Tingles

TINGLES SIX

By Katharine Sexkitten

Mmmmmmmm, I love my tingles!

"Would you like something to drink?" I asked.

Cynthia nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, I'd love a drink. What do you have?"

"I have some white wine chilling."

"Perfect," she said.

"Make yourself at home," I offered, and turned to the kitchen.

When I came back to the living room with two glasses of Pinot Gris she had shed her fur coat, and was seated at one end of the love seat. Her left leg draped over her right, her left foot swinging to and fro in a very feminine way, her body half-turned to her right. I handed her the wine and sat down, half-turning my body to the left to face her.

We clinked glasses, and she said "to new friends!"

A wonderful toast.

Then we chatted for a few minutes. She'd more or less heard my entire story in our online chat last night, so for the most part she talked and I listened. She was forty-nine, divorced, and for all intents and purposes lived full-time as a woman. She worked from home, which allowed her that luxury. Her neighbours knew, the ones on either side of her in the townhome complex she lived in, and neither of them seemed to care about this man next door dressing as a woman.

"I have to tell you," she continued, "the first time I went outside, into the real world, fully dressed and made up, it blew my mind. The different levels of sensations you feel, a boy dressed as a gurl, sexy clothes instead of boring ones, the sounds of your clothes swishing as you walk, hell, the sound of your heels on the ground, on the sidewalk, will make you almost cum right then and there. And sure, you'll get looks from people, odd looks sometimes, when they realize you're not a genetic woman. But to hell with them, right? I've been called all the bad names there are by people, almost always men, crude and boorish men, thinking that they're being tough by calling other people fags' or queers' or whatever. Big tough guys, right? But in my experience, at least half of them, maybe more, if given the chance for total anonymity and none of it getting out to their friends and family, at least half of them would jump at the chance to get into my panties."

"And do you let them?"

She snorted. "No, honey, never. Don't get me wrong, I'm one hundred percent a bottom gurl, and I love cocks, and I love getting fucked. But never from men."

"Never?"

Shaking her head, she swallowed a sip of the wine.

"I'm a translesbian."

"A translesbian?"

"I only play with other gurls."

She said it proudly, and honestly. That was her thing, and she didn't care who knew.

"And you, Jessica," she added, "how about you? I know you like to receive, that you're a bottom gurl too, that you're absolutely in love with being fucked, but do you ever switch it up?"

My answer was definitive.

"No."

She raised one eyebrow at me.

"Never considered being a top?"

I shook my head. "No. What I've learned, what I know about myself now, is that I adore taking cock. I adore it. I've honestly never even thought about giving it. It's just never occurred to me."

"Fair enough".

"I loved the two pics you sent me of you and the other CD."

"Jane, yes," she murmured, "maybe my favorite lover of all. She's a beautiful gurl, a lovely human being inside and out, and a magnificent top, with a really thick cock, and she's as highly-sexed as I am, so it works out well for both of us."

We both had a good giggle, and sipped our wine.

I looked at her up and down again for the hundredth time, and noticed on her left leg that she was wearing an ankle bracelet. It looked so divine, a simple gold chain with a heart-shaped charm just above her foot, nestled on top of her silky stockings.

"Mmmm, I love your anklet!" I cooed.

She smiled more, and looked down to where I was looking.

"Do you?"

I nodded again. "Yes, very much. It looks sooo sexy!"

"It's inscribed."

"Is it?"

Cynthia nodded. "Have a look."

I leaned over, and placed my right hand delicately on her lower leg, using this as an opportunity to caress her, and peered at the charm. And immediately saw two bold capital letters etched into the heart's face.

CD.

"Oooh, I love it!" I giggled.

"Read the other side," she suggested.

I twisted the charm in my fingers, and saw four bold capital letters.

SLUT.

Reminding me, once again, about tingles. They swoop in and out of their own volition, borne on the wings of sensuality, and always unpredictable. Just when I think they're strong, they can suddenly rocket up. Even when I think they're already in over-drive, they always surprise me that there's yet more room to grow.

CD SLUT.

Bold, and proud. She was sharing herself with me. Her true self. I've never felt happier to be alive, and to be amongst others who actually understand what being alive truly can mean.

"Have you ever been outside dressed?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I haven't been brave enough, I guess."

"Maybe you just haven't had the right opportunity yet?" she replied.

