Message-ID: <4529eli$9710021732@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/4529.txt> From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern) Subject: New TG: Girlfriends by Vickie Tern 4/6 Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-Id: <19971002155500.LAA11635@ladder02.news.aol.com> Girlfriends by Vickie Tern 4/6 No bra either. I supposed that when she'd opened her underwear drawer this morning she'd found that the cupboard was already bare of bras, so she'd gone to work without one. Well, I thought, that's OK. Her tits are firm, and that tight tweed suit jacket probably contained any bobble. If she kept it on. She might have asked to borrow one of my bras, I supposed. "Ahhhhhhhhhhh!" she said as she sank down under the bubbles. "Just wonderful, sweetheart, you have no idea!" I was feeling firm, more manly than in months, and decided it was time to play the man of the house. I stood there in the print dress I'd worn today to work and planted my feet, in three inch heeled pumps, because the dress's flare hadn't looked right this morning floating over my two inch business shoes. Then I carefully avoided looking at my cute, neatly made-up face in the mirror, and said, "Tracy. This has gone on long enough. You should quit! I'm serious!" She looked at me carefully. Then suddenly she said in an unexpectedly businesslike voice, "You know, honey? I think we should talk. It's time. Slip into the tub with me, and let's!" She leaned back while I stripped off everything and climbed in, wondering if I should have wiped off my makeup. Then as in the old days she straddled me and wrapped her legs around my hips, and we held each other's waists and kissed softly. My cock stirred under her pussy, and I wondered if it was still possible....I hoped so...but no. It snuggled soft and snug against her pussy's crease, like a kitten against a radiator. We continued to kiss, and I reached for her breasts to soap them down and caress their ripe round globes. She reached for mine. They had grown heavy by now, each a handful to lift. She wriggled her bottom on my lap, and pressed her vulva against me. I remained limp despite the temptation. But it was obvious that her mind was somewhere else, working out a tactful way to tell me something. Then, while we were still wrapped around each other, and soaping each other in the slick warm water, Tracy said in a drifting, mellow voice, as if daydreaming it, "You know my boss, the man who got me my promotion, who keeps me so busy, and has been coming on to me since day one, way back?" I was entranced as her soapy fingers found my nipples and she began running her soapy thumbs over them while lifting the tips of my breasts from underneath. "Has he?" I asked, a little short of breath. My breasts felt sooo exquisite! "I thought we dealt with that back then. You mentioned a harassment suit, and he quit." "No. I mentioned a harassment suit, but he didn't quit." I clamped my mouth shut, anger starting to rise up in me. Tracy was now silent, though her thumbs were so excruciatingly sweet! My groin rose up to press into Tracy's, her thighs pressing against my hips. "So? What about him?" Her eyes never left mine. "Today, honey, he succeeded. He fucked me." I didn't register it at first, she said it so quietly. Then I replayed her voice in my head, and heard the words. "He fucked me." I struggled to think what they might mean. There was nothing else. My heart dived into my stomach. "What?!" I was starting to think, I'll kill him! Taking advantage of my darling that way! As if not hearing me, she hefted my newly rounded tits with her fingers -- they were pendulous now, and they reached out to be held when I leaned forward again without thinking. Then she began again to caress my nipples with her thumbs. She said nothing. She was giving me time to absorb this terrible revelation, and trying to feel whatever I felt. Baffled, angry, jealous, bewildered, devastated, furious. Yet also, under her fingers, delectable. A feeling of delicate femininity spread through me. "What, love?" I said more calmly. I wanted her to go on, but I didn't want to hear her confirm what she'd just said. How could I desire so intensely to melt into her fingertips and yet want to rise up and explode in fury? She said, "He fucked me." Quite calmly, then added as if an afterthought, "And I fucked him back." Without moving, her thumbs continued to devastate me, and without uttering a word or moving a muscle, I went berserk inside! Crazed! Outraged! Blinded! She looked away and then again straight into my eyes, still fingering the tips of my breasts, and said quietly, informatively, "While I was leaning over his desk, looking at some figures he had there, he came up behind me and lifted my skirt, the