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Message-ID: <47184asstr$1079763002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {ASSM} Wife by Vickie Tern 13/13 TG femdom
Lines: 481
Date: Sat, 20 Mar 2004 01:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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An Unfaithful Wife
by Vickie Tern


13/13


Then came something unexpected.  "Now for a surprise.  Let's go for
dessert to that little shop where you first presented yourself to
the world."

I saw no reason why not.  It was a mild evening.  As we entered,
that man who'd held the door open for us, Tim someone, Corrigan,
stood up and said, "Ah, there you are.  I've wondered if I'd gotten
the day wrong."  

He then kissed Cassie solidly on the lips.  They knew each other? 
They'd seen each other since that first chance meeting in the
doorway?  Evidently!  Was Cassie on intimate terms with every man
she knew?  I'd been suspecting a few, but I should suspect all of
them?  Corrigan then turned and to my amazement took my head in
both his hands and held it and kissed me on the lips too.  It was
my first kiss from a real man, and over before I could register
pleasure or revulsion, or anything at all.

"You remember Tim," Cassie said as we seated ourselves.  "Tim
Corrigan.  From the last time we were here."  They gazed
affectionately, appreciatively at each other.  As Cassie had with
our Dr. Burton.  They too had fucked.  I'd probably swallowed his
sperm too.

"Yes, I remember," I said as we seated ourselves.  Tim looked the
same.  A distinguished older man in excellent trim.  "You promised
a surprise.  This is a surprise.  How did you manage to find each
other again?" 

"Oh, no problem.  There are only two Corrigans listed within
walking distance of here.  His number was the first I called.  We
talked for quite a while, and we've met a few times.  He's perfect
for us.  He agreed to everything."

"And what's 'everything'?"

"Everything.  You do know what's going to happen now, don't you?"

"No, I don't!"

"I'm going to bring him home, sweetheart.  And take him upstairs
into our bed.  And then he's going to fuck me.  And you'll stay
outside the door listening and masturbating, enjoying the most
excruciating feelings of your life once again, just like this
afternoon.  I want you to have them again to confirm that you're
altogether sensitive to them, fully aware of the agonized joy they
provide you.  Addicted, I hope.  I want you completely, hopelessly
addicted, in love with them, so you'll urge me into the arms of
other men just to feel them again!  That's my dream."

I was silent.

"And then I'll call you in.  Tim here is a very special man.  He's
bisexual.  He's my gift to you, sweetheart.  He's already agreed to
fuck you after he fucks me, to perform the last act needed to
eliminate your manhood utterly.  That's if you'll suck him to an
erection first.  To take into your mouth yet again a warm,
throbbing man just like Alex, but this time the very cock that has
just fucked your wife, still wet from your wife.  Remember that
fantasy?  Tonight it becomes your reality!  I want you to.  Will
you agree to do just that?  To take a real man's cock into your
mouth and then into your ass when it's just been in my vagina?  In
that sacred place you've always thought was reserved for you alone,
and couldn't bear to know has been filled by others?  I need to
hear you this time.  I need to hear that you'll do this."

The most eerie feelings had arisen in my body.  My face was
flushed.  I could hardly breathe.  "Yes," I said.  "I will."

"You want to do this?"
 
"Yes.  Yes, Cassie."

"Then say it."

"Yes, Cassie."  The words were torn from the unendurable excitement
in my bowels.  "I want this."

"Say it again, darling.  Say what it is you want."

"I want this man to fuck you and then me.  I want to suck on him. 
Oh, God!  I want it!  I do want it!  Oh!"  I was in an agony of
humiliation.  It was unbearable!  Unendurable!  Excruciating!  But
also rapturous, and no longer hidden deep inside me like some dirty
secret.  "Cassie, I...."  

"Hush sweetheart.  You'll have him.  And as often as you want.  Tim
has agreed to be your Jerry from now on, to let you suck him and to
fuck you whenever you wish.  Whenever I'm away and you're lonely,
or even if I'm at home and you want to be fucked, Tim will be on
call.  He lives nearby and he's retired, and almost always
available.  We'll give Jerry away now that he's done his work.  Tim
will be your new boyfriend, a man you can appreciate who
appreciates women.  A man you can turn your heart to trying to
please, and be delighted to please, who will always show his
appreciation when you succeed.  So you can be a woman in every
sense of the word.  No longer playing at it in your mind, but for
real."

