She loves you, Andrea. Very dearly. This is for you, in a way. It's her gift to you. For the two of you. When you got your vasectomy, she didn't know how womanly you wanted to be. She had no idea. She did know that she didn't want to be a mother, that she didn't have the time, or patience, or certainly the desire. So when Ben knocked her up she was going to get rid of it. It was intrusive on her, and certainly on the two of you. But by then she'd seen what a wonderful little homemaker you are, and she got to thinking that she'd deprived you of one of the great joys of life, parenting, when she asked you to sterilize yourself and because you're sweet, and loving, and obliging, that's what you did. She realized you'd love to raise the baby, and that with you in charge she'd lose no more time from her work than it takes for a peasant woman to give birth and get back into the field. A few days, a week at most, with no infant to tire her out. She could have her cake and eat it. Motherhood and a career both, with no conflict between them.

Denise added, "Motherhood for her husband, anyhow, once she'd made him into her wife. Very clever. I'd do it myself, if I hadn't already thought of it and done it."

Tinka smiled at her and blew her a kiss. The baby seemed to be asleep at her breast, his little hand lying lightly on her soft curves, but his mouth was still working. She covered him with a light blanket and held him close.

"Andrea," Denise said. "Pardon me for being suspicious, but when someone mentions cheese, I smell a rat. What's this "liaison" with Eric you mentioned? What kind of liaison?"

I told her what Monica had told me, that when we last visited together, after talking babies and bottles and breasts upstairs with Tinka I came downstairs absolutely zonked, and Eric got me to cock sucking him before he corn holed me, and that I loved it. All of this supposedly being proof that I was a true woman, finally. Or maybe that I wasn't."

When I finished, Tinka was smiling, and Denise the same, even more broadly, "I don't believe that woman!" she said. "She should be Ambassador to the Universe! President of the World!"

Tinka explained. "Oh, we went upstairs for my recipes and started talking babies and nursing, all right, you and me. I could see you were over the hill and not likely to remember anything, so I told you our little secret, that I meant to breast-feed Denise's baby, our baby. You asked how, and I took you to my breast, and you were soon sound asleep. It was so very dear. Then you didn't wake up until Monica came to get you and take you home. Eric never did show up that night."

Again, I was astounded! "He didn't? But Monica... But there was cum all over my panties the next day!"

"Oh, these days Monica's got no shortage of cum to redistribute any way she pleases. She's wonderful, your wife," Denise said. "She'll say all kinds of things to get people to do what she wants, because she knows it's what they really want themselves, that it's the right thing for them in the long run. And she's always right. It's uncanny. Think about it. Anyhow, you should meet Eric some time -- he's all man, you'd never guess he's gay. Girls feel flattered by his attention because he's so good looking, but he's perfectly safe. He'd never hit on Denise or me. Nor on you either, I should think. You're not his type. He likes guys who look even more manly than he is. Tight buns, hard pecs, you know, weight lifter macho types. He'd go for Ben, but Ben would probably flatten him. Girls like us are safe enough."

Now I was really dumbfounded! "My own wife seduced me into blowing and getting fucked by her boyfriend, partly by telling me a fairy tale about my already having sex with Eric, so it didn't matter! Why!? And she has gotten herself pregnant by him, and gotten me physically rearranged to nurse and raise their baby. Why? She's not that cruel. Nor that vindictive. I never did anything like that to her! I've tried to be a devoted husband! Or wife, anyhow! Why?"

Denise began speaking to me much more gently, but very firmly. She could hear my pain, my fear that my wife was really another woman, a stranger, my bafflement. So she started right in.

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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 2

Bob walked into the squad room and tossed his notebook onto his desk. His inbox was full, and he groaned. He could hold his own on the streets. He'd been shot at half a dozen times, and had survived them all. He'd been in two wrecks, and all he'd suffered was a deep bruise in one thigh. He'd processed enough blood and body fluid evidence to infect a hundred thousand people with Hepatitis, or HIV, and was still clean as a whistle. The paperwork, though, would kill him. He knew it, deep in...

