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{Vickie Tern}NEW TG: Makeover (1/2)   femdom, wife, M/m  F/m 

All comments welcome -- VickieTern@AOL.COM

Don't read this if you can't, or can't claim you can.

                       by Vickie Tern

It really was the most amazing birthday my wife could ever have
given me!  Even now my eyes fill with tears just thinking about it. 
It seemed overwhelming two nights ago, when she first proposed
it.  But since then?

She'd sat me down and told me the whole thing was arranged, never mind 
thanking her, there was nothing for me to do but enjoy myself.  I 
would be spending the whole of my birthday downtown, doing wonderful 
things all Saturday long dressed as Jenny.  Being Jenny.  And all 
of the evening too!  Then she'd added as if an afterthought that 
we'd see about afterward.

First a five hour appointment at the Transformation Salon, all morning 
and into the afternoon, where they'd make me over to look as pretty as 
I could be, "I mean really, not the way you usually look when you dress 
up," she'd said.  Then I'd go shopping for some really nice clothes to
replace all the second hand leftovers I usually wore, with a
professional shopper from the Salon along to advise me.  Then the
whole of Saturday night I would revel in a formal gown at the
Annual Beaux Arts Ball, again escorted courtesy of the Salon,
looking gorgeous and dancing into the small hours and not expected
home until the next day.  Jessica encouraged me to stay up as
late as I wished, sleep in Sunday morning in a hotel she'd already
booked, and only then think about coming back home.  

Astonishing!  We hadn't been getting on at all well, not for the
past year or so, anyhow.  And until two nights ago Jessica'd wanted
no part of any of this!  Yet yesterday morning she'd awakened just
before I left to keep my appointment at the Salon, and wished me a
happy, happy birthday, and kissed me goodbye.  This despite the
fact that I was already wearing just a touch of mascara and
lipstick.  Usually she despised seeing me in any kind of make-up, 
and she made no secret of it.  Yet, this time she said that she 
couldn't wait to see me done up properly by professionals.  And 
she specifically asked me to drive home still
dressed.  "Wear something especially pretty for me," was what she'd
said.  "You'll love deciding what.  Women do you know!"  Then as I
left the house, "Have fun, honey.  Come back
looking gorgeous.  I'm curious what kind of a woman I live with!"

So that's what I'd done.   Driving home, I wore my
brand-new pastel flower-print silk mini, with the cute, 
crystal-pleated skirt that came only halfway down my thighs, 
barely covering my stocking tops but still generous and clingy 
enough to preserve decency.  I wanted Jessica to see me looking a 
little sexy, and my legs are one of my best features. 

And wearing my new blonde hairdo, that had altogether changed my 
appearance!  The girls in the shop had handed me a man's wig in my
usual hair style almost as an afterthought, after spending hours
coloring and cutting and primping and fussing my long hair into
these sweeping high curls.  They assured me the wig would cover
their work if it had to. "But don't pretend to be that dark-haired
man who came in here, except maybe when you must," they'd said. 
"Your hair's been permed and styled now, and it's such an
attractive shade, and it's really very flattering.  And easy? 
Whenever you shake your head, you'll find that it shapes itself
beautifully, every hair curling back into its proper place!  You
won't really want to hide it!"  

And wearing the new, subtle facial make-up they'd taught me to
apply quickly but appropriately for whatever the occasion or time
of day, and with my new long red nails glistening.  

All of this the incredible birthday surprise arranged by my darling
Jessica!  A complete turnabout for her!  Only two days earlier, she'd
hated my crossdressing!  Or she'd said she did.  

I suppose I should have told her about it before we were married. 
I should have told her that my big sister and her friends had
dressed me up like a girl when I was only 8 years old, just for
fun.  That despite the tears and humiliation I'd loved it and had
cried when they decided they shouldn't have done it and wouldn't
ever again, and that they'd often done it for me afterward, with my
heartfelt cooperation.  That I loved feeling I was one of them, one
of the girls.  That hardly a day had passed since then without my
doing something to express the feminine feelings they'd awakened, 
by my wearing secretly some near-natural shade of lipstick, or some 
delicate lace panties, something to please the girl in me.  

Women's clothes always felt deliciously sexy, though my wearing them 
had nothing to do with attracting men.  In fact, when I dressed to 
look really pretty, it made me feel all the more desirous of
other women, those marvelous creatures who look that way as their
birthright.  I'd wanted to tell Jessica that this was one of the
advantages my crossdressing would bring to our marriage, that when
I was dressed and made up I'd be an especially ardent husband, and
of course always her loving sister and best girlfriend. 

