TG: Trust Me! 5 by Vickie Tern, femdom, wife, M/F, M/M 

Vickie Tern's stories are archived at 
http://library.gaycafe.com/nifty/transgender/
by_authors/Vickie_Tern

She appreciates any kinds of comment on any
of them,  and usually replies in kind.






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



     
                                 TRUST ME!
                               by Vickie Tern



                             V.

     A month or so later we were still at it.  I had forgotten what
it was like to wear men's clothes, and Monica seemed to be so
utterly enraptured by my femininity that I couldn't think of
displaying anything else to her.  True, I had been unfaithful to
her when I had made love to Eric, and Eric had made love to me. 
But somehow that didn't seem to be a violation of my marriage vows. 
It wasn't with another woman but with a man, a gay man, and I
wasn't even aware of it, at least afterward.  So Monica thought
what the other women thought, that it was merely evidence I had
become one of them, except for the technicality that had made it
possible for me to relate to Eric.  She only regretted that it
hadn't happened years earlier, when I was still a teenage girl, so
I could have weaved romantic dreams around my memory of it.  She
only regretted that I had no memory of it at all.

     I was still doing cost estimates on various projects and
faxing in the results, and still earning a good income, but no one
in the office had seen me for many weeks, and I was thinking of
quitting and just setting up full time as a homemaker for the two
of us.  It was what I much preferred doing.  And keeping myself
pretty for Monica took time.  

     Monica encouraged me.  She was working very hard, many days
and evenings spent out with clients showing them real estate.  But
that was what she loved to do, so it never seemed taxing to her. 
She was herself her firm's top salesman, and we were banking most
of her high commissions on each sale, because we didn't need them
to live on.  Financially we were set.  As she pointed out, the
difference between more money than you need and a lot more money
than you need is no difference at all.  We had no children, and no
plans for children, nor any possibility of having them, so it was
pointless for us to save for their futures.  We lived in our own
present.  I had begun faxing recipes back and forth with Tinka, and
I longed to have more time to try out more of them.  We neither of
us again referred to the incidents of that night when my mouth and my 
rear end lost their virginity -- that too was in the past.

     At least we never again referred to that night until the week
I finally quit my job.  We both were looking for some way to
celebrate my elevation to homemaker full-time, when coincidentally
Monica learned she had won a quarterly sales competition run by her
firm.  The prize was a long weekend free in the most luxurious
resort hotel in the state, complete with a suitable new wardrobe,
for ourselves and also for any other couple we chose to bring along
for company.  We selected Denise and Tinka, the only other couple
we'd seen since that lovely evening some months back when Monica
had changed her mind and heart about my cross-dressing, and had 
led me into the womanliness I now loved, and she apparently loved too.

     Then we all had a fine time selecting new lingerie, dresses,
skirts, blouses, shoes, accessories, makeup, everything a woman
needs to be stylish and beautiful and playful at a resort.  Denise
reserved her credits against the day her figure would return to
some semblance of acceptable, and Tinka's new wardrobe stressed
nursing bras and front-buttoning blouses.  But once again, Monica
and I were like schoolgirls vying with each other to purchase the
most tasteful yet sexy outfits we could find, giggling together the
whole time.  It was such fun!

     The night before we were due to leave, Denise had a false
labor scare, the first of several as it turned out. So Denise and
Tinka didn't dare come with us.  We decided to hold the two double
reserved rooms by renaming the occupants Mr. and Mrs. Sloan, my
married name with Monica, and Ms Jackson, my "maiden" name.  We
hoped Denise and Tinka would change their minds, but if not, maybe
we'd find some other use for a separate room.  "Maybe you'll get 
lucky, and you won't want me around," Monica said.  I kissed her 
reassuringly.

     Apparently, something else did occur to Monica.  As we
approached the hotel desk she whispered to me "Just follow my lead,
and go along with whatever I say."

     "What do you mean?" I asked.

     "Never mind," Monica replied.  "You trust me, don't you? 
Remember?"
 
     "Yes," I said.  "Absolutely!"

     "Then act sexy.  Feel sexy.  Swish your hips.  See if you can
distract the registration clerk.  Since you're here as a girl,
start enjoying the fun parts of it."

     I tried, but the main person distracted was me, because I
never noticed that Monica was registering us into two separate 
rooms, until the clerk announced, "There we are.  407 Mrs. Sloan, 
and 409 Ms. Jackson, adjoining rooms with a door that can be 
locked on either side.  Will your husband be joining you later 
today, Mrs. Sloan?"  

     I was taken aback, but Monica seemed to be expecting the
question.  "I don't know when if ever, " she said to the clerk. 
"But just a moment."