"Maybe," I said, "I suppose. I mean, when I think about it, I have only been dressing since last Saturday! I haven't really had any chances yet!" We both laughed.

"You've come a long way in a short time, honey!"

I took a moment to let her observation soak in. It was true. I had come a long way since the party, since finding Carol's panties, since Brad kissed me, since I'd sucked his big cock and worshipped it and adored it with my mouth, and swallowed all of his cum. YUM!

A long way since discovering my true self.

The real me, as Peter said earlier.

So I told her about him, about him being in my office this morning, and then following me to the washroom. About how he saw me, in G-string panties and thigh-highs. How he asked to see me. He wanted to see me. He fairly needed to see me that way. And how he touched me, oh so gently and sensuously, and how he'd asked me to come to his hotel suite Sunday night.

Her smile was devastatingly infectious. She looked like she had never been happier for anyone in her entire life.

"And will you go visit him?"

I nodded. "Oh my god, yes, of course! Cynthia, you should have seen the look of his face. He was like an explorer, someone who'd just found the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Or someone who had just discovered the Holy Grail. I've never seen someone so mesmerized, so rapt, and so attentive. He made me feel like THE most feminine gurl in the world. I felt like the most wanted gurl in the world."

"Mmmm, I can see you're jonesing for it," she said, seriousness entering her voice.

"Oh fuck yeah," I replied, giggling. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"So, you gorgeous little slut," she whispered proudly, "a date on Friday night with Brad, where you're sure to get fucked, and now another date on Sunday, with a man you seem very attracted to, where it sounds like you'll get fucked again. What will you do on Saturday night?"

I laughed. "I think Peter is more of a `make love' kind of man, but time will tell. And Vladimir is usually around, for those times when I don't have a date!"

I laughed even harder.

"God," I said, "I sound like such a slut. Like, oh well, if I don't have a date with Brad or Peter or whoever it's okay, cause there's always this giant man with a gigantic cock downstairs who fucks me like there's no tomorrow! I could always settle for him, I suppose!"

I looked at her, anxious for her reaction. Her smile told me all I needed to know.

My voice got serious. "I am a slut."

She nodded.

"I am a slut. Honestly. I'm not bragging about it, or apologizing for it. It's just a statement of fact. I am a slut. It's not a bad word at all, in my opinion. To me, it's a word to be proud of. I'm a sexual creature, and slut is just an easier way of saying it. I am a slut."

"A very sexy slut, sugar."

If this was a horserace the lead tingles just got passed by the ones from way in the back, suddenly rocketing past like lightning.

"Is Vladimir the one with the truly huge cock you were telling me about?"

"OH YEAH!"

She sighed somewhat. "I envy you. I haven't had a cock that big in a very long time."

I nodded, and then changed the subject.

"You think I'm gorgeous?"

"Oh, come on gurl," she replied, "look at yourself in the mirror! For someone who's only been doing this for less than a week, you're amazing. That dress is stunning, those heels are sexy as fuck, and you look like you've been doing this your whole life. Even your makeup is beautiful, and that always takes the most time to learn for new gurls. I'm sitting here looking at you and thinking all you need is some mascara, and you'd be magazine ready!"

Mascara! I knew I'd forgotten something.

As we'd been chatting, we'd also been casually getting closer together on the love seat. Our shoulders were almost touching now, and our legs were softly gliding over each other, silky calves sliding across silky calves. Slow, sensual movements.

Delicious.

"This wine is yummy," she said.

I nodded. "Yes, it is."

She looked me hard in the eyes.

"Your lips look awfully delicious too."

My tingles ramped up a whole bunch right then and there.

"Would you like to taste some wine from my lips?"

"More than anything."

So we kissed. An unspoken agreement. We moved towards each other and joined our lips, tenderly, softly, introducing ourselves to each other on a different level. The best of levels.

Cynthia stopped after a few minutes and looked at me again.

"How are those tingles going?"

"Oh my god," I breathed out, "they're racing like the Indy 500 right now!"

"Good," she replied. "A sexy CD always takes her best pics when she's horny. She glows into the camera's eye when she's excited."

"Really?"

"Let's start, and I'll show you."

Over the course of the next ninety minutes, she took pics of me. We began as I was dressed then, sitting on the love seat with a glass of wine in my hands. Just before she started, she went to her purse and pulled out a small plastic case, which she unzipped and pulled out a tube.