2 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 3

There was an uncomfortable silence in the booth, as they waited for the waitress to come and take their drink order. Once she was gone, Lacey looked at him, obviously waiting for him to speak. "It's like this," said Bob, starting in on a speech he'd given countless times, to countless women like this one. Well ... not quite like this one. This one was a lady. She had class. He rarely dealt with women of her class. But all he had was the speech, and some facts and figures, and that...

4 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 4

He was, in fact, five minutes late. Jeff Quincy, the patrol captain, had been just as incredulous as the patrol supervisor, and had used up half an hour being convinced that this wasn't some kind of mistake. When it turned out that the woman was the wife of a city councilman, it got more interesting, but the gun and the bullet hole in the dashboard pretty much told the story. This would be extremely difficult to sweep under the carpet. It helped that the woman insisted she had only been...

2 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 5

The place he directed her to was a tiny hole-in-the-wall that she would have never given a second glance. She realized how hungry she was the instant she walked in, through the door Bob held for her, and the odor of wonderful, delicious things hit her like a sledge hammer. "Vinny!" Bob called out to a man, standing at the grill, wearing a white paper hat. Vinny looked over his shoulder, grinned, and held both hands up in the air, a spatula still in one. "You got me, copper," he said....

2 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 6

Lacey was ferrying a flash drive containing hundreds of photographs from the dig to the museum. A major discovery had been found. A collapsed cellar had been uncovered and, inside it, there were bones. Human bones. It wasn't clear yet how they had come to be there, but there were no indications of intentional burial. The artifacts found with the bodies suggested that people had taken refuge in the cellar and had died there. The pictures were needed at the museum as soon as possible, so that...

3 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 7

Bob had just left the briefing room, coming on shift. He hadn't even buckled his seat belt when the radio squawked to life, telling him of a multiple injury accident, with an explosion involved. Paramedics and the fire department were already on the scene. Three patrols were being dispatched, and all three were still in the parking lot, after the briefing in the squad room. Three engines roared, and three sirens began to wail, as tires screeched. It was impossible to get close to the...

3 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 8

When Bob went off shift, he returned to the hospital. "How come you're the only cop who ever checks on her?" asked the head nurse. "It's my case," he said bruskly. "How's she doing?" "Better," said the nurse. "She should be awake. All her vitals are normal. The sedative has been stopped. The only reason she's still in ICU is that she won't wake up." "I'll just sit with her for a while," said Bob. He'd stayed in uniform, since that got him almost anything he wanted, with...

2 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 9

Sleep came with difficulty for Bob. His mind roiled with the import of what he knew ... or thought he knew. He tried to convince himself that cars caught on fire all the time. There was only circumstantial evidence that the dead man was her rapist at all. Even the fact that there had been no more rapes with that modus operandi didn't prove anything. Like Lacey, no one had come forward to ask where their son, or brother, or father, or husband was. The crispy critter, still unidentified, was...

3 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 10

He took her to the impound lot, answering her questions when he thought he could do so safely, and dodging them or changing the subject when it got close to something he didn't want to talk about. She was appropriately awed by the damage to her car, and only glanced through the box of her possessions. The attendant brought out a bill for storage, and Bob tore it up. "Hey, you can't do that!" said the attendant. "I just did," said Bob. "The lady was in the hospital while it was...

2 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 11

He took her to Santini's. On the way, he told her a car had sideswiped hers, and that she hadn't been injured. While she was trying to help others involved in the accident, an explosion had occurred. He left it simple. "Explosion," she said, her voice far away. "I remember light ... all over ... I was submerged in light." "What else do you remember?" he asked, his voice guarded. "Just that. When you said explosion, it just came to me." When they walked into Santini's, Donna met...

2 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 12

Bob eventually slept, despite the erection between his legs that demanded attention. It was still demanding attention when he woke the next morning, with a soft, naked woman pressed against his body. It had been a long time since there had been a naked woman of any kind pressed against his body when he woke. That had been a result of long hours, and an unwillingness by Bob to turn over part of his life to any woman. It wasn't that he didn't like women ... it was more that he hadn't found a...