     Then she turned to me, and looked me straight in the eye, and
said, "Andrea dear, what do you think?  Think carefully now.  Will
my husband be here this week end, as far as you know?"

     A strange question.  I wish I'd understood what she really
meant, because I answered after only a moment, "No, I don't think
so, Monica.  I think this is supposed to be a girls' weekend."

     "You're sure?"

     "Yes, I'm sure.  Why do you ask?"

     She ignored my question.  "Then it's settled, isn't it?"

     "What?"

     "Isn't it?"

     "Yes, I suppose so, Monica."  I was absolutely baffled.

     "Good," Monica said.  "Then we can enjoy ourselves any way we
want.  This weekend is for fun."

     And turning back to the clerk, she answered, astonishingly,
"Yes, my husband will be here around six, in plenty of time for
dinner -- just send him up when he arrives.  Mrs. Jackson doesn't
have a husband, but we'll make arrangements I'm sure."  She smiled 
at the clerk, who smiled at me.  Confused, but playing along, I 
smiled back.

     When we got up to our room I started to unpack, and Monica
stopped me.  "No, Ms. Jackson's room is right there, " she said.
"Through that door there.  You heard me, that I'm expecting a
gentleman.  So if you don't mind, dear, why don't you go in there
and change to a bathing suit?  This hotel has a famous hot spring
pool we'll want to try.  And it may be that a girl in a high-cut
bathing suit like that one you've brought can make her own
arrangements.  We'll leave the door open for now.  But you might
want to close it before this weekend ends.  You never know."

     I was beginning to understand, and I didn't like what I
understood.  Monica had a date for the weekend, and had made me
promise that there would be no jealous husbands spoiling the fun,
just two girls who like to see each other enjoy themselves.  I was
feeling a little depressed when Monica came in wearing an
absolutely smashing yellow flowered bikini with a gauzy top. 
Reflexively I started to get an erection, even though Monica and I
had been making love only "like women do," for the past three
months, and I hadn't inserted my penis into her the whole time. 
Luckily I had already pulled up the bottom half of my one-piece, so
my prick was hidden, and Monica didn't have to deal with an
irrelevant hard on. I was trying to fit my breasts into the bathing
suit's cups when Monica broke into my meditation on my strange
sexual half-life.

     "Oooh, look!" she said.  "You really have a figure!  They are
coming along beautifully!  I'd never noticed before."

     "What are?" I asked her.  "What's coming along?"

     "Your breasts.  That bathing suit is really doing a job,
squeezing whatever's up there into those cups.  You don't need
breast forms any more.  Was your mother well-endowed?  It tends to
run from mother to daughter."

     "Yes, she was," I replied.  "Very.  But if big breasts run in my
family, they don't run in my direction." 

     "Don't be too sure, sweetheart," Monica replied, her eyes
still on the two distinctive bulges the bathing suit had shaped on
my chest.  "It's wonderful how quickly things can happen.  Let's go
check out the pool and the guys.  Don't forget your bathing cap, or
that sweet curly hairdo Joellen gave you won't survive till
dinner."

     She handed me my hairbrush from my dresser, and grinned while
holding up a lipstick from her own beach bag, and I understood and
smiled, and left my lipstick on the bureau.  We were still sharing. 
We still enjoyed the old intimacy.  We were still girls together. 
By the time we got to the pool my mood had changed for the better,
and we both teased and joked and flirted with a well-hung young man
who was obviously a little young for either of us, but whose Speedo
bathing suit left little to our imaginations.  We both traded
sexual innuendoes with him, and watched him get hard, until it was
time to return and change for dinner.  Monica was right.  There
were lots of fun parts to being a girl.

     We were just about changed for dinner and I was spraying a
stray curl back where it belonged, when there came a knock on
Monica's door.  The bellhop with something, I thought, so I didn't
turn around to glance through the door between our rooms to see who
it was.  Then when my hair was in place I turned and saw!  There
was a man in the doorway, and my wife was plastered onto him, her
legs wrapped around his waist and her arms tight around his neck,
her face buried in his!  They seemed to be drowning together in a
single, long, passionate kiss.  It went on, and on.  His head held
itself carefully on hers, as if he might be tongue fucking her
mouth, and when they finally came up for air I saw that he had
been.  Monica was now delivering kiss after kiss to the tip of his
tongue, and his cheeks, and each of his eyes.  I was horrified! 
Finally he lifted her gently off him, effortlessly, and she
unwrapped her legs from him and just stood there close, rubbing her
body against his, preening herself on him.

     "Well," the man said.  "If that's how you mean to greet me
every time we see each other, I'm going out and coming back in
again!"

