TG: Jack and Jill Ch 6 by Vickie Tern, femdom, wife, M/F, M/M 

Vickie Tern's stories are archived at 
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by_authors/Vickie_Tern

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



Jack and Jill by Vickie Tern


6.  Chapter



There came a knock on the door promptly at eight, and there was Carl.
But he wasn't wearing his room service white jacket -- instead he was
wearing a casual shirt, slacks, and a light sport jacket, resort wear.
As he came in he looked at me with an appreciative half-smile, and said
"My but you look lovely.  That dress is very becoming.  I saw you lying
by the pool this afternoon, and thought Mari had done wonderful things
with you." He was carrying a clipboard, as earlier.

"Thank you," I replied, thinking that this was my first compliment from
a gentleman, and thinking that if I weren't the lady of the house I
would have felt an impulse to curtsy.  "I think so too.  But tell me,
Carl, what's the schedule for me for this evening."

Carl smiled and looked into my eyes.  "Me," he replied.  His smile and
his gaze remained fixed on me, unwavering.

"What's that?" I asked.  I felt a twinge of fright.  I suddenly
remembered my wife's note from last night, when she was gloating over
trapping me into sucking Tom's cock, and had told me if I wanted more
before bedtime I should ask the blond young man.  This one.

"No, you're mistaken," I said firmly.  I realized I had just suddenly
snapped into feeling and talking like a man, for the first time today.
I felt a little silly to be doing it in a cocktail dress.  But there
was a lot at stake.  I loved looking like a woman, but that didn't mean
I wanted to be a woman.  Not where sex is concerned.  A heterosexual
crossdresser is not a homosexual submissive!  My body was my own!  And
so was my pride!  "I have this note from my wife that says she made no
arrangement with you.  And I have no money."

Carl looked at his note-pad, then turned over a few pages and smiled at
me again.  "No, Jane, my arrangement with your wife is quite clear.
She told me to leave you alone last night, then to bring you breakfast
this morning and to introduce myself.  For tonight her instructions
are, let me see." He glanced down the upper half of a sheet of paper,
arrived at something further down, then read it aloud:

"Please see to it that by morning my husband feels like a woman in
love, after a glorious night with you.  I know you can do it.  He's
shy, and you may need to insist, and you can be as firm as you need to
be.  I hope he'll help, so you won't need to use force, or do any of
those really punishing things you know how to do.  Unless of course he
wants you to."

Carl grinned up at me, then back down at Jill's instruction sheet.
"Remember, he is still a virgin, as far as I know.  He may let you be
gentle with him, or he may not.  But either way I want him to get the
fucking of his life.  No real damage to him, please.  But if he can't
sit for a week after you're finished with him, I'll understand.  And
months from now, if I see him smiling a secret smile and he won't tell
me why, I'll know you've done for him everything I'd hoped.  He wants
to be a woman.  Turn him into a woman.  Give him the sexual experiences
and reflexes and memories of a woman."

Carl read on silently a moment more, beamed at what I took to be some
extravagant compliment, then looked up at me and put the note away.
"An absolutely wonderful woman, your wife," he said to me.  "To arrange
a present like this!  To arrange for you to live your deepest fantasies
for a whole night!  To change your very identity.  And to keep it a
secret until this very moment!  You know, I'm quite expensive.  She
must love you very much."

I sat down on the edge of the bed in my cocktail dressed, stunned, all
dressed up with no place to go.  For some reason I felt demure at that
moment, and I hated the feeling.  It was so dependent, and helpless.
Here I thought I knew what Jill had planned for me, and she had crossed
me up again!  Or rather, she was carrying out a plan of her own with a
relentlessness I couldn't believe!  She wanted me to submit to Carl, to
be mortified, embarrassed, cheapened, and degraded by him.  This was no
path toward womanliness!  This was pure and simple vengeance!  For
Darlene again.  I couldn't believe it!

