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Hot Lunch story part2

Friday, August 31st, 2007

the other hand, was what they call ripped. He wasn’t muscle-bound, but

he had a nice set of pecs and a flat stomach. I also noticed that he

had what appeared to be a nice-sized dick in his jeans.

I walked out into the back yard with two tall glasses of ice water and

offered Greg one. I was gratified to catch him looking me up and down,

and I thought to myself, “Maybe this is going to happen.” But I was

having trouble finding the right opening, when he beat me to the

punch. “I noticed the Deadhead sticker on your window; I take it

you’re a fan,” he said in a pleasant voice. We started talking about

classic Grateful Dead shows that we’d seen in our younger days, and

how much we missed them since Garcia’s death several years before.

While he worked on the tank, we talked about tape collections,

downloading MP3 files onto our computers, and so on.

Finally, I took the plunge. “If you’ve got some time after you get

through, I’ve got a new Dick’s Picks CD I haven’t had a chance to play

yet,” I said. “Maybe we can give it a listen.” He said he’d see what

his schedule looked like and let me know when he was done. My stomach

was in knots as I waited for Greg to finish. I was already picturing

this man naked, the first time I’d ever done that with a man.

At last, he was finished sucking out the tank and had replaced the top

then spread the dirt back onto the tank. He came in the back door and

I started to get hard. He was covered with a slick sheen of sweat that

just enhanced the sexiness of the scene. I gave him another cold

drink, made out the check, then went into the den to put on the CD I’d

mentioned. “I told the office I was taking off an hour or so for

lunch,” he said in a somewhat husky voice. “And my next appointment

isn’t until 2:30.” I did some quick figuring and realized that we had

almost two hours to kill.

Greg stood by the CD rack, looking over my collection, as I walked up

behind him and stood real close. I hoped I wasn’t being too obvious,

but at that point, I really didn’t care. The sexual tension in the

room was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

Sure enough, Greg put a CD away, turned toward me and gave me a

piercing gaze with his deep blue eyes. “I don’t think you invited me

in here just to listen to music,” he whispered, as he ran a hand down

the front of my shorts to squeeze my swelling cock. I just shook my

head as he pulled my face to his and we kissed, long and deep. I had

kissed a man once before, many years ago, but this was different. His

tongue was a lot longer and stronger than any I’d tasted as it circled

the inside of my mouth. My cock was standing up straight as we

embraced, and I could feel his cock straining his jeans.

When we broke the embrace, he asked me if I’d ever been with a man

before. I said that I had had a couple of experiences many years ago,

but that they had been somewhat unsatisfying, although the blowjob I

got from a young Creole man one time at a quarter movie arcade in New

Orleans was pretty good. “Let me show you how a man takes care of

another man,” Greg said as he pulled my shorts down to free my

rock-hard cock. There was already a generous amount of pre-cum fluid

pooling out the end of my dick and he used that to lubricate my shaft

as he slowly started to jack me off.

I closed my eyes and groaned as he softly stroked my dick while he

pulled my shirt off. When I was naked, he stepped back and looked me

over and nodded in apparent approval. I did what any good host would

do; I stepped up to him, unbuttoned his pants, and pulled them and his

briefs down to his knees. I eagerly took his hard cock in my hand and

did to him what he’d done to me, lightly stroking his cock. A word

here about cock size; I’m about 8 inches long and fairly fat when

fully hard, while Greg’s was about the same length, but a little more

slender. We quickly began to jack each other off slowly as we kissed

again, this time more leisurely.

After a few minutes, I had to back away or I was going to cum, and I

wasn’t ready for that just yet. Greg sat down on the sofa, pulled his

…End of the part2. To be continued..

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Hot Lunch story

Thursday, August 30th, 2007

I live in what you might call a semi-suburban area. It is pretty well

built up with various subdivisions, but it is unincorporated. That

means we are beyond the reach of a city sewer system, so we have to

depend on a septic tank to dispose of solid waste. These can be a real

pain in the ass, especially when you have to dig up and replace 20

feet of crushed 6-inch PVC pipe from the house to the tank in the

middle of a wet early winter day as I did about six years ago.

The thing about a septic tank is that every 6-7 years they fill up,

and when they get full, you have to call a professional, who comes out

with a big tank truck and sucks out all the accumulated shit. This

happened at our house two summers ago. All of the toilets backed up;

we had shitty water everywhere, and, well, you get the picture. So I

called the necessary people, and the company said they would send a

man out the next day.

Now I work out of my home, while my wife works in town, so being home

to meet the tank truck operator was no big deal. I expected some fat,

toothless redneck or a big, beefy black guy to show up, but what I

got, right around lunchtime, was a slight, pleasant young man of about

30. He was about 5-7 with curly blond hair and rimless glasses, who

looked like he’d be more at home teaching a college class than lugging

heavyweight hose and sucking up shit for a living. The truth is, this

guy was gorgeous, and when he peeled off his t-shirt to get to the

task at hand, I couldn’t help myself. My stomach and my cock started

churning.

I should say at this point that I am not gay. I have little use for

gays or for the gay lifestyle, although I’ve have and have had friends

of both genders who are/were gay, and I respect their right to live

their lives any way they choose.

Paradoxically, however, one of my hottest fantasies for a long time

has been to have sex with a man, to suck a dick and have a cock

fucking my ass. I discovered during my college days many years ago the

effect anal penetration can have on the sexual experience, and I’ve

been hooked ever since. Believe me, don’t knock it until you’ve tried

it.

Keep in mind, I’m not interested in a gay relationship, per se; in

fact, in my fantasies, these men are nameless and faceless. They

materialize out of thin air, with disembodied dicks that fuck me, suck

me, cum in me and on me, then disappear. By the way, my wife of some

20 years knows about these fantasies and we often use them to enhance

what is still a pretty active sex life, considering our hectic family

and work lives.

Speaking of sex, I happened at that moment to be incredibly horny. The

good wife and I hadn’t had sex in over a week. She’d been on her

period, and had also been working extremely hard on a major project,

so she’d been too pooped to putter. So I’d been sitting at the

computer that hot morning surfing the Net for porn, and was

contemplating a rousing stroke session when the septic tank guy showed

up, considerably earlier than I expected.

Like I said, I’ve never been particularly attracted to men, but I was

definitely attracted to this guy, whose name was Greg, and it wasn’t

just the fact that I hadn’t gotten laid in over a week. I wasn’t sure

what, if anything, would happen, but I decided right then that the

time would never be better than that moment to make my gay sex fantasy

come to life.

So I walked out into the back yard to chat. I was dressed in a pair of

baggy gym shorts, no underwear, and a loose-fitting tank top. I’m in

my mid-40s, and while my hair has gone mostly gray, I still have all

of it, and people tell me I look much younger than I am. I’m not a

fitness freak, but I keep myself in decent shape. I watch what I eat

and try to walk a couple of miles two or three times a week. Greg, on

…End of the part1. To be continued..

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Going Hiking

Wednesday, August 29th, 2007

After a long week at work, I sped home to pack and get ready for my

trip. Bill and I were going hiking and camping in the mountains about

an hour from our house. I had already packed the night before and was

just getting the last minute details squared away before we left.

