Tingles

TINGLES THIRTEEN

By Katharine Sexkitten

I awoke to movement.

Someone was sitting on the edge of the bed. I was on my side, facing the picture window. I opened one eye and peered up, and saw Brad.

Dressed.

He smiled down at me, and then leaned over and softly kissed me on my cheek.

"It's almost six, and I have to get ready for work."

I uttered a moan, a little feminine one, to let him know I'd much rather stay in bed. Letting him know I'd much rather stay in bed with him fucking me.

"You do too," he said, and smiled again.

He had a look on his face, joyous and quizzical and he looked like a kid searching for the right thing to say and not finding anything.

"What?" I asked.

"Last night..." he said, with a pause, "...was..."

I watched him pause again, searching.

"Was what?"

He burst out giggling. "It was fantastic!"

The way he said fantastic, spreading out the syllables, making it last for seconds, made me giggle. Loudly.

"It was," he continued, "it was fucking fantastic!"

I was beaming with pride.

"Me too, Brad," I said.

Then he stopped, like he wanted to say something else, but decided against it. Then he started again.

"I didn't offend you, did I? With what I said?"

There was genuine concern on his face.

"What you said?" I asked.

"Yeah, you know, when I said that you were made for cock."

I just looked at him.

"I didn't take things too far there, did I? Because, well, this has been so amazing, but it's happened so fast. That first night, you just had those panties on, and those thigh-highs, and you were so fucking sexy, and I was worried after that I had forced myself on you somehow, until you made me do you again, and then last Friday night when you showed up at the house all dolled up and holy fucking shit that was amazing, you know? I was blown away with how much you'd changed, progressed even. You were looking more and more feminine, and sexy, you know? Even Carol was stunned, and she's hard to impress! And then, last night. My god. You were...you are...just the most amazing night of my life, really. I love Carol with all my heart and we have great sex together but last night was the two most intense best fucks I've ever had!"

Now, that made my tingles jump up a level or three.

I pulled out my arm from under the covers and ran my hand up his nearest leg, over the top of his thigh to his crotch. And there it was, that cock that I love so much, that does such amazing things in me, hard as a barbers' pole.

"Mmmmmm," I sighed, "let's stay in bed, Brad."

He laughed, and pulled my hand off his cock, lacing his fingers in mine. "Down, tiger."

We both laughed, and just stared at each other.

"I didn't offend you, right?"

"Offend me? Telling me that I was made for cock?"

He nodded up and down.

I paused for a second, and pouted my lower lip. I watched some concern rise into his eyes.

Then I let his obvious concern dissipate. "Of course not, baby," I purred. "Why would I be offended? You're right. I AM made for cock. I've been realizing it more and more each day since your party, and it's blowing my mind. But you are right," I added, a little gobsmacked at the realization that I was saying all this out loud, "I was made for it. It's like my insides just line up the right way, and I just open up and take cock in. Obviously, I love it. So don't worry about offending me. You're right, I was made for it."

His hand, which was stroking my upper back over top of the covers, began to slide down my body, until it found my ass. His big fingers and palm started massaging my left cheek, slowly and with love. He was showing me how much he loved my ass.

And this gurl was loving it too.

Then his eyes narrowed, and he got serious.

"And I don't hurt you at all? You know, when I'm..."

I finished his sentence for him.

"When you're fucking me?"

A little reddish colour came to his face. He nodded.

"Yeah, when I'm fucking you. It doesn't hurt, you know, down there?"

I shook my head. "Maybe I'm a freak, Brad. Maybe it's supposed to hurt, you know, like in the stories I read online. In a normal world, I guess it should. But the thing is..."

I paused for a second. Thinking things is one thing, I realized. Saying them out loud, acknowledging them verbally, especially to others, especially to other people close to you, that's something else entirely. If you say it in front of someone, you can't take it back. So at first my brain was struck by just how profound my changes have been, just how staggering my new direction has become, how it's consumed me and elevated me and driven me to new heights, new positions, new everything.

"The thing is, I've come to realize, is that I'm not normal."

Brad shook his head, a genuine look of concern sweeping over his face.

"No, no, don't say that..."

I smiled up at him. "It's true, Brad. I'm not normal. And that's okay."

His concern ebbed for a bit. "You're sure?"

"Are you kidding?" I laughed out loud. "I'm surer than sure. Jesus, look at me. This is not normal, wearing women's clothes. Not for a genetically born man. Right? But the thing is, if feels normal for me. Now. Now that I've done it. Wearing your wife's panties and thigh-highs opened up a door, Brad. And stepping through that door led to something unimaginable, something I could never have believed in a million billion years. I walked straight through that door, and haven't been straight ever since."

We both laughed. I have always found humour helps tense situations, and although I wasn't feeling any difficulty between Brad and me, a little giggle always helps.