I was speechless.  I looked at Tim.  He smiled warmly at me and
took both of my hands in his.  I felt terribly uneasy.  But I
understood how much effort had gone into this, and left my hands
there.  He squeezed them gently, and I gave him a wan smile. 

"And to inaugurate this very special relationship,"  Cassie added.
"So in your mind I'll always be part of it any time Tim is fucking
you, this first time a real man's warm cock slides in and out of
you and you become a real woman, while your cute round ass is high
in the air and squrming against him, your face will be between my
legs, buried deep in my pussy.  You'll be sucking out the cum Tim
just squirted into me earlier, and swallowing it down.  Then when
you're having your first live orgasm as a woman, your tummy filled
with Tim's sperm fresh from my cunt, Tim spurting the first of many
future loads of sperm into your bowels, at that very moment your
tongue will be giving me the sweetest orgasm I will ever have, the
first of many I hope to have from you whenever my vagina is filled
with some man's sperm and craves your face.  All this because I
love you so deeply, passionately, utterly."  

I was awed by the amount of thought Cassie had invested in this
plan.  She was silent now, gazing at me with her eyes moist and her
face beaming hopefully, waiting for my response.  Whatever she was,
whatever she had done, there was not the slightest doubt that she
wanted my happiness more than anything else in the world, after her
own.  That she never wanted to risk my leaving her.  Could I ever
consider leaving her after this? 

"I don't think I feel like dessert after all," I told her,
gratitude overwhelming my heart and spilling over into my own eyes. 
"Can't we all just go back home?  Right now?"

We did just that.


***********


Cassie was right.  No one at the office identified me with Cassie's
strayed husband.  But one other person found out.  I became a
regular with the Lunch Bunch, and something of a celebrity as I
visited office after office, resetting monitors and cleaning
caches.  Different girls called me in to teach them new programs
and techniques, help them with certain procedures, or under the
pretense that I was helping them just chat, giggle and gossip
together.  Cassie encouraged me to mix with the women support staff
this way, to spend time with the secretaries and make their
concerns mine.  "The best way to learn to be a girl," she said, "is
the way we all learned to be girls.  From girls."
She was now unconcerned now that one or another would attempt to
charm me away from her and into bed with her.  I made friends.  I
listened to sad tales and learned to shriek extravagantly when they
told amusing tales.  It was a rare morning when I came to work with
Cassie, separated from her at the seventeenth floor, and didn't
find invitations, appreciative messages, and hopeful calls for help
on my computer to fill out my day.  I was always helpful.

That made me popular.  They asked me one day why I never seemed to
have my nails done, and how long it had been since a hair stylist
had touched my hair.  The upshot was a full Saturday afternoon of
pampering in a beauty shoppe, getting a complete makeover.  When
Cassie saw me she was so delighted she took me straight to bed, and
we had two hours of ardent woman on woman love, so absorbed with
each other that we barely had time to prepare for our evenings,
Cassie with a new law partner she hadn't yet tried out and me with
Tim.  

I'd frequently be asked if I was free for a blind date, to fill out
a foursome with one of the secretaries' boy friends and one of his
friends, to "Go dancing, have fun, who knows, maybe you'll like him
and get lucky" -- that was how they put it.  I always regretted I
was booked for that weekend.  They began not to believe me until I
persuaded Tim to go out on a proper date with me and Maria and her
current boyfriend, just dinner and dancing and maybe a little
smooching afterward.  We did, and it was fun!  The next day
everyone swarmed around Maria to find out what Tim was like,
learned that Maria was impressed, and thereafter considered Tim my
steady.  Which he was.  Frequently.

Unattached men and even some of Cassie's married law partners took
it upon themselves to lean in on me as they always had on Cassie,
grin confidently, tell me how much they appreciated everything I
was doing for the firm, and suggest a drink after work.  I never
accepted, and to forestall other attempts I asked Clarice to let it
be known on the partner's floor that Tim was a cover -- if they
knew of him.  That in fact I was a lesbian.