I went into the house through the garage and grabbed a beer as I

passed the fridge. I picked up my pack and tossed it over to the door.

I changed from my suit into hiking boots, jean shorts, and a tank top.

I scooped up my pack on the way out of the bedroom and tossed it into

the bed of my pick-up truck. I surveyed the wall of equipment in the

garage and picked several items. I grabbed the ropes and D-rings that

we needed for climbing. I grabbed a harness for myself and then a

sturdier one for Bill. Once all the gear was loaded, I called Bill to

let him know I was on the way. I pulled another beer out of the fridge

and locked my house on the way out.

I honked my horn as I pulled into Bill’s driveway. He came out of the

front door and started down the walkway. I admired the way Bill

looked, as I always did. He was 6′2″, 200 lbs., and short cropped

black hair. He carried a dark tan all year around. He was dressed like

I was, and the muscles of his powerful legs flexed with every step.

The muscles of his chest and shoulders were obvious through the thin

material of his tank top. We could have been brothers, as must people

asked. We were both the classic ideal of the all-American man. No one

would have ever guessed that we were lovers, and had been for 2 years.

The sex was awesome, but we were also the best of friends. We shared

the same love of sports and exercise, found humor in the same things,

and enjoyed gourmet cooking.

We were well on our way to the mountain and had moved off the main

roads as we climbed higher and higher. The traffic was very thin and I

missed not being able to dodge slow moving cars to get up the

mountain. The powerful engine could really get the short bed F-150

moving and passing cars was like being in a road race. So, I contented

myself with tuning a new station on the radio. I brushed my hand

against Bill’s leg as I brought my hand back to the wheel. “Don’t

start something you can’t finish, pal.” Bill said as I looked over at

him. He leaned over and got another beer out of the cooler on the

floor and drug the cold can up my leg as he sat back up.

“Cooold!” I squealed. Bill rubbed the cold spot on my leg with his

hand and took a swig of his beer. The hand on my leg was moving higher

and I shifted in my seat to allow access to my hard cock if the hand

should go that high. I hoped that it did. Just as I had hoped the hand

began massaging my hard cock through the material of my jeans. Bill

reached inside the pant leg of my shorts and freed my cock from its

cage. I sighed as bill moistened his finger in a drop of pre-cum and

rubbed it across the sensitive skin of the head of my cock. I was

still not comfortable and so I unbuttoned my jeans and lifted my hips

so I could slide then off. I felt so free without my shorts that I

took off my shirt also.

I must have been a sight driving down the highway wearing only hiking

boots, with one hand on the wheel and one hand on my dick. Bill

reached over and pushed my hand away so that he could stroke my cock.

He stroked up and down the length of my shaft and lubed up his hand

with the pre-cum that was running out of the tip of my cock. As my

excitement grew I urged Bill to take me in his mouth and finish me

orally. Bill was an excellent cocksucker and really enjoyed his work.

When Bill’s lips touched my hot cock, I groaned and reached up to run

my fingers through his close cropped hair. He licked all over the head

and then slowly took my length down his throat.

He bobbed up and down on the shaft with a strong suction that drove me

crazy. I tried to concentrate on the road, without much luck. I was

close to my climax and yelled out ” I’m cumming”. Bill deep throated

my cock just as a flood of cum escaped the tip. He sucked and

swallowed every drop of my cum and then stroked the shaft trying to

milk every last drop from me. Bill kissed the sensitive head and sat

back in his seat. He reached for his beer and took a long pull. “Shot

of cum with a beer chaser, bartender.” We both laughed at his little

joke, and I struggled to pull my shorts back on and stuff my deflated

cock inside.

I had just zipped my shorts back up when we came into the small town

that lodges hikers before the climb.

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gay quest part6

Tuesday, August 28th, 2007

stumble upon some day, that might bring back unwanted memories. Jim let him in,

but told him calmly that he must have the wrong address. The man finally agreed,

after looking all morning in all of our drawers and closets and cubbyholes.

There was no Jim. There never was. We were a household of two women, me and

Jamie. And that’s what we’ve been for over a year now, and will be for years to

come.

It’s so good of Helen to lend you to us, Loretta! Not many wives would! But you

know how things get down here during the winter season. I need all the help I

can get right now, and then on top of it to be called away! I’m delighted you

can stand in for me while I’m away. Really grateful!

She did do a wonderful job with you, Loretta, you know? As her husband you were

a decent enough man, but you’re gorgeous now! And a dominant, too! That’s rare

— you know of course that most males are submissives like Jim when they become

women, that’s why they’re so good at keeping house and sucking cocks and so on.

They can’t give an order to another man to save their skins. And whip one, or

manipulate him to do what you want? Forget it! You must have really wanted to

be a dominant woman for the longest time. No? Your wife persuaded you that you

wanted to be one, someone like herself, or like me, and then she trained you to

it? Then I’m really impressed, Loretta! Especially with Helen! What she did

with you was much more difficult than anything I’ve done, with Jim or with any of

the other men who’ve wanted me to feminize them.

Loretta, has Helen ever thought of moving down here with you? Together we could

form a partnership, and pretty soon I bet we could be supplying half the brothels

in the State with whores. With cock suckers at the very least. There’s a

military school just outside of town, with all the boys we’d ever want, plenty of

them easily turned into girls or catamites just as soon as they confess their

little kink to us. Really, any kink at all. Do tell your wife to think about

it.

Well, Loretta, I’ve got to get going now. The sooner I’m there, the sooner I’m

back. Now that it’s time to leave, I really wish now I hadn’t promised Brian’s

wife I’d help her out when Brian wakes up. When he sees what she’s had done to

that terrific prick of his, and realizes it’s gone for good, he’s not going to be

happy. I’ve told her it’ll take a really big cock inside his new cunt to show

him that there’s been gain as well as loss, that he won’t really quit mourning

for his lost manhood until he’s been devastatingly fucked over and over again.

She says that’ll happen in good time, that maybe in fact she’ll hire a stud to

service both of them for a while. She has a man in mind who’d visit her,

sometimes, when Brian was visiting me. She thinks that’ll be poetic justice.

Anyhow, she wants me to come, she says, because she needs me and I owe her. I

owe her because I led Brian into infidelity, she says, whipping him to get him

hot instead of just telling her what he wanted, then providing him with several

places a married man’s prick should never be found, including my vagina and my

own husband’s mouth. And she finally told me that Brian’s now also hiding from

bank examiners, only from real ones. It seems I’d given him ideas, or Jim had.

Now that she has control of the money, she says, the bank will never see it

again, so Brian has to disappear the way Jim did. She’s done no more with Brian

than I have with Jim, she says, all unsatisfactory husbands being pretty much the

same. Only she thought it wiser in his case to castrate him first and then

feminize him, instead of doing it the other way around. I couldn’t disagree.

Finally, she says that I’m more experienced than she is in helping a man become a

woman, and friends help each other out. We are friends now, you know, Loretta.

