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Message-ID: <47934asstr$1085112606@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {ASSM} Teasing by Vickie Tern 8/9 TG femdom
Lines: 492
Date: Fri, 21 May 2004 00:10:06 -0400
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Teasing by Vickie Tern 8/9 TG femdom hum



Eight


"Look at me, Patricia."

I did.

"I've met many women like you in the gay bars I go to when I want
to meet other men like me.  You're beautifully done over, really
lovely.  Exceptional.  Few people could ever imagine that you
aren't everything you seem to be.  But I can tell.  You've
transitioned only recently, haven't you? " 

"Yes."

"Then you're probably still feeling exhilarated.  It's
intoxicating, I'll bet, after all those years of repression.  Have
you been with a man yet?"

"No."

"That's wonderful.  Then I'll be your first.  You can't begin to
dream how happy you'll feel afterward.  How liberated.  The sense
of completion, of a wholeness finally achieved. "  

Despite my orange juice-induced glow, I began to feel desperate. 
What could I do?  Expose myself, stand up in my full female regalia
and declare myself to be a straight male after all?  That is,
expose Tara's attempt at fraud, her attempt to defend herself from
Bill's horny proposals by bringing me along as her secretary?  That
would kill off altogether any sort of future for her with Castro
Enterprises.  She'd feel devastated.  And everything I'd gone
through thus far for her sake would be for nothing.  

No, I had to play along with Jim's misconception of me.  At least
he couldn't do anything to me here.  Not with his boss and my
supposed boss in the next room.

So I said nothing.

"I know," he said, gently.  "You're shy.  I can't blame you.  We'll
go slow, don't worry.  Are you full time even now?"  

"When I need to be," I said, not quite understanding his question
or my own answer.  

"I understand," he said.  He was still caressing my cock, I
suddenly realized.  And a sense of well-being suffused that part of
my groin, despite this conversation being the worst of my life.  

Our intimate talk continued.  "Honey, exactly what is your
relationship with Tara?  Besides being her secretary or
administrative assistant or something.  It does her credit that she
employs a transsexual woman, even though you do her credit by your
remarkably pretty appearance.  Or does she even know what you
really are?"

"She knows," I replied.  I hoped she still did, anyhow.

"Oh?  Is she anything to you apart from being your boss?  A
relative?  A neighbor?  You were an old boyfriend, or someone who
came out to her way back, someone she'd dress so you could spend
odd weekends being a girl? 

I saw no point to deception.  Not when he'd be consulting us daily
for the next few months in what was in effect a home office. 
"We're married."

"I see," he said.  There was a long pause.  "Better and better. 
Perfect, in fact.  Then no one will ever want to begin talking to
anyone about anything ever, for fear that different relationships
they need to keep secret might unravel."  

He continued to stroke my cock, which had now grown half-hard.  Now
deliberately, all along its length, with a gentle pressure I could
no longer ignore.  That old familiar erotic pleasure began to rise
up from it and spread into my belly.

"Your lips are so soft and full, Patricia," he said, studying my
face.
  
"Yes," I replied, recalling what Sarah had done to them.  "I
suppose they are."

He leaned over and kissed me.  A man kissed me!  I felt shocked,
though it was over before I realized what had happened.  But I
could still feel the pressure of his mouth and the roughness of his
stubble when he whispered, "Now you kiss me, Pattie.  Can you find
it in your heart to kiss me back?"

I had to.  Full on the lips.  Jim only sighed, "Now again," so I
did it again, directly on his mouth.  Deliberately.  I actually
kissed another man twice!  Unable to think of a way out!

"Again," he breathed.

I pecked at his face this time, aiming for a cheek, but he turned
and pushed his lips firmly onto mine, and his free arm wrapped
around my neck and held me tight to him.  His tongue came between
the soft swellings which were my lips, and pushed in and out.  He
was mini-fucking me!  I tried to clamp my mouth shut, to deny him
entry, but the lips were too soft.  He seemed to feel my crimping
them as passionate nibbling.  His tongue flicked between them even
faster.