"You need some mascara, sweetie," she instructed.

Once she had my eyelashes done, she posed me. I didn't have to move much, as it turns out, since my natural pose was almost perfect, but she did get me to adjust one of my wrists. And try not to smile so much.

Which was actually difficult, since I was so elated and overjoyed at what was happening that anything other than a massive smile seemed inappropriate. Still, she's the pro.

Several shots were taken of me fully clothed and fully made up. She took a few of me standing as well, on my high heels, my bum just naturally pushed out in the most feminine of ways. She commented on my posture, and how girly it was, and I told her that between the heels making me walk in a feminine manner and the butt plug in my ass-pussy helping, it just felt natural to stand that way. It felt right.

It felt like me.

The smile of her face was beaming!

"You're wearing a plug?" she asked.

I nodded, proudly.

She nodded back. "Me too!"

I laughed. "You're quite the slut as well, aren't you?"

She put on a pretend offended face.

"Me? I am so!"

We moved to my bedroom, and I changed clothes, at her suggestion, after she'd scanned my closet and dressers. I modelled four different outfits for her, and she continued to pose me, something standing and sometimes sitting, sometimes reclined on the bed.

At first, after a shot she particularly liked, she'd come to me and show me on the flat screen at the back of her digital SLR camera. The first few times, she'd stand close to me, but not actually touching, and I'd ooh and aah at what I saw. She had the eye, that's for sure. Over the course of the hour, the more shots she took and showed me, the closer she'd stand to me. Soon we were touching, shoulder to shoulder. She smelled so feminine and sexy, and I made my mind up to include perfume on my next shopping trip. That went on for a few more shots, and then the next time she wanted me to see the shot she'd taken she came to me and hugged me with one arm, her other arm holding the camera for me to look at. Her left hand sensuously rubbed my shoulder, and then moved slowly down my back, rubbing and caressing all the way, until she finally rested her hand on my ass.

YUM!

After the fourth outfit, we returned to the beginning, with a minor variation. She asked me if I wanted a few really intimate shots, and when I wholeheartedly said yes she told me strip down to just my lingerie and heels, and lay on the bed.

The bustier was by far the sexiest garment I owned, and the matching panties were tented and had a giant wet spot on them. She posed me in different ways. Sitting, on the bed, my legs drawn up under me, holding the glass of wine. Laying back onto the big pile of pillows, my legs at first together and lady-like, the next few shots with my legs spread, lewdly, showing off my excitement, arching my ass up so there would be a hint of my pussy showing, my eyes reflecting my delight and joy and pride, relishing in the idea that anyone looking at these pics would see my excitement, see my pleasure, see my ardor.

She had me roll onto my tummy, and took pics of my ass. Legs closed, then legs spread. Hips up, presenting myself to my dream lover, with my back arched in the most natural way possible, it was impossible to tell it wasn't a real woman's ass. After a few more she showed me one, and it was fantastic! In the G-string panties, my ass looked fucking amazing! At one point, she stood at the side of the bed, me on the bed, my head close to her, my body stretching away, propped up on my two elbows, grinding my little cock into the softness of the duvet cover. I looked up at her, as she requested, and she took some more shots, which she kept saying were "so sexy". I licked my lips. She said that made them "fucking sexy", wet and shiny and alive.

My head was at her groin level, and I could see how my body and my femme nudity were affecting her. Her dress was tented, and my mind's eye remembered back to the pics she'd sent me earlier. I knew what her cock looked like, and my tingles told me I needed to find out what it felt like, and more importantly what it tasted like.

And, of course, my new life motto jumped into my brain.

If the tingles are a-struttin this gurl is a-sluttin!

And I remembered my life lesson from earlier today too.

I will always always always follow my tingles.

I reached up and gently caressed her cock, on the outside of her dress. She hummed a delightful murmur, and focussed her camera on my face.

"Go ahead, sweetie," she cooed, "if you want to."

"Just try to stop me," I said, and began rubbing her with my full hand. After a few moments, and few more shots, I slid my hand up under her dress, and began touching her directly through her panties. They felt silky and sexy and oh so wet.

So I pulled her dress up, and threw the hem of it over my head, disappearing under the material and instantly mouthing her shaft between my painted lips. Muffled as my hearing was, I distinctly heard her gasp. Is there a sexier sound?