I called her for a friendly chat the very first day that Brian told me that now

that he knew all about Jim, and how I had tricked Jim, he didn’t think he should

have to pay my fees for his sessions with me any more. Maybe I’d need to pay

him! Well, Brian’s wife and I did a lot of talking about that, figuring out what

to do with Brian. She’s right. Friends help each other.

So, Loretta, now you know it all. I’ve got to be with Brian and his wife for the

next two weeks, till he really knows in his heart that he’s got only one

direction to go now. You have their number if there’s a problem. Hospitality

House and its equipment and its client list and this house and Jim are all yours

now, and thanks in advance for offering to mind them for me. Take good care of

them. My receptionist’ll brief you on my different clients’ special needs day by

day, and now you know all about Jim’s.

Remember to call him Jamie, would you, so he doesn’t get confused? And see to it

that he gets a cock to suck now and then, if his usual men don’t call. He was

never really much of a man, I suppose, though he used to imagine he was once a

husband at least, poor thing! Even I used to think so, sometimes. I guess he

was, in a way. He did do it all for the two of us, for his Mistress and his

wife, if you think of it that way. Now of course he knows better. He knows that

he and I are each old girlfriends who live together and enjoy each other’s

company, and share everything, but not our men. Make sure that he takes all his

pills every day, would you, Loretta, so he doesn’t get himself confused about

that? And if you should ever want to try him out for yourself, be my guest!

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gay quest part5

Monday, August 27th, 2007

Do you know, Loretta, that a few pieces of his lingerie cost him more than all of

mine cost me? But of course when a satin and lace nightie fascinated him, I

never wanted him to deny himself. That dress he’s wearing right now is an

original Oscar de la Renta, did you know that, Loretta? He loves to dress well!

His boy friends all know that no matter how posh the place they take him, Jim

will always fit in. Some of his jewelry is rather valuable too, though it’s

true, much of it was given to him by grateful admirers, and a lot more he bought

with the proceeds from his mouth and asshole.

Came the reckoning, I paid Brian’s Bank back with substantial interest, and there

were no further questions. For months afterward Brian would call Jim for

personal services, and Jim would oblige Brian the way women will, but nothing

serious ever developed between them — they remained just good friends. Jim –

or Jamie I should say — has tried recently to get Brian interested in his ass as

well as his mouth, but Brian has always told him “No, I prefer fucking your

wife.” He says this rather directly, though I’ve asked him not to. Poor Jim

hears him and looks puzzled, but can’t put two and two together. He has no wife,

he thinks, because he’s a woman. The pills of course.

For a clincher I took Jim off the sedatives and tranquillizers and

anti-depressants and so on for a few days. When he was nearly himself, I could

see he was edgy, trying to figure out if his thin arms and curved thighs and

women’s boobs were his, and where his shirts and pants had gone, if he’d ever had

any. Then I hired some burly men to come to the door asking for him and using

words like “bank” and “subpoena” and “shortfall” and “warrant” and “ciminal

embezzlement” and “arrest.” Jim was terrified, and when they’d gone I found him

hidden up in his bedroom in his negligee, his face only half-made up and his hair

a mess. He knew why they had come, and he could scarcely breathe until their car

left. He said that if they saw him they’d recognize him.

I doubted it. I pointed out that they were looking for a man, and he’d always

been a woman. Still, now was as good a time as any for him to get his nose

bobbed and his chin shortened the way he’d always wanted to ever since we were

teenaged girls together, best friends who told each other everything. He looked

at me strangely when I said that, but as you can see, Loretta, that’s what he

did.

When the so-called bank investigators came back Jim broke down and confessed

everything to me. He had paid out our money and the bank’s to a woman who had

turned him into my childhood friend — he didn’t know why. When his fresh pills

kicked in, I asked him if he was sure such a woman ever existed. It seemed

improbable, after all, why should any woman conspire to change another woman into

a woman? Jim had no answer. He described Hospitality House accurately as a

place where they’d given him panties and bras for free whenever he sucked men’s

and women’s cocks. I chided him that he was describing my place of business,

well-known to him, not some supposed other woman’s. I reminded him that now and

then he helps me out there, by sucking cocks or helping me to relax between

customers by licking my cunt clean. That explanation made sense to him.

Girlhood friends would do that for each other. Loretta, even now he’ll stop by

to lick me clean whenever he’s in the vicinity, shopping or something, and it

feels as womderful as ever! He’s such a dear!

Once he woke up sobbing, and he confessed that in some of his dreams he couldn’t

tell this supposed Mistress from me, and that once in his dreams he had even

imagined that I was his wife, that he had once been a man and had been married to

me, and that he had done something bad and that with my help he was hiding out as

a woman. I kissed him then, and told him that was sweet, that we were indeed the

dearest of friends, and it was as if we were married, and that whenever that

apprehension came upon him again he should remember what the doctor told him and

take an additional pill. He should always be happy, never afraid of anything. In

the not-too-distant future he’d have that operation we’ve talked about that would

remove his imaginary penis and balls from his crotch and reveal the real vagina

underneath, just like any other women’s. I reminded him he should look forward

to it, if only because his vagina will share the strain on his ass when he dates

too often and his dates get too manly with him too often. He’s gotten used to the

idea now, and in fact he likes it.

I hired one more investigator last year ago to shoulder his way into the house

with a supposed search warrant and go looking for any evidence that any man named

Jim had ever lived here. I wanted to know if I’d overlooked anything Jim might
…End of the part5. To be continued..

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gay quest part4

Sunday, August 26th, 2007

into his mouth. He swallowed it all like the slut he really was, and his head

fell forward, and he fell asleep with his cheek snugged up against my mound. He

looked so sweet, his hair still almost perfect, his eyes closed but each still

beautifully made up, his lipstick smeared in a good cause.

I took him home and put him to bed and kept him in a kind of twilight zone for

nearly a month, Loretta. The “Sleep Cure” is what the French called it a hundred

years ago, when they’d drug mental patients for weeks on end to cure them of

their delusions. I was doing it to induce in Jim a delusion that would become his

reality, that he was a woman, that he had always been a woman, and that he loved

performing his chief obligation as a woman, looking pretty and giving head to

men.

Two more of those special pills the moment he woke up. Prozac in between, double

the dose more often than not. When he opened his eyes, sometimes he’d see a

woman who looked like his wife looking down on him lovingly, and sometimes –

after he’d recognized he was home in his own bed — he’d see his Mistress telling

him “Suck!” Followed immediately by cocks, one after another, because he’d then

be back in a chamber in Hospitality House dressed like a cheap slut stationed at

a waiting-room glory hole, taking on whatever cock came through it. Then dressed

in his silver mini with his hair piled high, he’d spend hours making love to

Brian’s cock. Or someone’s cock, someone wearing the Bimbo mask, someone whose

cock was fatter than Brian’s though nowhere near as long, or was longer, until it

no longer mattered whose. At home in his own bed, he sucked for hours on his

wife’s cock, while she wore the Bimbo mask, ordered and encouraged by his

Mistress sitting in a chair and watching them.