     "Every time!" my wife said.  There was a throaty ferocity in
her voice I'd never heard before, an animal hunger.  What was going
on?

     Then I saw.  The man bent to pick up his bag and bring it into
Monica's room, and as he turned he glimpsed me standing there,
beautifully made up, every hair in place, wearing my draped purple
silk dress, shocked beyond belief.  It was Ben, Monica's boss at
the real estate office!  I just stood there stock still!

     "Well," he said with an instinctive grin, turning on
high-powered charm as if it were a searchlight.  "Another beautiful
lady."  He straightened and gave me a relaxed, confident grin, as
if he knew that I was going to be delighted to meet him.  Ben was
planning to spend the weekend with us?  Who had invited him? 
Monica?  I just stood there.

     "Do we know each other?" he asked, as if knowing my answer had
to be every other woman's, 'Never mind, lover, we do now!'  The man
was incredibly attractive!  And he knew it!  I could feel fear
rising through my shocked astonishment, laced with rising jealousy. 
Monica's boss!  Her business associate!  The man she'd worked 
alongside every day for years!  For how long now?  My jealousy 
rose higher.  I couldn't compete with all that charm and power!  
All that wealth at his disposal!  I'm losing her!  My wife!  Monica!  
I still couldn't move!     

     "Maybe we do know each other," he said suddenly, and he turned
toward Monica.  "I thought you said your husband wasn't going to be
here this trip."

     "He isn't here, Ben," Monica answered, looking me in the eyes. 
"He promised me he'd stay away.  This is my dearest girlfriend,
Andrea.  Andrea, I'd like you to meet Ben.  I've been wanting you
two to get together for some time now."

     "All right," Ben said.  He turned toward me and his brilliant
personality re-lit itself.  "I'm delighted to meet you, Andrea. 
Monica's told me so much about you!"  What had she told him?! 
Everything?

     "Just a minute, darling," Monica said to him.  "I want to
speak with Andrea a moment, and then the three of us will go to
dinner."  She smiled at him, then let go his hand and walked into
my room, almost closing the door behind her.

     "Are you all right, honey?" she asked me, still searching my
eyes.

     "I don't know," I said.  A sob rose up.  "Monica, what's going
on?"

     "Andrea, I'll tell you what's going on.  Listen very closely,
because I'll say this only once.  Ben is my lover.  He's been my
lover for months now.  Many months.  He is the greatest lay a
girl could ever hope for, and I'm going to spend the entire night
tonight with him.  In that room.  Not with you.  I'm looking
forward to it.  I have been all day.  In fact if a day or two passes
when we haven't got time to make love, I start to day dream about 
him and can't tend to business.  But so you don't feel left out, 
I'm going to ask him to make love to you first.  I want you to make 
love to him too, with real desire in every move you make.  In fact 
I insist.  And I want you to watch us fuck at least once, before we 
close you out and do our private things together for the rest of 
the night."  

     "I know how you're feeling at this very moment, but remember, 
you've had Eric.  You'll be glad to have Ben too.  Trust me."  

     "Now, we're going to have dinner together, the three of us. 
The whole time we're at dinner, I want you to be looking at him and
imagining yourself in bed making love to him, because that's where
you'll be soon afterward.  Think about what you'll do with him
first, and then what next.  How you'll suck his cock, or maybe just
lick it.  Wonder if his cock is so huge it will hurt your rear
pussy when he pushes into you.  Wonder if his cum is sweet, or
salty, or creamy, or a little sour, like buttermilk.  Whether you
want to wrap your legs around his neck or his waist when he fucks
you, or whether you'd rather have him do it doggie style.  He's
your man tonight, for a little while, and I want you to have a
girl's most romantic anticipations about what he might do, to be
really eager for him.  Don't be nervous.  You'll love it.  It's
nothing really new for you.  Just keep thinking that it'll be
better than with Eric.  Much better.  Trust me, darling, it will be
much better!"

     She paused, then kissed her fingertips and touched them to my
lips.  "At least I'm sure you'll remember this experience, love,
you first real deflowering.  Just hold in mind that Andrew isn't
here.  That Ben isn't your rival.  Ben is a dear friend of your
dearest girlfriend, and she wants to share him as a special gift, 
and soon he'll be your special friend too."

     And with that Monica turned, went back to Ben and kissed his
cheek, then took his arm and looked back at me.  Ben extended his
other arm, and I took it as we started out.  Then I remembered what
Monica had asked me to do, and as we waited for the elevator,  I
placed my other hand on his arm as well, as if I were hugging it. 
I could feel iron muscles under his jacket.  I felt utterly
helpless. 


