TG: BiGirls by Vickie Tern (4/4) FFFfffMm (mix and match)








This story is intended only for readers who are lawfully certified
mature, sophisticated, cosmopolitan, and literate.   All others
fuck off.








                           BiGirls 
                         by Vickie Tern





                                        iv. 

     A few weeks later the BiGirls celebrated the sixth month of my
honorary membership by taking me to dinner and a show.  "Buy
yourself the sluttiest outfit you're willing to wear," Alice said,
"And we'll all go have a fun evening.  Just us girls.  I'll get you
a wig -- dark black, straight hair, I should think, in a cute bob
with long bangs.  It'll be your full first night out in public as
a girl, won't it?  No fear, we'll surround you.  Go get your nails
done at least -- I'm sure Jane won't mind that much, anyhow.  All
part of her new, sleek, suave, husband."

     So I went in to our local beauty salon and got my nails done,
pale pink instead of the clear coats the attendant wanted to give
me as a man.  I felt like flashing them at everyone, they looked so
nice when done.  Then to a mod clothes store, where I found a
micro-mini skirt made out of a strip of red leather, and to balance
it off a black angora sweater, soft and fuzzy but tight enough to
show my boobs clearly.  Tons of junk jewelry, gold bangles on both
wrists, multiple chain necklaces, and some big hoop earrings --
really brassy.  High black fish net pantyhose -- I wanted thigh
highs, but the saleslady insisted I was too tall for them, the tops
would show below the little red mini.  I thought that would be
wickedly slutty, but she told me coldly I'd be raped or arrested
for prostitution before I'd gone a hundred yards.  And then five
inch heels on black strappy shoes.  The lady sitting next to me
where I was being fitted for the heels kept asking if I was an
actor or a performer, or if I needed them for a costume party.  So
in the end I told her my girlfriends wanted to give me a night out
to thank me for giving them so much sexual pleasure, and I needed
sexy shoes to pick up guys for them and spread the wealth.  Then
she stopped asking.

     Everyone gathered round when I came downstairs at Alice's
place fully dressed in my black Angora and red mini and gold
bangles and dangles, heavily made up especially around the eyes. 
Alice produced the wig, and it was just darling, cute as could be. 
I loved it, it was really "me".  We left Alice's house giggling and
gossiping and teasing each other, and kept it up through dinner at
a local Chinese restaurant, getting especially hysterical when I
tried to use the Men's room and some horrified young woman blocked
my way because her date was in there, and she thought I wanted to
turn a trick with him.  

     My sister BiGirls started talking about whether I was more
female than male these days, or whether I was neither or both.  Meg
raised a toast "To Craig's cock and balls, his lost causes," and I
blushed.  Dottie asked if they were lost or just mislaid, and
everyone groaned.  Lisa commented that I was so much nicer now that
I had breasts, something for them to kiss while I was kissing
theirs.  She said she could hardly wait for me to get my danglers
turned into a vagina.  "Craig would be so much more cute with
pussy lips for us to kiss," she said.  "Isn't it time?"  Eden
couldn't see how a cunt would add much. "She's got such a sweet
tush right now, and it wriggles so prettily when I've pushed
something way up into it."  Alice said that surgery for me was "not
in the arrangement," whatever she meant by that, but between me and
Jane, "because Jane has a half-interest in Craig."  When dinner
ended they were still teasing me about whether Jane had ever been
more than half-interested in me, or whether her half included one
complete testicle or half of each, or included the first three
inches of my cock or the last three, with anything left over
declared no man's land.

     We moved on to the next event, front row seats at a beefcake
strip show, the "Percherons."   These were five heavily muscled
male dancers who shook and stripped and jiggled and stripped some
more, until finally what was left to imagination was covered by
only a teeny triangle of satin on a G-string.  This pouch was
quickly knocked askew by women thrusting five dollar bills into the
G-string, and then there was their equipment on full display!  One
by one the men came to bump and grind in front of me as the guest
of honor of our group, and I must say, they were hung!  Two of them
rotated their cocks not a foot from my face, heavy balls slapping
against their thighs, the longest pricks I had ever seen.  They
seemed to hang half-way to their knees, as thick as fire hoses. 
For the first time in my life I felt my own genitals to be
altogether inadequate, negligible, and I tried instead to feel
pleased that the BiGirls loved me for my tongue and my dedication,
not for what was between my legs.  I wondered how Jane really felt
about me.  