Cynthia let me taste her precum through the material of her panties. Tangy and sweet and oh so delicious. All the while she kept taking pictures, doing slight adjustments on the lens before each one. Then she stopped me.

I pulled my head out from under her dress and looked up at her.

"Is there something wrong?" I asked.

"No, sweetie, no," she cooed, "I really want to play with you too. I just think it would be so amazingly fucking erotic to have pics of us, you know, getting to be the best of friends. Would you like those kinds of pics?"

I almost hurt my neck nodding so fast.

"These will be your pictures. I'll download everything onto a memory stick and then wipe the memory in my camera. Unless you will allow me to keep copies. It's up to you. But this if for your profile pic, as well as your own personal enjoyment. You can post as few or as many of the shots online that you want. You don't have to black my face out if you do decide to post them."

She suggested I run out and refill our wine glasses, while she set up the cameras.

"Cameras?" I asked. "Plural?"

"You'll see."

When I returned to my bedroom she was ready, and she explained what she'd done. Her road case was empty and tucked in a corner of the room. The camera she'd been using up to now was on my dresser, aimed and focussed on the bed, and programmed to take a picture every minute, and every fifth shot would zoom in. She explained that the randomness of it was that sometimes you got good shots and sometimes you didn't, but it beat having to get up and set the camera up again after each shot.

Then she showed me a second camera, one she'd set up on a shelf on the wall right of the bed, next to the bathroom door. She explained that it was set up like the first camera, one pic a minute and each fifth one a zoom in.

And then she showed me the third camera, propped up on a couple of books piled onto an office chair she'd pulled out. It was on the left side of the room, and close to the bed. She explained that it was set up to take video. Again, a lot of it would probably not be usable, depending on the action, but I might get some short clips of sexy good fun, and again, I could post them publicly or not. Entirely up to me.

We began standing at the foot of the bed. Her in that amazing dress, me in my lingerie. She set all the cameras going, and then we got going.

We kissed, soft romantic gurl-on-gurl kisses, warming ourselves up.

We progressed to sitting on the edge of the bed, with more kissing and caressing and touching and feeling. If the cameras were making any noise at all, like shutters opening and closing, I didn't hear them. I was oblivious to everything else in the world. My entire existence was her, in pleasing her, in being pleased by her, in the erotic giving and taking that lovers have, when they're in sync and their passions are joined.

Then we got serious.

Without a word being spoken, she ended up shedding her dress and stunning me with her canary yellow bra and panties, and her black fishnet hose.

My tingles were pulsing at that point, like standing next to the biggest speaker at a rock concert, and feeling the drilling methodical mechanical bass notes, one after the other, each rippling with vibrations through my body.

We effortlessly ended up on the bed, in our lingerie and heels, slowly taking each other's panties off, each of us lying on our side, head to toe. And we effortlessly slipped into my very first sixty-nine with another gurl.

Her cock was as I remembered it. About five inches long, the same as mine, but otherwise so much different than mine. The skin was much darker, on her cock. It looked almost angry. The rest of her seemed the same as me, but not her cock. She was uncut, with a really large foreskin, which was holding back what looked like a river of precum.

The only words spoken were just as my mouth was moving to take her in. She grabbed hold of my shaft, and licked my cockhead. One delightful, gentle swipe, and then I heard her swallow whatever pre-cum she'd gotten followed by a brief moan, and then a furtive prayer.

"Oh lord, bless us sexy CD sluts for our passion and our love, and thank you for the cock we're about to receive. Amen."

I echoed her `amen', and then we both began loving each other.

At just five inches, I could fit her entire cock in me, the whole head and shaft in my mouth, right down to where my nose was nuzzling her hairless balls, and she went just into the opening of my throat, but without me having to work at it. She was just long enough that I didn't gag with her totally inside me, and I aimed to keep her delicious gurl-cock inside me forever!

We both sucked, and kissed, and fondled, and slurped, and I found myself hoping the movie camera had a microphone on it so you could hear the squishy sounds our mouths were making on each other, and our increased and passionate breathing. We ran our hands over each other, continuously, delighting in the feel of our smooth skin, our hairless legs encased in the silkiest of lingerie, our bellies and bras and tits. She took great delight in seeking out my nipples, inside the A cups of my bustier, and squeezing them.

Every time she did that it shot arrows through my soul.