But when we first decided to get married, Jessica thought that
neither of us should discuss any of our previous sexual
experiences, that we should both begin fresh.  "There
are things about both of us, I'm sure, that neither of us wants to
know."  That sounded sensible enough.  But some months later when
she came home early and found me wearing a plain blouse and a denim
skirt, long hair pulled back in a bow, perfectly presentable I
thought, she was shocked and disgusted.  She decided she'd married
an effeminate man, and felt betrayed.  I told her my past history,
about the joy I felt when I when I was pretending to be a girl,
about my desire to be more than a husband to her.  But that didn't
help at all.  

After much grief we did reach an understanding.  I could prance and
flounce as if I were a woman at TV conventions elsewhere and out of
town if I had to, but I should never show myself to her as anything
other than her husband.  "My so-called husband," she'd added, and
there was always a faint mockery in her attitude toward me from
then on.  When I'd tried to discuss it, or to soften her edict,
she'd only gotten firmer, even contemptuous.  "I don't want to
know!" she'd said adamantly.  "And I don't want you ever to remind

Over the next few years our sex life diminished to very little. 
Her "so-called husband" could mount her when he felt he had to, but
she gave him very little encouragement or satisfaction, and fell
asleep almost immediately afterward.  She did ask me to lick her
cunt to orgasm, quite frequently, and that's what I did whenever I
found her lying back on a pile of pillows looking at me, waiting
for me to dive onto her clit and her slit from down below.  Jessica
knew I would.  That was what women did with each other, she pointed 
out.  "That's it," she'd say.  "Yes, there, that's it, Jenny, is that 
what you call yourself?  That's what would-be girls like you can do for 
real women like me.  Never mind trying to be a man!"  Humiliating me 
must have turned her on, because she'd get juicy almost as soon as my 
tongue reached into that part of her.  I'd swallow slick juices even 
while my licking elicited more.  "Oh, yes, drink it out of me!" she'd 
hiss, and I would.  Then as she rose to orgasm, her heaves and spasms 
would engulf me, and she'd crush my head between her thighs while
even more secretions poured into my mouth.  

"Yes, that's what you're good for," she'd say afterward.  I had the
feeling that if it weren't for my oral servicing she wouldn't want
me physically at all.  Maybe there was some unacknowledged lesbian
tendency repressed in her?  She welcomed my mouth to her crotch 
often, but remained quite uninterested in my cock.  

Anyhow, that's how it all was until only two days ago.

And now I was driving back fully dressed, looking rather lovely, I
thought, wearing the cute dress I'd bought yesterday just for her.  
My birthday was over, but I'd had such a good time I couldn't bring
myself to end it.  And I loved it that she didn't expect it to end
yet either.  That she wanted to share my pleasure.  And I wanted to
show her everything her thoughtfulness had purchased.  

Nearly everything.  I couldn't tell all.  That escort she'd hired
to take me to the ball, for example, Eric!  Someone had to
accompany me, she knew, no woman ever goes to a formal dance on her
own.  But I'd resented Eric when he first showed up at my hotel
room exactly on time, because it was obvious at first glance that
he was a magnificent hunk and he knew it.  I'd thought Jessica was
mocking my own manhood when she'd selected him to take me to the
Ball from the Salon's list of eligibles.  I'd thought she was using
him to remind me of my own inadequacies as a male in her eyes,
especially at that moment, dolled up as I was when I let him in, my
hair perfected, my eyes and lips alluringly painted, my earrings
dangling down toward bare, powdered shoulders, and my figure set
out in the most beautiful long ball gown, creamy taffeta with tiers
and tiers of ruffles.  When he smiled the most charming of smiles
at me and introduced himself, and even kissed my hand, holding it
just a moment longer than necessary, I felt downright hostile.  

But it wasn't an act!  Throughout the evening Eric couldn't have
been more caring and attentive. He watched me as I whirled in the
arms of other men to whom he introduced me, nice men every one of
them, none of them the dilletantes or oddities you'd expect to meet
at a Beaux Arts Ball.  It felt peculiar at first, being held and
embraced by men, but I tried deliberately to make myself feel
fragile and helpless and ladylike, and that helped.  I quickly got
used to it.  I even began to enjoy the power women seem to have
over men, the way my partners tried to flatter or amuse or dance
attendance around me.  

