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From: PleaseCain@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} [deirdre Fest - Muse] "Sucker" by Vickie Tern, 3/13, TG, Femdom, humiliation, W
Lines: 384
Date: Thu, 20 Apr 2006 12:10:03 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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[Posted on behalf of Vickie Tern; e-mail address at the end of story.  -- 
pleasecain]

{ASSM}Deirdre Homage (Muse). "Sucker" by Vickie Tern, TG, Femdom,
humiliation, Wife, F/M M/M. 



                           iii.

So I didn't think there was any reason to follow her in.  To plead
with her.  Saying what?  I just sat there, shocked.  My own wife
wants me to be a cock sucker.  But she's right, her own husband
wants her to become a cock sucker!  Fair's fair.  Isn't it?

Disconsolate, unthinking, I sat there.  So somehow she's turned on
by mouth-to-appendage, I was thinking.  She'd mentioned fingers and
toes.  Other men's cocks too, apparently.  But watching, not doing,
or being expected to do it.  Feeling in control of what's happening
while she watches?  That's OK.  I guess she's something of a voyeur
after all.  Like me.  Apparently she'd resented it whenever I'd
asked her to do something she'd never done.  But watching someone
else do it?  

I picked up the remote and pressed "play."  Then I half-watched the
screen.  Was this my future?  The first of the "Special Project"
episodes showed Stacy sitting on Chuck's face while leaning forward
to lick and suck at his cock. There are worse fates than that, I
decided, and I began to watch more closely.  The next demonstrated
Stacy's swallowing techniques, different shots photographed at
different times one after another, with what must have been forty
different loads of cum spurting into her mouth all told, and
swallowed down.  The most efficient method seemed to be a kind of
closed mouth gulping, teeth apart, prick held loosely in the lips
like a cigarette.  I tried to swallow that way.  

Another episode established that however a cock sucker may feel
about her man of the evening she should never break eye contact
with him, not by looking down, not by looking away, not by closing
her eyes.  "Keep watching his face," the weather lady advised as
Stacy's enormous dark eyes stared in solemn innocence at me again
in the shot from the man's  angle of vision, the one with her face
centered just above Chuck's crotch.  "He'll think you're hoping for
his approval.  But you'll know its just one more way you're playing
tunes on his flute to make him dance."  The angle changed to
Stacy's, and I watched the man writhe in exquisite pleasure, or
anguish, who could tell which, from whatever I was supposedly doing
to him.  Whatever Stacy was doing to him.

The tape ended in a suck-fest, bodies heaped on other bodies
indiscriminately, each mouth fitted to a crotch of one or another
gender.  Close up I could see that some pairs were guys with other
guys -- it didn't seem to matter.  One of them looked like a girl
until you looked closely -- she was just like any of the attractive
girls you see in porn films, pretty and heavily made up, with puffy
lips, large full breasts, and pointy nipples.  Except that she also
had balls and a cock.  Equality of the sexes was this film's
message, I decided.  All mouths are created equal, regardless of
race, creed, color, gender, or political affiliation.  Suck and
suck alike.  As ye give, so shall ye receive!  From each according
to his ability, to each according to his need!  Orgy politics!

Last of all was an image of two men sixty-nining each other
devotedly, forming a perfect love knot I thought.  Lying stretched
out at their ease with eyes closed, heads bobbing, and mouths
working, one atop the another, man on man, hugging.  My mind by now
was cluttered with all sorts of wise sayings.  If you suck and
don't succeed, suck, suck again.  A cum saved is a cum earned. 
It's an ill cock sucker that blows nobody good.  One good fuck
deserves another.  Good night, good suck, and God bless!  I was too
groggy to think straight.  It didn't seem to matter.  A few minutes
later I crawled stealthily into my own bed for the first time in
three weeks.  Debbie didn't stir.

But in the morning when I opened my eyes she was leaning on one
elbow and looking down at me with her inexpressive look.  When she
saw I was awake, she didn't move nor change her expression.  I
looked up into her eyes, also not moving.  Then she wordlessly
extended her thumb toward me, toward my mouth, its tip not quite
touching.  An inquiry, I realized even though I was still
half-dozing.  Wordlessly I leaned forward, kissed it, then licked
it, then opened my mouth and closed my lips around it.  Then slid
my mouth up and down on it a few times, my eyes never leaving hers,
cock sucking her thumb by the tried and true Stacy system.  She
smiled and with her other hand she stroked my cheek.  