I learned every bump and ridge of her penis. With my tongue, and lips, and mouth. I became as familiar as one person can get with another person, tasting their musk and essence straight from the source. Her cock was delicious. I also learned every contour of her balls in my fingers, my eyes closed from the rapture I was feeling. It was addictive. It was superlative.

I couldn't wait to taste her load.

And as it turns out, I didn't have to.

Just a few minutes more of exquisite fellatio, and I was rewarded, with the nectar of the gods.

I heard her gasp around my cock, her entire body flexed, which gave me just enough time to slide my hand over to the base of her butt-plug and wiggle it, moving whatever was inside her channel back and forth, stimulating her unexpectedly, and she came.

One gigantic rope of cum shot into my mouth. It was huge, for one spurt. It almost filled every single nook and cranny in my mouth, sliding between my teeth and gums and tongue, swirling and burbling. I'd never imagined anyone could cum that much in one go. It was a lot of cum. It was followed by a second squirt, very tiny and almost anti-climactic. And then there was no more.

But what I did have in my mouth, coating my tongue and taste buds, was the sexiest elixir known to mankind. Or womankind.

Viscous, gelatinous cum. Creamy and pungent and unbearably delicious.

I rolled her load around in my mouth, savouring it, relishing it, before swallowing all of it in one gulp. The feeling of that salty blob sliding down my throat and into my belly was unlike any I've ever felt before.

One I wanted again and again!

The second her dreamy cum hit my tummy, my whole lower body lurched, and without planning on it shoved my cock all the way into her slutty mouth, and began pumping my orgasm into her.

WHAM!

Like being hit by a train. Cumming and cumming, I pumped a lot of sweet gurl cream into her.

She had been doing this sort of thing a lot longer than I had, and had had far more cock than me, and even with all that experience she still couldn't get it all. There was just so much of it. She swallowed what she could, which was a lot, and the rest spilled out of her red lips, around the shaft of my cock, and slid down her left cheek in a very noticeable steam.

Then we just lay there, catching our breaths, both of us revelling in the taste of cum in our mouths, swallowing again and again to get every last drop. I cleaned her cock of a few post-orgasmic dribbles, as she did mine.

Moving up to face her and hold her, I saw some of my cum on her cheek, and licked it off. Then we shared it, in the most wonderful afterglow kiss. Soft, gentle, with significant meaning behind it, trading little drops of cum from my mouth to hers and back again.

We cuddled, and held each other, kissing when the mood struck us. No words were spoken. We were in nirvana, and there was no need or desire to cut it short. Coming down.

Finally, she looked at me, and smiled.

"Mmmmmmm, that was wonderful," she whispered, and gently kissed my lips.

"My thoughts exactly!"

"You sure cum a lot!"

I giggled. "Only because you made me so excited. And Cynthia, I know I'm not the world's biggest expert, but wow! Your cum is delicious! It tastes different than what I've had so far."

She nodded. "Everyone's is different. Some cum is bitter, some can be. Some can be sweet. Some is runny, some is lumpy. It more or less depends on the man's diet. It's unique and a new experience, every different cock you blow."

"As I'm discovering."

Then she giggled. "It's just too bad we're both bottoms, because now neither one of us is going to get fucked tonight!"

I laughed. "I'd go and knock on Vladimir's door right now, if you weren't a lesbian. I'm sure he'd satisfy both of us."

"Honey, you still can, if you want."

"Hell no," I said. "Right now, this is where I need to be. With you, my newest friend and lover. For the first, but hopefully not the last time! Snuggling and cuddling after the most amazing fun!"

She assured me it would most definitely NOT be out last time together.

About an hour later, she'd downloaded all three cameras onto my laptop. She'd offered to wipe their memories clean, but I said no. I told her to keep the pics, and the vid. If she wanted to post anything publicly, I was totally okay with that. She told me she'd probably edit the video, make a little production out of it, but that she wouldn't show it to anyone until she had my blessing.

The idea of being in a sexy porn movie put me over the moon, feeling beside myself with joy.

Who wouldn't be?

Two sexy CD sluts dressed in the finest feminine lingerie, kissing and cuddling and then sucking each other off? C'MON! I had no worries or concerns about anyone in the world seeing it.

It was beautiful. It was natural. And it was the true me.

My real self.

She made me promise to call her on Saturday morning, so I could tell her all the details of my date Friday night with Brad. Girlfriends do that, she said. Then she said she might have something to talk about with me too, but she wouldn't elaborate.

