index


Message-ID: <47162asstr$1079741404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {ASSM} Wife by Vickie Tern 5/13 TG femdom
Lines: 396
Date: Fri, 19 Mar 2004 19:10:04 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

An Unfaithful Wife
by Vickie Tern


5/13




One weekend we had another of our odd conversations.

"You still imagine you're me, sometimes, don't you, when you're
pleasuring Mr. D and your different boyfriends."

I nodded.  I wasn't being Cassie very often any more.  I'd found I
was more easily a sweetly submissive girl with some tigerish
streaks when I was in a girl mode, not wanting to be myself and yet
not some man-loving fag either.  That girl sucked Mr. D fairly
often.  And recently she'd sucked Cassie too when I was between
Cassie's legs or under her crotch.  Though I didn't tell her that.

"If you can imagine you're me, wouldn't you think it's fair for me
to imagine I'm you, and treat Mr. D as a boyfriend the way you do? 
To take my turn sucking on Mr. D?  In fact shouldn't I go all the
way and fuck myself with him?" 

I was silent.  A little appalled.  A lot saddened, I don't know
why. And suddenly afraid!  Suddenly jealous of Mr. D!?   What if
Cassie came to prefer that huge thing in her to my comparatively
paltry penis?  What if she got so mine could no longer satisfy her? 
What if she was already accustomed to bigger pricks, real ones? 
Oh, God!  My gut writhed in an ecstasy of torment!

She saw and immediately relented.  "Don't worry, sweetheart.  I
won't take your man away from you.  I know you've gotten rather
fond of him.  But it is time we moved on.  Mr. D does need to feel
squeezed by a pussy now and then to stay in condition.  That's what
he was made for, after all."

I was still terrified.  We played mind games, yes, but for Cassie
to take in that huge cock instead of my own, that was hard.  I
could only look at her, desolated.

"You poor dear," she said softly.  "I don't mean squeezed by my
pussy.  I mean by your pussy!  Shouldn't you fuck yourself with
him?  "

I was bewildered!

"You're so sweet.  Always thinking of my pleasure, or Mr. D's, and
never your own.  I love you for that!  But you do need a proper
reward!  Not just my pee, though you'll get all I can give you
tonight, and I wish I could fill your belly to the brim.  But I'm
afraid it's undeniable.  That girl in you who blows Mr. Dildo,
you're most often her now aren't you, she needs to be fucked.  She
needs to know what a stiff dick in her pussy can feels like.  She
needs to go all the way to orgasm with one.  She needs to feel like
a woman."  

She gazed at me for a moment.  "Or maybe it's the boy in you who
needs to feel a big man's meat moving in and out of his ass?  Maybe
it's time for that?  For you to go all gay?"

She waited.  I still said nothing, so she spoke decisively. 
"Either way, it's a necessary step toward your maturity, and it's
time.  So tomorrow when we're getting ready for bed, be sure to
give yourself an enema.  Then use one of my prepared douches. 
Whatever you'll call it, a girly pussy or a boy's asshole, tomorrow
it becomes Mr. D's glory hole, so make it nice and sweet for him."

I did, filled with apprehension.  The next night I came to bed with
my rear end cleansed thoroughly, smelling faintly of Cassie's lemon
douche.  We made love as usual, and I thought she'd forgotten her
plan.  But then while she was straddling my face and I was sucking
my nightly load of cum out of her and into me, she leaned back and
reached between my legs and pushed a finger into my anus, then two
more, and then she began to slip them back and forth.  They were
slick with something.  My own cum?   "Isn't this nice?" she asked. 
It did feel strange, as if I were expelling a turd over and over. 
Oddly, it felt good too.

I began to suck and lick her in the rhythm her fingers set, and as
she rose to orgasm that became frantic.  God!  As she orgasmed the
rest of my cum into my mouth, my ass was gyrating on her fingers as
wildly as hers on my face.  Again I thought that would be all.  But
when I was already nearly asleep, Cassie patted my rear end and
whispered, "You look so relaxed now, sweetheart. Maybe it's time. 
Lift up!"  I did, and immediately felt something soft and blunt
pushing against my anus, trying to get in.  It couldn't, though she
left the tip in the cleft of my ass for some time. and I fell
asleep trying to clench it with the muscles in my anus.  

The next morning when I was still half-asleep Cassie tried again,
and actually got Mr. D's head into me.  I felt split open.  The
pain was terrible.  She waited, kissed me gently, then moved it in
another inch.  Another pause, then another kiss, and yet another
inch.  Then another.  The pain gradually eased.  Finally Mr. D  was
entirely inside me, and I didn't dare move.  I felt crammed full to
bursting.  Yet -- it was odd -- also comfy.  Snug.  