"Me neither," he added.

Now my concern became real, became heightened.

I sat up a little, and with my right hand I caressed the left side of his face. Softly, with care and real tenderness.

"Are you okay with this? With me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Look," I said, "thank you for your concern about me, and about whether I'm in any pain when you make love to me, and I know you ARE making love to me, even while you're fucking me. You love it, and you love me. You don't have to say it out loud, but I know. And these changes I've been going through, and will continue to go through, I want them. I want them more than you can ever know. This is me, this is who I am. I am a feminine person, a sexual person, and wherever this journey takes me I'm going to go there just like this, just like Jessica should. I am Jessica now, and I know it.

"But you," I continued, "I've spent the last almost two weeks rolling in it, wallowing in it, you know? I've spent all this time since your party marvelling at myself, my enlightened attitude, my sexual awakening, my feminine desires, enjoying all these new experiences."

I looked at him in the eyes.

"And yet I haven't spent any time worrying about how this affecting you, how this might be something hard to get used to. Are you okay with this? I know that it's a big shock to the system, what you're going through. A straight man, with a wife and two kids, your whole life completely heterosexual. Then I come along. You probably grew up making derisive `fag' jokes with the boys, right?"

He nodded, perhaps a little bit ashamedly.

"And now here you are, and you've had sex with another man. Three times."

Brad smiled. "Well, technically six times, since we've spent three evenings together but we always do it twice."

I smiled back. "You're right, we always fuck twice," I said, correcting him like an annoying wife would, "but I usually suck you off too, except for last night. So technically we've had sex eight times. Six fucking and two sucking."

He looked at me, with amazement on his face.

"You're keeping track?"

I giggled out loud. "You better believe it, baby. They're the best statistics in the world!"

He laughed.

Then I got serious.

"Brad?"

"Uh huh?"

"You're cool with this, right? You're okay with having a relationship with another man? You're okay with doing stuff that many other men would call you a faggot over, and they'd call you that in a nasty way, not a proud one?"

He nodded his head. "Fuck them."

"No," I whispered, moving up and towards him, and softly touching my lips to his, "don't fuck them. Fuck me."

"Oh yeah," he whispered.

"Does being with me, fucking me, does it make you happy?"

"More than most everything else."

"Do I make you happy? Does Jessica make you sexually and romantically satisfied?"

He kissed me. "More than I can ever adequately say in words."

"Good," I said, pleased with myself.

We just looked at each other for a few moments.

"Do you find yourself looking at other people, other men, differently now?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No, I don't think so. With you, that night, I just got a feeling, a sensation. You called it your tingles. I don't know what I call it. But whatever it's called, that feeling changed me. I went from a straight as an arrow guy, husband and dad, shit; I was a Cub Scout leader when Brody was a kid, to this, here and now. I have had sexual relations with another man, even though he is more of a woman than most women I've ever met, and I'm not embarrassed. It was, and by the way continues to be, the greatest sex of my life! And as long as you will have me, I want this to continue on forever. My life is happier than it's ever been. My wife is happier than she's ever been."

He paused.

"Carol says hi, by the way."

I smiled. His wife is a wonderful person, a hot lady, and sexy as fuck.

"How's she doing?"

He laughed uproariously. "Are you kidding? Between Hazel and this new woman she's just met, Carol has never been busier! And she and I are better than ever, really! It's like we're both better people, and it reflects in how we treat each other, how we treat the kids, how we treat our friends and neighbours. Hell, Carol and I have never ever been happier. We're having amazing amounts of sex together too. It's like me finding out I'm bisexual was the one thing that made life perfect." Then he paused. "And we owe it all to you."

Then he kissed me, softly, and with feeling.

I looked at him. "You don't owe me anything, Brad."

"I owe you my thanks. We, Carol and I, owe you our thanks. If you hadn't come along at the party, we'd probably be in our normal rut, the same rut we've been in for years. Now, after that night, it's like it totally energized our marriage. She's horny all the time, and so am I. And we're both so excited about it. We're laughing more, we're supportive more, and we're both in a better place mood-wise. She loves her new re-invigorated bisexual life, and so..." he kissed me, lips only, "...do..." he kissed me again, lips only, "...I."

I was amazed that he was as cool as he was with it, considering how major a change it had made to his life. Still, I reasoned, he really does obviously love it, since he'd fucked me to the edge of existence twice last night, and he seemed happier than I'd ever seen him.

"Carol has another woman she's playing with? Other than Hazel?" This was news to me.

