TG: BiGirls by Vickie Tern (2/4) FFFfffMm (mix and match)








This story is intended only for readers who are lawfully certified
mature, sophisticated, cosmopolitan, and literate.   All others
fuck off.








                           BiGirls 
                         by Vickie Tern



                             ii.

     I guess Alice had a point.  I couldn't crow to my buddies yet,
and for the moment I wasn't going to pick up any new accounts from
the husbands, but this was a pretty good deal.  Nine women
available for fucking in exchange for not talking now about how
they ...uh... otherwise do each other?  What's to choose?  The
story would be all the riper when I finally got around to
entertaining my friends with it.  I thought about getting some kid
to prowl around with a camera looking for places to peer through
the drapes.  Get some insurance for myself.  But no.  Not yet. 
First see how this goes.  Monday night after Jane zonked out I took
a shower with a razor and a can of shaving cream, then some Nair,
and when I came back to bed I was smooth as a baby's ass.  In the
morning when I woke up, Jane was snuggled up against me, which
doesn't much happen these days.  But she never noticed how I was
hairless.  Tuesday promptly at one in the afternoon I was back at
Alice's front door, ready to boogie.

     "Craig!  How nice!  Right on time!  We've been talking about
you.  Go right on upstairs and change, and we'll be waiting for you
in the living room.  You'll find your things in the first room on
the right, top of the stairs."  

     Alice was wearing that same wrapper that covered her tits
without hiding them.  I'd spent some time over the weekend with a
Victoria's Secret catalogue learning the names for these things. 
I figured I was going to be seeing a lot of them, and women always
appreciate a compliment on what they're wearing.  I'd also looked
up "naked" in a book of quotations, figuring a little poetry does
no harm, but there was nothing there I could use.  Anyhow, I tried
to pay my dues to Alice, so I said "That's a lovely peignoir you're
wearing.  Chiffon, isn't it?"

     Alice replied, "First room on the right.  See you in a few
minutes."

     Well, I checked out the first room on the right, and I got
undressed as far as my underwear.  But all there was on the bed was
a big brassiere and someone's panty girdle.  I looked in the
closet.  Nothing, this was a guest room.  So I picked up the
women's underwear and came back downstairs wearing my own.

     There was Alice in the hallway.  She seemed to be heading into
the kitchen, but I was sure she was waiting for me.  "You're not
changed," she said.  "Something wrong?"  

     "Alice," I told her, "All I found on the bed were these
things.  Nothing for me."

     "Those are for you," said Alice, looking closely at me, as if
I were a little cracked.

     "These are women's things," I said.

     "This is a women's Club," Alice said, still staring directly
at me.  "You're a member, put them on.  I see you've gotten rid of
all that hair.  That's nice.  You've probably noticed we have body
hair only on our pussies.  I suppose you left some on yours."

     "Yes," I said, leaving aside for the moment that I don't have
a pussy.  "But Alice, I don't wear these things."

     "While you're here, you do!  The women who belong to this Club
dress appropriately.  Like women.  If your body looked more
feminine you could wear nothing.  But at the moment it doesn't,
does it?"  She smiled.   

     "Oh, yes.  Come down here with a bare bottom each time, and
then you can put on the girdle.  Beryl's a doctor, so your genitals
won't shock her, and she'll have something for you to help you fit
in better with us.  Beryl?"

     Out from the kitchen came the Peterson woman, Beryl, still
naked as she was born.  Close up, I could see that her breasts were
firm and solidly planted as well as huge.  They really thrust way
out, and didn't hardly hang down at all!  Like road repair pylons
with nipples at the tips!  She was carrying some kind of hypodermic
needle.

     "Don't worry," she said, waving it a bit.  "Just something to
qualify you to dawdle among us," she said.  "Pull down those
panties of yours and bend over.  You like women's boobs? You don't
seem able to look at anything else."

     "They're great!" I said sincerely.  I pulled down my shorts as
directed.  She jabbed me, I think.  I could hardly feel anything.

     "That's good," she said.  "You can stand up now.  Because
starting now you'll have handfuls.  Oh yes, hold out your arm."

     In a couple of swipes she filled a small glass tube with my
blood.