     "How'd you like to get that thing erect in your mouth and down
your throat?" Meg asked everyone?  

     "It'd never fit any throat I've ever seen," Beryl said with
some wonderment, even awe.  

     "You know anywhere it would fit?" Alice asked.  "It might be
worth a try!"

     We went to a night club afterward, and sat around several
tables, while the girls resumed talk of surgery to bring me the
rest of the way.

     "If Craig did go the distance," Lisa argued, "Then she'd be
eligible for full membership in the club, not just an honorary
membership.  She'd be a girl who likes girls."

     "Only if she were married to a man," said someone else.

     "There's another way," said Doreen.  Doreen was a dark-haired
beauty with magic hands who had joined the club after me, but had
quickly become everyone's favorite.  "There's another way for Craig
to keep his balls but still be bisexual, and in that way earn a
full membership.."

     Everyone thought for a moment what that way might be.  "Oooh! 
Do you think he would?" Dottie asked?  She was quick!   "Say, with
somebody real special, like one of those Percherons?  Would you,
Craig?"

     "We're a girl's club," I replied, trying to avoid an answer. 
"Sex with men doesn't qualify."  One of those Percheron fire hoses
was in my imagination's eye at that moment, and I couldn't decide
how I felt about it.  To really belong, would I make love to it? 
Would it be any different really from wetting down Eden's dildo, or
fucking it?

     They called on Alice for a parliamentary judgment.  "Craig is
a special case," she said, speaking slowly and thinking her way
through it.  "But I think that if she did what women do with men,
then with the fact that she already does with us what women do with
women, she'd be eligible for full membership as a BiGirl.  She'd be
doing everything we do.  Why not?"  

     "Then let's get her a man!"  said Meg.

     At that point the party got a little hazy.  All of the girls
had been drinking, and as some of them started approaching single
men on my behalf, they were misunderstood and swept up onto the
dance floor themselves.  Then married or not, some started
disappearing into the parking lot with their partners, returning
disheveled.  

     A tall young man leaned over me and asked me to dance.  I
looked up frightened.  This wasn't in the cards.  I glanced at
Dottie, who was still at my table, and she signalled that one dance
was unavoidable, but then we'd go.  So with my heart beating I let
him lead me to the dance floor.

     It wasn't easy.  This guy was putting the make on me from the
moment I put my arms on his shoulders -- he had picked a slow
dance.  I had a twisted feeling in my stomach -- there was
something perverse about it.  A man was not a dildo strapped to a
girl.  I was not gay.  He pulled me against him and began to twist
his body against my breasts, and to my horror I felt my nipples
harden in response -- if he touched one of them, would I melt, the
way I did when one of the girls fondled me?  He did touch one, ever
so lightly, and his hand lingered.  Then at the same time he pulled
my groin into his, and even through our clothing he began to rotate
his meat into me. I could feel it, and my knees were getting weak. 
I was in a man's arms, and in very little more time I knew he would
be in my mouth or my ass if I didn't do something.  But what?  He
touched my other nipple, and I grew weaker.  This was not what I
had bargained for!

     "Craig, we've got to go!"  There was Lisa.  She had seen the
look in my eye, broken away from her man, and come to rescue me.

     "Craig?" said the man.  "That's a funny name for a girl."

     "He's not a girl," Lisa said. "He's a guy in drag.  And he's
my very special boy friend.  So I'd appreciate your backing off."

     "A guy in drag?  I don't believe it!  I don't go for guys! 
Just look at her." 

     "Should we show you his balls?" Dottie had joined us and was
tugging on my arm while I stood there dazed by what I had just
felt.  The man was really attractive!  But before he could respond
she and Lisa had me spirited away, planted me in Dottie's car, and
headed us home. 

