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From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)
Subject: New TG: The New Secretary   by Amy Brett  (08/11)
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Hi.

  This nifty submission is not included yet, but it will be in next
one during the upcoming weekend. This story is a refelction of the
current jobmarket and conclusions which may occur under strange and
rare situations. So folks be happy if you had a job.

  As usual I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If
you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then
welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null.

  If you are an author and wish to remain anonymouns or just try to
avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your
stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands for
story postings and for nothing else.

Enjoy the story.

Ciao
	Nostrumo

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

8___The_New_Secretary_______________________________________by_Amy_Brett_



"You'll sleep well tonight though and, unless there's some unexpected
bleeding or you don't follow your doctor's orders, we'll be able to let you
out of here about this time tomorrow morning."

"We'll take turns taking care of her, Amy, if that's okay with you," Roger
said.  "I'll take some half days I've got coming and I'll talk to Bill about
giving you some half days.  And, according to Sam, she'll be okay alone
during the day by about Thursday."

"I'll take the bandages off Friday morning before my flight back to the Big
Apple and we can have a little fun," Sam said.

"What's that," she said with a sleepy, drugged slur.

"A surprise.  You'll have to wait." He grinned.  "Between now and then, my
colleagues here have asked me to do a few tuck and rolls for them.  Show
them how it's done in the big city."
18. Chapter


I told Bill about my weekend with Sam and, a surprise to me, he said that
when we were together, he hoped I would be all his.  When we're not, what I
do is up to me.

But it was two o'clock coffee time and he was sitting knee to knee with me
as we talked.  I wasn't exactly wildly surprised when he unbuttoned the
front of my blouse the few buttons it had from my cleavage to my waist, and
began playing with my breasts.

"Tell me what you and Sam did this weekend." He asked questions and led my
tale, drawing out every detail, making me relive it almost minute by minute
and getting me so hot he could have done anything to me but stop.

Of course, he didn't stop until, my back turned to him as he sat on the edge
of the chair, he filled me with his pent up come from the long weekend
without.

                                * * *

The extent of the care I provided Paula during the week was keeping her in
bed, making the food, emptying the catheter bag and replacing it, and doing
an occasional bedpan.  And that was only Tuesday and Wednesday.  Thursday
morning she insisted that I help her to the bathroom so she could do all
that herself.

Sam literally didn't have time to take me out again except for a couple of
drinks Thursday night.  He said he'd made a fortune during the week on the
operations but that he was exhausted.  I didn't mind that he took me home
fairly early, yawning as he drove, and only kissed me for a few minutes
before walking me to the door.

At nine o'clock the next morning, he was at the door looking his old self
and ready to take off Paula's bandage.

Two minutes and a pair of household scissors took care of the bandage.  A
dishpan of hot water with antiseptic soap took care of a small amount of
dried blood with her cringing with each touch but watching as avidly as I
was.  The catheter came out easily.

Then, having her poise her ass at the edge of the bed, he used a tube shaped
stainless steel tool to look into her new hole before he used a packaged
douche, with both our help, to clean her out.  Looking again, he repeated
with another douche loaded with the antiseptic soap.  The third time, he
seemed satisfied with the results and instructed her to follow up with
douches several times a day for a week and at least once a day for at least
another two weeks, explaining that it was a good way to stay fresh even
after.

"Okay.  Now lay back on the bed with your legs spread comfortably.  Shut
your eyes.  Spread wider.  That's it," he said.  "Now I want you to tell me
when you feel something.  Okay?"

Seen over his shoulder this way, it was amazing how much it looked like a
shaved woman's pussy.  Except, as he'd said in the hospital, it was perfect
except for the healed tiny marks of the absorbed stitches.

The biggest difference was that she wasn't the least bit sexually excited
and her clit was the size of the tip of my little finger and mounded between
her labia a quarter inch.

I saw that he put a large dollop of an antiseptic creme on his finger and
softly rubbed it along the edge of her labia from top to bottom.

"I feel that," she said, her mouth opening with surprise.  He nodded and
replace the spent creme.  He did the same with the other puffy lip.  "That,
too.  It feels good.  Ah, cool but good."

Replenished, his finger traced the fan-like folds of her labia minora
depositing the white ointment as well as making her lick her lips and
squirm.