     "What's that for?" I asked.  I remembered her name, and tried
to be respectful.  So I added, "What's that for, Beryl?"

     "Just to be sure you're healthy, and that you stay that way. 
We care about our members, and we swap a lot of our juices around."

     Well, that seemed fair enough.  So I turned back to Alice. 
"Why do I have to wear these things?" I asked.  "Why can't I just
go naked now."

     "Two fair questions," Alice replied.  "You have to hide your
thingies in that panty girdle for now, because out of sight is out
of mind.  Also, no one else here has balls, so yours don't fit in. 
Also, the girdle is insurance you won't try to use what's inside in
the heat of some moment or other.  Women in this Club do only what
women do.  As for the brassiere, you're only an honorary woman, and
we'll all need to be reminded you're that much, anyhow, until you
look and behave more authentic.  Try to move less abruptly,
incidentally, more gracefully.  For a few sessions at least, we've
agreed you should think of yourself always as a dainty little girl. 
Feel the way a little girl feels, it'll help.  Then gradually you
can grow up.  The brassiere is for you to get used to wearing what
women wear, while you're growing up.  And finally, since you ask,
it's insurance against your getting someone to sneak around taking
pictures of us, which would necessarily include pictures of you
wearing a brassiere.  A little embarrassing to explain to your
friends.  We'll take a few pictures ourselves of you all dolled up,
of course, but then we know that no one will ever see them as long
as you behave yourself.  Any other questions?" 

     I shook my head, stymied.

     "Then change and go on into the living room."  

     I did.  Alice showed me how to hook the brassiere in front of
me and then turn it around.  "You're flat now.  If you had to catch
up your breasts in the cups you wouldn't be able to do it that
way," she said.  "You'd prefer to bend over forward and hook it in
back.  But for now this will do."  

     "Alice," I said. "I don't have breasts."

     "You'll feel as if you do, dear, in time.  Just wait.  Even
today you'll see how important they are when women make love to
women."

     Feeling as harnessed as a race horse, I went into the living
room.  I must say, the women all welcomed me.  They hugged me, and
asked my name, and I told them "Craig." 

     I guess it was Meg who said, "Still?  How original!"

     And I'm sure it was Dottie who asked, "Why not a femme name?"

     And I replied, "Craig is now my femme name," because I
couldn't think of anything else to say.  I didn't know I was
supposed to have a femme name.  But they took that to mean
something extraordinary, and crowded even closer and smiled their
congratulations. 

     "Now more than ever, I suppose," said a tall blonde who
introduced herself as 'Eden.'  Did they think I now thought I was
a woman?  Were they teasing me?  

     Then a short blonde with a real blonde pussy, practically
bleach blonde, took my hand and led me over to one of the couches. 
"Never mind them," she said.  "Mind me!"  She slouched down on the
couch with her legs over the edge, and said, "Bring me off, Craig."

     I didn't know what she meant at first.  I bent over to try to
kiss her on the mouth.  She turned her head away.  "That's for when
you feel genuinely affectionate, " she said.  "But you don't feel
that way about me, yet.  You will.  We will be the most loving of
girlfriends before too long, I can tell.  Then kissing will be
fine.  Maybe we should begin now with some touchie-feelie.  Would
you like to feel my breasts? "

     I reached for them with both hands, and she caught me by each
wrist before I could get to them.  "Just like a man," she said. 
"Try now to be a girl.  Think like a girl.  Feel like one. 
Feminine, delicate, pretty, and then reach with just your
fingertips to touch my nipple tips.  A little girl who hopes some
day to have a pair of breasts of her very own, just like them. 
Just lightly caress them, and desire them.  Gently.  Ah, that's
it.  Much more like it. Ohh! That's my girl!"

     I found it was easy to imagine myself some sweet young thing,
stroking her gently, lovingly, lightly lifting each boob before
going on to caress more of their smooth, mellow curves, feeling
increasing awe and admiration as I fondled each one.  I scarcely
heard her murmuring.  "Yes," she was saying.  "'TLC.' Tender,
loving care when you touch me.  Also 'Tongue licking and caressing'
when we're into heavier things.  Would you like to use your
tongue?"