     "Will Jane make a problem, you coming home looking like a foxy
lady?"  Dottie asked me.  "You can change at my house.  Of course
coming home in a skirt is probably better than coming home in any
of the flimsy things I'd lend you."

     "No, Jane's out of town on business," I said.  "Thanks Dottie. 
Thanks Lisa.  I need to think about all this."

     "You do that," Lisa said.  "And you might ask Jane about it
too, before you do anything more than think about it, especially
just to get even.  Otherwise it's cheating.  You remember that I
don't believe married people should cheat."

     I remembered she'd said that, but maybe because it was late,
I couldn't make sense of anything else she'd just said.  So I just
said good night.

     After that outing, all of the girls thought it was important
for me to think of Craig as a girl, not a boy.  It was the only way
I could eventually become a full BiGirl like the rest of them.  A
few of them scheduled little dinners or trips to the movies now and
then, with me wearing a dress, well-made up, wearing my wig, to
build my confidence in my femininity.  It did.  They'd take me
shopping, and my taste in clothing improved, and I began to build
up a darling wardrobe.  I'd  wear it even when the Club wasn't
meeting, skirts and blouses during the day and cocktail dresses
late afternoons or evenings if Jane was due to be out of town.  And
they allowed me to wear all kinds of sexy underwear during our
Tuesday and Thursday afternoon meetings, as long as it didn't get
in the way.  
                         
     So it happened that one afternoon a month or so later, I was
in a threesome with Lisa, who was sucking on my clit as if through
a straw, and with Meg, who was squatting on my face while I licked
her pink pussy lips and was getting ready to French kiss her deep
slot.  I was wearing a bra, and tap pants, and as it happens heels
and stockings and a garter belt as well, because I'd just come
directly from a marvelous dress sale at Talbot's, and wanted to
show some of the other girls my prize purchases.  Lisa was so horny
she'd barely given me time to get my dress off before she leaped
me.  I heard the front door open, and women's voices gush
greetings, then heard them come down the hallway.  

     Near the opening to the living room I heard Alice's voice say
"Jane, it's been quite a while!  Are you finally finished balling
Desmond?  Have you come to take Craig back?  Will you be staying
this afternoon?"

     I heard Jane's voice.  "No, I can't stay but a moment,
Desmond's waiting for me in the car.  But yes, it's over.  I
promised him this whole weekend together, just the two of us, and
then that's it.  Our business together is done.  We've now
redesigned every last motel in town.  Every last place ordinary
people can go to fuck except us, because the managers all know us
and all have big mouths.  Desmond's just been transferred to the
West Coast with a big promotion.  So that's that.  No more need for
us to use our house any more, so there's really no more need for
you to keep Craig out of our way.  I just stopped by to tell you. 
Thanks for all your help, really."  

     "Is that you under there, Craig?  Hi, Meg, no, don't bother to
get up!  Craig, you look so cute dressed like that, no wonder the
girls adore you!  I'll be back Sunday night.  I've left your
dinners in the freezer, all labelled, no problem, but maybe someone
here will want to feed you.  It sure looks like it at the moment." 


     "You've done a marvelous job on him, girls.  I owe you all! 
Next week when I'm back, when I'm meeting with everyone regularly
again, I'll be sure to give each one of you special reason to know
how grateful I feel.  Alice, it's time Craig knew a few things,
don't you think?  Would you explain them to him?  It might help. 
Gotta run!  Kiss, kiss!  Bye now!"

     Meg sat down even more firmly on my face, by which she let me
know what my responsibilities were however I may have felt at that
moment.  I writhed furiously into her pussy, and it must have felt
incredible for her, because a few minutes later her whole body
seemed to go into spasm, and she rolled off me without a word, and
just lay there trying to recover her breath.  

