TG: Trust Me! 4 by Vickie Tern, femdom, wife, M/F, M/M 

Vickie Tern's stories are archived at 
http://library.gaycafe.com/nifty/transgender/
by_authors/Vickie_Tern

She appreciates any kinds of comment on any
of them,  and usually replies in kind.






If you shouldn't be reading this, don't!



     
                                 TRUST ME!
                               by Vickie Tern

                                         IV.

     One morning while we were dressing, Monica for the office and
me to do some shopping for dinner that night, Monica said to me,
"Oh, never mind that.  We've been invited out."

     It took a moment for that casual remark to sink in and
astonish me.  "What?" I said  "By who?  How?"  

     "Oh, don't look so shocked!  It's nothing!  I told two of the girls
we deal with at the office about you, that you're pretty much house bound
these days, and they asked me to bring you over for dinner to help
clear the cobwebs out of your mind.  It's nice to meet other people
now and then.  That's all!"

     "That's all?  Do you mean meet them as Andrew or as Andrea?"

     "Of course as Andrea, silly.  I'm proud of you, and want to
show you off.  You've come such a long way.  Though your hair could
use a touch up.  Don't worry.  Run over to Joellen's this afternoon
and tell her to do her magic, and I'll pick you up at six.  I think
your green silk taffeta would be fine."  She paused to appraise
me.  "Ask her to lighten your hair just a touch, and to do your
nails.  You're a lovely woman now, Andrea, and you have nothing to
hide.  Time to move on."

     I took that to mean she had to leave now, so the discussion
was over, so I asked hastily, "Wait a minute.  Are
these...er...girls married?  Will they have dates?  Will there be
men at this dinner?"  For some reason I felt ashamed to be seen by
men who knew I was a man.  I'd sacrificed all of my manliness,
willingly, but they might be offended or amused by it, and think me
ridiculous. 

     "You *are* a shy one, aren't you, love.  'No' to the first
question and 'Maybe' to the second.  Denise and Tinka are lesbians
who have lived together for years and are a respectable couple,
like us.  Denise is pregnant, and they're both looking forward to
having the baby.  Then a boy friend may show -- she wasn't sure. 
A friend who's a boy, named Eric.  He's the baby's father.  But
there's no problem between them about it, because he's gay.  He
wouldn't even screw her once, not even to please a dear friend, so
they had to use a gravy baster to deal with his donation.  An ideal
stud, because all he wants from them ever is conversation.  I've met
him.  He's no way effeminate, just not attracted to women.  
They're nice people.  You'll enjoy them.  And they're really
looking forward to meeting you!  Tell Joellen I'd love to see you
in bangs, I think you'd look just darling.  Ta ta!"

     And she was gone.

     I scheduled my session with Joellen for the early afternoon,
right after my weekly shot, and I felt so good when I waltzed in
that I didn't notice at first that Joellen had four other customers
having things done to them, and two other operators combing,
teasing, polishing, doing what needed doing.  The place was packed! 
Joellen saw me and came over saying, "There you are, Andrea dear,
just sit right here and we'll get right to you.  My you look
lovely!  Your skin seems so much smoother today.  Are you doing
anything for it?"

     "Monica thought I'd feel better if I took some shots," I said
with a nervous little laugh. "And I must say, I certainly do!"

     "I'll bet!" said Joellen.  "Well, let's lighten you and tidy
you up for tonight.  Monica called and told me what she wants.  I
agree with her about having bangs, now that your hair's a bit
longer.  You'll look adorable.  But now that you're really into it,
this time we go the distance.  Nails, facial, waxing, everything. 
Monica tells me you're never going back.  Welcome to the world of
women, honey!  You'll love it!  We should probably talk about some
permanent changes to your face, but that can come later."  

     I'd never told Monica I was never going back, I thought to
myself.  We'd never discussed it.  Did I want to be a woman for
good?  Well, right now I just loved being a woman with my wife, and
that was good enough for me for now.  When I left Joellen, there
was a spring in my step, and my nails were long and red, and my
face felt so perfect it might have been lacquered on.  I spent the
rest of the afternoon dressing, and practicing my postures and
gestures, walking daintily, staying loose-wristed, talking all up
and down the scale instead of in a male monotone, things like that. 
I felt very good about my upcoming coming-out dinner party, and
felt like celebrating something.  When Monica arrived home to
change she was pleased to hear me humming and singing in the
kitchen in my sweetest falsetto, no longer nervous.  She suggested
we have a drink before we left, because the girls were likely to
serve only wine.  But on top of whatever the doctor gave me I was
already two drinks ahead of her, feeling no pain at all.  