Hallucinated realities gradually gave way to realities that were not much

different. My five Rotarians earned their way back into my good graces by making

their pricks available to Jim’s mouth any time on short notice, whenever I called

their 800 number, and during the next weeks they gathered to gang rape his face

repeatedly. Brian’s cock was of course available almost any time for more

servicing, now that he knew how talented a cock sucker Jim was. In my gratitude

I whipped him far more severely than I ever usually whip a client, then fucked

him far more vigorously and joyously. He’d cum like a fountain into me, and when

I brought it home to Jim still warm and woke Jim up by sitting on his face, he’d

begin drinking and lapping as if he’d not stopped from the previous time.

During the next few weeks Jim learned to take any long, hard, warm, soft object

into his throat unquestioningly, and to tongue and head fuck it until it spurted

directly into his belly, if it could. A carrot, a banana, a frankfurter, a

dildo, a real cock, they were all the same. Toward the end of this Twilight

Training period I’d lighten up on his drugs so he could at least walk and talk

like some zonked out little girl, dress him up like a pretty coed, and rent his

pretty mouth out to fraternity parties for the weekend. While in college I’d done

it once on a dare and had OD’d on all the cum I swallowed the first night, so

they had to put me out on the lawn still retching until my date came to claim me.

Not Jim! He had a cast iron stomach it seemed. He couldn’t swallow enough of

it! But boys that age are the same way they always were, Loretta. You remember.

You can’t trust them. Whatever they’d promised, no matter how many times they’d

use Jim’s mouth, some of them were always trying to get into Jim’s pants too. So

I’d always have to stay and watch, and warn them, and finally bring Jim home

before the weekend was over.

While Jim was still home sleeping, or learning womanly skills, or wandering dazed

from cock to cock, Brian’s audit was completed. As I’d suspected, there was no

way Jim had been paying for my services out of pocket. Our joint savings account

had gone before Jim had filled his bureau with bras and panties. A month or so

after his first visit Jim had paid out to me our entire life savings — many

thousands of dollars. Then for additional month after month he’d continued to

hand my receptionist $1500 of the bank’s money weekly, sometimes borrowed on his

signature with no hope he could ever pay it back, sometimes just stolen.

I’d deposited the money in my own account and said nothing, of course. By the

end of the time Jim spent as a slut who woke in the morning, selected his outfit,

painted his face, fixed his hair, and then sucked cock all day, more than $55,000

had changed hands. He’d increased his capital debt to the accounts in his charge

by $1,500 each week in return for the privilege of masturbating into a panty or

kotex in my presence. His wardrobe costs rose many thousands more.

…End of the part4. To be continued..

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gay quest part3

Saturday, August 25th, 2007

from all those sessions of sucking on my finger and drinking cum from my cunt

paid off. Jim immediately turned back to the task at hand, and performed it, and

very well, too. He peeled back the sheet and engulfed Brian’s long cock half way

into his mouth, and began to slide his lips up and down. He still didn’t know

how to deep throat then, Loretta, so when I saw that his mouth could go no

further I just placed those red tipped fingers of his where they could stroke the

lower part of his boss’s cock while his mouth honored the upper part. His hand

looked so tentative, so feminine, so right, wrapped around another man’s prick!

His fingers looked even slenderer than mine, and his grip seemed so loving!

Then his mouth and his hand each did their things. I waited and watched as Brian

settled back and then began to thrust his hips and then to hump Jim’s mouth.

Finally what I could see of Brian’s cock lurched and spasmed, and pearly liquid

began to seep out of the corners of Jim’s mouth. He swallowed as rapidly as he

could, and licked the excess off his face and swallowed that. I wondered if the

cum tasted familiar.

I then said in a kindly way, “Do it again, princess! This is a man, and you’re a

woman!”

Well, discipline tells! I left the two of them in that room together — I had my

other clients, after all — but I paused at the door to look back. Jim leaned

forward and began again, tenderly kissing the tip of Brian’s dong and licking the

sides, altogether on his own this time. He looked so pretty kneeling there in

his silver mini outfit with his red lips wrapped around Brian’s cock, his very

first cock, trying to bring cum up out of it for the second time! This time he

wasn’t merely surprised or obedient, he really wanted it! As Brian’s meat began

to firm up Jim again plunged his rounded lips way down onto it, and again tried

to suck up whatever juices he could through it. Gently and lovingly. Brian’s

second coming soon followed, and when the sticky harvest rose up again into his

mouth Jim this time was whimpering and groaning in heat. He loved it! My

husband was a natural! As devoted to sucking cock as to lapping cunt! He’d

never have known it, but he surely knew it now!

Well, Loretta, Brian left soon afterward, with a grin and a wink, mentioning that

he’d phone for his next appointment in a few days’ time. I went back into the

room, where Jim was still on his knees licking his lips. Even as I watched, he

straightened his silver mini skirt and arranged it in a neat circle around him on

the floor and waited, as if the throne would shortly be re-occupied by another

upright stalk and he could again drink his fill. It was time for me to turn his

world upside down.

I came up behind him and covered his eyes with one hand, mostly so he wouldn’t be

tempted to turn his head, and pressed the palm of my other hand against his jaw,

pushing it down, opening his mouth wide. He recognized my intention and opened

wider. I had consulted several of my medical clients about this moment, and a

senior psychiatrist at the State Hospital had provided me with exactly the

optimal drug I needed. Two large pills. I popped them into Jim’s mouth, and

like a dutiful girl he swallowed them. Then I sat down on the throne, and

kneeling, he stared at me.

He saw his wife sitting on the throne, Loretta. I could see it in his eyes even

before he said, “You!” in dumbfounded disbelief. His wife was dressed just like

his Mistress, her hair pulled back and her eyes blackened and her lips crimsoned.

“Where is she?” he added. But as I’d been told, he had swallowed some very

powerful fast-acting psychoactive drugs, and almost immediately he began to look

confused. Who was “she” — the Mistress he’d served for now six months or more?

His wife? His own image in the mirror? This moment addled him utterly.

“I’m here, Jim,” I said in my familiar, wifely voice. Then, “I’m here, slut! Do

it again!” This last I ordered ferociously, in my most outraged Mistress voice.

I placed a huge dildo against my crotch, its rubber balls loaded with gelatinized

Gatorade, real cum accumulated in the last day or two, and finally, a sedative.

“Suck on this, slut!”

In flight from his increasing confusion and bewilderment, Jim leaned forward and

began to lick the head of the dildo as he had on Brian’s prick. He then sucked

on it, his lips riding up and then down again. That became his only reality as

his eyes grew more confused and groggy, then glazed. Just before they closed, I

squeezed the dildo’s balls repeatedly, and jets of warm artificial cum squirted
…End of the part3. To be continued..

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gay quest part2

Friday, August 24th, 2007

usual morning pills.

“I’d like to look especially nice, tomorrow after lunch,” he said. “I need to

wear something appropriate. Would you help me choose?”

I was a teeny bit cruel. “Nice how, sweetheart?”

“Seductive,” he said, and swallowed hard.

“All right,” I said. “Then slather on the eye make-up. But ‘appropriate? For

what? A wedding? Yours? Who’s the groom?”