That didn't work out exactly as I'd intended.  One Friday afternoon
Denise stopped by my cubicle, closed the door, and sat down to
watch silently while I finished programming a payroll matrix one of
the accountants had requested.  I nodded at her, typed, pointed,
and clicked rapidly, and then sent it on its way.  Then turned to
Denise pleasantly enough, to find out what she wanted.

"You're very sweet, Hallie," she said.  "I like you.  Very much."

I nodded and smiled, pleased to know that.  Denise was a clever
woman, ruthlessly honest,  who could be quite indifferent to
traditional manners and virtues when they didn't suit her purposes. 
Someone to keep on your side.  But I was instantly wary.   

"Did you do this to yourself," she asked, as if it were idle
curiosity.  "Did you want it, for your own reasons?  Or did Cassie
do it to you for her reasons, and you're such a good guy you just
went along?"

A pang of fear went through me.  "Do what?" I asked as if genuinely
puzzled, stalling.  "What do you mean?"  

Denise didn't choose to reply.  She just looked at me as if my
questions were beneath me, did me no credit.  Then she said merely,
"Let's meet after work, shall we?  The Oasis has a good TGIF Happy
Hour, delicious free hor doeuvres and doubles on all drinks."

"I'd love to," I said.  "But...."

"Your room-mate Cassie flew to Bermuda on a business trip this
afternoon with that hunk who owns the sporting goods franchise,
Jason somebody.  Tim's off rock climbing in the Rockies this
weekend, something I suppose you don't do or else you'd be with
him.  The Oasis is a good place for us to begin the evening, then
we'll see where it goes.  Five-thirty ought to be plenty of time
for you to finish here.  I know you care about your work, that's
one of the things I like about you, so a few minutes later is OK
too.  See you then."                   

It wasn't a question.  It was a statement.  She grinned pleasantly,
opened the door, and left. 

An hour and a half later I joined Denise at a small round table
barely large enough to hold our two glasses of white wine.  Denise
was telling a hopeful man leaning over her to "Fuck off, or else
bring your wife, I'm a lesbian," as I sat down.  My expression as
he left told him that I sympathized, but not enough for it to
matter.

"I hear you're a lesbian too," Denise commented, pleasantly enough. 
"That you like sex with women, and always have.  Though not
lately."

"I've heard that rumor," I said evasively.

"Hallie," Denise said.  "Let me be blunt.  I can reach your balls
from here, and I have fast hands.  You can perform some marvelous
ballet moves and astonish everyone here before I stop squeezing
those balls and you faint dead away.  Or else we can talk like
honest friends.  I mean it.  I like you.  I am your friend.  Your
choice."  

A weight fell from my shoulders.  I had been pretending so many
things and trying to believe them, and now I no longer needed to. 
Denise wanted to be blunt.  I could be too.

"You asked who did it," I said in a level voice.  "Cassie did it
originally, for her own reasons, though I didn't know it when we
began, and I never added it up till it was irreversible.  She
figured a way to make me want to do it, to go along for my own
reasons.  She did it for fear I'd leave her if I found out about
her men.  She probably still thinks it was also for me.  In some
ways it was.  I regret none of it."

"Je ne regrette rien," that's Edith Piaf's line.  She sings it
defiantly, as if she didn't really believe it herself.  I don't
believe her, and I don't believe you.  What were your reasons?"

"She knew I could be turned on by the fantasy notion that other
better men were fucking her.  Like lots of men.  She cultivated
that kink until I accepted it and desired it for the sake of the
turn on.  Then she got me pretending I'm a woman -- during sex at
first, later other ways -- because then it would make sense to me
for her to seek out other men for sex.  She'd seem justified even
to her pansy husband.  Also, I wouldn't feel obliged to do anything
about it if I found out it was true.  It worked.  I got to love the
submissiveness and the humiliation both."  

"And she used lots of sexual stimulation, traditional and gay, real
and imaginary, to condition you, sweeten the pot, so you'd not only
accept that you weren't much of a man, she should go elsewhere,
you'd love it too?"