Just before she left to go home, she stopped, bent over and fiddled with her leg, and then walked over to me and put her ankle bracelet on my leg.

"For you, sweetie," she said, "you deserve it."

I watched her walk down the hall to the elevator, dressed as the sexy woman she is, I admired her. And it made me want to go public, to have the guts enough to show the world the feminine me, the sexy me.

To show Jessica to the world.

I woke up bright and early Friday morning, with enough time to shower and shave and slip into lingerie and then my business clothes and still have time to begin looking at the pics she'd taken of me. The first few were amazing, and I immediately uploaded one to my profile at the CD Chat site. I'd do my other profiles and the other kinky sites later.

In the early afternoon, I logged onto my Hotmail account and had twenty-eight messages! Six were spam, but the rest were from new friends. Cynthia sent three, congratulating me on which pic I'd chosen, and promising me I'd get lots of good responses. She was right. I had lots of positive messages from sisters all over the world, and a few gentlemen too. I was absolutely on cloud nine!

But I didn't let myself get too distracted. After all, Jessica had a date, and to show herself to the world. Friday evening, after an otherwise uneventful day at work, I did just that.

Originally, I'd planned to drive to Brad's in my boy clothes, and get dressed and made up there. But after my evening with Cynthia, in awe of her openness and pride in being public with her dressing, I decided to do the same. I vowed to bring Jessica to the world.

Brad had told me to arrive at his place anytime. So as the clock struck seven I reached to knock on the front door. I'd driven all the way over there fully dressed. My first time in public. So I made sure to be extra clean, inside and out, and as smoothly shaved as a newborn.

I was wearing my Jennifer Aniston wig again, which was a little more brunette than blonde, and fully made up, with smoky eye shadow, and including mascara this time. A cashmere sweater, which the manufacturer calls charcoal grey but what looks black to me. I ordered it to be tight, just the way I like it. A string of gleaming white pearls hanging around my neck. My knee-length pencil skirt was very high-waisted, above my belly button, and velvety looking, the colour of camel's hair. It made my hips look much more womanly. And the color contrast with the dark sweater was awesome!

Underneath, a simple yet sexy bra and panty set, both lavender, with lace trim. My legs were wrapped in silky lace-top thigh-highs, and my pumps were lavender too, with my lowest three-inch strapless heels, since I didn't want to be taller than Brad.

I was wearing my new ankle bracelet.

CD SLUT.

I had a small clutch purse with my keys and wallet in it, as well as the far more important lipstick, for touch-ups, and a spray bottle of perfume I'd bought on the way home. And one other thing too. Over my arm I'd draped a raincoat, just in case the weatherman was correct today.

The tingles that blasted through me going out my front door were unparalleled. Just locking the door, turned with my back to the hall as everyone does, knowing that most of my neighbours could look out their peep holes and see me, dressed as I truly wanted to be, was the most invigorating and thrilling experience. Ever.

I can't even begin to describe how sinfully delicious it was walking to the elevator. The narrowness of the long pencil skirt meant I had to take very small steps, which I quickly realized made me wiggle my hips even more! How fucking awesome!

Reality, however, can sometimes set in, and I wasn't entirely prepared for driving a car wearing high-heels. It took some getting used to, and my foot slid off the gas pedal a couple of times, making me look like a new driver trying to learn how to shift a standard transmission car.

Mine was an automatic.

Finally, I was there. I remembered how to get there, the house, and big property, of course. How could I ever forget? It's where it all began for Jessica. It's where one sexy pair of panties opened up the doors to a new existence, a new level of consciousness. A new plane of reality. The place where my world became whole.

The house where I lost my virginity.

As I was reaching to knock on the door, it opened. As it swung, I got to see Brad, kissing his wife goodbye. Kissing Carol goodbye.

They both smiled and murmured "have fun" to each other, and then Carol turned to go out, but only got one step when she saw me standing there. Then Brad's head swivelled, and he saw me. His eyes went wide, first from being startled and then morphing into instantaneous desire.

Then I looked at Carol. She stood there, looking me up and down, wearing the absolutely sexiest maroon full-length skirt, and a simple white blouse, made of a material that was almost see-through but not quite. It was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. So while I couldn't actually see anything like colour or shade, the shape and size of her nipples and areolas were clearly evident. Already pronounced, they seemed to grow as my eyes swept up past them to her eyes.