"I feel that, too," she sighed.  I noticed that her clit was enlarging with
the simple manipulation.  He touched the top of her labial trench and she
pumped up to meet his finger and moaned.  "Yes."

This time he put quite a lot on his finger and touched at the now opened
pussy.

"This?" he said and she nodded jerkily.  "This?"

"Yes.  I feel it.  It feels good."

He slid the big finger he'd had in my butt several times during the weekend
inside her as far as it could go and moved it around from side to front to
side to back and back around eliciting excited yeses in every direction.
She was licking her lips more and looking more and more like the old
insatiable Paula.  She sighed as he pulled his finger free.

"Okay," he said, putting some more of the creme on his thick finger.  Then,
as if administering to a nasty blister, her rubbed it onto her clit.  She
gasped and arched her center up to his finger, vibrating with the obvious
sensuous feelings.

Then he was rubbing in a more or less steady up and down rhythm that was
sending her higher and higher until she finally lifted her feet off the bed
altogether, spreading her legs almost straight across, screamed and grabbed
at his hand.  At first it seemed that she was stopping him for doing it
more.  But then she was holding it in place as she pumped her center against
it instead.

Both Sam and I could see the muscles of her pussy clasping shut tightly as
she came, loosening, and tightening again.  She was squealing with it and
looked at sexy as any woman I've ever seen.

She settled somewhat and he stopped, pulling his hand away from her.

"Okay.  Now you have to sweet talk Roger or Amy into doing that at least
three times a day," he said.

"Can't I do it myself if I want?" she asked.

"Sure.  But it's a lot more fun if Roger or Amy do it.  And they won't be
too hard to convince." He laughed.

"You'll see a little more blood in the douche for a few days probably.  You
are under no circumstance at all to have sex with a man, other than the kind
you just experienced, for at least two weeks.  Absolute.  Got that?"

"Yes," she said, finally opening her eyes.

"If there is any blood after a couple of days, I have the name of a doctor
you should call.  Try to get the antiseptic creme as far inside as you
possibly can.  It will migrate upward somewhat just with your body heat but
you should try hard to reach the furthest parts.  Right?"

She nodded.

"If your finger won't do it, or Roger's or Amy's, get a small diameter dildo
and use that but be very careful and don't get a large one."

He grinned.  "At least until you're fully healed.  In a couple of months,
you can buy a two foot long black one with a massive head if you want."

We helped her back into a pair of cotton panties and under the covers where
she seemed to immediately fall asleep.

"If there are no further questions," he said with a big smile.  "I have very
important things to do."

He led me into my bedroom, threw my skirt out of his way, and fucked me hard
for the next half hour.

"God, these exams get me so hot," he sighed after his second climax.  "I'll
bet you can have some fun showing Roger just the right way to do the
antiseptic, can't you?"

I giggled.

"I intend to," I told him.

"I'm coming back for a conference about a month from now," he said more
seriously.  "Decide if I can do your operation while I'm here and, if you
do, try to decide on some dimensions."

"Dimensions?"

"Sure.  Made to order pussies.  Fat ones, thin one, ones as big as your arm
" he laughed.  "Really.  Big labia.  Small.  Huge clit, medium or small.
Tight.  Loose.  You name it and I'll make it for you."

                                * * *

Except for moving into the kitchen to eat breakfast or the living room or
bathroom, I kept Paula in bed for the weekend and, with Roger's extended
visits, helped her minister to her "wounds" on a regular basis.

She claimed that the itching from the healing was getting to her but Sunday
she had me do it an even dozen times.  Once, she was standing up, holding my
hand and arm, and did virtually all the work by pumping against my fingers
so hard I wondered that it didn't hurt, even with the soothing creme.

She went back to work Monday morning and, for the next two weeks, I had to
remind her that she absolutely couldn't make love for that time, half a
dozen times a day.  I've never seen a woman so hot to trot.

Flatteringly, when the day finally came (midnight two weeks exactly), she
sucked me to hardness and forced me to be her first.  I didn't have any
problem initiating the new pussy and pronounced it the best fuck I've ever
had with a woman.

It was an easy call because it was the first woman who'd ever had a dozen
orgasms before my first and who could use her pussy like a third hand to
massage you and milk you from tip to root without pumping in and out at all.

                                * * *

It surprised me how quickly time passed.  Particularly since I was spending
so much time alone.