Brad laughed, proudly. "Yeah! A young woman who goes to the same yoga class Carol does. She'd seen her a bunch of times over the last few weeks and then on Sunday Carol went into the sauna after the class and there this chick was, in the steam, naked, on a bench. Emily, that's her name. So Carol sits down across the little room, and covers her lap with the towel. Well it turns out Emily has a major thing for older women. They just stare at each other for a bit. Emily is young, and cute, and she just slowly opens her legs, and shows herself, all shaved bare and glistening wet. Carol says her own nipples got to be about the size of jalapeno peppers. Emily has a look on her face that says she's horny. The kid's nipples get all pointy. Carol slid the towel off her lap and exposed herself, which she told me she would never have done before, not in public like that, then she spreads her legs open as far as she can. I mean, like holy fuck, right? The next thing she knows Emily is in her arms, kissing her and caressing her tits, and then the kid slowly slid down and just started eating her, eating Carols pussy right there, no lock on the door, no worries about being caught, nothing."

I was smiling from ear to ear.

"Wow," was all I could say.

"No shit! I found all this out when she got home that morning and practically raped me. The kids were in the house. She just grabbed me, pulled me upstairs, threw me on the bed and mounted me, just like that. She told me the whole story while riding me!"

He was almost giddy with joy, describing it to me.

"Pretty cool, right?"

I laughed. "VERY cool, Brad. You both are. You're both very special to me."

"And you, young lady," he said, pulling me in for a hug, "are very special to us. Both of us."

I hugged him back.

"Just as long as you two understand that Jessica is newly-discovered, and newly-aware. That means that these tingles I feel, whenever I feel them, get followed up on."

He looked at me and smiled. "I know."

I continued. "I'm just saying, Brad, you know? Total honesty. My life is about joy now. This much I've learned. I mean, look at me! I'm here in bed, still wearing beautiful lingerie, that," and I paused, and made a funny face, "that needs major laundering now, since it's all covered in cum."

He laughed.

"But you know what I mean. I'm a special woman, Brad. I know it. You know it. That means that I'm living a life that some people only fantasize about. I'm a slut, Brad! I love it! And you were my first man, the first guy to fuck me, and you'll always have a special place in my heart, and you'll always have a place in my bed if you want it. But there are others, and will be others. If that's going to be an issue, or a problem, I would totally understand if you wanted to..."

His face became more serious. "Are you kidding?" Then he kissed me on the lips again, long and passionately. He held my head in his hands, looked at me again and then closed his eyes and kissed me again, even longer.

A few minutes of kissing later, his tongue and mine dancing in that sweet familiar way, we stopped and looked at each other again.

"I am a highly-sexual person too," he said, "I guess. You be who you are. As long as I'm a part of it, that's all I could ever ask for. And besides, how could I complain if you're out there getting laid a lot when I'm at home getting laid a hell of a lot? You know what I mean?"

My head almost hurt from nodding up and down so fast. I was beside myself with happiness.

"I love you," I said, because I meant it.

"I love you too. So does Carol."

We kissed again. Long and warm and full of emotion and full of joy.

"It's silly to think I wouldn't be okay with that. I have sex with Carol. Lots more than usual, thanks to you. I would be an idiot to think that you were only being with me. Of course not! You're young, and as sexy as the day is long. You have fun with whoever you want to, Jessica."

I pulled away from his hug, and looked at him. "And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you going to be sticking that amazing dick in every little gurly slut you meet?"

He laughed out loud. "I hadn't thought about that. Maybe."

We kissed again. It was wonderful.

Then he looked at the clock again, and he squeezed my ass cheek.

"We're running late, Jessica. Gotta go. See you at the office."

Wednesday was our last full day at head office. Thursday was supposed to be casual for a few hours, and then our flight home. Before my first meeting I texted my Uncle and told him to "go" on the deal to invest in LUST. Angie had emailed me her personal contact info, so I set her up in my phone, and sent her a quick hello.

She wasn't in the same meeting as me, but she sent me a text just after mine.

Thanks.

For what? I texted back.

For letting me listen to you last night.

My pleasure.

Sounded like it.

Mmmmmm.

Really sounded like it. Sounded fucking amazing.

We really need to get you laid, sister.

You're telling me!

I felt minor league tingles ramp up at the mid-morning coffee break, and turned to look who was around me. No Brad, no Peter, no Angie. Four or five others I barely knew.

And Richard Wolfe.

The C.O.O.

The Chief Operating Officer.

The number two guy in the whole national organization. A big cheese. He was one of the three guys that started the company, back in the day. He was in his late forties, I guessed, and reasonably fit and attractive. He had some grey mixed in his otherwise light brown hair, wore glasses that were maybe too big for his face, and sported a big cheesy moustache, which was always neatly trimmed but made him look a little like a walrus. The rest of him was nice. About six-one, maybe close to two hundred pounds, no big belly, which showed he at least worked out once in a while, a thousand dollar suit, and shoes with a shine that practically glowed.

He walked straight over to the little round table I was sitting at and said hi and then put some papers down in front of me. I looked and recognized them as a spreadsheet I'd done a few days ago.