"There!" she said.  "Now you're no longer a virgin!  You know how
we all feel with a big cock inside us.  All of us girls."

I held myself rigid with my ass high in the air to relieve the
pressure.  Then in and out she moved it, and desire began to glow
deep inside me.  My prick stiffened.  In and out, and my
treasonable cock began leaking clear fluid.  Oh, how wonderful!  I
stretched out my whole body and let out a little moan, and grasped
that cock with the cheeks of my ass to try pull it in deeper, and
Cassie squeezed the balls repeatedly, and my bowels filled with
warm fluid.  It felt so very good.  Strangely reassuring.  Then as
if reluctantly, the soft, massive object inside me withdrew.  I
missed feeling full.

"Thank you, sweetheart," I said, to let her know that this time my
pleasure felt pure, not at all perverse.  "I like it, you fucking
me!"

"It was Mr. Dildo fucking you, honey.  But tell me, was he fucking
a boy or a girl?  You?  Or maybe me?"

I hadn't given it any thought at all.  Gay sex still had no appeal,
though in imagination I could now submit my body to any man's uses
if in obedience to a woman.  Mr. D had now fucked me.  I was a man,
he'd fucked another man.  But Cassie wanted a different answer. 
She'd told me that Mr. D needs pussies, not assholes.  That seemed
to reveal a preference, as far as she was concerned.  Most of the
time I did do my daily blow jobs on Mr. D as a girl, a modest,
serviceable teenager like the short-haired lacrosse player with
almost no tits who'd first blown me.  So what she wanted seemed
reasonable.  "He fucked a girl," I replied.  "He was fucking my
pussy."

"Not my pussy?  You weren't me?"

"No.  I'm my own girl."  It was getting sort of true, often enough. 
I'd try to remember to make it true always.  My ass, when a cock
approaches, I told myself, is a cunt.  And the rest of me is what
always accompanies a cunt.  I smiled.  "I'm a self-made girl."

"Oh, I'm helping.  Would you like me ask Mr. D to fuck you again
soon?"

"Yes, please.  If he does't mind that I don't dare move when he's
all the way into me.  He's so big!"

"You aren't the first girl to think that about a man, love," she
said.  "But we all get used to it.  You'll see.  And a cock gets to
be a very special thing to a girl, well worth wriggling over. 
That's why we all love them."

She was right.  From then on, whenever I sucked her pussy she
returned the favor by fucking mine with the dildo.  Almost every
night.  We found that when my asshole was full of Mr. D and my
sphincter muscles were fully stretched out, my cock was always rock
hard.  Then she'd ride that cock or ask me to mount her and plunge
it into her, and if it was morning she'd carry my sperm off to work
snug in her vagina.  I'd then drain it and her day's accumulated
juices when she got home.  If she was especially pleased with my
tongue she'd request a glass of pale chardonnay at her place at
dinner, and place a clear yellow wine at mine.

Our supposed genders switched and blended at random after a while. 
"I'm fucking you," she'd say, whether she was plunging Mr. D in and
out of me, or working my pole in and out of her while I lay on my
back blissed out.  "I'm fucking my girl!  I'm your man, fucking his
girl!  I'm Mr. D fucking Cassie's husband!" 

"Yes!" I'd respond.  "Yes!"  I was all of those things.  And my
penis always lubricated helplessly onto my belly as that monster
reamed my ass.  I got so I loved getting fucked any way imaginable! 
It drove me wild.  Cassie could feel my excitement from the
turbulent way my ass rotated on her dildo when my head was down
between her legs gobbling her twat as if starved.  


***********


That gave her an idea, in fact.  One evening I met her at a
downtown restaurant for drinks and dinner.  I was celebrating,
feeling especially good because a client had just signed a generous
long-term contract for my services.  I'd had two drinks and then
most of a bottle of wine with dinner, Cassie holding back because
she was going back to the office to work through the files for a
major litigation before she could come home herself.  Conversation
turned to my "progress" as she called it.  

"You should have been born a girl, Hal," she said as she looked me
over affectionately.

"But then we wouldn't be carrying on this passionate love affair
we're having," I said.  "These lovely things you think up for us to
do."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Cassie said.  "I love you when
you're a woman in your own mind.  And when you're being a woman for
Mr. D.  Especially then -- you do so enjoy yourself!"