I said this unhelpfully while nibbling on the shrimp souffle Jim had made as an

appetizer. He was spending more and more time in the kitchen during the week

doing fancy things, maybe because he felt guilty that he was deceiving his wife

with a paid mistress, maybe because the hormones and the clothing and the

role-playing had turned his mind to doing traditional women’s work. When he’d

confessed that much to his Mistress one afternoon, I’d ordered him to do

something special for his wife each day, to show his appreciation for her. He’d

started cooking exotic dishes for our dinner each night. That is, in addition to

making the beds, vacuuming and dusting, tending to our laundry, clearing up after

dinner, and rinsing out our delicate undies.

He needed encouragement, not teasing, so I got serious. “I’ve been wondering

when you would want me to see more of your dresses,” I commented. “High time,

too. There’s no reason for you to feel restricted in the way you present

yourself here in the house or outside either, just because you used to be a man.

I love wearing all kinds of dresses myself. Let’s see what you’ve chosen for

this special occasion.”

Well, of course I urged him to wear the silver mini, which had a teeny open

jacket to match and a see-through blouse. A girl dressing up to suck her boss’s

cock should look like a tart, I reasoned to myself, and I offered to lend him a

ton or so of junk jewelry to add to the effect. “With a dress like this,” I

said, “get yourself a special hairdo. Piled way high, maybe with a rhinestone

hair piece on top.”

The beauty salon operator went all out. When Jim showed at Hospitality House for

his tryst with Brian his hair was piled high, his nails were bright red, his new

breasts were bulging in their scanty lacy bra, deep cleavage fully visible

through his see-through blouse, his silver skirt scarcely covered his crotch, and

he wore long legged black net stockings. I must say, Jim was a living sex-pot

sex-doll, all pretence of masculine appearance wiped away. I’d experimented with

Lesbian sex in college, and the sight of him reminded me of things I’d not myself

done with a woman for a while.

He entered the room daintily on his five-inch strappy silver slippers, and

immediately saw a figure wearing my doll face sitting on my throne at the other

end of the room. He approached and then fell to his knees, eyes lowered. But

then came a moment’s stunned shock, when he saw a long, sheet-covered tent pole

rising high out of what he thought was my lap, and then heard my familar

commanding voice not in front of him but behind him.

“Now what does a pretty girl like you want to do when she sees a handsome prick

like that rising in front of her face?”

I guess for all the feminizing and the humiliation and scum-sucking, Jim had

never expected to go this far! Actually to take another man’s cock into his own

mouth and suck in it. Before, whatever the humiliating act he had performed, it

was in submission to feminine power, deeply fulfilling to a submissive like Jim.

But cock sucking was submission to masculine power. It required that all male

competitiveness and jealousy in himself be suppressed, and that he find within

instead a truly feminine desire to please, to make a man happy. He looked around

at me, imploring, seeking my eyes for reassurance and guidance. For the first

time in all these many months he looked closely at my face! There was a sudden

narrowing of his pencilled-in brows! Did I suddenly look familiar to him? “How

dare you look at me!” I shouted, as if enraged. “You klnow what to do, slut!

Prove to me that you’re a woman!”

Well, there was a call for submission to feminine power, mine! His habituation
…End of the part2. To be continued..

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gay quest

Thursday, August 23rd, 2007

The next spunk he sucked so devotedly out of me was Brian’s, his own boss’s, the

very bank official who had first sent him here. It happened the first day after

Jim’s total makeover, when without being fully aware of it Jim had committed to

dressing and looking like a woman for good, the first day after his three-week

full-time crash course in femininity had gotten under way. I thought of telling

Jim this to mortify him, that he was sucking his boss’s cock at one remove, but I

couldn’t violate client confidentiality. Then I realized that with Brian’s

cooperation I could convert Jim completely and irreversibly by the end of the

three weeks available. So why shouldn’t he suck his boss’s cock directly, and

enjoy it? Many women do. No news there!

I mentioned to Brian that I had this curious transsexual client, a man he had

recommended to me who now thought he was really a woman and who thinks semen on a

cock tastes like melted ice cream. Brian immediately recognized that it was Jim,

as I’d intended, and immediately asked for an introduction to this “lady” who

felt so impelled to suck cock. He’d wondered what was happening with Jim

because, as he said, Jim’s perfume and make-up had been duly noticed by everyone.

In fact he’d become something of an embarrassment, fixing his face daily,

arranging his hair like a woman’s even while he pretended to be a man, so he’d

been reassigned to a back office.

I asked Brian straight out, would he let Jim suck his cock. He was amused by the

idea. He quipped that many employees seem willing in order to secure

professional advancement, but even so, he’d have trouble letting a man come near

his prick. He thought a bit longer. A man who looked and acted like a woman

might be another matter. And a man who was already so much a woman he could

never again become a man, why, he’d enjoy being serviced by that kind of woman.

Especially — and he looked at me — especially if there were no charge for the

service. Was I sure that Jim’s conversion was now irreversible?

I told him that in another week or two it would be, that with his help there

could be no going back for Jim ever. What he had to do was quite simple — audit

Jim’s books at the bank. But in absolute secrecy, and to do absolutely nothing

about whatever he found.

Brian looked quite serious when I said this, and was about to refuse. But I

added quickly that any irregularities in Jim’s accounts would be set straight

together with whatever interest was required to convert missing funds into

“loans.” That I personally guaranteed whatever the sums, as long as they

remained confidential. That no one need ever know about them, nor about the

slack supervisorial hand that had allowed them even when the employee began

acting peculiarly unconventional. That not even Brian’s wife needed to know that

he had been tipped off to the embezzlement, if any, by a woman who regularly

gratifies his need to be whipped. I now looked back at Brian equally seriously.

He grinned, and explained that when money has been mismanaged or embezzled, most

businesses prefer getting it all back quietly to pressing charges against the

embezzler and perhaps thereby giving other employees ideas of their own, and

meanwhile needlessly distressing stockholders. Of course the malefactor had to

disappear and never reappear again, or Brian would be obliged to order his

arrest. I nodded and agreed. Jim would disappear.

I then told Bryan that just as banks give depositors gifts of radios or toasters,

he would receive a bonus — no charge for his first few deposits into Jim’s

mouth, and afterward the two of them would be free to make their own

arrangements. Brian might never have to pay for oral sex again. Brian smiled.

“I wonder why you’re so generous,” he commented. Brian was no fool.

The next day, while Jim was slurping away at my pussy and drinking up who knows

who’s cum, and while I was moaning, my mind delightedly dancing through fields of

fragrant flowers, I told Jim I had a arranged a special surprise for his next

appointment. I told him it would change his life. I told him to try to look as

beautiful as he could when he appeared, as feminine as possible. I told him to

ask his wife to help him look seductive.

That night he laid on the bed a choice, a beautiful, black sequinned,

figure-clinging cocktail dress, very classy, and a really racy, silver-threaded,

mini-slut dress. Then he tried to find the courage to broach the subject with

me. I knew he’d be nervous, so I laced his pre-dinner cocktail with fresh

tranquillizers instead of relying as usual on whatever effects were left from his
…End of the part1. To be continued..