     Sounded good.  I lightly licked each nipple, just once.  She
moaned.  So I rolled my tongue on her nipples again, and she
clutched my head, so I filled my mouth with her and sucked and
stroked and probed.  Her body began to writhe, and suddenly she
lifted her head and looked at me almost ferociously.  "Now!  Down
on me!" she said, and I felt her spreading her legs wide. 

     I fell to my knees and went down on her.  With her legs
lolling over the edge of the couch and spread wide apart, I could
see her labia peering out from her bush.  I held her knees with my
hands and tucked my head into her crotch, face first into her slit
as fast as I could.  Then I looked at her and said, "TLC?"

     She looked down and said, "If you can say it, you're not doing
it." 

     I started running my tongue up and down on those engorged
lower lips.  They were dry at first, but soon grew slick, at first
from my saliva and then from her own juices.  She began to taste
sweet and creamy, with a hint of sea food.  A delicious woman
taste.  Soon my lips found her clit, enlarged into a teeny hard
knob, and I started nibbling on it.  She let out a kind of soft
sigh and sank deep into the couch cushions.  I could feel her whole
pelvis relax as I went in at her a little more determinedly, and
then she began to thrust rhythmically at me, then to rock her whole
pelvis up to meet my mouth.  Long strokes with my tongue, beginning
way back by her asshole and finishing by her piss hole, stroke after
stroke, my tongue as stiff as possible while passing by the deep
part, where my prick would be if it weren't snugged into my girdle. 
I felt like some cocker spaniel lapping at its mistress, but so
dainty.  A little girl cocker spaniel, I guess.  It felt good.

     Faster and tighter, with the same long stroke, back to front,
and I could feel her thigh muscles begin to tighten.  Soon she was
like a stretched rubber band.  She croaked out, "caress ...
breasts,"  so I reached up around her thighs toward her breasts. 
Like a sweet young thing, I imagined myself.  Fingertips only, so
very delicately.  Her slit was leaking juice now, as I slurped.  An
odd idea occurred to me, what if her pussy juice was loaded with
hormones, and if I could suck enough of it I'd become a girl
myself, complete with a pussy of my own?  Ridiculous, I thought,
half the men in the country would be women by now if so.  But it
was as if I were under orders, and I kept slurping.  My neck
stretched out as I began each sleek stroke, and I ended each with
a little girlish wiggle, thrusting my tongue deep into her.  "Oh!"
she said each time, so I kept it up.  

     She unbent her legs, and then lifted them high up from the
hips, stretching her toes straight to the ceiling.  Now I could
lean deep down into her slit, really get my nose in it.  Also, I
could now easily reach her nipples from between her legs, so I
stroked them.  She moaned louder.   Her pussy now fully exposed, I
nuzzled even my chin into it.  She moaned again, and then again. 
She started calling out "More, Craig, oh, yes, more, you precious
little thing!" and her pussy cream turned stronger, more richly
flavored as I licked it up.

     A few more long licks finished her off.  "Ohhh, doggie, Ohhh,
doggie, Ohhh, doggie!" she kept saying as if in a daydream, pushing
her whole wide cunt into my face and then clamping my head between
her outstretched thighs as she pulsed and pressed and pitched.  I
couldn't breath at all, but I kept probing and lapping as deep
as I could.  Then she eased off.  "Well!" she said.  I waited until
she could find her voice again. 

     "That was just fine, Craig honey," she said, sounding throaty. 
"That's how girls do it.  You'll make a marvelous lesbian, if you
ever want to take it cuntlapping as a career.  Femme hands and a
butch tongue, what a wonderful combination.  Oh, darling!  Come up
here and let me kiss you."

     So I did, and she kissed me sweetly, gratefully, full on the
mouth, not noticing that my face was soaked.  "See, now I feel like
it," she said.  She held me around the neck,  looking into my eyes
with mild affection.  Hers were deep blue, nearly round, rimmed
with black lashes, and I saw she was wearing blue eye shadow.  She
saw I was admiring her face, and she kissed me again.  "Do you and
Jane do this often?"

     I've learned that when women ask me about my wife, they are
usually telling me it's time to back off.  I delayed a moment.  