     My darling Lisa just looked up and said, "We'll finish this
another time, dearest," and waited while I finished off Meg.  Then
she kissed me, and I kissed her back while tears were starting out
of my eyes.  "See, didn't I tell you how we'd be kissing when we
really meant it?" she asked.  I nodded, and kissed her again, and
she kissed me again.  I noticed the other girls were heading
upstairs to change.  Our meeting was just about adjourned.

     I went upstairs and stripped naked.  I couldn't bear to wear
any of my sexy underwear, or the beautiful green sequinned dress
I'd come in, but all there was in the closet was my women's jogging
suit, so I put it on, and a pair of flats someone had left that
fit, and I went downstairs to wait for Alice to bid everyone
goodbye until next week.  The last to leave was Beryl, who looked
at me a little worried.  I looked back at her to assure her I'd be
all right, and she looked at me more closely.  Then, barely
satisfied, she left.

     I settled with Alice in the living room, now only an ordinary
living room, not in one of the soft chairs or couches but at a
table way to one side, where we could both lean our elbows and
pound our fists if it came to that. 

     Alice began.

     "Isn't Jane a dear?  We all miss her.  But I guess a little
under a year ago, maybe less, she fell for this guy Desmond, who
has renovation contracts for most of the motels in this part of the
State, practically, and she wanted to spend her afternoons with him
instead of us.  Which is fine.  Most of us are satisfied with our
husbands, but sometimes it's fun to flirt with other men a little. 
Lead them on, you know where.  And then there's no harm if you're
careful, and if your husband never catches on.  Jane used to say
you never seemed to notice anything as long as dinner was on
the table promptly at 6:30."  

     I just sat there, in my jogging suit, breasts protruding a
little, aware that my cock was curled between my legs and hadn't
been hard in months.  I realized I hadn't bothered yet to wipe off
my eye makeup.  I hoped it wasn't smudged.

     "Well, Craig, maybe you didn't know it, but Jane became a
BiGirl a few years ago, soon after one of your lady friends phoned
her asking if you'd ever found one of her earrings.  At first
she just went wild.  When she found out how you'd been making your
crotch available to every saleswoman or female client
who came through town, she started making hers available to any
contractor who'd give her a decent discount, or any wallpaper
designer who wasn't an outright flaming faggot, or any client with
a restaurant, or any trucker with a bulge in his balls she saw knew
how to unload a crate of dishes gently."  

     "Well, she found out fairly quickly that your cock wasn't that
much, and that even guys not much bigger than you were a lot more
exciting because, well, they were excited by her.  She cruised the
singles bars, and after a while she found four or five guys way
better endowed than you who were available whenever you were
selling insurance somewhere, or maybe balling some insurance
company lady somewhere.  And she joined our little group.  She
wanted to try women too, she said.  Women are more concerned, and
understanding, and caring, she said.  And that's certainly true."

     "It was about then she decided not to begin her rare fucking
sessions with you by letting you taste her pussy, the way you do
with all of us, Craig dear.  We love you for it, because your
tongue is magic.  You are one of the world's great tonguefuckers,
though you didn't know it then, and she doesn't know it yet.  She'd
come home loaded with the jism of whoever she'd been with that
afternoon, and sometimes she'd never even bother to shower when she
got home reeking of him.  She didn't want to share any of it with
you.  I thought she was being a little selfish, but she said it was
her cum, from her efforts and her pleasure, and held snug in her
pussy.  Not for you.  'Let him get his own,' she'd say."

     "You'd never notice anyhow.  Lots of  times, she said, you'd
put your thing right in there when she was way stretched out by
some hulk and still pouring out his jism, and you never seemed to
care.  You must have thought you'd gotten her exceptionally
excited, she guessed."

     "Then when she'd say that, she'd laugh.  'Craig?  Excite me?'
she'd say, and then she'd laugh again.  She'd never let you lick
her for another reason too, of course.  Because then even you might
guess someone else had got his spunk in there ahead of yours. 
Until after you'd come inside her.  Then maybe she'd let you.  But
by then you'd usually lost the urge to have any kind of sex at all
with her. 'Old one-shot,' she'd call you." 