"Yes.  By the time I found out for fact that other better men were
indeed fucking her, there wasn't much manhood left in me to protest
with.  But I don't mind now.  I'm no longer a humiliation junkie. 
My tits are real, and feel marvelous.  My life in my new gender is
far more satisfying than my old one -- I was a lonely computer nerd
stay-at-home with no friends, and now I've got lots.  And I have a
caring boyfriend who satisfies me sexually, and I do the same for
him.  Whatever I lost as a man I've gained as a woman."

"Cassie killed off your manhood and gave you a new life as a
straight woman, complete with breasts and a boyfriend, so she could
keep screwing everyone and his uncle and still keep you?  That's
it?"

"It looks that way.  Yes, that's why.  Because she loves me."

"Impressive.  So you no longer get off on the fantasy that Cassie
is screwing other men.  The reality's less exciting, not at all
humiliating.  It just is.  She does it now with your full knowledge
and consent.  And you're hers for life.  Quite an achievement."

"Not my consent.  She is as she is.  She does what she does.  I
love her and she loves me, and I can't deny her what she wants.  I
do wish she'd want no other man but me.  But knowing she has other
men, well, that was what I once feared and desired, and it
emasculated me.  Now that I'm altogether emasculated, I can accept
it.  My femininity turns me on instead.  And when I'm turned on,
well, that's when I call on Tim.  Tim fucks me and I suck him and
we talk, and he's a gentleman, and I'm grateful to him because with
Tim I don't feel like a total loser.  I'm not gay, I get nothing
emotional from sex with a man.  But my body loves it.  It can feel
very good, being a woman with a man.  Good enough."  I paused, then
added, "You should try it."

Denise was unflapped.  "I see.  You mean the sex feels good if you
can persuade yourself you're a woman with a man."

The waiter approached, and we each ordered another white wine.  She
nibbled the edges of a chicken wing, the TGIF snack of the moment. 
"I assume you're no longer Cassie's husband.  You no longer fuck
her."

"No.  We do oral to maintain my submissiveness and keep my leftover
manhood servile, in its place.  That's what Tim's for too, apart
from the physical pleasure of it.  Cassie prefers real men.  She
says she'd rather not have sex with a woman.

At that Denise guffawed.  "Not your kind of woman anyhow, I guess." 
Then she leaned forward.  "Tell me, Hallie.  Would you have sex
with a woman?  She cheats on you with men.  Would you cheat on her
with a woman?"

"I'm not gay, Denise.  I like women.  I love doing woman things
because that way I'm with women.  But I can't have sex man to woman
any more, because what woman would have me?  And I can't do woman
to woman either, except with Cassie, for the same reason."

Denise just sat there with a slight smile on her face.  I caught
on.

"Denise, I know what you're thinking.  But I'm not a real woman in
my head.  I enjoy the roles, and I take what comfort I can from
imagining that's what I am, but down under I'm still a man.  I know
that.  And you're still a lesbian.

"Hallie, I'm a broad.  Broad-minded, no restrictions, I call each
situation as I see it.  And I'm more of a man right now than you
were when that's all you were.  And you're a lot more of a woman
than you think.  You're sweet and compliant and passive, inclined
to accept whatever life or a dominant woman offers you.  Utterly
duped, a victim of possessive love, and grateful to have it.  So
you don't even know yet that there are other kinds of love."

She paused and looked me directly in the eyes, earnestly. "No, keep
looking," she said as I turned my eyes away, embarrassed.  "Now
look here," she said.  

And she reached across the teeny table to take my hands and hold
them.  Just that.  I looked down.  My heart swelled up.  I looked
again into her face.  Tears came to my eyes.  "Denise," I said.  "I
...."  

"See, honey?" she said softly.  "We can be friends.  Do things
together.  I suspect we could find enough to do with each other. 
It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Yes.  Yes, it has."  I knew what she meant.  A long time since I'd
felt relaxed affection, respect, warmth, or friendship that wasn't
also calculating, manipulative, or self-protective.  Caring,
undemanding friendship.  I was grateful that my eye make-up was
tear-proof.   

"You once loved sex with women.  I still love sex with women.  I
can help you become even more of a woman than you are now, and
remind you how to love women once again.  Do you want to?  This is
a proposal, not a proposition."

"Yes.  Yes, Denise.  If you think I can."