     "You mean, kiss?  Oh, sure!" I said.

     But her arms remained around my neck, her eyes looking
straight into mine, mild but unwavering.  "No, I don't mean kiss."

     I thought I should be honest.  In no time they were all going
to know everything about my sexual practices anyhow.  So I told
her, "Not for some time.  Not for a few years.  At first, yes, our
mouths were everywhere on each other.  But a few years ago, I guess
Jane just decided she didn't much like it.  She'll use her mouth on
me now and then, when she doesn't want me between her legs for some
reason.  No problem there.  But whenever I try returning the favor
she'll stop me.  Once she said, "It wouldn't be right," and another
time, "You'd notice."  And she wouldn't explain what she meant.  So
I quit trying."  

     My blonde kept her arms circled on my neck and kept looking at
me, her expression unchanged.  She meant for me to go on.  Say
what?  "Now sometimes when she comes home she's real eager to make
love," I said.  "When I reach down to put me into her, I can feel
that she's gotten wet even before we've begun.  Slick, as if I'd
already come in her.  So she doesn't need me down there for
lubrication before we fuck.  Sometimes I want to lick up those
juices I can tell are oozing out of her, but she won't let me, so
I just slide right in and we fuck.  There are times she's so
slippery I can barely feel her.  But I cum, and then she mops up
the excess with a kleenex.  Then we go to sleep.  I miss it.  I
like the taste of a woman."

     "That's interesting," my blonde said, musing.  "A few years
now, you've been pining away for the taste of us.  So we're doing
you a favor.  Well, never mind.  Here you'll find all the pussy you
could ever wish for, and all of it to your taste.  I know, I've
tasted all of it myself.  My name's Lisa, by the way.  I'm married,
so you don't get to fuck me without a dildo.  I'm faithful to my
husband.  But anything a woman can do to me, you can do.  Cuddle,
and kiss.  And caress.  And cuntsuck.  Oh, yes!  Drink all of my
juice your heart might ever desire!  I hope for a lot more of what
you just did, a lot more.  Later on, when you get used to thinking
of your penis as a clit and you won't need your girdle, I'll do the
same for you."    

     A strong voice sounded behind us.  "Lisa? Are you finished
with him now?  Don't use him up.  Come over here, Craig, dear,
would you?."

     I looked around, and saw Beryl lying back at her ease on the
soft couch opposite us, her firm breasts for the moment aimed
straight upward.  I got to my feet, and she sat up just a little,
patting the cushions where her head had just been.  I sat down
there, and she lowered her head back down into my lap.  Then she
asked me, "Craig, have you ever sucked a girl's breasts while she
sucks yours?"

     "No," I replied.

     "Then lets.  Let me unhook your bra for you."

     When I leaned over toward her mammaries, she lifted them
slightly toward me, and the nipples on those conical projections
entered my mouth.  Her mouth completely surrounded one of my
nipples.  We were in a perfect position to suckle each other, in a
kind of head and torso 69.  I started to diddle her nipple with my
tongue, and heard Beryl's voice, "Gentle, Craig, always gentle. 
Like a little girl nursing on her mommy."

     I did, and it felt wonderful.  Her mouth overwhelmed one of my
nipples, then the other, and her breasts began to feel like mine as
she wrapped her tongue on my little nipples and I licked hers, and
we tongued each other as if we were each other's doll babies.  I
couldn't tell our sensations apart.  We pursed our lips on each
other's nipple tips, and wrapped our arms around each other, and
clung together more and more tightly, and kissed each other's
aureoles, and nibbled each other.  But always delicately.  I began
to get the strangest squirming sensation in my crotch as her tongue
moved on me.  I wriggled and squeezed my legs together, and
wondered if I might accidentally cum without even touching myself. 
That would be embarrassing.

     Beryl seemed to know how I felt.  "That's it, Craig," she
said.  "Never mind your usual male responses.  They'll change.  For
now just be a sexy little girl.  Dainty and neat, so very ladylike. 
You'll find more feeling builds up between us when we suck on each
other like little princesses, layer of feeling on delicious layer
of feeling.  The feelings will grow stronger too.  More urgent. 
You're going to enjoy them.  You'll be glad to have them.  Now
imagine that they're already like mine.

