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From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: RP Queer Halloween by Vickie Tern 2/3 TG Wife M/F M/M
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TG: Queer Halloween by Vickie Tern  2/3  Femdom Wife MM MF 

For those whose reality includes fantasy, not for those who 
fantasize reality, not for those who can't tell the difference,
and not for those under legal age.  I guess that about covers it.











"Why don't you invite one of your best clients, too?"  I suggested. 
"Someone who'd really enjoy an all-out bash like this one.  Someone
who likes parties where people dress up like what they're not, but
someone who can remain a gentleman even when there are available
women everywhere.  No real competition for our own unattached
staff."

"I hear you, Anne," he said.  "Great!  I know just the one!  Our
biggest client!  He lives in town and he'll be delighted!"

So it was all set.

Then I told Jerry that we'd been invited to a Halloween Costume
Party at my Boss's House.  A lot of the office staff and their
friends would be there.  People I knew and people I didn't.  Maybe
no one he knew, maybe only a few.  He nodded, not really concerned. 
I told him the rules for the grand prize this year, and asked him,
"Any ideas?"

"How about I go as a girl again.  You can go as a guy, so we'll be
a couple." 

"No," I said. "This time you'd have to be a lot more persuasive. 
It would take you too long to learn how a real woman acts and
feels.  After seeing last year's performance I doubt you're capable
of it.  This year you've got to act the part, convince people
you're really what you seem to be.  Not so incidentally, if we
don't go as a couple you'll have a terrific advantage at this
party, because no one knows the real you.  You can seem to be
anybody or anything if you do it right, and they'll believe you're
the real thing.  And I've got just the part for you to play,
something you seem to think you aren't at all, though I've got my
doubts."

"What's that?"

"Look here.  If you can persuade the judges that you are in fact
what you seem to be, that you're not even in costume, you'll win! 
You won't like it, but I want you to do this for me.  Then maybe I
can be persuaded that you do care enough about me to do things I
want you to, whether you want to or not.  That could have an effect
on the way I feel about you in bed.  No promises, mind you."

"What are you proposing, Anne?"

"I want you to go this time as a man."

He stared at me.  "What are you talking about?  Are you kidding? 
What's the costume?  And how is that something I think I'm not?"  

"That's the edge I have in mind.  Other people will dress up in
costumes.  But this year our costumes aren't going to be just cloth
or makeup.  They'll be under our skins, in the way we act, how we
behave.  We'll dress appropriately of course, but mainly we'll
create the illusion with our voices, our mannerisms, the ways we
move and relate to other people.  You maintain your role perfectly
through the whole evening and maybe we can talk again about what
you are with me in bed, and what you aren't.  Maybe I'll forgive
you for that night when you didn't think I was sexy enough, or sexy
the right way, or maybe the right sex." 

"So what'll I go as?"

"A man."

"You've said that. I can do that."

"A gay man."

"A what!!?"

"You heard me!  A gay man, Jerry!  A homo!  A faggot!  A fairy!  A
pansy!  A queer!  A feygel!  You know any other names, name them!" 
I'd let out some of my real suppressed anger, so I stopped short,
and took some deep breaths, and then continued more calmly.

"You usually behave the way most gay men behave, normal.  So that
won't do.  You'd never be recognized if you acted normal.  So
you'll have to pretend.  For people to catch on you'll have to
exaggerate some traits, behave like a full-blown stereotype queer. 
But nothing excessive.  No camping.  No burlesquing.  No signalling
'I am but I'm not.'  This time there'll be none of that admiration
you got because you had the guts to dress like a girl but were too
gutless or unimaginative to act like one.  This time you'll need to
look and act just like what people think is the real thing,
persuasively."  I looked at him meaningfully.  "I suspect you have
a talent for it, as you know."

He ignored the innuendo.  "And you?  What will you go as?"