Carl looked at me, obviously pleased with himself, and eager to be of
service.  "Now," he said, "is there some special fantasy you'd like to
perform with me, that you're a patient and I'm a doctor, or that you're
a whore and I'm your best customer, or that you're a prisoner and I'm a
prison guard, or that you're a schoolgirl and I'm a headmaster?
Anything at all?"

"No," I said, "just that I'm Jill's husband, and you're the man she has
hired to fuck me over."

"All right, Jane," he said.  "Then let's begin.  There's a beautiful
peignoir in the closet.  I think you saw it?  And the sheer nightgown
you were wearing this morning when I served you breakfast."

"Yes"

"And a makeup case in the bathroom, and more cosmetics in your purse?"

"Yes"

"A lovely word, 'yes.'  It sounds so beautiful when you say it.  I want
you to put all those lovely things on and to make yourself especially
beautiful for me.  You will want me to be impressed by your efforts
when I next see you.  I assure you, you will.  O yes, you'll also find
some feminine douche kits in the medicine cabinet, and an enema kit.  I
want you to use them all on your pussy by the time I return, in that
pretty virginal rosebud you have hidden between those gorgeous globes
of your derriere.  Use all of them, one after another.  Clean yourself
out throughly.  Your first experience must be as memorable and
beautiful as your wife wishes it.  We mustn't let anything stand in the
way.  Now, I've set aside a bottle of champagne for us, so we can toast
everything that lies ahead of us tonight.  I'll go now and get it.  And
I'll want to get some other things too."

He took my hand gently, and kissed it, and looked down on it as if the
sight were too sweet to bear.  Then with one hand he bent my fingers
up, until the tendons stretched to the point of pain, and forced me to
my knees.  I looked up at him, a little alarmed.  He looked back down
with doting affection, but maintained his one-handed grip.  "You're not
going to be troublesome I know, because you'd only get hurt.  You're
going to do everything I ask.  Don't worry.  You'll love it.  This is
really a kind of honeymoon for you, and I will want you to remember it
always, and to smile always whenever you remember."

I couldn't say anything.  His grip on my hand was just this side of
real pain, and it was obvious he wasn't exerting any pressure on me at
all, yet.

"Now Jane, just three questions.  Please answer each of them.  It's
true that your pussy is virginal?  You'll cooperate with my efforts and
your wife's desires for you?  You expect to feel grateful to both of us
afterward?"

"Yes," I said, "Yes, I will.  Yes."

He stared at me, then smiled.  "Good!" he said.  "I won't be long,
darling girl." And he was gone.  The door closed.

I immediately thought about escape.  But that would mean the end of my
marriage, with no hope ever of a reconciliation.  That was clear.
Well, I thought, there is nothing for it.  Jill wants to punish me, and
she has found this bizarre way to do it.  This guy is going to fuck me,
with or without my consent, and she expects me to let him, and I have
to go through with it or she won't take me back.  This is sucking Tom's
cock all over again, and more!  But if I do go through with it, would
she ever take me back anyhow?  Why should she?  How could she respect
me as a man ever again?  There'll only be my further degradation for
her to mock me with.  Or is she just asserting more control over me
now?  Is this some kind of kinky test of my obedience to her?  But
there has never been anything kinky about Jill.  In fact, that's been
one of her problems.

Then I thought.  Obedience.  That's an odd word for me to use.  Love,
honour, and obey.  Maybe what she wants is for me to learn what it's
like to be a married woman, since my wanting to look like a woman has
so offended her, and in fact has gotten me where I am right now.  Part
of that is getting laid by a man.  So she wants me to get laid.  If I'm
going to wear panties, then I should know what it's like to feel a
prick in me.  Then maybe, in her mind, I'd be less of a fake.

I thought some more.  No, I suddenly realized.  She wants more than
that.  She wants me to want to get laid.  She has her own ideas about
me.  It isn't being like a woman she thinks I need to learn -- she
knows I've played at that all my life.  And it isn't being made to do
things women do, and gay men, like last night with Tom.  That's just
part of punishing me because she knows I don't want to have sex with
other men.  Not all young girls dream about sucking cock when they grow
up.  She doesn't suck cock herself, and she's a woman, at least she's
never wanted to put her mouth on my cock, though maybe last night with
Tom.  No, she's devious.  She wants more.  She wants me to stop feeling
ashamed to be seen dressing like a woman or behaving like a woman.