Then with both of us breathless, he leaned back.  "Our bosses will
be busy in there for a while longer," he said quietly.  "They have
a lot to go over.  I think we have time to get to know each other
better."  His hand was now unabashedly under my skirt and rubbing
my cock through my panties, caressing it with exquisite
sensitivity.  Delicately.  Up and down.  Despite myself it felt
good.  Wonderful.  Yet a vague sense of dread grew in my stomach. 
How could I get out of this?

"Why don't you take my penis out and play with it?  It's yours now,
Pattie.  Tit for tat."  

I'd been afraid he'd say that.  A moment passed when I did nothing. 
Still stroking me, he picked up one of my hands and placed it on
his fly.  "Unzip me, Pattie," he said.  "Please."

What could I do?  I unzipped him.  

"That's right.  That's the girl.  See how easy?  Now reach in and
take it out that wonderful thing I have in there."

I did that too.  It was already partially firm, not too long but
very thick, and once free it grew quickly.  It felt warm and
slightly moist.  I tried to pay no attention to it.  I tried to
persuade myself that my hand belonged to someone else.  He began to
squeeze my prick on its base on each down-stroke, and nodded to me. 
I wrapped my fingers around the whole of his cock and did the same. 
Tit for tat.

"Lovely," he said.  

And he kissed me yet again.  Full on my full lips again.  Softly. 
And for a moment his hand pulsed on my cock through the thin fabric
almost the way Tara's cunt gripped it when her orgasms began.

"Oh,God!" I moaned to myself.  Because what could I do?  Break off
and pretend indignation?  

"Now kiss me once more," he said, his eyes closed.

I closed my own eyes and leaned forward to kiss him yet again on
the mouth.  Chastely this time, I decided.  It all seemed so
natural.  So calm.  That damned orange juice.

"Not on my mouth this time," I heard him say.  "There."  His hand
on the back of neck, began to press my head down.  I had to yield
to it.  To bend way over toward his cock.  I smelled its moist musk
and some kind of men's talc before my plump lips contacted its
rubbery head.  Eyes still closed, I delivered a delicate kiss and
pulled back, aware of something sticky that had touched my upper
lip.  Pre-cum.

"Yes," he whispered.  "Lick it off, honey!  And begin to pull me
off too while you're at it.  In fact, why don't you wrap your lips
around it and suck me off!"

The pressure of his hand on the back of my head increased,
unrelenting as he pushed my mouth toward his cock, and his stroking
of my own cock grew more intense.  I licked and tasted another drop
of salty syrup atop his pee hole.  Then finally I opened my mouth
wider and he slid into me of his own accord.  A man's cock.  I
closed my lips around that fat, warm, soft tube and it slid out of
me again, then into me, then out.

"Lick me while you slide on and off," he breathed.  "And suck!"

I did.  Now it's official, I thought to myself.  I'm not only a
pretend girl, I'm a cock sucker.  And an unfaithful husband.  My
wife is married to a pretend girl who sucks other men's cocks.  Up
and down.  It has pleased her to imagine it whenever we've made
love, and now it's my reality.  How can I explain this to her? 
What can I say?  I'm sucking this cock so she won't need to suck
it?  She'd never need to suck it.  Jim is gay.

Do I need to say anything? 

It then crossed my mind, did she set me up for this?  Did she want
this for me?  I mean, in actuality, not just to taunt me that I
supposedly want it?  Would she have arranged for me to do this? 
Why?

Jim pushed into my face yet again, and I firmed my lips around him
and began to bob my head in rhythm with his thrusting and stroking
of my own cock.  This wasn't imaginary, this was real.  And my own
groin felt good.  I was getting close, there in my own half-ignored
crotch.

Yes, of course Tara would have to know about this sooner or later. 
This man would be working with us daily for months, in an office
attached to our house, and now I'd need to be working there too
with nowhere to escape to.  He'd be in our laps as it were, mine
especially, like his hand right now, maybe daily expecting more
reciprocating ... intimacy from me.  Not only will I need to dress
and look like Tara's secretary while this contract is in force, but
my newly blonde and smoothly coiffed head and my pretty puffed lips
will now need to bob up and down his lap daily!  Did Tara realize
this before I did?  With other larger contracts at stake and one of
her favorite fantasies for me fulfilled under her very eyes, would
she mind?  No. she'd welcome it.