"How can you?  I'm not at all womanly."  I wasn't fishing for
compliments.  It just seemed unlikely.  I felt awkward when I was
supposed to be feminine, except when Mr. D's cock was inside me. 
Clumsy and gawky, whether on the bed or my knees.  I felt passive
and vulnerable, but never graceful, ladylike.  

"Oh, part of you's perfect," she said.  "I love the way your ass
moves, for example, Hal.  It's the sexiest thing imaginable when
you're getting fucked.  Such voluptuous twists and turns!"

I almost blushed.  "Thank you!" I said.  And stared gratefully at
her, wide eyed, and flashed her a small smile.  I'd once had a
girlfriend who did that when she was complimented.

Cassie saw and beamed.  "Oh, yes!" she said.  "I'd love to see more
of that.  When you're being the girl Mr. D and I both love, when
you're feeling more like her at odd times, why don't you make an
extra effort to move your whole body in a more feminine manner?  To
be more expressive as a woman.  There's this special way we walk,
and sit, and gesture, even just stand.  Please, sweetheart?  Do you
think you could?"

I couldn't refuse her.  I emptied my wine glass and said
magnanimously,  "Of course, Cassie honey.  Any time!"

Her face lit up.  "Oh!  Then how about all the time?  When I'm at
the office I'd love to think of you still being ladylike at home,
moving about with a certain delicate grace.  Not as my lumbering
Hal but my lovely Hallie."

"I'll still be Hal," I said defensively, feeling a little rejected.

"You'll always be Hal underneath," she said.  And she leaned over
and kissed me sweetly on the mouth, even though we were in a public
place.  I was moved.  "That's the point of all this.  I wouldn't
have it any other way.  Here, I'll prove it.  For the rest of this
dinner, wherever you place your arms, keep your hands bent up at
the wrist just a little, fingers relaxed, instead of letting them
droop down."

I did.  It was deliciously feminine.

"Now knees and thighs tight together as you sit.  And do both those
things for the rest of our dinner here."

I did that too.  It felt prim.  Unaccustomed muscles began to ache
after only a minute or so.

"See?  You're still Hal."

I guess I was, though I got increasingly unsure during the next few
days.  Cassie gave me a crash course in moving like a woman. 
First, she demonstrated how all beautiful women walk.  "Like models
in slinky long gowns.  The way I walk when I enter a room and know
I'm being seen and admired.  It's quite feminine.  Just put one
foot directly in front of the other and use a little hip.  And a
sinuous glide.  It's also very provocative.  Whenever I see it
it'll remind me how you move when I've got a prick up your ass, and
I won't be able to resist you.  Neither will Mr. D."  

"Isn't a walk like that a little faggoty, honey?" I asked her?

"Maybe," she replied.  "Not necessarily.  In a man it would be. 
Have you changed your mind about your gender when you're getting
laid?"

"I know what I am," I said, a little worried that she'd lost
respect for me. "I may like to imagine I'm a girl, but I know I'm
still a man."

"Yes, darling," Cassie agreed with mock solemnity.  "A man.  A man
who sucks cock and licks cum and loves it when there's a monster
prick pumping in and out of his ass.  And wriggles like a
sex-crazed slut to prolong the pleasure.  That's not very manly, is
it?"

"I do it for you, honey," I said, miffed at the way she'd
characterized our lovemaking.  My lovemaking with Mr. D, I had to
add.  No, none of it was very manly.

"Yes, I know.  I do appreciate it, too.  I love you for it.  But
you do it for you too, because as every girl knows it's wonderful
to feel a prick working in and out of you.  You do it for the new
girl you're becoming in your own mind.  So please?  For both of us? 
 All the time, so it gets to be habitual.  Move like a girl who's
been well-fucked.  You are one, aren't you?" 

So I did, from then on always when we were home together and often
when I was alone.  I was careful always to smooth an invisible
skirt under me whenever I sat down, and always to keep my thighs
together -- crossed ankles optional.  I began to wear my hair loose
instead of in a pony tail, and to toss my head when I needed to
clear it out of my face, even though it wasn't even shoulder
length.  To undulate when I walked, keeping my elbows tight to my
body, and my wrists limp or my hands bent upward.  

It isn't altogether natural for a man with balls between his legs
and narrow hips to walk the way women walk, so I had a tendency to
overdo it.  Sometimes when we were out together at a restaurant or
in a mall to see a movie she'd ask me to practice the walk through
long parking lots on our way to the car.  People stared in passing,
and at first I felt embarrassed, but Cassie was always well warmed
up and wet when we arrived home, so it always seemed more than
worth it.  