I smiled and weaved my hips at him a little.  "Oh, you'll like what
I'll be.  You're always trying to get me to go out dressed like
one, and to behave like one.  So for once I will."

"What's that?"

"A really promiscuous slut.  A whore who enjoys sex so much she
doesn't charge.  I know I haven't been anything like that in the
past.  I love sex, but I've never yet once cheated on you, Jerry. 
I think you know that.  That's why your...inability when I was hot
for you affected me so deeply.  If I can play my role the way you
play your role, then maybe when we get back here I'll be able to
reconsider what you really are."

Jerry began thinking.  "It would look funny if we arrived at this
party together, a gay man married to a whore."  

"That's not so strange a pair.  Gays and whores can be on the
lookout for partners for each other.  But we won't be married at
all as far as anyone knows.  We'll be brother and sister.  People
at my office know I'm married to someone, that I'm a responsible
executive, not a tramp, so they'll see my costume in the way I
behave.  But no one there knows you at all.  They'll have no reason
to think you aren't really my gay brother, the genuine article,
until the time comes for the judges to do their judging."

"What would I wear?"  

"I've thought about that.  Not much that's different.  A tight T
shirt, or muscle shirt, maybe a loose satin shirt.  Really tight
jeans, skin tight, so your buns show -- we may need to pad them. 
Maybe made of velvet, so you can stroke yourself and people will
understand why.  It's your behavior that'll give you away, mainly. 
Most people don't know that gays come in all styles -- leather,
three-piece suit, tough hood, dresses, cops, the whole range.  So
you'll have to behave stereotype femme for your disguise to be
identified."  

"I'll get you a haircut with little bangs, maybe.  You'll swish a
little while walking, not a lot.  You'll talk with a slight lilt,
maybe move a little floppy wristed, not a lot.  In fact I think
maybe we'll have you talk like a girl.  Most gays don't, but you'd
be more persuasive that way.  Let's see -- a single ear ring.  You
won't need to get an ear pierced, there are spring-loaded kinds you
can't tell from the real thing from the front.  But that's up to
you.  If you do get one ear pierced, I'd recommend you get them
both pierced.  I hear a gay man with a steady boy friend changes
which ear has the ear ring, so other men won't hit on him all the
time.  Like wearing a wedding ring."

"Oh, yes.  We won't dance with each other at all.  I'll dance with
other men, and so will you.  You'll have to sense which ones are
most likely willing, and which most likely to turn you down.  Check
'em out, the way gay men do.  Tune in.  Gays can tell a lot about
each other with very few words.  If any man asks you to dance,
you'll look him up and down and then of course you'll accept. 
Charmingly.  You can walk tight-assed or you can swagger, which
ever you choose.  Last year when you were a girl you should have
been modest and tight-assed, but instead you swaggered.   This year
you can do it either way."

Jerry thought about it.  "You've been thinking I'm a queer, because
I couldn't get it up for you that one night.  Now if I can prove to
everyone that's what I am, you'll be persuaded I'm not?  Is that
what you're saying?  What sense does that make?"

"I'll know that whatever you pretend, it isn't what I know you are,
because I'll see the difference.  And I'll know that you did it
because I wanted you to do it.  And that you're trying hard to do
it right.  For me."

He thought a moment, still a bit confused.  "OK.  That's not too
hard.  I can do it, for one night.  It'll be worth it just to see
you loosen up for once, see you try to act like a loose woman.  I
don't think you've got any more talent for it than I've got."

I smiled.  "Maybe not.  We'll see." 

Well, Carol, finally, here comes our lunch.  A bottle of Pouilly
Fuisse too?  That seem about right?  We can sip it while we eat,
and afterwards too.  There's lots more to tell.


                           iii.