4 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 13

Bob went back to his apartment. The bed was still unmade and the wrinkled linens held the imprint of a bed that had been slept in by a couple. The pillow she'd used was lying against his own, like her head had lain close to his. On impulse, he bent to sniff the sheets where she had lain. They smelled like ... her. He hadn't missed the verbal slip that the doctor had made. She'd been about to say that as much as she would have liked to get naked with him, right there in the office, it...

4 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 14

Bob sat and read magazines, until there were none left to examine. There was no noise coming through the door—it was so quiet he felt like he was the only person on the planet. Eventually, his ears detected the hum of air being pushed here and there by the building's air handler units. He heard a siren dimly, through the walls, but no traffic noises. He checked his watch so frequently that he finally took it off and put it in his pocket. Finally, he dozed off. He woke, when the door opened...

3 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 15

Bob popped two Vivarin when he got into the squad car the next morning. She had kept him up all night, satisfying her own needs and making up for the dry spell Bob had been in. He felt drained, but also more relaxed than he'd been in years. He was no longer distracted, either. Lacey had another appointment with Claire, but he was no longer worried that she'd suddenly realize there was no past between them. That had already been addressed. Now all he had to worry about was the return of...

3 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 16

Lacey went back to see Claire ahead of schedule, and told her everything that had happened. Claire put her under again, and spent an hour exploring the details of the rape that she hadn't gone after earlier. As each horrible part of the assault was revealed, Claire worked more instructions into the dialog, intended to minimize the emotional impact of the memories. Then she brought Lacey out of the hypnotic trance and spent another hour with her, concentrating on the things that Lacey felt...

1 year ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 17

Bob heard her gasp as he left the bedroom. His head swiveled and he saw her standing there, bent slightly forward, her arm outstretched, hand turned sideways in a fist at the top of a candle. Her face was so pale it looked almost ghostly. Her mouth opened and an agonized groan was torn from her throat as she dropped the lighter and reeled backwards. Her eyes stared at the tall, pale yellow flame that the lighter had created at the tip of the candle, but her mind saw the same hand,...

3 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 18

Back in the apartment, Claire asked questions. They were not "What did you do?" type questions, but rather were "How do you feel about what you did?" type questions. Lacey didn't feel good about any of it. For the psychiatrist, it was like walking a tightrope. Or, perhaps it was like making her patient walk the tightrope. There needed to be remorse for a bad deed, for there to be health in the mind and spirit. But it could be taken too far, and the patient could begin to hate herself,...

3 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 19

She was adamant about keeping her appointment with Claire. He was glad she was going, because he had to go to work. He hoped Claire would talk some sense into her, and he made her promise not to do anything until she'd talked it over with him, no matter what she decided to do. She was waiting for him when he got home from his shift. She was calm, but looked drained. "I have to make this right," she said. "If you're sure about this, then it needs to be done right," he said...

3 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 20

Two weeks later Bob was coming home from the gym, still dressed in his sweats. McDill had instructed them, superfluously, not to see each other until after the trial. He had been noncommittal after his questioning of Bob, concerning what his defense would be. "I have some ideas," was all he'd say. Bob turned the last corner and started toward the entrance to his apartment building. A car pulled to a stop at the curb next to him and the window rolled down. "Get in!" came a male voice he...

2 years ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 21

Roger Schwartz grabbed his briefcase and hurried for the entrance/exit of the new suite of offices the prosecutor's staff was lucky to have just moved into. Lucille, his secretary, called out a cheery "Good luck!" as he sailed by her desk. "Don't need luck!" he yelled back, flashing her a grin. In fact, he believed that. He was one of the up and coming lawyers of a generation that believed skill would make "luck" an archaic term. If that seems a bit rash, perhaps it could be said...

1 year ago
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Mistrusting a MemoryChapter 22

The door to the jury room opened and a man wearing glasses came in. He looked at something on a clipboard in his hand. "We're about to begin," he said, with no other introduction. "I need to give you some information about what's expected of you. Please listen closely." He read a list of rules, things they could and could not do while they were sitting in the jury box. His voice droned, making it clear he'd read this list countless times in the past. Fully half the jury tuned him...

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