Eric also introduced me to some women he knew too, and they swept
me giggling into their circle to ask me how well I knew Eric, and
for how long, and was he as cute in bed as..., and wasn't he, well, 
you know....  I didn't know, but I replied with a vagueness they 
found all the more provocative.  His affectionate respect for me 
seemed to grow more intimate as the evening faded into the small 
morning hours, and I really began to feel cherished as a woman, 
not at all what I was, one of the Salon's male clients! 

By dawn, when he brought me to my door, I was half in love.  He
felt so comfortably familiar, and I felt so wonderfully feminine,
that I spontaneously kissed him good night!  On the lips!  He pulled
my body into his with his powerful arms, and I could feel his male
sex hardening in his pants, and the thought crossed my mind that he
must be bisexual, and I wondered what it would be like....  

But no, I wasn't bisexual, and I was married, and that was that! 
I broke off, and kissed him again and smiled gratefully at him, and
twisted my body into the hotel room in a single deft hip movement,
and closed the door.  Girls had done that to me when I'd dated
them, and now I'd done it!  Even that felt so deliciously feminine! 
Still, his steadfast conviction that I was the most beautiful woman
at the ball had made me feel that I was just that.  It felt
wonderful.  I really was grateful.  

I could tell Jessica that much by way of thanking her.  That I now
understood how women especially appreciate feeling cherished.  I
hoped that whatever the reasons for her sudden change of heart, if
she could see me looking really nice, tastefully dressed,
well-groomed, delicately feminine even in the way I moved,
sensitive in my feelings, she'd be more willing to accept me that
way more often.  Maybe finally she'd be willing to go out with me
as if I really were one of her girlfriends.  She'd started
attending different events with one or another of the women she
knew when she'd lost her respect for me, when she no longer liked
being seen in public with me.  

Or maybe she could think of me as a sister.  Maybe even as a 
real lesbian lover.  I imagined us undressing and caressing each 
other slowly, tenderly, our eyes locked adoringly, embracing, 
small smiles flickering on our faces.  Me kissing and licking and 
sucking on her breasts and her pussy with gentle delicacy, while 
she did the same with me, whatever parts she could reach.  I did 
so desperately want to live at home sometimes as Jenny!  That 
thought held me so entranced that I turned into our driveway before 
I came back to where I was.  

Which may be why I didn't notice until I was parked alongside it
that there was already another car in the driveway.  A BMW.  Who'd
be visiting us this Sunday afternoon?  Did any of her girlfriends
drive a BMW?  No, the women we knew all drove sensible little cars,
or if they were mothers they drove vans.  Had I asked our lawyer,
or our insurance man, or someone else, to look in on us on Sunday,
and then just plain forgotten?  

A problem.  What to do?

I sat there feeling helpless, suddenly a little frightened.  I was
a man ridiculously made up to look like a woman and dressed a
little like a tart, a so-called man who didn't dare leave his car
to enter his own home.  If the BMW belonged to anyone who knew me,
would he recognize me?  Was it likely?  How long would it then take
for the news to get around town that I had spent Sunday driving
around looking like a flaming pansy with my hair done up blonde. 
Could I live with that reputation?  I realized there was no way I
could wash off the cosmetics I'd so carefully rubbed and brushed
and stroked onto my face a few hours earlier.  Nor change to male
clothes and the dark-haired male wig, and walk to the front door
disguised as myself.  I realized that I didn't even have a pair of
pants with me -- I'd left the house yesterday dressed like a woman
headed for her Beauty Parlor appointment, no compromise, and I'd
never looked back!  Was our back door open or locked?  Could I
sneak in that way?  I didn't even know -- I almost never used it. 

A glimpse of my face in the car's rear view mirror reminded me that
what I looked like was an unknown woman come to visit, well-turned
out and quite at home with herself, a virtual stranger to the house
and the neighborhood.  My courage began to return.  No one would
ever recognize me as this blonde in pretty curls and a cute
dress.  If they did, I could pretend to be my own sister.  

That's what I'd do.  Most of this game, I'd told myself repeatedly 
in the early days, is self-confidence.  Persuade yourself that 
you are what you seem to be, act that way, and others will always 
take you at your word.  Often enough.