     I remember the first part of the evening well enough, but very
little of the rest of it, and nothing at all about how I got home
and into bed.  In fact the next morning when I woke up, Monica was
already half-way out the door to work, with time for only a few
amused, cryptic remarks, something about how some girls can't wait
to make up for lost time, and how I'd certainly never need a gravy 
baster.  Then as I stepped into the shower I noticed that my rear 
end was crusty with something or other.  But I didn't realize what 
until later that morning when I was rinsing some of our lingerie.  
Monica's panties were only lightly soiled, with that heavy, musky 
aroma I was learning to love dearly, I spent so much time with my 
nose in her crotch.  Mine were stiff with a clear dried fluid in 
front, which I recognized as my post-vasectomy cum.  I wondered how 
it got there.  But the seat of my prettiest panties, the ones I'd 
worn last night, was stiff with dried, thick stains and streaks, 
gobbets of them, and I realized it was someone else's heavily 
laden sperm.  What had happened?  What had I done?!  I spent the 
day agonized, fearful I had thrown away my new precious relationship 
with my beloved wife, worried I might have done some perverse thing 
to disgust her, that now she would leave me.  

     So when Monica got home I met her at the door with a Martini,
and with many kisses and flourishes I fed her the most elaborate
meal I knew how to cook.  She seemed untroubled.  But she'd also
seemed untroubled the first day after she'd caught me wearing a
dress, that time we nearly broke up over it.  That's how she was 
until she'd calculated how to deal with a problem.

     Over dessert I asked her, as casually as I could, what I had
done at Denise and her lesbian friend's house.

     "You really don't remember any of it?" she asked me, her
eyebrows raised.  "Not at all?"

     "The early part," I replied.  "The delicious dinner with
Denise and Tinka, I think that was her name.  She's a wonderful
cook.  Four kinds of wine, and she kept refilling my glass I'm
afraid.  Denise looked huge, almost ready to deliver, but still very
beautiful, glowing, and Tinka was looking forward to taking care of 
the baby when Denise goes back to work and returns to a heavy 
schedule of out-of-town selling trips.  But can that be right?"

     "That's right.  When the baby's born Tinka will take over. 
That's how they mean to share the child-rearing.  Tinka will do 
it all.  She's the homebody, loves cooking and keeping house, 
and so on.  Denise isn't."

     "Now how is it I already know that?"                    

     "You went upstairs with Tinka to look at her recipe files, and
promised to send her some of your own.  You took a long while at
it.  She told us you got to talking with her about breast feeding
as against bottles.  One thing led to another, and you started
sampling the alternatives, apparently.  Then fell asleep.  She said
that you looked and felt so sweet at her breast that she hated to
take her nipple out of your mouth and wake you."

     Monica then grinned broadly.  "Don't look so agonized,
sweetheart.  I didn't mind.  It's a normal instinct.  I love
nursing on your breasts too, such as they are, as you know.  And
you on mine."

     "Yes."

     "Anyhow, when you were safely downstairs again and had fixed 
your face, both women marveled at the way you look now, how convincing 
a woman you've become.  So they decided to put you to the test."

     "What test?"  I was afraid I was getting closer to solving a
mystery I didn't really want to solve.   

     Monica let out a rich laugh, and gestured to her coffee cup. 
I hastened to refill it.  "Why my dear, dear Andrea, you really
don't remember?"  She scrutinized me closely.  "No, you don't, do
you!  What a shame!  Every girl remembers her first, but it seems
you don't, so now you'll have to have your first all over again. 
In a way that means you're still a virgin!"

     "Monica, please!"  I couldn't tell if she sounded sympathetic or
mocking.  "What did I do?  Did I do anything wrong?  Will you
forgive me?"

     "Come to the couch, and we'll cuddle, and I'll tell you
everything, love."

     Like a guilty puppy hoping for forgiveness, I followed her
into the living room.  She lay down on the couch with her head on
the arm rest, and I lay down alongside her, tears now running down
my face.

     "You need to use waterproof mascara, darling, if you mean to
be so emotional in the future.  And I can tell you're wearing
Enjoli for me tonight.  That was very considerate."

     "Monica, whatever I did, I'm sorry!  I'm sorry!  I don't want
to lose you!  Tell me you still love me!"

     "Of course I do, pet.  And there's nothing to be sorry about. 
It was everything I'd hoped for for you.  Except that now you're
going to have to do it again, so you'll have memories of it to
carry into your old age."