     "When she joined us she'd settled down to fucking just a few
of her studs, though she'd cruise the night clubs some times, and
take guys to her car when she was in the mood.  But then came this
wonderful opportunity to re-design practically every motel in this
part of the State, lobbies, restaurants, meeting rooms, bedrooms,
everything.  Who could refuse?  Along with this opportunity came
this guy Desmond, apparently unmarried, apparently half his body
weight in his cock and half of the rest in his balls.  Who could
refuse him?"

     "So your wife has been fucking Desmond for a long time now,
full time since construction started more than six months ago. 
Whenever they could.  Once the projects were actually under way
they realized they had no discreet places convenient for
an afternoon quickie.  Desmond is too well known in the trade, and
Jane got to be too well known.  So she asked us to keep you away
from your place two afternoons each week, at least.  We thought,
sure, why not.  You could take her place meanwhile, until she
decides to come back to us."

     "Maybe you don't know you've already tasted Desmond's jism? 
That's what Eden loaded her cock with that afternoon when she
fucked you with her ten inch dildo.  Remember the way the tip
tasted?  Remember the juice oozing out of you after she'd fucked
your ass while she was cramming you into Lisa's cunt?  That was
Desmond.  The same juice that's been creaming your wife's cunt 
for a long time now, that your prick's been sliding around in. 
Eden thought it might be nice for you two to share the taste,
that it might bring you closer together, somehow.  Jane didn't
want you to have the pleasure at first, but when Eden pointed
it would be like you sucking your own wife's lover's cock and not
even knowing, she thought it would serve you right."

     "Craig, I know this is a hard time for you.  But understand. 
We all love you.  Whatever happens with Jane, we want you to know
you'll always be one of us, in our hearts and memories.  An
honorary BiGirl.  And whatever happens with Jane, we hope some day
we can welcome you all the way as one of us, without any
reservations."

                             v.
                      
     Well, Jane came back from her long weekend with Desmond, and
remained distant for a few days, thoughtful and a little wistful. 
Was she thinking about the lost love of her life?  Her lost
Desmond?  She'd look at me when she thought I wasn't looking at
her, deeply sad about something, then look away again. I registered
nothing at all.  

     The third night it emerged, why she was so sad.  She tried a
few times to speak, then managed it.

     "I went to a BiGirls meeting.  The girls tell me you have a
great tongue.  Masterful, that its a rare gift.  That you're a
genius with it, and that I've missed out."

     I didn't say anything.

     "And that no man has ever been as considerate as you.  As
kind, or as generous, when making love.  That you really aren't a
man in their eyes at all any more."

     I remained silent.  I couldn't tell where this was going.

     "Did the girls tell you about me?"

     "Alice did."

     "Everything?"

     "I think so."

     "Everything starting a few years ago?" 

     "Yes, I think so."  

     "And?"

     And I went back to my insurance contracts, whatever I was
working on just then.  That night, she tried to cuddle.  She
stroked my bare, smooth chest, and both of my breasts, and snuggled
in, but then she may have had a sense of the enormity she'd
committed, that her husband now had breasts, because she pulled
back.  For a few more days she could stew in her juice, I figured. 
She'd had me stewing for a few years not even knowing, and then
she'd set me up swallowing and shooting up the girl juice that
would change me for life, not even knowing that, just so she could
get royally laid over and over by some big prick of a client, and
get his business, which she deserved anyhow. 

     Not that I minded the change in me.  I loved it, now.  But
wives aren't supposed to use their husbands like this.  If they
have a problem, they are supposed to try to talk it out.  Sure, she
married an insurance-mongering asshole, a gladhander, a sexist
schmuck.  Maybe no one could talk to me about anything, then.  But
she was a grown-up.  No matter how much of an asshole I was, she
married that asshole with her eyes wide open.  She looked at me and
she told hundreds of people and a man of God, "I do."  She didn't
know what I was underneath, of course.  Underneath I was....