beige tweed, you know, the one with the matching jacket, and he just plunged his thing all the way into me all at once. We both went crotchless today, love, remember? He was in me and pumping away before I even felt him lift my skirt." I couldn't bear it! I'll kill him! I was thinking. I was trying to ask "And what did you do?" without seeming morbidly curious or enraged, but my throat was too tight to say anything. She looked away as if trying to remember exactly what happened, then added, "And I feel terrible saying this, but it felt so good once he was in me that I didn't want him to stop! So he didn't. He fucked me until he came. I pushed back onto him, and rolled around on him, until I came too." I was indignant, and felt my head about to burst. Yet above all I wanted her to keep caressing my tits! I swallowed. "How long was that?" I then managed to ask. And then felt so ashamed! Why did I need to know? Was I handicapping my wife's rapist for speed? Tracy didn't think my question was at all foolish, She answered it seriously. "Maybe ten minutes, I suppose. After the first few thrusts it felt so good I wanted it to go on and on. Badly. It's been a while since you've been able to put anything real into me like that, and he's more of a man down there than you ever were. Much more." I should have quailed at that, especially because a slight smile crossed her face as she said it, but she continued to lift my tits gingerly with one hand, and to rub my nipple. I couldn't breathe! Her other hand went down between her legs, where my limp prick was squeezed under her pussy, and took it gently in hand, and began to pull on it gently while rubbing on her own clit. My hips tilted upward to press against her. I considered what else I might ask. Did you like it? Obviously she did. Would you do it again? No, that question would betray my terrible vulnerability, my fear that she's found another lover she wants to fuck more than she wants me. She may leave me! I must do something! I was in her arms, but I felt paralyzed! Still quite calm, still looking directly into my face, but now clasping her hands behind my neck, and rotating her clit against my flaccid penis as if revolving on an inserted cock, she went on. "Then he turned and went over to the couch he keeps in the conference area of his office, and he lay down and gestured me over. I was still pretty hot, still dripping his jism and probably my own too, and I felt a little like his whore, which was exciting, you know? And he'd already done his the worst. So I went over and sat on his crotch the way he wanted and let him play with my tits. Then I took off my bra and bent over his face so he could suck them. His mouth felt warm. The way your pussy feels on my finger. Like this." She bent over and lifted one of my small tits into her mouth, into the warm, soft, wet cavern of her mouth, and pulled me in further with a slight suction, then flicked her tongue on my suddenly engorged and distended nipple. I almost came! I almost fainted! Then she let me go and resumed fingering me, looking up into my eyes with a pixieish grin. "You liked that, didn't you? Well, so did I. Then when his cock stiffened again he put it back into me, and we went at it again for quite a while. A long while. Maybe an hour? I came maybe two or three more times, and finally he reared up that huge thing of his and crammed it into me as deep as he could and with an enormous bellow he dumped another whole load of cum into me. Then we were finished. I went back to my office and filed a few reports, and then came home. I must have left my bra alongside his couch. At least I wasn't wearing it just now when I undressed. Oh yes! That second time we finished with his cock up my rear, not in my vagina. So I have his sperm in both holes now, and that's why this bath feels so good on my bottom. You've been there too, sweetheart. Remember? I loved it!" She loved it. I couldn't bear to ask which prick in her ass she meant. I was making strange bleating squeals, enraged whining, not really human. She pulled my head close to hers, and we leaned foreheads against each other, and she said, "Now, sweetheart, what should we do about this?" I burst into tears. I started to sob once or twice, and then I couldn't stop. Was she going to leave me? After everything I'd done to make her happy? I'd given her my manhood, and now another man had given her the benefit of his, and she'd enjoyed it. I felt furious, but also helpless! Impotent! She just held me for a while, then when I began to quiet down, she said again, "What should we do? If we do nothing it'll happen again." I took some deep breaths and cried out from the bottom of my heart, "Oh, Tracy!" It was relief and a lament, both. She didn't want it to happen