I opened the car door, swung my legs onto the pavement, stood up,
straightened my skirt -- it really was rather short, I thought, but
now there was nothing for it -- and began to click my way toward
the front door in my new heels.  At the last minute I remembered to
tuck my purse under my arm.  I was my sister, or maybe a friend,
come to call on my wife.  Unpacking and showing Jessica all of the
pretty purchases she'd gotten me for my birthday would have to wait
until the mystery of the BMW was solved.  Maybe there was no one
visiting, only someone using our driveway to visit one of our
neighbors?  Before I realized I shouldn't, I mindlessly unlocked
the front door with my own key and let myself in.  What if anyone
inside had noticed?

No one did.  There was no one there!  Not in the downstairs
hallway, anyhow.  Nor in the living room, though someone had been
there -- the couch cushions, normally plumped up, were punched way
down, and there were a few used wine glasses on the end table and
on the mantle.  Had Jessica held a birthday party for me here last
night, and not invited me?  I looked in the kitchen.  An ice bucket
with water in it sat on the counter, and two empty pizza boxes
were tucked next to the trash.  A six-pack of beer in the fridge,
and a few more of empties on the back porch.  Jessica'd had some
people in all right, for an informal party.  OK, that was fair,
while I was dancing the night away at the Ball.  Could it have been
such a late party that she was still asleep?  I went upstairs and
quietly cracked open our bedroom door.

There she was, a gentle smile eased across her sleeping face, lying
on her stomach atop the bed covers, completely naked, the cleft of
her ass lifted high up by some pillows tucked underneath her hips,
her left arm sprawled and dangling down over the edge of the bed,
her right arm lying lightly across a long bulge next to her.  I
looked more closely in the dim light.  The bulge became a sleeping
man.  Also naked.  No question, that's what it was.  He was.  A man
lay there on his back, a strange man, his hair mussed over a
handsome forehead, snoring gently.   

I looked down and saw that his legs were spread across the bed and
over hers as if he owned both.  There was dark, curly hair across
his arms and chest and belly, concentrated on his crotch.  There
they were matted and drenched with milky clots and glossy smears
and stains.  Love-juices, lots of them, some still shiny in streaks
on his belly and spread like salad dressing along his thighs.  Lots
of it!  And there was a huge cock, fully exposed.  It lay
diagonally across that wet haystack of pubic hair and spent cum,
relaxed and at ease with itself for the moment.  

I stared down at it and began to feel very peculiar, tense,
strange!  That thing had been inside my wife, my own Jessica.  To
judge by the mess of thick cum surrounding it they had had sex
repeatedly, quite a few times!  It was a gigantic sausage, that
cock, massive in length and bulk, and even though for the moment it
was soft, it remained plentifully plump.  I looked over and saw
that Jessica's rear end was streaked with the same sticky, shiny
stuff, that there was a pool of it between her cheeks and running
down her thighs!  She'd been fucking him!  How long had they been
at it?  How many times?  I couldn't take my eyes off that enormous
prick of his, my enemy, my betrayer!  I felt shocked!  The bottom
dropped out of my stomach, and my bowels clutched!  My knees
momentarily buckled inside their nylons.

My nylons!  I was still Jenny!  A woman!  Trapped!  I had no
choice!  I was shocked but I didn't dare play out the role my
instincts demanded!  I didn't dare enact the outraged husband of an
adulterer, a victim of infidelity who has just caught his wife and
her lover in flagrante.  Not dressed and looking the way I was! 
Like a woman!  It was too shameful!  Too ridiculous!  Jokes at
my expense would spread out from this bedroom and across the city
in no time at all!  And if I attempted any kind of high dudgeon,
Jessica would take one look at me and collapse into hysterical laughter. 
I knew it!  No, I didn't dare indulge myself.  There could be no
fury, no jealous wrath, no indignation, and no sorrow nor tears 
either.  No presumption of injured innocence.  Instead, I needed to 
hide myself behind the way I looked and hope I wouldn't be seen!  And
hope to deal with it, even the score in some way.

What would a woman like me do walking into a scene like this? 
She'd be a worldly-wise, sophisticated friend, because what was I
doing there at all if that isn't what I was?  All I could think of,
instinctively, was that she'd feel girlishly intrigued and amused! 
She'd giggle and make a joke!  My eyes were now wide open, and my
mouth too!  I covered my red lips with my red-tipped fingers and
just stared at them!  No joke occurred to me.  Was it too late to
back out?