And not only my head and lips were committed.  Now and then maybe,
probably, how can I doubt it, my rear end would be too.  He's gay,
after all.  That's what gay men do.  What had I gotten myself into? 
I'd signed up to help my wife hustle a contract for a couple of
hours.  Now here I was giving sex as a woman and committing to do
much more.  For months.

And getting sex too.  His hips rose and held themselves up, and I
knew what was coming.  For me too.  "You can let go too now, doll,"
he muttered between his teeth.  "Don't worry about your skirt, I'll
catch it in my hand!"  His hand released the outline of my cock in
my panties, then crept into the wristband and grasped it again by
its naked head, his palm cupped.  A man's hand was now holding my
bare cock.  And it all seemed so normal!

I clamped my lips onto his tumescent tube just below the head and
sealed them tight, and pulled once or twice more on the base.  It
pulsed, and my mouth filled with  salty-tasting syrup.  His cum. 
Not mine this time, not from my Tara's pussy, but his, direct from
the source.  A man's cum.  As I swallowed it and my mouth re-filled
with more, his hand pressed deep onto my own crotch and my cock
grew rigid and strained and then it too began to pulse.  I came
too.  Gloriously, repeatedly, into his cupped hand, while I moaned
in bursts with each spasm.

"Ahhh!" he said finally as his own convulsive squeezings stopped. 
"Perfect, just lovely!  You have the most marvelous mouth!  It was
inspiration, filling out your lips so they'd feel like two pillows
when they're pressed on a man's cock!  You must have wanted to give
head like this for a very long time.  We'll do it again very soon,
I promise you."  He smiled.  "But now here's your dessert."

He lifted my skirt clear of his cupped hand as he twisted it out
from inside by panties and brought it up to my mouth.  I was still
bending over his crotch, half-paralyzed with shame because a man
had made me cum and I'd just made a man cum, and also
half-exhausted from my own throbbing climax.  

"Here you are.  All for you."

He held his cupped hand to my mouth.  I looked in.  There were a
couple of teaspoons of cloudy fluid pooled at the bottom.  I looked
up at him.  "You have beautiful eyes," he said.  "Next time I'll
want to look into them the whole time you're blowing me.  But for
now enjoy your last licks."  He held his hand carefully to my
mouth. 

I lapped up my own sperm, then licked his hand clean as if grateful
for the favor, like a dog thanking his master.  Was this my life
from now on?  I then sat up straight again, primly closed my thighs
and straightened my skirt, looked to see where my purse was, and
saw it where I'd left it, there on the coffee table. 
Jim leaned over and kissed me on my cummy lips.

"Jim, I don't think ...," I started to say.

"Shhhh," he said, kissing me again.  "Nothing needs to be said. 
The contract is Tara's, just as promised."

My brow furrowed at that.

"She didn't tell you?  Weeks ago!  An interior designer she hired
outed me to her.  He'd told her I was once his lover, and she
wanted confirmation.  So I confirmed it.  She told me she was
delighted to learn that I'm gay, because it could make things so
much easier for both of us.  That was when she told me about the
woman who works in her office who was once a man.  You.  She never
told me you were her husband, but she sang your praises, Patricia. 
And you're everything she told me you'd be.  She told me how she
wanted this for you as intensely as you've wanted it, so you could
feel completed as the woman you've struggled to become."  

Tara had set me up for this?  To do what I'd just done?  Knowingly? 
I tried to feel stunned, but I couldn't.  That tranquilizer-laced
orange juice, still!

"Well, now she'll be happy.  I know you're happy -- maybe a little
dazed, you poor dear, I can see that in your eyes, but happy.  So
it's win-win for everyone."

I tried to say something, but nothing at all came out.

Jim understood.  "Oh, Patricia," he said. "We have such wonderful
times ahead of us now.  Whenever Tara's willing to spare you or
share you.  Here, lover, let me show you what's at stake."  

He turned to his computer and a few strokes on the keyboard
revealed the terms of agreement Tara and Bill were reviewing in the
other room all the while we were otherwise engaged.  It was highly
favorable to Tara, as far as I could tell.  As I read down the
lists of specifications and obligations and undertakings I saw two
things immediately.  One was that Tara's talents were indeed equal
to everything the job required -- she deserved this chance and
would have no problem surpassing its requirements.  The other was
that when this regional office work was completed, if she achieved
the branch office contracts we would both be rich.  We'd always
shared our income and pooled our finances.  In another year at the
most we'd each be able to live as we wished, work or not as we
wished, and play as we chose.  Wherever we chose.  An incredible
luxury.