Good grief!  She thinks that my feeling ashamed to be seen as a woman
is unmanly!  Only a wimp is ashamed of anything he wants to do.  And to
feel ashamed to be a woman is to insult all women!  Does she want me to
be a woman without apology?  Yes.  She expects me to want Carl to make
love to me.  And she wants me to want to make love to Carl.  Her
darling little cocksucker, she called me.  She was mocking me then.
But this is different.

I began to understand.  She was mocking me because I felt humiliated
when I had to suck on a cock, and she had set it up and rubbed it in.
Now if I feel humiliated with Carl, she'd mock me again, and punish me
even more.  But I can escape her mockery by enduring whatever she
dishes out without minding.  Or I can escape mockery and punishment by
wanting to do it, as if I were a real woman with real desires and a
stud in her bed.  Queers suck cock and take it in the ass and love it
without feeling humiliated, because that's what they want to do.  The
same must be true for any woman, if she does what she wants to do.  If
I were the woman I claim I like to feel myself, sex with a man wouldn't
feel humiliating.  This isn't a punishment.  In fact, it can be
something beautiful.

So there's the answer.  If I want to do it, then there's no
humiliation.  She wants me to want to do it.  She's not punishing me
with Carl, she's teaching me to be proud of my womanly desires, and to
let Carl awaken them.  She's even teaching me a kind of manhood.  Real
men are never ashamed of what they do.  What did John Wayne say, "Never
apologize, never look back." Of course the idea is disgusting..  A cock
up my rear end!  But I can do it.  A man can be tough when he has to
be.  Tough enough to want to get reamed.

I decided I would submit to whatever Carl had in mind, if that was what
it took to save my marriage.  That wouldn't mean I really wanted to
submit to Carl.  Just that I wanted Jill.  And I had promised Jill I'd
go along with whatever she asked me to do.  Here I am, fresh out of the
beauty salon, and I never looked more like a woman.  Now she says I
should make love to Carl the way a woman would, and to love it.  That's
what I'm going to do.

With that decision out of the way, I really did want to submit to Carl.
Part of me was genuinely curious what it was like to get fucked by a
man.  Despite myself, I realized I was already looking forward to
getting fucked, in fact beginning to feel a certain trembling
excitement about it.  Last night I went through the motions of
cocksucking Tom's prick, trying to feel nothing, thinking it was an
ordeal I had to go through so Tom would continue to think I was a
woman, when in fact he was thinking what Jill had told him, that I was
a shy faggot.  Tonight I can actually find out what women feel when
they're with men.  There had to be something they find attractive.
They all want to do it, most of them.  And from a woman's point of
view, Carl is pretty good looking.

So it's arranged.  Tonight, my inviolable virgin asshole will become a
much-ravished pussy.  And there is nothing I can do about it.  Well,
since I have no choice, I decided, I will set my manhood aside for the
night, somewhere where it can't be violated or touched.  Then I won't
feel perverse or queer or debased.  They want me to be a woman.  I'll
be a woman.  I'll try to want to be a woman.  For one night, anyhow.
To see what there was to see.

I got up and headed for the bathroom.  Then something else unexpected
happened.  I should have been resenting Jill, but I started to feel
grateful toward her, and the feeling spread.  She had left me a pretty
negligee to wear, and a swimsuit.  She had arranged a complete salon
make over, something she knew I'd love but wouldn't have the nerve to
arrange for myself.  Now she's arranged for me to spend the night being
a woman in love with her lover.  She isn't denying my wanting to feel
feminine, or mocking it, she's confirming it.  I don't have to resent
this.  I can even thank her.  All I have to do is go with the flow.

A whirlwind of thoughts, but I was pretty sure I'd arrived at an
accurate understanding of my predicament.  Whatever I was, whatever I
wanted to be, Jill wanted me to proud of myself.  My sneaking around
was what had offended her.  Of course Jill was devious.  She had other
things in mind as well.  But this much I understood.