"Are you confident in all these numbers?"

I didn't need to even think about it.

"I am."

He looked at me seriously, and then smiled. It was a nice smile, I thought.

"Good. That's good."

We just looked at each other. He was giving me the feeling like there was something else he wanted to ask.

My tingles were beginning to ripple, the waves moving outward in ever-increasing circles, never to come back.

I wondered if he wanted to ask me if I was wearing lingerie underneath my boy clothes, the answer being yes, or if my little cock was hard inside my panties, today a G-string in bright metallic neon royal blue, and the answer was an emphatic yes, or if I'd had a penis in my mouth yet today, in which case I was going to answer a loud and pouty NO!

Instead he thanked me for the good work, congratulated me for making the national team and convinced me it was well-deserved, winked at me, turned around and walked away.

Just before lunch Brad texted me and said he was going to a ball game tonight with a few of the other execs, and did I want to join them?

The old me would have said yes in a heartbeat. A game, a couple of beers and hotdogs, what's not to enjoy?

The new me remembered that I'd been invited to go to a gay nightclub on a tranny night and spend some time with other sexy people dressed as the slut Jessica that I am.

Altogether, a pretty easy choice.

In the afternoon Peter texted me to ask whether I had any plans for the evening.

I answered that Michelle had invited me out.

Yes, she told me, he texted back. She's enamored with Jessica.

Only she?

LOL. She's enamored with you. I'm in love with you.

That made me heart skip about eight beats.

Peter, I love you as well, with all my heart.

I know.

Should I tell Michelle no for tonight?

Of course not, sweet gurl. Go. Have fun. Enjoy. Be Jessica Kurva. We will have many nights and days together, my darling.

I want to be your darling, Peter. Forever.

I know. I want that too.

A tear was rolling down my cheeks. This beautiful man was telling me he loved me, was telling me that he wanted to be with me, as Jessica, as the real me, for eternity.

I was sitting in a small boardroom, with others around me discussing and debating all sorts of business minutia that meant absolutely nothing to the universe, in the grand scheme of things. Crying. As casually as possible, I used my shirt sleeve to wipe the tears on my face, and buried my head in my notebook, pretending to be seriously at work.

They didn't know, these people, that I was the luckiest special woman in the entire world. Maybe in the entire history of the world.

Maybe.

Then Peter texted me again.

Michelle knows some great people. I'm sure you'll be the belle of the ball.

I don't know, I didn't really bring anything to wear for going out. I only expected to dress in my own room, while hoping I'd get to dress in yours.

You didn't know how much I wanted you? How much I knew that you would be the exquisite feminine special woman that you are?

I had hoped so, and dreamed it might be, but didn't want to overstep anything.

You never will. Just be Jessica. Always.

I am Jessica. And I am yours.

And I am as happy as can be. You honor me with your love.

You complete me with yours.

Yes, my darling.

Peter, I want to be your darling. In every way.

There is a Darlings get-together back home on Saturday evening. I have already told the Duke that I am bringing a special guest. I hope that doesn't upset you, my presumptiveness.

Of course not, Peter. I will lovingly and willingly be there with you.

Yes, my love.

Who is the Duke?

A wonderful host, and a long-time friend of mine. He's British, and very wealthy, and he will be in his prime seeing you.

I am soooooooo looking forward to Saturday now, Peter.

Mmmm, I'm glad.

How about I tell Michelle I'm tired and just stay in tonight?

Stay in your suite?

Yes. Stay in, get fully Jessica, and make sweet love to you.

SMILE I'm tempted, my sweet. But life is about new moments, new aspects of life. Go with Michelle, my darling. Be Jessica. Be Jessica Kurva.

You want me to be a slut?

You are a slut. As am I. As is Michelle. Be safe, be careful, of course. But never stop being you.

Peter was telling me to go out and experience all that life has to offer. To grab hold of every opportunity out there, and to enjoy them all.

To live.

A short time later I texted Michelle and told her that I'd love to go out with her this evening.

She texted me back.

Peter already told me. Congratulated me on getting your time this evening.

He's the most amazing man, isn't he?

He is. You two are going to have some wonderful times together.

I know it!

I'm sending a little something to your hotel room again.

OMG, Michelle, no! You're spoiling me!

I'll pick you up out front of your hotel at exactly nine p.m.

Out front.

Yes, you sexy gurl. You'll have to walk all the way through the lobby, as Jessica. And I know it'll be your first time totally in public. No more secrets. No more slutting it up down hotel hallways. Jessica, in all her fucking glory, for all to see. Are you up for it?

I thought about my answer seriously. I wanted to give it the respect and weight it deserved. Plus, my tingles were fairly exploding out of me, sitting there in a boardroom listening to someone talk about sales projections.

Then I replied.

I AM JESSICA KURVA. I AM JESSICA SLUT.

The end.