Paula was spending most nights with Roger now.  She didn't have to explain
why since she'd told me how good she thought Roger was at meeting her needs
now.  It didn't take more than once of having her tell me what he did to her
one work night, to understand.  He was innovative and, apparently, always
willing and able.

On the other hand, she would do absolutely anything he asked and innovated
in ways he didn't think of himself.

I worried a little that she would give so freely that he would tire of her.
I knew that would devastate her and, probably, throw her into a search for a
replacement that could get her in serious trouble.  But, so far, she was
doing all right.

That's probably why Paula's invitation to Roger's party in Sam's honor came
as a surprise to me.  But was it that I'd just let the time get away from me
or was it that I didn't want to think about Sam's return to town and the
necessity of making my decision about surgery.

My decision had become several times more difficult when, during the time I
was taking care of Paula, she told me that Sam's fees were very high but
that Roger had gotten a discount and paid for it for her.  So now my
decision was both whether I wanted the surgery and if I wanted to go in debt
to get it.  Either I would have to borrow the money somehow or tell Bill
about it and see what ideas he had.  I didn't want to ask Bill for the money
even as a loan.

I made love with Bill because I wanted to.  Not because of anything I could
get from it like money.

Since her clothes were still at my apartment, Paula came over about noon
Saturday and told me that Roger was supposed to pick Sam up at the airport
about two.  We relaxed for a while and then started messing with each
others' hair and nails while we talked.

It was probably three when Roger called and talked to Paula for a while.
Her end of the conversation was totally uninforming since it was smiles,
grunts, and yes and no answers.  She did look at me every now and then to
answer a question.  They did a little kiss-kiss to end their conversation.

"Listen, honey?" she said after she'd hung up.  "I don't know what you're
thinking about the surgery, but if you want it, Sam's got a way for you to
pay for it."

"How?"

"He'll tell you at the party tonight.  Okay?"

"Do you know what he's talking about?"

"Huh uh.  Not really.  Roger said it would be fun and that you'd probably
want to do it.  But that's all."

She stopped.

"And he suggested a way to dress for both of us.  I'll show you."

Makeup and clothes could have taken fifteen minutes but we took our time,
trying on several things before we finally made decisions.

Both of us wore garter belts, our nicest sheer stockings, and our sexiest
panty and bra sets.  My set had been very hard to find and, since Bill had
decided I shouldn't wear underwear in the office, I hadn't worn them before.
Unlike most that are easy to find, the panties were french cut and tiny but
opaque while the bra was equally revealing but provided support without
cover.  My nipples were plainly visible through them.  I'd grown some more
since I'd bought the set and the bra was now a little tight.

My red dress was sleeveless with an open neckline that showed my cleavage
off to best advantage.  The waist was tight but the short skirt was full.
When it was buttoned, the top was tight too but could be unbuttoned to show
increasing amounts of cleavage.

My red shoes were the highest and least comfortable I own, with four and a
half inch heels that taper to a needle point.  The toes just cover mine to
another sharp point and they're held on by quarter inch ankle straps with
tiny gold buckles.

Paula's outfit was similar in sparkling white, the dress a knit sleeveless
shirt-cut with big buttons all the way down the front.  She'd gotten her
panty and bra set from Frederick's of Hollywood.  It was sheer white lace
that really covered nothing of what it touched.  The bra did not touch her
nipples or areolas but only lifted and shaped from below and the sides.

I thought her white spike heels looked more uncomfortable than mine since
they were higher and there was less of them.

Paula drove her car to the party and Roger met us at the door with a huge,
appreciative smile as he looked us up and down.  Sam came into the foyer as
Roger was hugging Paula affectionately.  He enfolded me and kissed me hard
for a minute.  Then he asked Roger if he could use his den for a few minutes
and led me down the ground floor hallway to it.

Sitting on the front edge of Roger's desk in the den and holding me in front
of him with his hands on my waist, he talked.

"Amy," he began.  "I know that you're considering the surgery.  I plan it
for Monday."

"I'm not sure, Sam.  One of the problems is that I don't have the money and
..."

He interrupted me by lifting a hand.

"That's why I'm talking to you now.  If you'll do something for me today,
you can forget the cost."

Since I knew that it was very expensive, I wondered what I could possibly do
that would earn that sort of money.  I wasn't sure I wanted to hear.