I suppose she wanted to be sure, so when I happened to be only
kissing the tip of her red fingernail, she pulled it away, then
placed both hands on the top of my head and gently pressed down. 
I slid down in the bed as she directed, until my face had arrived
almost between her legs.  At last?  She spread those legs wide
apart to accommodate my body, and I found myself lying between them
just like Stacy with her second man, staring at her mound with its
downy hair the way Stacy had stared at that man's huge dong.  She
wanted me to do her cunt!   But no.  Her hand covered her mound,
and there was that thumb again sticking straight up out of it like
a short, erect cock, exactly where a penis would have been if she
were a man.  I looked up and saw her looking down at me, her
expression still benign, but expectant.  So I kissed that thumb
again, and took the red tip into my mouth.  Then all of it.  

I then began to suck doubly hard on that pelvic thumb, my eyes
never leaving hers.  She knew now, and knew that I knew.  I closed
my eyes and concentrated on that phallic thumb as if it were my
life, my soul's sustenance, lipping the tip, bobbing my head up and
down while sucking it up to the first joint, licking the length of
its underside, kissing its base passionately, avid to bring it off! 
I wanted that thumb to climax and cum with all my heart!  I was
starved!  Desperate!  I saw each time my head rose that the third
finger of that same thumbed hand, her left hand, the finger with
her gold wedding band, had slid into her slit and begun a gentle
massage.  My head bobbed rhythmically up and down over her as I
finger-sucked her while she finger-fucked herself!  Her thigh
muscles tensed.  Then her whole body!  Then she gave a great sigh
and relaxed.  I'd brought her off!

Nothing more needed to be said.  There were no more rounds to
fight.  I'd agreed.  She'd won.  

And she then welcomed me with open thighs!  Our lovemaking for the
next few hours was mind-shattering!  The best of our married lives
together, by far!  She kissed and clasped and writhed and twisted
on, around, atop, and all over me, and I lunged and plunged myself
into and all over her!  All without a single word spoken!  There
was no need.  Except when at last I was about to dip my face into
her delicate pink, shining, moist slit, its dainty lips curling
along its length and the pink bud of her clit peering out shyly
from its hood, awaiting liberation by my tongue.  We were in a
perfect position for sixty-nining, my crotch in front of her face
just as hers was in front of mine.  I squared my hips at that
moment to thrust myself forward,  knowing that my penis was only
inches from her mouth, offering it to her in return for my face
buried in her.  But she murmered, "Not yet, love.  Not yet.  Soon! 
But do me! Lick me!  Yessss!"  

I did.

It was early afternoon by the time we finally came together in the
kitchen for a kind of brunch, showered and dressed casually, at
ease, feeling quite civilized.  I suppose strange things happen to
couples when they're separated -- what we each desire becomes fixed
in our imaginations, and if we don't get them, petty discontents
emerge to haunt us.  Then with a few lurches the relationship
re-establishes itself, as solid as ever, if it was solid to begin
with.  But different.  I'd been three weeks away from Debbie, and
my old desire for oral sex with her and her reluctance become the
dominant fact of our relationship last night.  

Now we were different.  She'd proposed a way to bridge the gap, and
I'd accepted it.  Already I'd enjoyed a bonus, hours of wonderful
oral access to her body anywhere I chose.  Her ten fingers and toes
and her marvelous breasts had been sucked as lovingly, as fondly,
as her clit.   Now I was going to suck some guy's cock, and then
she was going to suck mine whenever I asked her to do it for the
rest of our lives together.  We'd each give something and get
something we'd each wanted.   Otherwise nothing had changed.  We
still loved each other.  It was a warm, sunny day.  What had seemed
unthinkable last night was simply no big deal.

I got down to the kitchen first, and greeted Debbie with an
elaborate brunch.  She was wearing white shorts and a
slightly-tight white T-shirt, her hair held back with a red
scrunchie the color of her lipstick and nails, looking just
adorable.  Looking radiant!  We kissed each other as passionately
as on the first morning of our honeymoon, and we almost went back
to our bedroom.  But no, enough for now.  We had things to talk
about.  She looked at the spread I'd prepared -- eggs benedict,
blueberry pancakes, bacon and sausage, toast and fresh muffins,
espresso coffee.  Her face lit up.

"That's gorgeous, sweetheart.  I hereby claim this feast as a token
of your love for me!  Now let's eat no more of it than we must to
keep from starving.  We'll stow the rest."

"Isn't today special?"  I was disappointed.  I'd been creating that
breakfast for over an hour, and had even gone to a nearby bakery to
get the muffins.