Which were now staring right directly into mine.

For a second or two, I began to experience some anxiety. How would she react? I mean, intellectually I know she knows, about me and about the fact I'm coming over tonight to be with her husband while she's out having Hazel lez out for her. But still, she might not be ready to actually see Brad's first bisexual lover in all of his glory. What if I was too early? What if she'd been planning on being long gone before I ever got there? Maybe she didn't want to see her husband's gay fuck toy? Might it be easier to accept? Out of sight, out of mind, and all that?

My worries were building, when she finally spoke.

"Wow," she said, drawing the syllable out to last about ten seconds.

I looked at Brad, who was bouncing between staring open-mouthed at me and eagerly watching his wife's reaction. Maybe he was having the same worries I was.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Jessica."

"Jessica," she repeated, still just starting at me, analyzing me.

Finally, after a very long pause, she smiled.

"He's fucking gorgeous, Brad!" she blurted.

All three of us laughed at that. The ice was broken.

"Thank you," I replied.

"Oh honey," she said, moving to me and air-kissing me like women do, on both cheeks, and then holding my shoulders in her hands and gazing into my eyes, "you're really into this, aren't you?"

I nodded, fast and enthusiastically.

She pulled me to her, and hugged me, her large pendulous real breasts pressing into my small little buds. At that moment I desperately found myself swimming in a sea of desire to have tits of my own.

Her head was next to mine, and she whispered into my ear.

"Jessica, Bradley wanted me to suck him off his morning, when the alarm went off, and normally I absolutely love sucking him off. But I said no. I told him I wanted him to save it all for you."

I whispered into her ear. "Thank you, Carol."

"His balls are full of cum, sweetie. Enjoy!" Her voice was breathy and quiet in my ear.

"Mmmmm, I can't wait to savour it and swallow it all down."

"Good girl."

Then she let me go, and took a step out the door. Then she stopped, and turned back.

"Brad?"

He looked at her, a little hesitant. "Yeah babe?"

She put a bit of a scolding look on her face.

"Aren't you going to say hello to your lovely date?"

For a few moments he just stood there, searching for what she might have meant by that.

She looked over at me and said, "Men. Sheesh!"

Then she turned back to him. "Honey, when a woman goes all out and dresses like Jessica has, perfect hair and makeup and shoes, she wants her man to show her his appreciation. You know," she stopped and made a motion with her arm suggesting moving him towards me, "she went to a lot of trouble for you, so she wants her date to tell her she looks beautiful, give her a hug, you know, and maybe a kiss?"

It took him a couple of more seconds, but then he got it. Then a gigantic smile came out, and he walked to me in two steps, whispering "you are absolutely gorgeous this evening" before wrapping his arms around me and gathering me up into the hottest kiss. His lips practically pounced on mine, my head bent up slightly, his tongue insistently prying my lips open and going for my tonsils, and I sucked on that meat lovingly. He pressed his body into mine, his front into my front, and I could feel his cock moving, growing, and coming to life.

After a minute or so, we broke our kiss. His arms were still around me though, making me feel warm and wanted and loved. We both looked over at Carol, who was standing there watching us, admiring us. The look on her face was joyful, and radiant.

"Oh my god," she finally said, "Hazel's face is going to get soooooo wet tonight. I'm already dripping, just watching you two."

All three of us laughed again, sharing the erotic moment.

Then she blew us both a kiss, told us to have fun, and started walking to her car.

"Carol?" I spoke out.

She stopped and turned to me. "Yes, honey?"

I reached into my clutch purse and pulled out a pair of panties. Her panties. The one's I'd more or less stolen from her, right out of her panty drawer. The ones that Brad found me holding in my hand when he'd walked into their master bedroom that fateful night, last Saturday.

The panties that got absolutely soaked in cum.

Brad's cum.

And mine, too.

Front and back.

"These are yours. I laundered them."

She smiled, a wicked lustful one, her teeth gleaming white.

"Sweetie, you keep them. They belong to you now, not me. And they'll always remind you of that night, that great night, and this great man we get to share."

I was overwhelmed and overjoyed at her enlightenment, her open-mindedness, her acceptance. My tingles ramped up again, like another floor being added on a never-finished skyscraper, soaring higher and higher into the clouds.

"I love you."

THE END.