"The people at the party tonight are friends of mine or Roger's.  But
they're also either potential clients or people who have some influence on
other people who are considering my services.  Mine or Roger's private
business.

"They have some rather ...  unique interests, let's say.  Roger is talking
to Paula about this, too, and I'm sure she'll go along with it."

"What exactly ...?" He held up a hand again.

"What I want is a little advertising," he said simply.  "I want you to
demonstrate in the way only you can what a beautiful, feminine person you
are now.  I'll introduce you around in a minute.  Just be your lovely self.
Then, as the evening wears on, show a little more of your assets.

"You'll get some offers or perhaps just some attention.  Ultimately, I want
everyone to see your ...  differences.  If you know what I mean."

"You want me to strip?"

"In a way, I guess.  But I'll suggest just how.  All right?" I wasn't so
sure but I shrugged.  "You will provide my before example and Paula the
after.  And some entertainment.

"After your surgery, maybe sometime next month, we'll have another party and
we can do a little follow up.  Okay?"

"And this is enough to pay you for the surgery?" I asked.

"Oh, you'll see that you're uniquely qualified and the deal isn't totally
one sided on my part."

He pulled me close, hugging me and kissing the side of my neck below my ear.

"What do you say?" I shrugged again.

"I'll go along with you for now.  But, well, I'll see."

"You always have the option of stopping." I nodded.  I knew that and planned
to exercise it if I wanted to.  "Let me introduce you to our guests."

He took me by the hand and led me back to the foyer and then into the big
living room.  I smiled to myself when I saw the big overstuffed chair and
the brick wall that reminded me of my first time with Sam.

He led me into the middle of the room and several men stood at our entry.
Quickly, he introduced me to the group of people.  It was obviously a very
upscale group of people and a quick scan showed me a movie star, a
millionaire, and a recognizable playboy.

I didn't catch the names (except of the people I recognized from the
newspapers) but the men all seemed to smile broadly and almost drool as they
shook my hand or nodded from further away.  The women of course stayed
seated and smiled and nodded when they were introduced.  All were in
couples.

The movie star was with her highly advertised younger husband who had been
her weight trainer or tennis coach or something.  The older millionaire was
with a beautiful woman I thought was probably a model by her shape and good
looks.  The playboy was with a rather hard looking woman about his age who
spared me the smallest smile.

Another couple looked like a banker and his middle aged wife who could
obviously use Sam's talents for the beginnings of wrinkles around her eyes
and lips.  His heavy jowls were probably beyond Sam's duties.  And the final
couple was a prosperous looking man in his mid-30's, probably a stock broker
or something similar, and a woman almost his age.  She was quite pretty but
for a broad nose that seem displaced somehow.  Obviously that was the
subject of Sam's interest.

Paula sat on the edge of the couch as Roger rubbed her back with one hand, a
drink in the other.

I thanked a man in a short waiter's coat who held a round tray with a scotch
and water on it.  The banker held up his empty glass and the waiter took it.

Sam led me to the couch where there was space.  He sat next to the arm,
where he had obviously been sitting before, and I sat next to him beside the
playboy.

Conversations picked up where they had apparently been temporarily suspended
for my introduction but I noticed that even though people looked at each
other to respond to comments, attention still seemed centered on Paula and
me.

"You're an administrative assistant at the same company Roger works for?"
the playboy said beside me.

"Yes.  I've worked for Bill Miller for several months now," I said.

"You've lived here for quite a while?"

"Yes." I didn't want to elaborate too much.

"I get around quite a bit," he noted unnecessarily.  Anyone who read the
newspaper knew that.  "I've never seen you around town.  I'm sure I would
have remembered you if I'd seen you."

"I haven't been out to the discos or anything and just a few times on dates.
Dinner out.  A little dancing." I looked at Sam, wondering if he remembered
our date as well as I did.

My mention of the discos apparently launched him into a discussion of the
local nightspots I couldn't contribute to.  Even as a man I hadn't gone to
these places because they were too expensive for me and really didn't hold
much interest for me anyway.

As I looked at him, the woman on his other side leaned forward slightly to
look at me as well.  A smile played at the corners of her mouth as her eyes
carefully scanned the expanse of my legs below the skirt's hem or looked at
my chest.  When the playboy turned to say something to her, Sam leaned close
to my ear and whispered, "Play with your top button.  After a while, leave
it undone."