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Groom-To-Be and Me part3

Wednesday, August 22nd, 2007

sensitive skin right where the jock’s straps met and he spent a great

deal of time working it back and forth. Then to my amazement, I began

to feel something fluttering around my asshole. Michael was teasing

the ring of my hole with flickers from his tongue. I automatically

found myself trying to push my ass closer to his face. He then began

to dive into my butthole, like a man starving for ass. I’d never felt

anything like it in my life. One of his hands grabbed my hard dick and

started pounding it. I finally had to push his head and hand away to

avoid blasting too soon.

He came up for air and a kiss. The kiss tasted musky and manly. His

body felt like heaven on top of mine. For a moment I was terrified we

might break the table. Yet, Michael’s lack of concern calmed my fears.

He rotated his body around until his dripping meat was right above my

face. As I tried to lick the drop of glistening pre-cum from its tip

he pulled away and laughed. After several moments of teasing me he

allowed his 9-incher to come within range of my thirsty mouth. I

sucked as much into my mouth as I could, while he did the same to me.

We became lost in flesh, sweat, grunts, moans and pleasure. A finger

slid into my ass and all I could focus on was the circular motion it

was making inside of me.

Totally relaxed and wet with perspiration we seemed to enjoy each

other for an endless period of time. Michael rolled off me and onto

the floor. He slid under the coffee table and I twisted onto my

stomach to see where he had gone. Beneath me he was smiling and

stroking himself. He lifted his head to the glass as I lowered mine

and we kissed with the thick clear surface between us. I raised up

onto my knees and started jerking off to the same rhythm. Our eyes

were locked to each other as we each enjoyed the self-pleasure the

other was experiencing.

I lowered my body to the tabletop, wet with body juices, and started

to hump the glass. Michael scooted out from under the table and

positioned himself behind me. Once again, his face was buried in my

ass as his tongue fucked my hot opening. I felt him reposition his

body and in one strong, swift movement he was inside of me – all the

way inside of me.

For a few moments I was gasping for breath. Michael remained unmoving.

I could feel the wiry hairs around his balls against the lips of my

ass. Slowly he began to slide in and out of me. All I could think of

was the mantra of the children’s story “The Little Engine That Could”:

” I think I can, I think I canƒ” He increase the tempo just like in

the story until he was pounding in and out of my ass.

Suddenly we both kind of jumped as we heard the front door of his

parent’s house slam shut. No matter who it was, we were too far into

what we were doing to stop – and Michael again picked up the speed of

his animal-like humping of my butt. Even the scream, the

blood-curdling scream of the family maid as she walked into the living

room, was not enough to make us quit. Sweat was pouring off the two of

us, lost in our fucking, as the maid ran from the house crossing

herself and cursing in Spanish.

As the door slammed again Michael let out a howl and plunged into me

so hard I almost slid off the table. He continued plugging me as I

began to shoot off onto the glass beneath me – without even touching

myself. Michael slapped my ass as he came again and again with each

stroke into my hole. Each spurt from my cock caused the muscles of my

asswall to grab his shaft tighter and milk another blast from his

guts. Michael slowly began to ease up on the workout he was giving my

butt and lowered his hot body onto mine.

With his still hard prick inside me, he hugged me and panted, “Oh, my

God!”

“Unbelievable,” was my response, “I can’t believe your housekeeper

walked in on us.”

Michael laughed and his prod twitched in my raw cavity. “Yeah, she

must have really gotten an eyeful.”

It was my turn to giggle. “Well, she would have if she’d stayed around

much longer. How the hell are you going to deal with her?”

Pulling up off of my body Michael said, “When I was a teenager I found

out Teresa was her in this country illegally. One day she caught me

smoking pot. I told her if anyone learned about it, she was on her way

back home. She won’t say a word to anyone about today.”

He pulled me up off the messy table and I asked if we shouldn’t

cleanup our mess. He laughed again as he pulled me out toward the

open-air shower on the patio. “Hell no, why do that when we have a

housekeeper.”

A few weeks later a photo of Michael and his bride caught my attention

as I read the newspaper. My wife walked in as I scanned the item about

their wedding.

“Did someone you know get married?” she asked.

“Oh, just a good friend from the gym.”

She wandered toward the kitchen and, always the model of proper

manners, continued her quiz. “Did you get him a gift?”

“As a matter of fact, I gave him his gift a few weeks ago but I was

thinking about calling him to go out for a drink and celebrate.”

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Groom-To-Be and Me part2

Tuesday, August 21st, 2007

From a doorway to the left came an amazing man. His dark tan and black

hair made his beautiful smile seem brilliant white. He stuck out his

hand to grab mine and gave me a strong firm shake. He was obviously

pleased at what he saw as he rounded the counter to join me – and so

was I.

“Tony, my friend Jeff and I are going to go look at that site I’m

considering for the new gym. If Tina calls tell her I’ll be back in a

couple hours.”

The kid behind the desk smiled knowingly as he answered, “Sure, Mike.”

We got into his BMW and his hand immediately started rubbing my leg.

The mound in my shorts started pushing the fabric to its limits and

this didn’t go unnoticed by my new friend.

Michael pulled out of the parking lot and hit the highway. His hand

never left my body. No words were exchanged as we drove through a

business district and into an upper-class residential neighborhood.

The homes got bigger and more secluded as we went up into the hills.

Finally, he pulled into the driveway of a massive Tudor home and

stopped. As we got out of the car he explained this was his parent’s

home and they were away in Palm Springs.

The home was incredible. I followed Michael through a huge living

room, not taking my eyes off his ass, as he wandered to the

oak-paneled bar.

“If you are a nervous as me, I think we both need a drink. I’ll fix us

both a bourbon, if that’s OK with you, ” said Michael.

I kind of grunted in agreement, afraid my voice would squeak if I

spoke. I did notice both of our hands shaking as he handed the

Waterford tumbler to me.

We sat at the bar sipping our drinks and discussing the predicament in

which we found our selves. Both of us were almost to the point of

being able to acknowledge we were gay and yet our lives were not in

our control. Michael admitted he knew he shouldn’t be getting married

the next month but his life was running away from him like a runaway

train at this point.

Suddenly, he leaned over and kissed me. It was a rough, alcohol-laden,

manly kiss. Every part of my body, except my hardening cock, went limp

as our bodies came together. I couldn’t believe how incredibly

masculine this all felt. I was actually making out with a very hunky

man. My hands roamed all over his body, taking in every hard muscle. I

lowered them down to his ass, as our faces ground into each other, and

could feel the sweat and heat of his crack. One of his hands went up

the leg of my shorts and found my hard manmeat trying to break free

from the jock. He pulled his face off of mine and pulling me by the

filled pouch of my jock began directing me toward the over-sized sofa.

Expecting to fall back onto the plush couch, I was surprised when

Michael laid me back onto the large glass coffee table.

My shirt was pulled up over my head and the cold glass of the table

almost felt refreshing as I was slowly lowered to it. I saw my shoes

go flying toward the fireplace as my ass was lifted into the air and

the shorts were pulled off my body. Michael stood over me with an

almost evil grin as he gazed down on my nearly nude body. He slowly

got down on his knees at the end of the table and brought his face

down onto the pouch of my athletic supporter. I gasped as his tongue

grazed the tip of my cock, which was sticking up beyond the waistband

of my undergear. With his teeth Michael began to lower the pouch down

the length of my shaft, stopping to nibble and lick all along the way.