"It is to me, certainly.  But this needs to be a feast for the
eyes, not the stomach.  We need to lower your weight a little,
improve your figure, so you'll feel more attractive.  So do I."

"You couldn't be any more attractive to me than you are right now,"
I told her.  "And I'm pretty trim.  Last night probably took off
any extra weight I added during the past few weeks."

She dimpled, then put her forefinger under her chin and bobbed her
head, obviously delighted.  "That's so very sweet of you to say
that, darling!  You are an angel, and I do love you!  And you do
look lovely, yes!  You certainly feel lovely!.  But I think ten
pounds less to love would mean more that we can enjoy loving!  With
just a little care we can each lose that much in a week!  Twenty in
the month we'll need to field test before the big event!"

"All right," I said, a little puzzled.  "That can't hurt.  But
why?"

"We need thin waistlines," she replied.  "We're starting out fresh
now, in a way.  You're a new you, so you need to look new.  More
huggable.  You can't imagine how happy I am, knowing that you're
willing to please a man for my sake!  Even if only on a whim, in
order to satisfy me!"

She smiled, and her radiance lit up her whole face.  My whole body
glowed in the warmth!  I melted!

"There's no hurry.  But I know just the man!  I think you'll like
him too.  And no complications!"

"Complications?  You mean, I won't feel tempted to run off with him
afterward?  Who, Debbie?"

"Bruce!"

"The office manager who recommended that video to you to begin
with?  The gay guy?

"That's who, honey.  You'll love him!  Well, you will, sweetheart,
that's true, at least you'll make love to him!  He's so hot!  I
described him to you last night, you remember?  A professional
dancer, once?  Thin, not as thin as you even now, but a real hunk! 
His every move marvelous to watch!  And those penetrating eyes,
gentle yet intense!  You'll adore him, we all do!  He'll be ideal
for this!  I'll talk to him on Monday.  He's very particular about
his partners, but I think maybe he'll let you do him as a favor to
me.  The other girls would be insane with jealousy!  What a pity I
can't call them and tell them!"

I was uneasy about this.  "Give a blow job to a known faggot? 
Debbie, what would that make me if it got out?  Think of my
reputation!  Think of yours, married to me!"

"That's what I am thinking about, baby.  Who's more likely to talk,
some straight guy boasting to his buddies about the freebie he got
from that queer he always thought was straight, or Bruce, who gets
all the sex he wants whenever he wants it, from other men if he
wants them, so one more isn't notable?  Who's had to be discreet
about his sexual preferences all his life?  Who knows more about
this kind of sex?  He'd be doing us the favor!"

She had a point.

"As for what blowing Bruce makes you, what does blowing anyone make
you?  The same thing.  A gay man's penis isn't different from any
other man's.  Either way, whether or not it becomes known,
sweetheart, you'll have taken a man's penis into your mouth.  And
tasted a man's cum.  You'll be a man who has sucked cock.  A cock
sucker.  No different from any other cock sucker, the same as Stacy
in that regard.  And that's what you'll always be from then on, the
same as any girl would be who's ever gone down on a guy.  You'll
know it, and I'll know it!  And I'll always know it, that my
husband sucked on a cock until it spurted sperm into him.  I'll
remember every time I look at you!  I'll also always know that I'm
married to a man who'll do anything to please his wife!  Who puts
her desires above even his own!  A real love!"

And she kissed me.  I felt a little reassured.  "I guess Bruce
makes sense," I said judiciously.  "He's had plenty of experience
with this kind of thing, I suppose.  Even with amateurs like me, I
suppose."

"Don't worry about whether you'll do yourself proud, baby.  You'll
be fine!  We'll work on it.  You'll be ready when we decide to do
it.  I think he'll be willing."

The rest of the weekend was idyllic.  Debbie was like a schoolgirl
with a new fella, humming and prancing around the house.  Each time
she got a glimpse of me roaming about doing odd household repairs,
or watering the house plants, or sitting at the computer entering
figures in my sales log, she'd beam, obviously overjoyed just to be
in my vicinity!.  And I'd glow!  And I tumbled in and out of bed
with her, on and off, the whole weekend!  And in bed her body was
heavenly!

We were dieting, thinning down, so it didn't occur to us to
celebrate our new relationship by going out to eat.  All I remember
about food during that weekend, and for the days that followed, was
diet cottage cheese and unsweetened lemonade.  And some diet pills
of different kinds Debbie got from the drugstore to curb our
appetites -- one of them made me feel so much better about myself
that I almost didn't care much how hungry I was.  Also the high
moment of our dinner meal, a milkshake with very few calories that
I found completely filling.  She spooned the powder out of an
unmarked jar into a blender, and told me that the recommended dose
was one serving a day only, but that she'd already doubled the
concentration to be sure I'd be well-nourished.  