I looked around the room and began doing as he'd said.  I noticed that,
though not obvious about it, everyone at least glanced my way and noticed my
fingers on the button.

"So Amy," the banker said from the next couch.  I turned my attention to
him.  "How do you like working with Bill Miller?"

"I've enjoyed it so far," I said.  "He's a good boss and has given me
responsibility for several things that are challenging and interesting."

I had gestured with the hand that had been playing with the button and, I
hoped, it looked natural enough when I left the button undone.  I felt
myself blush as the banker's eyes wandered from mine down to the slight
opening at the top of the dress.  I knew it would reveal another two inches
of cleavage.

"Do you work closely with Roger?" he asked.

"Not really," I said, playing with the next button down.  "But Paula's my
roommate and works for him, of course."

"I've worked with Roger now for the last, oh, what has it been Roger?  Five
years?" I let go of the button, leaving it open.

"Almost," Roger answered.  I noticed that Paula was playing with the second
button down the front of her dress, the top one already open.  When it was
open, I noticed Roger lean toward her and her next target changed from the
next button down her front to the bottom one on her skirt.

Everyone drank and looked as relaxed and normal as any cocktail party group.
The conversation among the diverse group was as introductory and shallow as
any.  Pictures of the individuals wouldn't have shown anything abnormal
about them just as a tape recording would have been as boring as a recording
of any other in a similar situation.

The only things that would have changed this from any other was that
virtually no one looked at whoever the speaker was at the moment.  They were
all watching either Paula or me and all their eyes were on the progress of
our fingers on the buttons.  It was a very sensuous feeling, all those eyes.
And exceedingly strange.

My more closely spaced and numerous buttons above the waist allowed me
slower revelation.  Paula's skirt front buttons allowed more of her legs to
be revealed as well as the insides of her breasts and the lace of her bra.

I was watching the banker's gentle and spreading smile as he watched my
fingers when one of the women moaned in an animalistic low growl.  Since
each of them looked totally capable of having made the sound, I couldn't
tell who had actually done it.

The banker's older wife absently rubbed the front of her dress below which
her nipple rested.  The millionaire's model slowly and rhythmically lifted
and dropped the upper of her crossed legs, rubbing herself I'm sure.  The
stock broker's wife squirmed in her chair.

After two buttons on her skirt, Paula switched back to the top to complete
opening it to her belt.  When she returned to the last two on the skirt, I
reached the waist of my dress.  Sam leaned close to my ear and told me to
work the hem of my skirt up.

Doing it playfully, an inch at a time, I reached the tops of my stockings at
the same time Paula undid the last button and reached for her belt.

I'm not sure how long it had been since someone had said something and I'm
pretty sure no one remembered who had spoken last or what had been said.

When Paula undid her belt, her dress fell open across her lace covered
breasts and Roger held it like a coat as she shrugged out of it.  She
crossed her arms over her thighs, her legs still crossed, but sat now in
only bra, panties, garter belt, stockings, and shoes.

As Sam told me to lift up and pulled my skirt out from under me, I knew I
would be sitting the same way in the next few seconds and wasn't
disappointed.  As soon as he had the skirt out from under me, he moved it up
my sides and over my head as I lifted my arms for him.

"Great tits," a man's voice said softly from across the room while my eyes
were covered by my dress.  When it was free, I tossed my hair and mimicked
Paula's pose.

Since I didn't think it was my turn, it took me by surprise when the playboy
unsnapped the back of my bra but, since I saw it as inevitable, I relaxed
and let him and Sam pull the straps off my shoulders and down my arms.

"Gorgeous!" the same man's voice said.

"Is that your work, Sam?" the model asked.

"I can't take credit for this," he said, lifting my breast and brushing my
nipple distractedly.  "Hormones and nature.  But I can do this kind of work
when it's necessary."

Everyone including me was staring at what he was doing but I was the only
one who was feeling the blasts of nerve impulses his thumb was producing.

Some of the attention moved from me when Roger helped Paula with her bra.
She sat with her hands over her breasts as they asked more questions and Sam
and Roger answered much as they had about mine.  Sam never stopped flicking
my nipple and I was having trouble staying still.

When I stopped his hand, it did what I hadn't really intended because
everyone seemed to look at me again.