again! "Do you hate me?" she asked. "Knowing that another man's spunk is inside me even now? That I loved feeling myself filled with his cock?" That started the tears again, and I struggled to control them. "No, darling, I love you, you know how much I love you. Just look at me -- this is all for you, to please you I became your girlfriend, I'm still your girlfriend, I want to be everything you want me to be, not just your husband! I'd do anything for you!" I felt desperate, helpless. I was trying to tell her everything at once. But how could I compete with a man with a huge cock? I had none at all now to speak of! And I also felt ill-used, angry. But not toward Tracy. I glanced down at my nipples, still cone shaped and growing, and at Tracy's beautiful, pert ones poking prettily from the tips of her breasts. I may not be the man her boss is, I thought, but I'm getting to be the woman she is. How can he do this to us? "What should we do?" Tracy asked me again. "I can't have him thinking about fucking me again all hours of the day!" An idea began to form, born out of my despair. I began to talk rapidly, nearly tonelessly. "There's no case for rape here," I said. "No threat that we'll bring charges. There's no evidence of struggle, and he gave you no opportunity to say 'No!', and you...acquiesced soon after he entered you anyhow. Probably there's not enough semen in your vagina for evidence any more either now that we're bathing" -- I paused -- "or in your asshole either." "No," Tracy said, still watching me closely. "There's probably as much in your asshole by now. How does it feel?" She was teasing me. That's good, I thought. I'm still her darling girlfriend at least. Still sharing. My idea gathered shape. I took her by the shoulders, so she'd get serious. "Could we make a case for sexual harassment?" "No, honey," she said. "He didn't threaten me or offer inducements. He didn't use his position to intimidate me, or to extort favors. He just saw an opportunity to fuck me and he did it. And then I was so confused and demoralized and horny I let him do it again, nothing promised or gained. A quick office fuck between consenting adults. We can't build a case on that." Now I began to see a plan, and blurted out my indignation. "He took advantage of you! Of your position under him!" I didn't mean to put it that way. "That's harassment. Couldn't you say so? Or tell him you'll say so, threaten to bring charges against him if he tries it again? That would stop him!" "No, honey. There's a videotape, everything in his office is always videotaped for security reasons. The videotape shows two people fucking repeatedly without uttering a word to each other, enjoying each other like old lovers. And he has the videotape now. He's taken it home by now, I'm sure. He told me once he loves the instant replay button on his video at home, and he leered, so I never asked him what he meant." "Could we trap him into doing it again? But this time get clear evidence of it ourselves -- pictures, recordings, sure evidence of behavior that's plainly harassment?" "With me? Not alone. Not with what he could show has already happened between us. I'm what's called a 'tainted' witness. He could claim anything we did was consensual, because we'd done it before, Even that I seduced him." I gloomily imagined him saying just that. It might even be true. I'd taken Tracy while she was leaning over a desk in her dormitory once, in our early horny first flush of love, when her ass had seemed to call out to me, to beg me to enter her cunt, by giving me a slight irresistible wiggle. Tracy's eyes suddenly opened wide, and a huge grin brightened her face. "But it would work with someone else!" she said. "What?" I asked. "If he were to harass someone else first, then try me again, that would show a pattern! A kind of 'before' and 'after'. We could show how he extorts sexual favors first, say, from a job applicant, and then expects his employees to keep providing them. Then that tape he's got would be evidence in our favor. Yes! A job applicant. A girl at her most vulnerable being interviewed, when she's trying to be as pleasing as she can be. The inducement of employment, whether or not it's offered. That's sex for favors, a violation of FEPC rules, and of equal rights rules, and rules against harassment, and even laws against extortion! We'd have him! We wouldn't have to bring suit -- just the threat would make him behave! And he'd want to have the whole thing videotaped anyhow for afterward! He's a voyeur. So there's no problem recording the evidence!" Tracy bounced up and down on my lap. "It would work!" she cried out. She looked at me and smiled her most seductive smile, while her hands drifted down and began to play with my breasts again. "And I