     She waited until I stopped sobbing into her shoulder, then
continued.  "Denise decided that Eric could provide an ultimate
test of just how feminine you'd become.  You remember Denise's
sperm donor?  Eric?  No?  Not even his face?  Well, Eric must be
the world's strictest homosexual, who loves boys and men of all
kinds, and women of no kind.  Who won't ever let a woman touch him
for any reason?  Well, when you came back downstairs again Eric had
just arrived, expecting to meet my roommate, the woman I've been
living with lately so far as he knew.  Tinka described what you'd
just been doing, how lovingly you'd been suckling at her breast,
and Denise wondered aloud if you would suckle on a prick just as
lovingly."  

     "I was trying to stay neutral, so I just said I didn't know. 
But Eric knew from the moment you walked back into the room that
you were not born female, and he seized the opportunity.  'Here,
Andrea darling, suckle this,' he said to you without a second's
hesitation, and he pulled out, well, I must say, a monster prick. 
My dear, you may not have a woman's chromosomes, but you certainly
have a woman's instincts and desires.  Without a second's
hesitation you dropped to your knees between his knees and kissed
the tip.  Then you felt his crown all around with the insides of
your lips, running your tongue all around that silky smoothness
I've talked about now and then.  Then you licked and sucked Eric's
whole shaft so lovingly and passionately that we each of us wished
we were men, while we watched, so you could do us too.  It was the
finest blow job I've witnessed, with far more intensity and finesse
than I've ever been able to bring to the job.  But as you know,
I've never been much interested in oral sex.  Until recently."  

     "Then when Eric reached his climax, you swallowed him up
without a slurp.  It seemed as if he were pumping gallons down your
throat, and you swallowed it all, as if grateful for it and hoping
for more.  I got so wet watching you that I would have leaped on
Eric myself, if he'd have let me.  He'd never, of course.

     "Then after the shortest possible recovery, less than five
minutes, while you were still licking his cock clean, he gently
turned you around and laid you belly down across Denise's hassock,
and lifted your dress and pulled down your panties, and with your
own saliva still drenching his cock, he entered you from the rear. 
You gave such a delicious groan as he went in.  I was so happy for
you.  And you groaned again as he pulled out and then re-entered
you, and then again, faster and faster as he fucked you, until you
reached a crescendo and your groans had become pulsating shrieks as
he came, and you came, simultaneously.  No girl ever lost her
cherry more gloriously!  And you don't remember any of it?  What a
terrible pity!"

     "So darling, in a way you passed the test wonderfully.  Your
behavior with Eric was immediately, instinctively a woman's.  But
you failed the test too, because he immediately took you to be a
drag queen or transsexual woman, not a genetic woman, and
immediately got the hots for you.  We argued whether that in itself
was relevant evidence of your true femininity, but Eric said he
feels the same way about Sylvester Stallone, so we decided that it
couldn't count."

     "Then Tinka proposed a tie breaker, and it was so effortless
that I'll remember it all the days of my life.  She was helping you
adjust your panties again, and we were wondering whether you needed
a tampon or maxipad to get you home, there was so much of Eric's
cum flowing out of you, when suddenly she lifted your dress all the
way over your head, and lowered your slip off your shoulders, and
took off your bra, and sat you down on the floor and sat down
alongside you, and took you by the shoulders and began to suckle on
you.  You know, your little titties really aren't much more than
pointy nipples yet, but there's enough there to fill someone's
mouth, and Tinka began nursing.  Denise joked "Tit for tat," but 
then we fell silent, because something so beautiful happened.
Obviously you were going on instinct alone.  Your mind wasn't 
really there, hadn't been for some time.  But your arms came 
up as if by a miracle, and you ever so gently, so lovingly 
cradled her head in your arms, and pressed her face to your 
breast, and held her, and rocked her ever so slightly.  Tears 
came to everyone's eyes.  Even Eric's.  I suppose no one can be 
unmoved by the sight of a mother gently nourishing her infant.  
That's what you seemed to be doing with Tinka." 

     "Darling, everyone agrees you have true womanly instincts,
that you are absolutely convincing, absolutely persuasive.  And now
think of it!  You've also had sex with a man, and enjoyed it. 
You know what it's like.  Now if you want to flirt with a guy and
then feel an urge to go the distance, you can, like any other
woman.  I don't mind, as long as it's with a man, as long as I'm
the only real woman in your life.  You're the only woman in mine. 
Please, dear.  Take me to you right now.  I want to pleasure you. 
I do love you."

     What could I say?  What could I do?  I lowered my blouse, and
unhooked my bra, and nursed my darling first on one of my pouting
nipples, then the other, while the most delicious feelings arose as
her mouth pulsed on me.  I looked down on her dark, curved hair,
and I have never felt so tender, so utterly warm and joyous. I
whispered my affection and she kissed me, and I kissed her.  And
then we went to bed and made love as only women can.