So I decided to go all out.  I would go look for bubble bath crystals
or body oils among the things laid out there, and take a bath, so when
Carl came back he would find me clean and soft and perfumed.  And I
needed to prepare myself in other ways.  This night was already a
learning experience, and it hadn't even begun.

When Carl came back I was already in the bedroom, dressed in my
nightgown and peignoir, my skin softened and scented like a field of
flowers, looking to see how many pillows I could heap up on the bed
toward whatever bliss we might find in each other.  My pussy felt
utterly empty, maybe too empty, and inserting so many different enema
and douche nozzles into it had made me aware that the opening was a
muscle I could tense or loosen.  Carl extended the champagne bottle
ahead of him as he came through the door, as if it were a line of
defence he hoped would hold.  I walked right through it.  "Carl," I
said, "I've been waiting for you.  You took so long."

"I didn't want to hurry you, darling," Carl replied.  "You had so much
to do, and to think about."

"Yes, I did," I replied, "And I thought about it.  But in the end you
were most of what I was thinking about." I reached toward him, and
grasped him, and placed my lips on his, hoping he would be able to do
something to make me feel less silly.

He did.  He set the champagne bottle down, and leaned forward into me,
and grasped me around my waist with one arm, and around my shoulders
with the other, and gave me the deepest kiss I have ever experienced.
He had soft warm lips, and a warm wet mouth.  I leaned back as he
leaned forward, and he pulled me into him, and we melted into each
other, and I felt his tongue enter me and probe, and delicately lick my
tongue.  I pressed my body closer to him and he lowered his arm behind
me, and then gently lifted my crotch into his.  He was hard.  I could
feel it.  An hour ago I would have felt sickened.  But now I rubbed
myself against him, aware that I was also hard.  Involuntarily, I let
out a loud sigh.  "Please," I said, "What can I do?"

"Well," he answered."You can bring us some glasses.  We need to toast
your new understanding."

I found two and brought them over.  He sat on the couch and filled
them.  I sat next to him, as close as I could.  I actually hoped he
could smell my perfume!  He put his arm around me, and I snuggled into
its crook.  It was very comfy.  He handed me a glass, and I looked at
him.

He looked down directly into my eyes and said, "Jane dear, look into my
eyes.  To the night that lies ahead of us.  Now we drink, slowly,
steadily, and we keep looking into each other's eyes and keep sipping.
It's an old Danish custom."

My feeling for him got incredibly intense as I looked into his eyes!  I
began to feel eager to submit to him.  Of all things, my erection got
even harder.  He continued to look into me with his half-smile, deeper
and deeper, and neither of us said anything, and I looked back at him.
His eyes were blue.  Suddenly I lost it.  I let out a moan and yielded
up my core, and threw my arms around his neck and poured kisses onto
his face.  His cheeks felt slightly bristly on my lips, like any man's
when freshly shaved, and I could smell some kind of after shave.  But I
didn't care.  He was just a wonderful, lovely man!

"Jane," he said gently, "Let's just sit here quietly for a moment.  But
I do know how you feel!" So I snuggled in against him and let a wave of
deep affection for him wash through me.  I had decided I would
willingly let Carl make love to me.  But things were moving very fast.
Now I was eager to make love to him!

His first move surprised me.  "Jane," he said.  "I want to please you.
Let me kiss you snd caress your breasts.  Let me kiss your pussy and
your clit.  I want you to lie back and relax, and do nothing.  I want
you to empty yourself of yourself, then fill yourself with me.  Lie
back on these pillows."

I did as he asked, realizing that in my nightgown, with my beautiful
nails and curled hair, I felt luxuriously feminine.  He asked me to
throw my arms over my head and rest them on the pillows above me,
exposing my bosom (if I'd had any), certainly leaving my erogenous
nipples wide open to him, and he asked me to lift my knees slightly and
spread them, and he smiled.  There I was, sprawled languorously like
Camille waiting to receive her first lover of the evening.