know just the job applicant, too!" "Who?" I asked. She lowered her head and kissed each nipple, then kissed me on the mouth. Her tongue came between my teeth. Her lips still against mine, she said, "You!" "Meeeee?" I said, ending the word with a little squeal, because all that tit play had induced in me a sweet visceral yearning, distant thunder suggesting orgasmic storm clouds coming closer. "Yes, honey. You! You're perfect!" Tracy now straightened up and pushed out her lower lip and looked determined. "I can get you through the preliminaries and directly to the interview. And I can make sure it's private, though I'd attend as an observer the way I often do. If anything he'll think of me as an ally now, because we've already..." she paused, then went on, "done it, and he knows I'm happily married, that I have a vested interest in keeping it secret and helping him find someone else to satisfy his lusts. So he'd pay no attention to me until we had him on tape propositioning you." She grinned almost mischievously. "And I could watch him take advantage of my darling girlfriend, maybe even watch him fuck you with the same cock he used on me." She broke into a broad smile. "It would be another close bond between us." She took my penis between her thumb and forefinger and glanced up slyly. "You might even like it, sweetheart! I did!" She was still teasing and goading me. "Oh, don't be so prim!," she said, looking at the expression on my face. "We could stop him any time you wanted. You don't have to prove penetration to prove harassment. Only duress, and that's easy in an employment interview." The bath water had cooled down some, and I began to feel chilly as well as nervous. This was not how I'd wanted to see this problem solved. "But Tracy, honey bun, how could I get him to try to seduce me. I'm not that pretty, and I don't have much of a figure yet, and...." "Leave that to me!" Tracy now looked so determined she was utterly adorable. "I'll make you so attractive all the dogs on the block will howl when you come tripping by." She smiled. "You only need a little more experience with men, a little flirting, a little more flaunting of those tits and your sweet innocence, that's all. No, this plan is perfect. Even if we can't make a case for harassment, we can always embarrass him afterward that he's fucked a man, if he does, that he's a faggot, and then ask him who should see the videotapes of it. That would at least slow him down!" She dismissed the whole issue with a toss of her head. "Now, my femme fatale, don't think! I'll do what thinking we need. Just be the Bimbo I love, and you wrap your legs around my waist and snuggle up. I want to push my finger into your pussy. Just to see what happens." She gave me a devastatingly wicked glance. "I don't think you'll mind if I push some of my boss's semen into you along with my finger. A temptress needs to get used to feeling a man drip back out of her." And she embraced and kissed me passionately. Her finger felt glorious. I began to yearn for one of her dildoes. When we got out of the tub we went straight into our bedroom and made love until nearly dawn. I wanted to re-establish my claim on her openings, and I actually managed to get my cock erect enough to enter her vagina for a few strokes before it collapsed and had to be replaced with a dildo. "That was very sweet!" she said when she felt me recede. "Surely you can see why you have no reason at all to feel jealous of any other man's bigger cock. I'm not. No woman is. You don't have any now either, to speak of, so you're not in the running either. In fact we should all feel grateful that some men are big league players, and think more about how we can use them to our own advantage." We were "loving friends" all night. It never for a moment occurred to me to think of myself as an injured party, a cuckold, a pathetic object of ridicule, that my wife had balled her boss and gotten off on it a few times, and now wanted my help cooling him out. Instead, Tracy persuaded me that I was a chivalric hero, a knight in girl's armor preparing to confront a dragon cocksman in order to rescue a distressed damsel. She told me how proud she was that I had come up with just the right idea we needed to control her boss's libido and get even. By morning I was convinced it was all my idea. Toward morning Tracy hauled out "the Emperor" and I deep throated it repeatedly. Usually she filled its cum tank mostly with warm Gatorade and gelatin, "so my pretty lady can have a nice reward in her tummy that tastes just like cum, sweet, and salty, and slick." But this time she used chocolate sauce for a surprise, and we both giggled when I passed it from my mouth to hers. Last of all, she had me bend over our bed the way she had bent over