"It was getting to me," I explained tentatively and the women, grinning or
nodding, seemed to understand but the men showed signs of not sharing that.
"There's a lot ...  well, it's a turn-on," I tried to explain.

"They're that sensitive?" the playboy asked.  I said they were.  "More than
before the hormones?"

"Oh, yes.  Many times more."

"Sam?  Is that a natural result of the hormones?"

"We have limited research on the broad results of hormone therapy.  But a
local doctor who treated Paula and Amy says that his experience has been
universal."

"That kind of growth?  Is that normal?" the banker asked.

"It seems that the hormones have augmented a native secondary characteristic
with Amy.  Paula's growth is the more frequently observed result."

"You mean Amy's genes built in big tits?" the stock broker said.

"Perhaps it's genetic.  Yes.  But it could also be that there was a latency
that actually augmented the result.  She's still growing, if you can believe
it." There was some general discussion about the size of my breasts that
embarrassed me but pleased me at the same time.

"Can we see the rest?" the woman next to the playboy said.  The first thing
she'd said in quite a while.

"I think so," Sam said without consulting me.  But I knew it was coming.
"Amy?  Would you stand up and take your panties off?"

I gulped.  No one but doctors, Bill, and Paula had seen me since I'd been
taking the hormones.  Being partially naked among a mixed group of fully
clothed people was very strange.  Being the center of attention was very
strange.  Standing now, my fingers vibrating with outright fear, I had to
take a deep, shuddering breath as I pushed the panties down at the sides and
then further down my bottom.

The odd thought was that, though I'd done it at least once every day for
months, I wasn't sure how to take them off.  The problem wasn't physically
getting them off that was simple but preserving my modesty to some small
extent in the process.  Should I sit back down?  Should I stoop down?
Should I just bend over?  Should I lift my leg as I would at home?

I held my legs together as I pushed them off my ass but looked at Sam for
direction before going further.  He motioned down and, as I complied by
pushing them onto my thighs, he leaned forward and took them the rest of the
way to the floor where I could step out of them with just a slight lifting
of one and then the other foot.

I don't think my body could figure out how to react.  My nipples were almost
painfully hard to the extent that they were even pointing upward on the
swollen fields of my areolas.  But there was no comment when I stepped out
of the panties because, for whatever perverse reason, my penis, which had
been settled in the strip of panty back between my legs, was almost
invisibly soft.

Maybe the fear overcame my sexual excitement at being exposed this way.

"Can I see?" the woman next to the playboy, now behind me, asked.  Since no
one else had given me direction, I turned toward her.  She looked at the
conjunction of my legs fixedly but the playboy spoke.

"I thought you said ..." he began but stopped as the woman reached to the
spot and freed my penis from between my legs where it had been nestled.
"Oh."

"It's so little," she said as if I weren't there.

"Amy's actually larger than Paula was," Sam explained.  "No one is terribly
large when they're soft," he continued.  I had the flash of him soft and he
put the lie to his own statement.

She was clinically inspecting my penis and locating my tightened and reduced
scrotum with the red tipped fingers of both hands.  I noticed she was
licking her lips as she did it and that, as much as her manipulation of my
privates, was making it grow.

"Did you shave it?" she asked rather breathlessly.  I told her yes.

"Are you a virgin?" the playboy asked and my eyes flicked to Sam.

"No, she's not," he answered for me to the accompaniment of several chuckles
around the room.

"I didn't mean, did he sleep with a woman," he said.

"Neither did I," Sam said to more chuckles.

"Really," the playboy stated with some surprise, his hand moving to my
bottom and using it to turn me sideways to both of them but accessible to
both as well.  I gasped as he slid a finger into my ass and stroked my
insides with it.  "Something for everybody," he said absently.  I remembered
that there had been some well publicized rumors that he was gay in spite of
always having a beautiful woman on his arm.

"My feelings exactly," the stock broker said from across the room.

"So what are the limits here?" the playboy asked Sam.  Sam just shrugged his
shoulders.  "Do you ...?" he began but Sam reached into his jacket pocket
and pulled out a tube of KY jelly, offering it to the playboy who smiled and
took it, pulling his finger out of me.