     That was easy, with her lips on my breasts and a rich yearning
sensation filling me, and her breasts filling my mouth. I squeezed
my legs together hard, then again, and that delicious tension built
higher and higher, then suddenly released in a flood.  Then I felt
a lovely afterglow.  "Wow!" I said in a higher-pitched voice than
I'd meant.  

     Again, Beryl seemed to know how I felt.  "Well, well," she
said.  "Lookie what you just managed to do.  You're going to like
being a part of our little group, no question." 

     The upshot of that first day was, I had intimacies with four
women,  Two asked me to lick their cunts to orgasm, so I did, and
Beryl had me do the same with her fantastic breasts.  One asked me
to hold her by her love handle, by which she meant with my thumb in
her cunt and my forefinger in her ass, my palm pressed against her
crotch, as she tensed and eased her pussy against my palm until
she'd brought herself off. "That's all I want today," she said,
disengaging herself after ten minutes.  "Thank you, honey.  You're
a doll."

     Each encounter taught me more about women's urges and needs,
the different ways I could be gentle, generous, and nurturing of
their accumulating desires until finally their aroused feelings
overwhelmed them.  Whenever I tried to take charge, each would
stroke my hair, and remind me to try to remain a little girl as
long as possible.  "You'll be a big girl soon enough," they'd say.

     It was fun.  I began to wonder how long it would be before
they'd declare me a lady, fit to fuck them with my built-in dildo
and to lie in their crotches like one adult woman with another. 
Meanwhile, I enjoyed being a good little girl.

     The last lady I slathered into orgasm with my tongue seemed so
grateful that afterward she plastered her mouth to mine, and sucked
my tongue into her mouth, and clamped my head tight with her arms,
and then wouldn't let go.  Since my mouth was attached to hers,
there was nothing else to do, so I started to lick the insides of
her lips, and then to flick my tongue on hers as if we were
duelling with swords.  It became quite enjoyable.  Still, she held
me.  So I began to run my hands up and down along her sides, over
that delicious deep curve where a woman's waist swings out to curve
down again as her hips. or slopes upward until a caressing hand is
filled with a breast.  It was fascinating, her waistline.  She
paused to make a suggestion, "Think of me as slippery, wet clay,
and slide your hands all over me."  When I did just that it must
have made a difference in the way my hands moved, and she must have
felt it, because she moaned out loud, and my hands then slipped
further down on her.  Finally, while  one hand was stroking her
body, the other had three fingers deeply buried in her snatch,
diddling her to yet another orgasm.

     When she finally released my neck and mouth she sighed.  Then
she gave me a perfunctory little kiss on the tip of my nose, as if
that sucking French kiss of hers was something else again
altogether.  "Your hands are almost as erotic as Meg's," she said. 
"Ask Meg to show you more things to do with them, before we wear
out your tongue altogether.  If she'd stroke you, you'd learn a few
things.  In return, you can certainly teach her some tricks about
how a mouth fits into a girl's private parts.  Any time you want to
live down there between my legs, Craig, do feel free to be my
guest."

     By four o'clock, the ladies of the BiGirl Club were uncoupling
from each other and beginning to drift back upstairs to dress, to
become proper housewives and ordinary clubwomen again.  I watched
the tall blonde, Eden, leaning over an upstairs banister for a
last word with someone else down below, her beautifully shaped
breasts falling free and her gown flowing back like a bridal train,
and I realized that she was lovely, that I was admiring her
appearance instead of lusting after her.  When Lisa appeared
briefly in the front hall in a smart purple knit suit and
high-heeled black  pumps, a matching purse slung crisply under her
arm, I told her she looked smashing, without even thinking, and she
grinned at me in thanks.  "If you'd like a suit like this one, I
can tell you where I got it," she said.  I grinned back.  

     All the girls smiled as they passed me going out the door, and
I smiled back at them.  I could sense that I had passed through
some kind of initiation ritual, and was now a welcome addition to
their number.  We were feeling real affection for each other.  I
especially loved Beryl for the exquisite pleasure she'd brought me
just by nursing on me, and letting me suck on her.