her Boss's desk, and then she pushed the Emperor into me and fucked me but good! I couldn't walk the next day any more than she could, and we grinned as we saw how we were each waddling around. It was one more thing we shared. end three Four I would need to attract sexual attention when Tracy's boss interviewed me, so all through the next week at the office I tried to behave sexy. The girls noticed that I was getting increasing provocative, even sluttish. "Whoa," Connie said to me. "If that's the kind of girl you are, maybe you won't fit in here much longer. We're nice girls. You know, you really should stop and chat with us more. We trade makeup tips with each other all the time, and some of the girls really want to help you improve your appearance." She looked back at me and added as she left, "But none of them will tell you how to go this far overboard!" I was acting like a slut because Tracy was teaching me how, each night when she got home, for long hours. I'd had no idea she knew that much about how to excite men. She showed me gestures, postures, how to put on lipstick so a man seeing me do it will come in his pants, and how to use my eyes to look inviting and sex-starved, especially how to glance sideways from the corners of my eyes. We ran different interview scenarios, with Tracy always the boss. In some he was insinuatingly suggestive, and I learned how to register distaste to the camera and no offense taken to him, and uncertainty, and finally duress, before I went down on my knees and sucked hungrily on "the Emperor" as it stood up like a mountain peak from between my wife's legs. In some the boss was attentive and considerate and I was doubtful and worried, and I managed a small, plaintive "Do I have to?" before "he" turned me around and laid me face forward on the desk in our study, and then reamed me for almost a half-hour. I walked with a limp for two days after that session. And the next night Tracy again came home weary, also walking with a limp. "Did he do it again?" I asked, knowing the answer and afraid to hear it. Tracy just nodded. This time I could ask. "Did you like it?" Tracy looked at me. "What do you think?" My face registered that I didn't know what to think, so she told me, in an uncommonly hard voice, "Yes, I loved it. His cock is hot, and when I'm flying on it I'm somewhere in another world, and it's glorious to feel cum boil and pulse out of it and splash all over my insides -- against the top of my cunt, into my guts, whatever part of me he's fucking. You remember, you used to do that kind of thing to me while you were still a man. But you wanted to be a woman." "Tracy!" I said, deeply hurt. "That was for you! It's all been for you! What are you saying?" My face began to break up. Tracy relented. "Yes. And so is this. For you. Don't be offended darling. I'm being tough on you now because obviously you're still envious of another man, and you resent that he's fucked me. That's more macho competitiveness again. You'll never be a convincing sexually-harassed woman if you're being a jealous man the whole time. He'll sense something's wrong, something antagonistic in you, and he'll get wary and back off." She took my hand and spoke earnestly, pleadingly. "Try not to care. If you're not a man, why should you care? You're my husband and my whole life, but more than that, you're my girlfriend, and when your girlfriend tells you she's having a good time getting laid, tell her, 'Good for you!' "Now try it! I'll say it again, and it's all true. My boss really did stick it to me today, honey, twice in the cunt and again in my ass with that big prick of his. We spent the whole afternoon in each others' arms, doing everything we could think of to make each other feel wonderful! My tits are as sore as my pussy and my asshole. And I'm all stretched out. I can't begin to remember how many orgasms I've had!'" I was bewildered. But I said it. "Good for you!" Tracy came close and kissed me on the lips. "Thank you, sweetheart. You're learning. I did enjoy it of course, what woman wouldn't? But I'm doing my job, and you've got to do yours. Now, tonight I mean to force you to my will, to rape you in fact, and I want you to resist but be worried the whole time that if you don't give in just a little you won't be hired. I want to use force. Then we'll talk about your performance afterward, how to improve it." And she did. She even tied me up and blindfolded me. I got so I'd accept any indignity in any of my orifices. I still don't know what some of the things were she fed into me. The second week, Tracy shifted the scenarios. "Now you know about being a victim," she said. "He may not come on to you at all, so this week I want you to be a seductress, really let him know you're easy and