I could see now why Tara had schemed to implicate me in this way,
why she'd manipulated my consent to assure that the contract she
deserved and the luxurious life she desired could become realities. 
It was obvious why she hadn't consulted me first, why she didn't
just ask me please, pretty please, pretend to be a transgendered
woman for just a year or so and have an affair with a gay man. 
After the months of teasing me about her supposed infidelities and
my supposed desires and perversions, I'd never for a moment have
believed she was serious.  Yet those very same months of teasing
had subtly conditioned me to accept this ultimate humiliation for
a straight man, to suck another man's cock and swallow his cum.

Step by step, I'd made my own decisions, acting out of necessity as
I saw it.  I'd dressed like a  woman supposedly to safeguard her
virtue, and I'd sucked Jim's cock as the path of least resistance,
but also to safeguard her hopes for these Castro contracts.  All
for her sake, for the love of Tara, because she wanted it.  At some
risk, too, because I knew that any gratitude she might feel for the
man who did these things for her could quickly dwindle into mere
appreciation, then condescension, then contempt.  Because he'd
sacrificed his own self-respect.  So it wasn't to keep her love. 
Nor was it for the money.  If I'd done it for the money, I'd be
self-defined as a high-priced whore.  And awesome as the money
might be, I wasn't that.  Not yet.

Tara had saved me from that, and herself too.  She'd wanted the
contract and what followed from it, and she wouldn't sell her body
to get it, so she'd hoped that like a gentleman I'd offer mine. 
All she'd done was ask me to accompany her.  The rest had been all
my doing.  I'd decided on my own that I had to use my body and suck
Jim's cock simply to make good her story, to preserve her honor. 
So I'd backed up her tale that I was a genuine transgendered woman
interested in a man.  And now I was committed to it.  With worse to
come for at least for four months. And I had to perform, or else
sacrifice everything thus far gained for her.  For us.  I'd have
become a transvestite cock sucker for nothing.  

All by my own choice.

I returned my attention to the computer screen.  Toward the bottom
of the agreement I saw a rather murky non-performance cancellation
clause about parties of the second part prior to signature
satisfying parties of the first part as specified by way of
ratification in validation of good faith.  Or something.  I asked
Jim what it meant.  

"Don't trouble your head, honey.  That's a clincher the legal
department always includes for our self-protection, so we can back
out at the last minute if need be.  It's meaningless, except that
Bill always interprets it in his own way.  It's his little
indulgence.  He likes to seal his agreements with a kiss.  Many
contractors can do the work we want done, at comparable prices too. 
The one who provides us a little something extra, that's the one
with the edge who gets the job.  What's wanted is a gesture of
appreciation, an expression of gratitude more personal and intimate
than a handshake.  They may be at that stage right now, your boss
and mine.  Tara's may be reassuring Bill as only a woman can that
he's made all the right decisions.  You know."  

He paused.  "Oh of course, you're still married to her, aren't you? 
Well, I'm sure she's doing nothing you haven't already done.  Women
are women, aren't they?"

Despite the orange juice my stomach sank!  I stared at that closed
bedroom door.  

But even as I stared at it, it opened, and Tara came out, a sheaf
of papers in one hand.  I caught a glimpse within of a desk with
curved legs painted  ivory and pink blush, of a kind of French
provincial boudoir.  That was what Bill wanted for all of Castro's
offices?  Incredible!  But achieving that very style tastefully yet
functionally was where Tara excelled, I knew.  

Her hair and clothing didn't seem mussed, but her eyes were
glowing.  "That was quite a tussle," she reported to me where I sat
alongside Jim.  "But everything's settled except maybe for one
thing."  She looked at me.  Calculatingly?  "Patricia, may I speak
to you privately for a minute?"  She nodded to Jim, who no doubt
already knew what she had in mind, then took me off to a small
alcove where we couldn't be overheard.