He leaned over and kissed me again, first on the mouth, then on my
neck.  Sliding my nightgown's straps over my shoulders, he bared my
chest and my nipples, and began to kiss them, oh so sweetly.  I began
to dissolve in erotic feeling as my nipples engorged, and he kissed
each in turn.  It was so sweet, so very deep, so very loving, as my
nipples grew and their feelings spread through my whole body, and they
yearned after his mouth.  His lips circled and puckered on the very
tips of my nipples, and gently began sucking them, first one then the
other, and I went into a glorious trance, my eyes closed, my face
glowing, and time passed and I was in heaven.  I never wanted more to
be a woman, and never felt more wonderfully fulfilled as a woman.
After a while his lips moved down to my navel.  I stretched back
further and heard my throat begin to purr aloud, in a high and husky
sound, feeling just lovely as his mouth worked further down, then
reached my throbbing cock, and engulfed it.  Magically, almost at once,
I came.  He swallowed me and continued as if nothing had happened, with
an even greater passionate concentration.  I softened, then hardened
again.

He paused, got off the bed, then came around between my legs and
reached to caress my breasts, and again my nipples felt an exquisite
desire for ...  something unnameable feminine.  As his fingertips
danced on my nipples, his head bent down to suck and lick and kiss my
penis in ways more intricate than any Tom had told me.  My feelings of
joy went deeper and deeper, and he brought me off a second time.  These
spasms I felt deep under my mound, and I sighed aloud with the beauty
of it all, then just lay there.  I had never felt more sensually at
ease.  My arms were still sprawled luxuriously over my head.  He
smiled, kissed my flaccid penis tenderly one more time, and came out
from between my legs to lie by my side on the pillows.  On impulse I
embraced him, and then kissed him tenderly.  I felt just glorious.

I was lying entwined alongside him when he spoke.  "Janie," he said.
"I think the moment has come.  We are going to make love as man and
woman." I felt a pang of fear -- I knew he was heading toward it, but
here it was.  "There's nothing to worry about," he said.  "You'll love
it.  Trust me.  You'll love it.  Just do what I say, and you'll love
it."

"All right."

"Here I am lying here face up, looking at your dear face alongside me.
Why don't you just straddle me while I lie here.  Spread your knees as
wide as you can on each side of me, and sit on my crotch."

I did.  I could feel his dick was already quite hard.  Mine was still
slack, sucked out.

"Now raise yourself up just a bit, so I can lubricate both of us." He
reached for a tube on the bed stand and did just that, working a
fistful of it on his cock and then gently, gently, reaching under me,
he stroked my anus with his finger, spreading a film of jelly all
around it.  Then as his hand began to feel nice, a little ticklish, I
felt a soft finger press on my opening and then into it.  My sphincter
clamped down on it, and he seemed amused.  "Not yet, Janie," he said.
"Be patient, love." Then he pulled out.  He slathered more jelly on his
finger, then re-entered me, and worked his digit in and out for a few
minutes, gently, even delicately.  The ring of muscle guarding my
opening relaxed.

"Please, bend down.  I want to kiss your breasts."

I raised myself up off his hand, but the finger and hand followed my
bottom as it rose, continuing to move inside my rectum.  It was
beginning to feel interesting, even a little delicious.  Then I leaned
my chest over him, and he licked first one nipple, then the other.
Then his free hand caressed one nipple while he sucked delicately on
the other, tonguing it.  The same wave of lovely feelings I had felt
earlier returned, and again I melted.  I had to kiss him, and I did,
with increasing passion, while he continued to touch and lick and
caress my nipple tips, and underneath me he slathered more jelly on us.
Finally he lifted his prick -- a long one by any standard -- and tucked
it straight up between my cheeks.

"Now, dear, you feel the tip of my prick on your pussy opening, don't
you."

I did.  I wiggled my hips just a bit to seat it more firmly between my
jellied cheeks, the head pressing on my hole...my pussy...but unable to
enter.