"'Denny' to my friends.  I know you can, Hallie.  I'll prove it to
you.  I'll call your home and leave a message for Cassie to pick up
when she calls in, so she'll know you're all right, you're with me,
and then we'll go to my place and see what we can do.

We did.  We found what we could do.  That was Friday.  By Sunday,
we'd done it many times.

Denny was careful and thorough in her lovemaking, not at all
tentative or exploratory.  She showed me some of the refined,
delicate, and some of the mind-staggering things women can do with
women, pleasure so intense that several times I was near fainting. 
Instead of being merely pleased with my breasts, she taught me to
glory in them.  I spent that weekend feeling more luxuriously
amorous, more voluptuous, more feminine than ever with Tim.  I
wanted more of it.

By Sunday morning I found for the first time that I was wishing I
had a proper cunt.  Neither Cassie, Tim, nor Denny had any use for
my cock, and neither did I any longer, and I needed more places for
Denny's fingers and tongue to penetrate.  I mentioned this to her,
and she nodded sympathetically.  Then called a gynecologist friend
for a referral.  A woman gynecologist friend, she explained, not
Alex -- she was adamant that she'd never allow any man's hands near
that part of her, much less to penetrate her.  

"Mine have penetrated you, Denny," I reminded her.

"You mean yours are a man's hands?" she said as she dialed her phone.
"With those slender fingers and that gorgeous manicure?  And your
sensitive care for my feelings, not just your feelings?  Imagine!
I've been completely fooled!"   

By Sunday evening when I returned home it was clear that we'd be
doing this again -- I was woman enough for Denny despite all my
uncertainties.  She'd pronounced me authentic enough, and she
wanted me to meet some of her other "special" friends.  "I think
you'll love them," she said.  "And I know they'll love you.  You
need a life of your own.  I'm sure Cassie won't mind."  

Early Monday I called the surgeon Denny's friend had recommended
and set up a first appointment for later in the week.  Then drove
in to work.  Cassie was due home later in the day, after her
week-end-long consultation with Jason.  For the first time I felt
no twinges of uneasiness that this stud had been invading my wife
all weekend, and she'd been wrapping herself all around him.  I was
happy for her.  We loved each other, Cassie in her way and me in
mine, but we neither of us possessed each other.  Not any more. 

I went into Denny's office to tell her that.  She was out, but
there was a huge bouquet of flowers on her desk, and an e-mail
message she'd printed out and left there.  



"Thank you, Denise.  I'd so hoped you could do it.  I've wanted to
help her complete her journey for the longest time, to share all my
lady lovers with her, my lovely hubby.  But she's been so devoted
to me, so persuaded that it was her manhood I loved, not her
sweetness.  Can you imagine?  The very manhood that would have
climbed on its high horse and left me forever if she'd known what
kind of woman she really married, a bisexual nympho who once and
forever fell in love with a womanly man whose ego wouldn't let him
discover what he was.  But now that male ego has self-destructed
altogether, and he's a she!  My sweetheart at last wants to be a
woman who loves women!  Kept safe by being one of us!  I do hope
you're free for a few hours this weekend so I can thank you in our
own special way.  I'm sure my sweetie will find her own ways to
thank you too, especially later, after her surgery.  Do see that
it's scheduled soon!  Kisses! -- Cassie."

There was a PS.

"When I picked up your message, I was so delighted that I played it
for Jason several times.  You should know how our conversation went
after that!  I told him, 'My darling's finishing her education as
a girl even at this moment.  Learning things I couldn't ever teach
her.  I'd hoped that when she found herself thrown in with the
other girls that she'd find her own way.  And she has.'  And Jason
was amazed.  'He was still a man only a few months ago?' he asked? 
'She thought she was.' I told him.  'But she knows better now. 
Let's go back to bed.'  'You're insatiable,' Jason said.  'Yes,' I
said.  'Isn't it wonderful?'  Denise, it really is!  But you
already know that.  Anyhow, see you soon!"



As I set this message back down on Denise's desk, I didn't feel the
least bit betrayed.  Nor humiliated, nor resentful.  Nor jealous. 
Just thankful for Cassie.  Thankful that no matter what, her love
had found a way.

END

(c) 2004 by Vickie Tern.  May be copied freely to free archives.
VickieTern@AOL.COM

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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