I got accustomed.  She loved seeing my hips and rear swivel as I
moved about the house, so she bought me an array of stretch jeans
and pants to wear to make my figure more visible.  And so there'd
be no bunching of fabric under them, she bought me some jock strops
like thongs instead of the boxer shorts I usually wore.  Once some
teenage boys whistled from some distance behind us.  I thought they
were saluting Cassie's beauty, but Cassie set me straight.  "You
have a marvelous ass in those pants, honey," she told me.  "Just
like a woman's, round as a bubble and getting moreso.  That's one
reason why I love to help Mr. D fuck it.  Be proud!  I'll buy you
more tight pants to show it off."  

And she did.  With no pockets.  She wanted to get me a purse for
carrying my wallet, but I balked at that.  I still had plenty of
pockets in my jacket.  "Well, we'll re-think it when summer comes,"
was all she said.

I now enjoyed sex in a variety of imaginary roles, as a submissive
cuckold, a swish gay man, a humiliated husband, a naive teenage
girl, as my former girl friends, as a mature cock slut, a
sophisticated lady, or as Cassie pretending to be any one of these. 
All the time excited yet terrified.  She added another role too. 
I loved caressing, kissing, and sucking her breasts, especially
when her nipples hardened and extended themselves, so I became her
"milky baby."  I'd nuzzle her, content to feel her warm, soft
breast pressing on my face while she held my head in both her arms. 
Sometimes she asked me to nurse rather then cunt-lick her evenings
when she was watching television or reading, since I'd be licking
her pussy later anyhow after I'd cum into her.  

And she reciprocated.  She fondled my chest as a lover might fondle
the pink-tipped breasts of a beloved virgin.  My nipples got to be
even more erogenous than hers.  When she caressed them my mind
would melt away and my whole body swim in bliss, the sensations
extended into a soft penis that lay enraptured in an enchanted
sleep, twitching but never awakening.  When she sucked on the buds
of my breasts I'd go breathless!  She'd never done that before --
the sensations were new, yet in themselves worth all our
identity-playing.  

And some weeks later my nipples seemed to anticipate her approach
-- they began to project out eagerly into small cones that fit
gratefully in her mouth.  And the sensations intensified, grew more
ecstatic, more erotically arousing even than my cock's.  We took to
part-way sixty-nining each other, lying across each other, each
blissfully nursing on the other's breasts.  Sometimes we'd fall
asleep nestled in each other's arms and mouths.  The days and
nights were never long enough!     

I kept to my work obligations, but except for sex I was getting no
exercise, and my body as well as my mind grew soft.  During her
days at the office Cassie worked with men who were effective,
purposive, and persuasive, dealing with important matters.  I
sometimes worried what she might actually be thinking of me,
knowing that all the while I was home in an erotic haze, kneeling
to suck off Mr. D, or masturbating, or as she now encouraged me to
do, playing with my sensitive titties.  I feared her contempt, and
I could see my gradual degradation as a man clearly enough through
her eyes.  Yet all this had begun with her heartfelt declaration of
eternal love for me, and she repeated it whenever I seemed
especially depressed or, as now and then, irritated by her
persistent efforts to humiliate me further.  She only wanted me to
locate sublime submissiveness in myself, she'd say, to put me in
touch with my "inner wimp."  "It's a gift of love," she'd explain. 
"When you can finally surrender yourself altogether to me, you'll
possess all of me."  

I couldn't see how, but I trusted her.  And I felt deeply grateful
that she'd opened me to all these new experiences.  Because she'd
been correct.  I now lived in an aroused state of erotic ecstasy as
well as jealous anguish and -- as I adopted more feminine
mannerisms -- fear of exposure.  Wherever Cassie might be with
other men at work, and whatever she was doing with them
impersonally or intimately, she knew that at certain times of day
I was on my knees with a simulated cock in my mouth or in my ass,
listening to yet another man proposition her on our phone answering
machine, seeking a state of mind transcending suspicion of her and
anxiety for my marriage.  And that pleased her.  And pleasing her
pleased me.

"My love," she'd whisper in the dark in her most deeply
affectionate voice whenever we finally settled down to sleep.  "My
dearest love!  I'll never leave you!  You're becoming everything
I've ever wanted or hoped for!"

I wondered what she meant by that.  What was I becoming, other than
what I'd already become?  As always, I fell asleep without answers.


***********
end 5/13
VickieTern@AOL.COM

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+