     I realized that what I was underneath was what I am now.  That
she had brought it out, not meaning to, but that's what had
happened.  That I liked what I had become, and I'd always had
contempt for the person I'd been, same as everyone else, even the
buddies I'd wanted to buy, way back,  with a story about how one
afternoon I'd suckered a blow job out of a den of lesbian pervert
wives, then sold them all insurance to keep my mouth shut about
them.  I'd been a real shit.  I started to look sorrowfully at
Jane, and sometimes our unhappy glances would meet half-way.  The
next night, while she was sleeping, I reached to cradle her breast
gently, and I snugged in against her.  But she didn't wake up.  And
in the morning when I woke we were on opposite sides of the bed,
facing away.  I don't think she knew I'd forgiven her, and I still
hoped she'd forgiven me.

     That Friday I decided how to deal with it.  I showed up for
dinner in my red leather mini and black net stockings, and the
black fuzzy sweater I wore for my big night out on the town, when
I almost got laid and officially certified a BiGirl in fact.  And
my straight black wig, and all the cheap jewelry.  The same outfit
I'd worn to the Percherons, and then to that Night club where half
the BiGirls had disappeared with men who were not their husbands,
and I had barely escaped with my virtue. 

     "Let's go out!"  I said.  "Meet some people.  I want to
party!"                            

     She looked at me peculiarly for a long while, and seemed to
make up her mind about something.  Then she sat down in a soft
chair, solidly, and put her feet on a hassock.  "Why go out?" she
asked.  "We can party right here."

     And we did.  She leaned back and spread her legs wide open to
me, and said, "Now give me a real, wet, sloppy kiss, girlfriend!" 
So I did.  I licked her the way a little girl would lick the cunt
of an older girl, or her dearest friend's pussy, and I
tongued her the way a proper young lady would tongue the most
respected of high society cunts, and then the way a starved whore
would do it.  I sank my face into her as if I wanted it to
disappear and never re-emerge, and as her loins relaxed and her
thighs spread wide, I sucked and licked and lapped and loved her
pussy as if it were the center of my existence, as indeed it was. 
Tears started down her face as she felt down below, with no doubt
about it, how her husband loved and desired her, and how her
husband wanted her to come back to him, and again, later, to come
yet again, and then again.

     Later that night we were snug in bed together, me in my
babydolls and Jane still naked, and we were still kissing each
others' faces over and over, still, but getting sleepy finally.

     "Craig," she said.  "When you said you wanted to go out and
party.  Did you really mean it?  I mean, the two of us go to a bar,
dance, pick up guys and everything?  Down and dirty?  Trips to the
parking lot with them?  Maybe bring one or two back here?  The
whole works?  Like I did a few years back, when you were out of
town or working late?  Like I'd done lots of nights when you wanted to
go down on me, but I wouldn't let you, because I was still filled
with some other guy's cum?  Like I've been doing even recently,
nights when I wasn't already being stuffed full of Desmond?"  

     "Why not?" I asked her. "You never know."  I figured we could
both find out if I really meant it.  Then if things worked out,
maybe I would be eligible for full membership in the Club without
it costing me my cock.

     I told her that, and she was ecstatic.  She threw her arms
around me and wouldn't let go.  "Oh, darling, that would be so
wonderful!" she said.  "That's been my fondest dream.  Ever since
we were married, I've wanted to share everything with you.  Other
women, other men, everything.  That's being truly married, isn't
it?  Sharing everything?  But I didn't dare suggest other lovers to
you.  Not to you!  You were always so proper!  And then you started
diddling other women with no thought of me.  So I took on other
men, and never shared even a single drop of their cum with you.  It
was spiteful of me, I know, but I felt hurt.  And then I realized
you'd feel hurt too, if you knew how often I went out to
sample other kinds of cocks, and the other men attached to them. 
So I couldn't very well tell you, could I."  

     Well, the very next night we went out together, and sure
enough, we picked up two guys and brought them back to the house,
giggling together like schoolgirls the whole time.  They must have
been baffled by our silliness, but not later on, when we reached
for them and it became plain that we meant business.  