"That's perfect.  Janie you have nothing to fear.  You are in charge.
You will deflower yourself whenever you feel ready.  Just press your
pretty pussy onto me as you wish, whenever you wish, more or less, more
or less." He took me by the waist for a moment and raised and lowered
and raised me to demonstrate the rhythm.  Then as if nothing further
needed to be done, he returned to kissing and caressing my nipples.
Then he reached for my penis with his lubricated hand, and began to
smooth and cuddle it, and my belly and all of everything inside began
to feel an immense yearning.  My hips surged in the rhythm he had
begun, up, and down, and I rotated my pussy opening a little while
pressing in on him, each movement a bit more insistent as his prick
pressed more and more firmly against my hole.

"Ahhh hahhhhhh" suddenly sang out of my throat in a soft soprano voice.
He was in!  My outcry of ecstatic pleasure surprised me.  I pressed my
vulva against his cock more persistently, each time increasing my
pressure on the soft head of his remarkably firm prick until it was
sliding in the slickness between my cheeks, and suddenly I felt a door
open in my bottom, and he slid in three or four inches.  I stopped.  He
was well inside me, I was sure of it.  I wriggled again, and was sure.
I felt stretched, and I felt an intense pressure, as if I were trying
to crap something too big to pass, and I eased off, and began to feel
just wonderfully full.  Then I began to move down and up on him again,
and his hips picked up my rhythm.  With each movement I took more of
him into me, then lifted to let more of him slide out, until only the
tip remained, and then he moved up into me and I backed down onto him
again.  The ring of muscle closing my anus began to spasm at the bottom
of each plunge, and I took more of him in, then more still, until
incredibly, I found I was sitting flat on his crotch, my weight no
longer on my knees but on my buttocks, my back arched, my head thrown
way back, my eyes closed, my rear end and my bowels utterly packed with
his meat, mindlessly blissful.

By now he was no longer kissing my chest but lying back with a beatific
smile, eyes closed, hands on my waist, helping me rise and fall over
him, one hand sometimes squeezing my flaccid penis ever so gently,
caressing it so it felt just wonderful though it grew only slightly
tumescent.  Together we moved, and the harmony was musical.  I wanted
to make him come, to slide and squeeze his prick with my asshole until
I could feel it was a true vagina, soaked and christened in cum.  We
picked up the pace, and the yearning within me increased.  Faster, and
I felt I was flying on him, my body dancing around his pole, impaled,
joyous, sensations building until suddenly they burst.  "Ohhhh
Gahhhhhd!" I cried out as my asshole spasmed over and over on the base
of his prick and my limp dick somehow squirted out more juice with each
spasm, just as his hips gave a great thrust up and into me, and his
hands clamped my waist and held me in a vise grip, and he emptied his
balls into my vagina in a flood of pumping, his spasms triggering even
more of mine.  My bowel runneth over, I thought irreverently, and I
fell down on him, near-unconscious with rapture, and gasped a few times
before I could breathe deeply and catch up with myself.

His breathing returned to a more normal pace much sooner than mine.
"Well dear, I don't think you're a virgin any longer," he said.  I
smiled at him weakly in reply.  "No," I said in my feminine voice,
without realizing I was using it, and then with enormous satisfaction
and affection I added, "I'm not." Now that the ecstasy had subsided, I
began to think I must have done havoc to my rear end.  His cock was
still thrust way inside, showing no sign of softening, but all around
him I felt sore.

He reached out his hand to the nightstand again, picked up something,
and said "Now Jane, lift yourself off me." I did, feeling terribly
vulnerable, my sore ass up over him feeling altogether exposed as he
sat up, leaned forward, withdrew, spread a cool lotion on my labia, and
then in a single move suddenly inserted something very large into me,
yielding but stiff, and pushed it home.