     But no one had reached into my girdle to give me even the most
perfunctory hand job, and no one had rubbed my crotch.  As a
result, by four o'clock I had the worst case of blue balls I have
ever had in my entire life.  I couldn't walk, and I could barely
straighten up.  Somehow I got dressed again in the jogging suit I
had worn walking from my house to Alice's.  I crouched as the last
women said goodbye to Alice, and I waited to talk to her.  "Ta ta,
girls," they waved at the two of us.  "See you Thursday!" 

     "See?" Alice said. "That's nice.  They're beginning to think
of you as one of the girls.  You are too, I can tell.  I was
watching you with Lisa, and then later when Beth had you imprisoned
in that clutch kiss of hers.  You use your mouth and your face
wonderfully well.  That's where we always want to feel strength
pushing into our crotches.  But I'm sure they told you, always
gentle."

     "They all told me to try to feel like a little girl, " I said.

     "Yes, that's what we all agreed.  But here's a hint.  Always
think of your fingertips as feathers when you stroke with them. 
Like this."

     Alice fluttered her fingers ever so lightly across my
imprisoned, engorged penis, rubbing the silken girdle fabric so
delicately that an electric charge leaped from her hand directly
through my prick to the base of my spine.  

     "Oh, God!" I groaned without thinking.  

     Alice smiled.  "I know.  I could see by the way you're
walking.  But that girdle doesn't come off until we're all sure
you'll control what's inside it.  In this Club it's a clit, not a
prick, and it's not to be used for penetration.  If the dear little
thing is in trouble, take it home and see if Jane wants to use it. 
Later on you'll be no good to her at all after our Tuesday and
Thursday sessions -- we'll be trying to drain you.  Maybe you won't
function some other nights either as time goes by.  But before you
go home you'd better wash all that pussy juice off your face, or
Jane'll wonder what you've been up to.  Or whose you've been down
to."  

     Then Alice said, "Oh, yes, Craig.  You've probably noticed
that we all wear our own intimate underthings here, our own
negligees and day wear.  Today's was loaned to you.  Now go buy
some of your own.  And begin to wear our kinds of undies all the
time, so they feel natural to you, here or away.  Especially bras
and panties and girdles.  Morning to bedtime.  Give Dottie a call,
if you need someone to shop with you and advise you -- she's
offered to help."  

     "Which reminds me.  Another thing.  From now on you will want
to feel more like one of the girls at all times.  To preserve that
little girl feeling until you've grown up, and then to feel all
grown up.  You know.  When you next come up that walk I want to see
you looking dainty.  Don't lope.  Hold your head up, and keep your
shoulders back as if you had heavy breasts to support, and keep
your thighs tight together as if there were nothing hanging there
to separate them, so your hips swing slightly, and take smart short
steps.  And keep your hands above your waistline at all times, and
elbows close to your body.  That way there'll be less shoulder in
your movements, and more wrist. You'll feel more feminine.  You'll
enjoy our little group that much more.  And we'll enjoy you.  Bye
now."

     And she gave me a little tweak on my nipple, under my
sweatshirt.  I felt it all the way back to the house.

     Well, I was so horny that night that when Jane got home I
couldn't wait to get her into bed.  "What's gotten into you?" she
asked when I started to scurry her under the sheets, smiling
steadily.  "Not that I mind!  Oh, my, you feel so smooth!  Its
nice.  But what have you been doing?"

     I told her I had joined a physical development Club, and had
been advised to shave off all my body hair so it wouldn't irritate. 
As body builders do.  All true enough.  She just ran her hands over
and over me.  My cock felt like a tiger charging at its prey.

     We fucked three times, twice that night, and then again the
next morning.  Jane was a little slippery before I began, as usual,
but by the time I was finished with her she was soaked, along with
the bed sheets, oozing more cum than I'd ever before managed to
spurt into her.  Again, I could hardly feel her, and just slipped
in and out until I came.  Then came again.  I don't know if she
felt me, either, because she didn't respond to my pushing into her
by pushing back.  But she hugged me close, and she said she loved
having such a sweet, smooth, loving husband. I snuggled into her
feeling pleased, very much like a little girl who has satisfied her
mommy.