All I could do was hold on to his head as he munched on my crotch.

With the fabric pouch down around my ball sac, Michael raised himself

up a bit and lifted my legs into the air. His tongue found the

…End of the part2. To be continued..

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Groom-To-Be and Me

Monday, August 20th, 2007

I answered the classified ad with trepidation. I was married, everyone

assumed I had the perfect life and here I was answering an ad from a

guy looking to have sex with “bi-curious” men. In the letter to the

blind box address I accurately described myself as 6′ 1″, with brown

hair, brown eyes, a swimmer’s build and a great tan – except for my

brilliant white ass which was always protected by a Speedo. I drove to

the Post Office and was literally shaking as I dropped the letter in

the mail chute.

A couple weeks later an envelope with no return address appeared in my

post office box. I quickly tore open the flap and a color photograph

dropped into my lap. The guy in the picture had striking dark features

– and an unbelievable body. From what little he was wearing it

appeared as if he were a professional dancer. The enclosed letter

explained he owned a fitness club and spent a great deal of his time

teaching aerobics. He had always known he was attracted to guys.

However, being from one of the wealthiest and most socially prominent

families in town did not give him the option of being openly gay. In

fact, he was marrying into one of the other “better” families in town

the following month.

I could relate to his message. I had also forced all thoughts of

possibly being gay into the farthest recesses of my mind. I knew my

family would never accept that I could be gay and most likely I would

be disowned. That was the last thing I had wanted. Instead, I married

my college sweetheart. Although I really did love her, the desire to

be with another man was overpowering.

Feeling almost sick to my stomach, I called the phone number in the

letter when I got home. My voice cracked as I asked for “Michael.” The

masculine response on the other end of the line was: “Speaking.”

After explaining who I was, and some idle chit-chat, he suggested I

come by his gym two mornings later. He said it would not seem unusual

to his employees to have someone stop by to visit him at work. I could

be an old friend or possibly a new client for his sideline as a

personal trainer. He told me that if I were wearing gym clothes I

would fit right in.

Two days later I kissed my wife goodbye as she went off to work and I

headed for the shower to relax. I was incredibly nervous. As the hot

water cascaded down my torso I caught myself running my hands over my

chest, stomach and down to my crotch. My cock was twitching with

anticipation of what might happen later that morning. I stroked

myself, bringing myself to the verge of an explosive orgasm. I

suddenly stopped, rinsed off and stepped out of the shower. My prick

remained rock hard as I toweled the excess water from my skin.

I caught a glimpse of myself in front of the full-length mirror in the

bedroom. I had to admit I looked pretty good. The sharp lines of my

summer tanning focused all attention on the smooth white globes of my

bubble-butt. I turned around and noticed the V-shape of my chest

directed my eyes immediately down to my still-engorged cock. The red

of the fleshy pole and my dark, trimmed public hair stood out against

the pale vee of my crotch.

I stepped into a black jockstrap and had to pack my cock into the

front pouch. A pair of tight yellow Dolphin running shorts were pulled

up over the jock, presenting an inviting package from the front or

back. I pulled one of my old fraternity T-shirts over my still wet

hair and I was ready to go.

After about a ten-minute drive I arrived at Michael’s fitness center.

The sound of the latest aerobic music and the clanging of weights

mixed with the unmistakable aroma of male sweat. A couple of women

walked by in their workout gear, looking me up and down as I neared

the front counter. The young guy at the desk did the same as I asked

for Michael.

…End of the part1. To be continued..

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I could believe that it was happening since it was written up in more than one part3

Sunday, August 19th, 2007

It was *really* hard to believe that Donna would be involved with anyone.

Especially Sherry: Donna was a senior! “You don’t believe me, do you,” said

Sherry. “Are you going to say something?” she added.

“I… Donna?”

“Yes. Listen: look at this.” She went to her dresser and looked through the

drawer. “You can’t tell *anyone* about this: especially *Donna*.” She brought

over a snapshot. I stared at it. It was Donna, lying on a bed. Sherry’s bed, I

realized: it was her bedspread. Donna was up on her elbows, smiling at the

camera. And she wasn’t wearing anything but underpants!

“You didn’t believe me, did you?” she went on. “She’s really something: a real

wildcat once you get underneath that reserved exterior. I wonder if *you’re*

like that?” She paused. “I’ll bet you are. If I weren’t involved with Donna,

well we didn’t really promise each other anything, she’s actually straight and

some guy’ll find out what she’s *really* like some day and…”

She didn’t finish, but finally started again. “But I’d feel funny having *two*

relationships with women at the same time, and I’m sure she’d, well, not feel

good about it…”

I was still staring at the snapshot. Donna, lying there like that. Donna was

*doing* what I only *thought about*. With Sherry who was two years younger than

her! Sherry had stopped talking and I glanced up at her. She was watching me.

She smiled when I looked at her. “Can’t believe she’d pose like that, can you?”

she finally said. “You’re really interested in this, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry…” I started. I felt so nosey.

She got a far-away look on her face. “You’d be good, I *know* it.” she finally

said, looking back at me. “You know, we could, maybe, just one time…” She

started approaching me. I *knew*. She looked calm, first a fleeting smile, then

just a concerned look on her face. I was sitting on her bed and she sat down

next to me and took the snapshot out of my hands. I knew what was coming. I

certainly hadn’t expected things to go like *this*. Me and Sherry? She smiled.

She hadn’t touched me yet. “Relax,” she said, “I’ll just massage your

shoulders.” She was behind me, quickly, but smoothly and her hands were on the

side of my neck. She was actually touching me! With sexual intent! I’m sure I

was as stiff as a statue. She giggled a little. “Don’t worry, we won’t get into

the whips and chains *this* time.”

I *knew* she was joking. I *must* have known. “You didn’t *believe* me, did

you?” she finally said, laughing. “But listen, we *have* tried *this*.” She’d

hopped up and was in her drawer again. She held up a pair of handcuffs!

I stared. Donna Strickland playing with handcuffs with Sherry! What did they

do? Did Sherry handcuff her? In a moment, she was sitting behind me again, once

again working on my neck. “Wondering about pretty little Donna?” she finally

said. “You’d be surprised…”

“Listen, I don’t know about this…” I finally said, finding my voice.

“I said, *relax*,” she returned. She didn’t stop. “*You* wanted to try it, and

you *know* that nervous as you are, you’ll be just as nervous another time.” She

was good with my neck. And my shoulders. Then her hands were holding my

shoulders, gently but firmly and she kissed the back of my neck. No one had ever

kissed me there before. For some reason, I thought about her kissing Donna like

that. Seducing Donna like that their first time.