     At daybreak, both men left and I came back into our own bedroom.
Jane just looked at me.  She didn't ask anything, but when I gave her
a sly smile she beamed like summer sunshine and held out both her arms. 
I lay down gently next to her -- my rear end was still a little
sore, but so was hers I supposed, sometimes.   She kissed my
nipples and sucked on them -- and she could tell immediately that
they were a little sensitive too, my guy had really worked them
over.   Then for the first time in years, she pushed my head down,
past her breasts -- I just managed to kiss their tips as I went by,
down past her navel, down to her sweet, soft pussy.  I buried my
face in its creamy, silky, wet darkness.  As so often in the last
few years, it was soaked.  But now I could smell and taste why, all
the jism her man of earlier tonight had left there, a taste not
unlike the sperm I'd been licking and swallowing for hours from my
own partner.  I found that I liked the taste of a man the same way
I liked the taste of a woman.

     As she clasped my head to her crotch and began to buck her
hips into my face she said, "It was so hard keeping up my affair
with Desmond, sometimes.  All he had going, really, was that huge
cock and a lot of staying power.  He was a glorious fuck -- your
little cock was nothing in comparison.  In fact usually when you'd
enter me after I'd spent an afternoon with him, I couldn't feel you
at all.  I don't know how you felt anything.  But after a while
when I was fully stretched out by him, he got to feel like any
other cock.  Good, but nothing special.  What was special about him
was all those decorating contracts."  

     "Otherwise, Craig, he was such a bore!  No soul, no
sensitivity, no feelings to share with me.  I missed you!  I missed
my girlfriends.  But I had to stay away from the BiGirl Club.  I
wanted my new adorable husband to find out everything he could
about how girls enjoy themselves, so at least he'd know how I felt,
and maybe begin to feel that way himself, a little, sometimes.  At
least to know for example how titties feel when someone....
Ooooohhhhh! Oh, that's nice!"   

     She paused after that small orgasm, and then began building
toward a larger.  "They were so right, Craig, when they told me
your tongue should be declared a national monument!  What're you
doing now?  Mmmmmnnnnn?  Have you any idea what that ...ohhhh... 
feels like?"

     "The other girls just thought I was being a softy
sentimentalist when I asked them to take you on.  They said the
risks from exposing the Club's existence to any man's dirty mind
were too great, and that you'd never qualify as bisexual anyhow. 
Meg spoke for the membership, 'We are not an educational
organization for inadequate husbands.  We are here for each other.' 
So I reversed the argument.  I told Alice I needed you out of the
way twice each week so I could pump Desmond dry in this very bed,
which is what I've been doing.  So Alice got everyone to be there
for me.  'You have your affair, and don't worry, we'll keep him
busy,' she told me.  'Just let us know what sex you want him to be
when we return him to you.' 

     Well, she never thought you were much of a man.  So she wasn't
too surprised when I told her, 'Fix his prick so he can't use it
to cheat on me ever again.  But mainly, teach him how women feel
about things, so he'll be more considerate of my feelings in the
future, especially when I bring men home -- I don't like all this
sneaking around.  The rest is up to you, I don't care.'"

     "And that's what they did.  And look at you!  How can any
woman resist you now?  Or any man?  And who'd ever have
dreamed that you have this incredible talent with your tongue? 
You are absolutely the most OOOOOOOAARRGHHHH!  OHHHH!  UNHHH!  UNHHH!
UNHHH!  Ohhh!  Oh, Craig!"  

     Jane stopped to catch her breath, and then when she could she
resumed, as I did down in her crotch.  "I bet you're glad now that
we did this to you.  I bet next week we'll all be discussing whose
husband to do next, and you'll have a full vote!  I bet you'll love
helping us turn Roy or Tim both ways, so they can join the Club
too, and then keep you company when you're tired of doing girl
things with girls, and want to do them with boys, or do boy things
with boys.  I'll bet...."  

     But now Jane was reaching a really towering climax, and as she
started heaving her whole body at me and screaming her head off at
the ceiling, all bets were off.    



End BiGirls 4/4

(c) 1996 by Vickie Tern 
Vickie Tern@AOL.COM