"Drink only one of these each day, honey," she warned me. "It's
pretty rich.  As it is you'll probably experience some pretty
fierce mood swings, like sugar highs, maybe even acne problems, a
few zits like when you were a teenager with your hormones raging. 
But it'll mellow you out, body and mind.  It'll help you
redistribute your weight.  It's just the thing for that!"  

I have to confess, now and then when I felt starved I did sneak in
an extra milk shake.  Each day, in fact!  They made me feel dizzy
at first, even a little nauseous.  Not terribly sweet, but
incredibly rich, I guess!  Strong stuff.  But the pounds started to
melt off me and I felt just great!

By Monday morning I was thinner.  "Not yet willowy," Debbie said,
pleased at how loose my pants were.  "But getting there!  Thus far
it's mostly loss of water.  Like when I'm finishing my period -- I
can lose four pounds overnight!  But we'll keep it up."  

I was in much better shape, too.  She wanted me to burn off my
incoming calories and tone up my body too while we were at it.  No
harm in that, so for exercise I joined her doing her aerobics
tapes, then her jazzercize tapes, then a tape teaching slow moves
like Tai Chi, all of them graceful, elegant, and delicate, feminine
even down to the ways we draped our fingers.  We did all three each
morning on arising, and they were strenuous.  We'd finish dripping
wet, but I felt much more limber and lithe almost immediately!  All
of the movements were intended for women, I realized, with lots of
the hip-thrusting and pelvic twisting that looks so wonderfully
seductive when done by a curvy woman.  And some swooping moves were
exquisitely refined, and took lots of practice to get coordinated. 
All three had lots of limp-wristed, elbows-to-the-ribs moves that
look so helpless when a girl does them.  They're not as easy as
you'd think, try them some time!  All kinds of unaccustomed muscles
come into play!

I couldn't keep up at first, until Debbie told me to quit thinking
and clunking like a man, to just think of myself as fluid and
graceful, to imitate the women on the tapes and go with the flow. 
"Be fey, sweetheart!  You were worried about seeming to be a
faggot?  Be one!  There's only me here!  Be a really pouffe fairy!" 
I tried, and it worked.  By the next session I'd learned how to
flow intead of just step, how to loosen my arms to form captivating
curves in the air when I danced, and how to tuck back my shoulder
and toss my head in that fetching way girls have.  Debbie was
turned on by a lot of what I did.  I seemed so much less boorish or
brusque, so much more sensitive, she said, even in some ways
endearingly coy.  The choreographies seemed to reveal a side of me
I hadn't wanted to let out before, one she found very attractive. 
True, all this was new, and I was feeling a little tentative about
it all.  Beginning to feel uncertain about other things too, in
fact.  Those mood swings from the milk shakes had kicked in, I
supposed.

She thought I looked so sweet when she saw me taking dainty short
steps instead of bold strides that she asked me to move that way
all day, wherever I went.  And the next day.  And afterward.  So I
did.  At first it felt a little femmy, but I got used to it.  And
if that was how I chose to move, that was that, whatever anyone
else thought.  None of their business!  Debbie loved it!  And I
loved her!

We went to the movies together that Sunday night.  By then I'd
learned another trick the tape told me would tighten my stomach
muscles, to walk by crossing one leg in front of the other with
each step, pointing my toes straight ahead.  It put a seductive
wiggle into my hips, I noticed, but I got it down pretty well.  I
worried that I looked too much like Stacy when she'd waved at the
camera with her ass, but Debbie told me it was subtle and
expressive and good for my abs, a dancer's move, not to worry.  So
I didn't.  Not even when after the movie, when we were crossing a
gloomy parking lot in the dark, and a man coming the other way who
could barely see us touched his hat and said, "Ladies" to reassure
us he was no threat.  He'd guessed that by the way our silhouettes
moved.  Debby was so amused she gave me a wonderfully reassuring
hug, as if we were in fact close girlfriends sharing a secret.  I
suppose we were.

She found this new high-toned, more sensitive-seeming me so
attractive that more than once we stopped running the exercise tape
and made love right there on the floor, sweaty as we were.  And
again in the shower afterward.  It was the loveliest weekend of my
life, as was the week that followed.  Debbie and I felt more deeply
wedded to each other than at any time previously!  I vowed to
myself to give her whatever she wanted.

(End Part 3/13)
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