And that was the beginning of it. Last night, I sat leaning against the wall at

the head of Sherry’s bed. Between my legs sat Donna, leaning back against me,

her back against my body. We were both completely naked and I had my hands

around her, holding her around the waist. No, not on her breasts. I felt a

momentary shaking of her body with nervousness and anticipation. She held he

breath. It was so amazing to be holding Donna like that. Our bodies pressed

together. Sherry stood in front of us, wearing just her bra and underpants. She

smiled at us. She was holding the handcuffs. She climbed onto the bed, right in

front of Donna, who watched her approach. Donna’s body trembled.

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I could believe that it was happening since it was written up in more than one part2

Saturday, August 18th, 2007

At me? It seemed like a knowing smile. I suddenly felt a lump in my throat. “I

know why you brought that up,” she finally said.

I fought panic for a split second, but then managed to relax. No she didn’t.

“Never mind,” I said, afraid I was going to lose my voice or something.

“You’re thinking about doing it yourself, aren’t you?”

“No!” I sort of squeaked.

“Yes you are: you’ve wondered what it would be like but you’re too shy to

approach anyone. Right?”

I was silent. Stunned, actually. This wasn’t going as I’d planned at all! She

giggled. “You *are* pretty transparent, you know.” I hoped not everyone saw

through me so easily! “I’ll tell you who you should talk to.”

“Listen, I didn’t mean…”

“Yes you did. You should talk to Sherry Davis.” Sherry Davis. My mind raced.

Sherry was not a reserved person at all. I suppose I might have chosen to try to

bring it up with *her* but she wasn’t nearly so approachable as Leslie. Sherry

tended to make me feel more nervous.

*Why Sherry?* I should have asked that question of Leslie right then, but I was

very nervous and when I’m nervous, I get quiet. And I wasn’t about to confirm

Leslie’s suspicions. Ha! As if going mute was going to hide anything.

Was Sherry interested in women? *I’d* certainly had no inkling–she certainly

*was* interested in men, and didn’t lack a social life. Me approach Sherry about

this? No way!

I *didn’t* approach Sherry. “Claire,” she said the next day as I passed her dorm

room.

“Yes?” Sherry never talked to me much, but even so, I wasn’t suspicious about

anything yet.

“Come here a second.” I came in and she closed the door behind me. We were

alone. Then suddenly my mind was fantasizing a conversation about me between her

and Leslie. I was ready to die.

She smiled at me. “Leslie tells me you’re interested in trying it with a woman.”

I kept myself in control. Sometimes I can act. I badly didn’t want to stand

there like an idiot. “She’s one to jump to conclusions,” I said, with what I

hoped was the right combination of amusement and confidence.

“Correct ones, for the most part,” answered Sherry without batting an eye. “She

knows I’ve tried it.”

I wasn’t going to bluff my way out. I stared at Sherry, paralyzed. And I

couldn’t help it. Was Sherry interested in me? Was I interested in her? Yes,

she was attractive. She wasn’t… well, she *was* friendly in a way, but still

somehow she frightened me. I couldn’t imagine being *comfortable* around her.

“But she *doesn’t* know…” she continued, “that I’m already *in* a such a

relationship.” By this time, I’m almost sure my mouth was hanging open. She

smiled at me: a little friendlier smile than when I’d first entered, and I felt a

little more comfortable. And evidently she *wasn’t* going to make a pass at me.

This was the first woman I’d known who had *told* me she’d done it. Before this,

other than some women who were definitely Lesbian, I’d had a couple of

suspicions, but never had been *sure* that the women were doing anything! I

couldn’t help myself. I was curious beyond belief. “You’d like to know who,

wouldn’t you?” she said. When, once again, I couldn’t voice my assent for fear

of looking nosey as well as being embarrassed, she went on: “Donna Strickland.”

Donna Strickland. Sherry was carrying on with Donna Stickland? I didn’t know

Donna too well–on thinking of it, I realized she was probably a bit shy like me.

…End of the part2. To be continued..

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I could believe that it was happening since it was written up in more than one

Friday, August 17th, 2007

article and featured on various TV reports: college women embracing

bisexuality–using their time away at college as an opportunity to experiment or

to develop relationships to keep them safely satisfied. Not that I’d seen signs

of it: my campus wouldn’t be in the forefront of such trends, and most of all,

people tend to keep things like that from me.

It’s not just that I’m a straight-arrow: I seem to send out straight-arrow

signals to everyone I come in contact with. Somehow they look at me and just

*know* I’m not a person with which to engage in questionable practices. And it’s

ironic: yes I grew up in a conservative household, but inside, I’m not that

conservative at all.

And the idea of bisexuality intrigued me. The idea that some of the women I

lived with were quietly pairing off. Trying something new and different. And

most of all, I must admit, I did feel some attraction to women. I’d discovered

my attraction while watching some sexier scenes in movies (no, not X-rated

movies; just noticing the women in some of your plain-old R-rated heterosexual

love scenes). Once discovered, I’d realized some fashion models held that kind

of fascination for me, and eventually I admitted to myself that women I’d seen

and knew could affect me. Not that I’m not basically heterosexual, but I *did*

start thinking, and from all I heard, college is the time to give it a try.

What an idea! I mean, for me! I *am* a straight-arrow in many ways: never been

with a man if you know what I mean; date very little. Not really outgoing. And

here I was, contemplating the idea of actually finding and forming a relationship

with a woman! How would I do it? Ask someone I knew?

I couldn’t imagine it. Go to some obviously-Lesbian gathering? Like a bar?

That wasn’t what I was looking for. This was going to be hard. One way or

another, I was going to have to overcome my natural reserve, at some point. I

thought about all the women I knew. I thought about what sort of person I was

interested in. It would be nice if I found someone exactly like myself: a woman

who wasn’t outgoing and didn’t go out much, but on the inside, wasn’t as

conservative as she appeared. Someone who I could share the experience with, in

confidence.

And the problem was, how would two such less-than-outgoing people find each

other? Was I going to start finding quiet women and bring up the subject of a

Lesbian relationship? And though I *know* there must be other women similar to

myself, since I don’t talk to that many people, I’d be unlikely to discover them,

and even if I did, how would I make friends with someone as reserved as me?

I finally decided that finding and approaching another reserved woman just wasn’t

practical. I needed someone who would take the lead. Or someone to help me. Set

me up? Or at least someone sympathetic that I could talk about it to. Someone

nice, who was engaging in such a relationship.

I thought about the women I knew again. Who was most likely to be in such a

relationship? And again, with enough thought, I had my answer: Leslie Brown.

She was definitely outgoing. I’d once noticed her with a woman and wondered

about the two of them, but more than that, she had the right kind of personality

for this. She had that combination that I needed: someone who I could feel

comfortable talking to and someone who certainly would know what was going on.

All I needed was some unobtrusive way to bring up the subject with Leslie. After

more thought, I settled on trying to casually ask her if some other pair of women

were engaging in something. I started spending more time with her, actually

hanging on her a little, and eventually one day as we were walking back from

supper, I managed to comment on two women I’d seen together a bit.

“Rebecca and Janet?” she responded. She looked at me for a couple of seconds as

we walked, not saying anything more.

Finally I had to fill the silence. “I just wondered.”

I glanced at her. She was eyeing me sidelong as we walked and she was smiling.

…End of the part1. To be continued..

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