"So was I a big help, coming here to help safeguard your virtue
from your Mr. Macho?" I asked her a little resentfully.

"Honey, I'm not teasing you now, this is serious.  Nothing's
happened with Mr. Macho yet, we've been talking business.  But now
he's insistent, and it's worse than I'd anticipated.  You won't
believe this, but he wants to close the deal with ... an intimate
act with one of us.  At the very least a blow job.  He's made other
demands too but I've bargained him down that far, and there's no
getting around that much."

I raised my eyebrows as if surprised.  "I see.  So what do we do
now?  Leap onto our high horses and leave?"

She did not appreciate my sarcasm.  "Honey, I want this contract. 
You came here to save me from something just like this, and here it
is.  He's ruthless and determined.  I hate to say it, but before we
leave here that man is going to get his cock sucked."

"By Jim?" I asked.  Not a chance, I was thinking.  But it was my
way of letting her know I also knew Jim was gay, and that I might
even know what she'd told him about me.

She paused.  I remained silent.  I wasn't sure she'd heard me.

"I got you into this," she continued.  "And I see that you're under
enough stress already.  So I should be the one to do it, I think,
not you.  You can watch if you wish, to see that nothing much else
happens.  The way you like watch me and my imaginary lovers during
the little games we play together in bed.  Only this time for
real."  She paused again, and then added, "Who knows, maybe you'll
get off on it the way you usually do."

I ignored that last jibe.  What was it she'd said?  That she
"should be the one to do it"?   As if I were also a candidate, an
alternative cock sucker also available for the purpose? 

Well, wasn't I?

"Of course that would change our relationship," she went on.  "Once
you knew for certain that I've actually had sex with another man,
there'd be no more teasing, would there, only plausible
confessions.  The excitement would be gone from our lovemaking, all
that deliciously agonizing uncertainty you seem to enjoy.  I might
even feel I might as well go all the way with him after that.  And
then with others.  There'd be no reason not to, would there?"

She stared intently at me, saw no response in my face, and went
further.  "And it's possible that once I've had other men you won't
seem nearly as appealing to me sexually.  Maybe because they're
better than you are.  Maybe because now that I've seen you like
this, I'll always remember you as a woman, not as a man at all. 
Well, look at you.  Not very manly, are you?"

"I hope not," was all I could say confusedly in my own defense.

She paused, then went on.  "I know, I'm being terribly unfair.  I
did get you into this, and it's my fault, and I know you did it for
me, and that was lovely of you.  But you've got to admit it, right
now you aren't the man I married.  You're a girl.  And that must
change how I feel about you sexually, it's unavoidable.  My only
consolation is that you did agree to help me out of a loving desire
to spare me possible embarrassment, and I'll always remember that."

She looked at me sorrowfully.  "We've both given up too much to
back down now.  So one of us is going to have to do it.  Shall I
leave it up to you which one of us?  Let you decide?"

She looked at me hopefully.  I said nothing.  

"You've tasted so much cum by now it must seem pretty ordinary. 
What's it like?"

"Not too bad," I replied.  "Different men taste different, of
course.  You know that too, don't you?"

"Do I?" she asked.  Then her eyes widened slightly.  Did she
realize that her scheme for me to win Jim's approval of the
contract had worked out even sooner than expected?  Had she caught
the implication that I've now tasted semen other than my own?  She
looked at me intently, trying to decide whether I was teasing her. 
She couldn't decide.

I wasn't altogether sure about her either.  Was she again
sandbagging me into dispensing sexual favors?  Or was she merely
asking me to rescue her from a situation that had gone out of
control?  It was plausible enough, I'd seen that last clause, and
Jim had explained it.  If Tara was in fact a faithful wife, and
she'd been faithful to me all this time, her discomfort at this
moment was genuine.  And she did seem near tears.  It did seem
genuine.  

I made up my mind.  I was already a cock sucker and would be for
life, even though she didn't yet know it for sure.  And as they
say, a slice off a cut cake is never missed.  I'll be her white
knight one more time, I decided.  Maybe it was the orange juice
talking, but dispensing sexual favors to men, doing what women do
as women, it didn't seem that bad.  It seemed almost ... natural.

end 8/9
VickieTern@AOL.COM

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