He was almost wild as he unfastened his pants and pushed them down to his
knees.  He was hard and very long and narrow to a small head partially
sheathed in uncircumcised skin.  He worked efficiently to coat it with KY as
I watched aghast at the idea of what I thought was going to happen here.  I
apparently wasn't the only one as I heard the banker's wife whisper
something to him and him clearing his throat nervously.

When the playboy had rubbed his hand around his long dick a few times, he
almost absently turned my back to him impersonally and guided me backward
onto it.  He shifted and grunted as he pulled me back onto his lap, fully
encapsulating himself in my butt.

"You selfish son-of-a-bitch," the girl said.  When he'd turned me, he'd
pulled me away from her hands.  Now she moved onto the rug in front of the
couch, pushing both his and my legs further apart.  "He's so cute and tiny."

She grinned up at me as she found my minimal testicles and leaned forward to
take me into her mouth.  The blood drained from my face, I'm sure, when I
looked across the room at all the people looking at me being fucked and
sucked at the same time.

The playboy's hands came around my sides under my arms and squeezed both
breasts at the same time as he began rolling his middle to stoke in and out
of me.

The combination of everything, didn't allow me time to think about anything
or to even consider.  I came in the girl's mouth and, oddly, she never
slowed in her attack, just moaning around me as I sprayed into her mouth.

I hadn't really recovered as I knew they weren't going to stop at that.  He
stroked faster and, I saw, she rubbed wildly between her own legs as she
continued to suck me.

A few minutes later, he pinched my nipples and crushed my breasts in his
palms as he exploded in my bowels.  The woman seemed to orgasm at the same
moment when I again shot off in her mouth.
19. Chapter


I'm sure we were quite a sight.  He seemed to go boneless beneath me and,
coming twice in such short proximity, I did the same against his chest.  The
woman let my rapidly shrinking cock drop from her lips and slumped down with
her head against the inside of my thigh.

I didn't open my eyes when someone across the room said, "Ah, yes," in a way
that I knew came with release.

"Are you ready now to see the result of my work?" Sam's voice at my side
asked.

There was general agreement before he said "Paula?  Please."

I opened my eyes to see Paula stand in front of Sam.

I started to sit up in anticipation of moving back to my place on the couch
but the playboy's hand went across me, cupping the opposite breast gently
and holding me back against him.  The woman raised her head from my thigh
and looked at Paula before partially turning, putting her hand lovingly high
on the inside of my thigh, and leaning her head back with her hair against
my penis and tummy.

Sam helped Paula with her panties just as he had me, letting her step out of
them.

"I had these built specially," Sam said and moved to the coffee table near
the other couch and heavy chairs where the others were sitting.  On his
knees, he fitted what looked much like the stirrups of his examining table
to it.  He placed a small red pillow on the glass top near the edge and
motioned for Paula.

She walked the few steps and let him guide her to sit on the pillow and held
her hand as she lay back on the glass top, reacting to the chilly surface
against her back.  Settled that way, he lifted one leg into a stirrup that I
now saw bent her leg and spread it to a far greater extent than the
examining tables.  When he placed the other leg, she was spread almost
uncomfortably wide, with her new labia and pussy as well as her asshole very
prominently displayed.

Jokingly knee walking back to the end table next to his place on the couch,
he opened a paper bag and removed a ten inch, inch and a half diameter
anatomically correct dildo and held it up for inspection.  There were
several remarks from the other people including a question of whether it had
been part of someone before he did surgery.

Going back to Paula, he placed it at the opening of her new vagina and
gently stroked it in and out, advancing a little with each forward thrust
until he obviously met resistence with only about two inches still sticking
out of her that he used, it seemed, to torture her by twisting and moving it
as he talked.

"We use skin and flesh to construct the vaginal sheath, the labia majora
..." he rubbed the sensitive external lips "...  the labia minora ..." he
stroked the loose, puffy vaginal lips "...  and the clitoris." When he
rubbed the far more sensitive protrusion of her clit, her leg muscles
clenched and her knuckles turned white where her hands were holding her in
place on the table.

"What do you use?" the stockbroker's wife said, interested.

"The penis and scrotum primarily but, as was the case with Paula, sometimes
a small addition is required.  In her case, we took it from the inside of
the gluteus maximus cleavage, here." He indicated her butt between her ass
cheeks, showing the slightly scarred area I hadn't noticed with her before.
"On some others we would use skin from the hip or the inside of the thigh
but we didn't want any visible scarring for Paula."

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