"What's that?" I asked, startled.  "Now Jane dear, trust me," he
replied.  "You'll want to make love to me with your pussy some more
tonight, won't you?  A few more times, I'm sure.  So we want to take
good care of it for now.  It's stretched out, and we want to keep it
that way for later.  And you have my sperm inside you, the world's best
lubricant for later.  So I've just put in a medicated plug, to sooth
you and to keep you open, and to keep you from leaking.  We'll keep it
there except when I want to enter you and make love.  By morning you'll
be well stretched out and won't need it.  In fact you'll probably leak
for a few days whenever you try to stand up, until your pussy muscles
get used to being closed again.  But we'll take care of that later.
After this night my dear, whenever you are feeling amorous with some
young man, you'll find he can enter you much more easily than I did.
But right now you need a butt plug.  Come, lie down next to me."

The rest of the night went as he predicted.  He fucked me in the ass
three more times, once with me bending over the bed while he stood
pumping me from behind, and caressed my breasts, once doggy style (it
was only OK I thought), and once with me on my back and my legs held
high on his shoulders, my pussy wide open to whatever he desired, Carl
passionately kissing my face and neck all the while he was reaming me
relentlessly down below.  I loved it.  I loved it all.  It was
remarkable how each time he used me I more and more thought of my anus
as a vagina, feeling not like a sodomized man but like a fulfilled
woman.  I didn't come again that night, though during the last fucking
my prick started to get hard, rubbing against his belly.  The anal sex
got very exciting, my prostate restimulated whenever he re-entered me.
I loved it all.  I've never really preferred men to women, but that
night was the most sexually satisfying I have ever spent, and after
that night I knew I could swing either way sexually if desire or need
took me either way.  That night it occurred to me I might not be merely
a crossdresser but a transsexual, a real woman in a man's body.  The
feeling didn't last, but it seemed possible.

His performance was prodigious.  Each time he fucked me he came, and
just before the third time we had a reprise of my cocksucking session
with Tom, and he came again.  By then I wanted to suck on him, and
swallow him, and eat him alive.  Carl sat in an easy chair while I sank
between his knees and eagerly licked and kissed and mouthed and
caressed his beautiful prick while he showed me how to run my tongue
along the full length of its underside, how to angle my throat to take
him deeper into me, and finally how to swallow his cum even while
matching my mouth's sucking rhythm to his head-fucking.  By morning I
had spent so much time pleasing him with my mouth and rear end, and had
received so much pleasure from him, that I was half in love.

When dawn came I was sleeping curled up on him, my head on his
shoulder, his earlobe still against my lips where I had been kissing it
when I fell asleep, my arms and legs wrapped tightly around him.  He
carefully disengaged himself from me, and I woke up to hear myself make
the most delicately feminine, sleepily petulant whine of protest I have
ever heard from anyone.  I tried to stop him by kissing his face and
shoulders all over again, fawning over him.  But no use.  He stood up
and dressed, then leaned over me and reached between my legs.  For a
moment I was hopeful we were beginning again, but all he did was check
that his butt-plug was still in place.

"Didn't I tell you this would happen?" he said, mildly amused.  "You
aren't the first husband I've helped to discover the joys of being a
doting wife, and you aren't the first who now, sadly, needs to be
reminded that you are not my doting wife.  You are your wife's." He
said these things while gathering up his various implements and
articles of clothing.  I watched him a bit dismayed.  I then felt
dismayed that I felt dismayed.

Fully packed, he went to the door and blew me a kiss.  "Goodbye love!
O yes, your pussy is stretched, and it will leak for a day or two.
When you take out the plug, I suggest you wear a tampon.  You'll find
some in your purse, where your wife put them before you came here.  She
knew you'd appreciate her thoughtfulness.  I wish you a long and happy
life Jane.  We won't meet again."

He smiled at me reassuringly.  "I loved it," he said.  "You are a
wonderful lover.  You have nothing to be ashamed of." And while I tried
to figure what he meant by this, he was out the door and gone.

Obviously, the way I felt now was the way Jill had wanted me to feel
when I came home.  Sore and complete, and a bit wistful.  Satisfied,
with no apologies.  A woman fulfilled.  I stretched back luxuriously,
my arms again flung above my head like a houri whose Sultan has just
left her, my eyes closed, smiling to myself.  It was time to go home.