The man opened his eyes and then lay there, looking at me calmly,
mildly, with not the slightest change of expression.  We looked at
each other.  Then Jessica opened her eyes and saw me, and her eyes
widened slightly.  A moment's pause, then a slow smile spread
across her face.  She lay there without moving, appraising my
appearance.  Her smile became a welcoming grin!

"Why hello, Jennifer, honey," she said.  "Don't you look nice? 
That new hairdo is everything I'd hoped it would be.  So feminine
and becoming!  You'll love taking care of it."

A perverse streak in me suddenly felt pleased to hear this, that
her reaction was exactly what I'd hoped all the while I'd been
driving home.  I actually reached up and touched the curls on the
back of my neck a few times with the palm of my hand!  I couldn't
help it!  Why wasn't I furious?    

"Thank you, Jessica," I replied in the smallest voice I've ever
heard come out of my mouth.  Then inexplicably I heard myself add,
"I already love it!"

Now that this potential confrontation was a scene between two
women friends, one of them me, Jessica seemed to relax.  "I really
wasn't expecting you for another few hours, Jenny.  I thought that
maybe you and Eric would still be...busy with each other.  No?  You
dated the fabulous Eric and yet managed to come back with your
virtue intact?  Remarkable!  But why?  Well, no matter.  As you can
see, I've been busy too, in other ways."

She'd set me up with Eric for more than just a date?  She'd planned
for me to be away from home and involved with...a man, so she could
spend her whole time here uninterrupted with this man?  My mind
tumbled in upon itself!

"I see you've finally met Hal.  Isn't he gorgeous?  Hal, this is
Jenny, my husband's sister, and I guess at the moment she's also my
nearest and dearest girlfriend!  You remember, I've told you all
about her."  

Hal just continued to look at me impassively, his face composed. 
"Hi, Jenny," he said ingratiatingly in a melodious baritone.  "I've
heard lots of good things about you.  I'm glad we're finally
getting a chance to meet.  Pardon me for not getting up, but you
can see the way it is."

I found my voice.  It was high-pitched and strangled. Stay calm! 
"Yes, I can see the way it is," I said.  "You don't have to get up
for me."  Then, "It looks like you've already been up most of the
night."  Did I mean that dig?  Was my tone bitter?  Jealous?  I
hoped it sounded teasing.  Forcibly I shut myself up!  

"Yes, doesn't it," Hal said, amused.  "But that's the way it always
is when I'm with a beautiful woman.  It won't quit!"  He began to
smile, comfortably charming, pleased with himself, obviously trying
to sound pleasant.  He looked me in the eyes directly, as if we
were meeting alone with each other across a crowded room, not
across the naked body of another man's wife, my wife, his lover,
with himself alongside her equally naked,   Did he know who I was?. 
"I'll be downstairs," I said weakly.  It was all I could think of

"Oh, don't go, Jenny honey" Jessica said, her face still smiling
broadly.  She tried to turn onto her back and failed.  "Hal, I love
the weight of your legs on me, any time, baby, but....?" He shifted
off her obligingly, leaning over to kiss her shoulder at the same
time.  She reached back to run her hand up his neck and ruffle his
hair.  "You are such a dear," she said to him, articulating each
word with a restrained ferocity I'd never heard from her before. 
Then she turned to lean on one elbow and stare again at me.  

"Jenny dear, this is the marvelous man I've been talking about for
months now!  Everyone knows about him.  Nearly everyone."  She
looked at me, now somehow vastly amused.  "But somehow you've never
met, have you?  Well, now that you have met, aren't you the least
little bit curious to find out more about him?  Why don't you just
sit down over there" -- she indicated the overstuffed slipper chair
she kept next to the bed -- "and we'll just visit and get
acquainted.  Please?"

She looked at me levelly.  The smile had gone from her face, and
her brows were now drawn closer together.  Was she threatening me? 
To expose me?  I couldn't take the chance.  I'd lost any initiative
I might have had anyhow.  Utterly.  I came into the room meekly,
smoothed my skirt across my rump primly, and sat down.  Now I
couldn't look at Hal, so I just looked at Jessica.  I was confused
and angry with myself as well as her.  They'd been seeing each
other for months?  But what could I have done?  What could I do
even now?  Hal was so...physical compared with me.  That dong lying
across his crotch was bigger soft than mine ever gets even when
it's hard!  And standing up he'd have towered a full head over me!