available, so maybe we can catch him trafficking in sexual favors, trading a job for a fuck. That would get him fired quickly enough I expect. Nothing obvious, but make sure he knows that if you get what you want, he'll get what he wants. Negotiate salaries and job specs as if you had your mouth on his cock or he had his cock in your pussy." So all through that week I learned feminine wiles. I teased, I wheedled, I absent-mindedly stroked or sucked on my finger as if it were a penis, I looked deep into "his" eyes all the while "he" was talking, never looking away, I licked my lips, I repeated everything he said in a sultry voice, and I leaned forward so he could look down my cleft -- I was beginning to get one, and a push-up bra provided what I hadn't yet grown. "The Emperor" spent so much time down my throat that it stayed sore, and my voice was reduced to a whisper. Tracy got me some special soothing lozenges that brought my voice back up, but to a high-pitched Bimbo squeal. So in that voice I explained over and over that I'd love to have "his" cock up my cunt, but because of my period I wanted him instead up my ass, or I moaned seductively that pussies were for ordinary men, while "he" deserved my extraordinary still-tight opening and I wanted him to have it! I let him know what fringe benefits came with my job. I learned to flip up my skirt to show my frilliest panties or my bare ass so enticingly that "he" would lunge at me without hesitating. In bed together each night afterward, we went over what had happened and looked for ways to improve my performance. Tracy was right. If as a man I felt the least distaste for my "man," or felt the least bit competitive or jealous, it ruined my presentation as a sweet young thing, or as a seducer. Whatever the kinds of girls and women and seductresses I was enacting, I had to convince myself that I was Tracy's girlfriend, nothing but her girlfriend, not her husband, not previously male or still male, but a woman in all things, with a woman's desires and concerns. So while we were both separately at work, Tracy urged me to become completely one of the girls in my office, to spend as much time as I could with them, to chat with them and learn to sympathize with their problems with parents and husbands and boyfriends, to share my own concerns, and to swap information about nail polishes and hemlines, and male sexual stamina, and masturbation with vibrating dildoes, whatever was of interest. The secretaries talked about all of these things. So every day I went to lunch with the other girls, and we giggled and laughed and whispered conspiratorially. And talked about guys. As different men went by our tables, we'd issue shorthand judgments, whether fat and bald, or tall and lean, whether heavy-muscled boors or genteel hunks. Like the other girls, I had to be able to say what appealed to me or not in a man, and to allow myself to feel attracted when one or another walked by, so I'd know. I opened myself up a little. I realized that the right man, not a hunk, a little soft even, preferably blond, preferably with a casually self-assured manner, and certainly gentle, could get past some of my defenses. I might even like being with one. The girls knew I was married, but I pretended I'd stepped out of line with my wife's cousin last summer because he was just that kind of man, and my wife had never forgiuven me. They assumed that Tracy was getting laid all over the city, I noticed, now that I was a woman and much more interested in men than in her. When they claimed to know men who claimed to have fucked her or gotten blown by her, I told them my attitude was simply, "If so, good for them, and good for her!" Sometimes after work we'd stop at a local bar or cocktail lounge, and actually flirt with different men who came up to try their luck with our tableful of unattended good looking women. I tried some of my little girl lines, and my victim techniques, and my sultry seductress mannerisms, to the vast amusement of the other girls, who wanted to know where I had learned to do and say such things. I started to explain with some pride "From my wife," but I was trying to persuade myself I had no wife. So I just said, "My girlfriend's been around, and she tries these things on a lot of guys, and thinks I should too." True enough, I thought gloomily. I'd noticed that Tracy wasn't wearing panties at all now when she went to work. "Why bother?" she said. "They're off ten minutes after I arrive at the office, and then they stay off all day to provide him access all day. They'd only get drenched in cum. The man's a goat. Not that the sex isn't great...." She looked at me and waited. end 4/6 Vickie Tern@AOL.COM -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> .../assm/faq.html> /