"I can't get over how nice you look, Jennifer," she said.  "Better
than I've ever seen you!  Your cheeks are positively glowing!  And
that's a wonderful dress, it suits you so well!  So sexy!  Are you
sure that Eric...?  No?  What a pity?  Well, maybe we can...?"

"Maybe we can," Hal broke in suddenly.  "That's not a bad idea at

"No, I don't think so," I blurted out.  But what didn't I think?

"Maybe we can double-date some time," Jessica finished.  "Hal is
all mine, Jenny.  I don't mean to share him."  She said this
firmly, and there was no doubt about it.  "There are a lot of other 
guys out there eager to amuse women who've recently gotten rid of 
their husbands the way you have.  Are you rid of yours for good,
Jenny?  I know mine won't dare to show his face around here ever 
again if he knows what's good for him."  She sat up stiffly and 
looked me directly in the eyes, until she saw that her point had been
hammered home.  Then she relaxed.  "You really need to loosen up a
little, Jenny, now that the man in your life doesn't matter to you
any more.  Try out some new things.  See how you like them.  See
how much better some men are than other men, doing some things. 
Better than some women in making someone like you happy."

She tensed and stretched herself, and the lower part of her body
began to writhe reminiscently, as if Hal's cock was somehow back
inside it.  "Pardon me a moment, honey.  The john!  I feel so full! 
I'm leaking front and rear, no matter which way I turn!  I
really must tidy up a little.  This time there's no husband around
to do it for me!"  

She smiled a deeply satisfied smile and stood up, still stark
naked, clothed in her self-satisfaction, and she swaggered into our
bathroom and closed the door behind her.  I realized that she had
been speaking to Hal, not to me, reassuring him that there was no
chance of an unexpected confrontation while she was gone from the
room.  I suppose there wasn't.

Now Hal turned toward me and propped himself on his elbow, and
looked me over closely.  A flash of teeth gleamed as he turned on
a radiant personality and beamed it at me from close range.  He
seemed so utterly self-confident, so powerful!  I shrank back
within myself, my eyes widening, a little fearful.

"Jennifer," he intoned in a lulling, rich voice.  I had to listen. 
"That's an absolutely ravishing name, Jennifer.  Jess will be in
there for a while, Jenny.  There's a lot of me way down deep inside
her she'll want to clean out.  Her husband used to do it for her,
she told me.  I suppose it was her way of getting back at him for
something or another.  Or maybe he liked doing it.  But that was
all the more reason for her to want me to fill her to overflowing."

What was he talking about?

"I can cum quite a few times before I need a rest, did you know
that, Jenny?  Quite a few!  Jessica loves to use those pussy
muscles of hers to squeeze cum out of me again and again, till 
nothing's left.  But I always have more.  Have you ever done 
that, Jenny?  Squeeze a man, over and over until there's nothing 
more he can squeeze into you?"

He sounded so persuasive I almost nodded 'Yes.'  It was
terrifying, the force of his questioning!  I just shook my head.

"Jessica's husband used his mouth.  Have you ever cleaned out a
woman with your mouth, Jenny?"

This time I nodded.  I don't know why.  Because I had?  It was none
of his business.  But I couldn't help myself.

"You like the way women taste?  I'll bet you do.  How about men? 
Do you like the way men taste?"

I didn't like the way this interrogation was going, but I couldn't
turn it in another direction.  I had to be Jennifer, a woman,
Jessica's girlfriend, comfortable enough about sex to walk in on a
naked couple and then sit down and chat with them.  I was a woman. 
I had to persuade myself or no one else would believe me.  If Hal
caught on that I was Jessica's despised husband, the ridicule I'd have
to endure from both of them would be unbearable.  Yet, taste a man? 
I couldn't reply.

Hal sat up like a great-maned lion rising from rest, and slowly
swung his legs over the edge of the bed.  Now his face wasn't three
feet away.  He leaned slightly forward and reached over and grasped
my shoulders as if to reassure me.  Then gently, ever so gently, he
began to pull me toward him out of my chair.  I found myself down
on my knees in front of his knees, looking up into his eyes.

"Do you like the way men taste, Jennifer?" he repeated, looking
into my eyes with a kindly, mild expression on his face.  "I see
you do.  Would you like to taste me, Jennifer?  Would you like to
use your pretty red mouth to squeeze my juices out of me, until
they're all inside you?"

He gave the faintest tug to my shoulders, and my head nodded.  His
cock was just under my nose.

end 1/2
Vickie Tern@AOL.COM

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