I must say, the next two weeks were fun.  As soon as Jerry got home
from work I made him get into character -- in fact he had to get
out of the car already behaving a little prim, and walk to the
front door with quick short steps, thighs together and his ass
wiggling slightly, his head held high and his lips pursed.  Then he
had to find his keys in his pocket as if he were searching through
a purse, and I made him slide the key into the lock with flair,
like a ballet movement, or a sexual act performed with one arm.  At
first I made him try to sound like Truman Capote, but we settled
for his sounding just a little bitchy.  

It started out as a game for him, to please me, something to master
like a golf stroke or skiing moguls.  Obviously he didn't feel
touched deep inside, not obviously.  But he soon began to wear the
mannerisms casually, the way he'd worn his chorus girl outfit last
year, un-self-consciously, almost unawares, and that only made him
seem more naturally faggoty, more the way people expect gays to
behave.  As he did it better he really got into it.  The weekend
before the big event old Mrs. Warren from down the street saw him
mincing across the front yard to dig in some bulbs for me, and she
jokingly asked him if he'd dig in hers too.  Without even thinking
he pushed the air toward her with one hand and then gracefully
withdrew it, and said "Silly!  What a naughty thing to say!" with
a smile and a *lisp* of all things, as if she'd made an immoral
suggestion.  Mrs. Warren stared at him a moment and continued on
her way without another word.  I handed him some more bulbs and
pointed to where I wanted them without another word too.  He didn't
even know what he'd done!   

It became the way he behaved everywhere except at the office.  I
took him shopping one day at a store that catered to certain ...
umm...flamboyant male tastes, to buy himself some velvet pants
while I loitered outside and enjoyed watching him.  The salesman
happened to be altogether floppy wristed, a real parody gay man,
and waved his arms and bobbed his neck dramatically like some drag
queen caricature.  They struck it off right away.  The salesman
leaned in on Jerry to tug his the pants up, to be sure his ass
cheeks would be seen in them to advantage, and he kept patting
Jerry's rear, until finally I saw Jerry wag a finger at him.  When
Jerry emerged with his package, I asked what he had said to cool
the salesman down.

"I told him I was taken."

"Well, we'll see to it that you're not too taken when you're at the
party.  The more your partners paw you, the more convincing your
act will seem.  It *is* still an act, isn't it?"  

He just smiled understandingly at me, but the truth was, I was
doing everything I could think of to make him unsure.  The most fun
came in bed.  Sex between us stopped altogether, of course, because
I didn't want to trigger any masculine feelings if I could help it. 
Yet I had to keep him drained, so he wouldn't pick up a little
loose nookie at the office and undo what I was doing to him at
home.  

So I went to Victoria's Secret and bought the sexiest lingerie I
could find, crotchless panties, a demi-pushup bra I spilled out of
as soon as I was in it and a black lace teddy that hid nothing
underneath.  I decided these would be my slut wear under the little
bolero Jerry had worn last year, and I was pleased to see that the
bolero played peek-a-boo with the dark shadows of my nipples when
I tried it all on.  Garter belt and net stockings, naturally.  Then
I made up the way Jerry had been made up last year, eyes slathered
in black.  I lay back on pillows and with one knee raised I invited
Jerry to approach me when he entered the bedroom.  He was already
breathing hard and was about to leap me when I flung back a fold in
my robe and exposed an enormous black dildo rising high out of my
crotch!

"Here, faggoty-boy, this is for you," I said.  "You remember how I
used to do you?  Do me!  And be persuasive!"

He was shocked, so repelled and resentful he almost refused.  But
I glowered at him with all the sexual power I could muster.  "Make
love to my prick, Jerry!  Suck my cock, my fairy queen!  Now!"

And slowly, he lowered himself to his knees, and he did it!  Twice
I had to tell him to put his heart and soul into it, and I kept him
at it at it for over an hour, until his head and lips seemed to
belong there, and my cock in his mouth felt as natural to him as
his own tongue.  

Then for a finale I had him whack off, squirting all over the
dildo, and then lick his cum off it.

"Why all this?" he asked, a little annoyed, as he bent over to
scoop up a pearly puddle at the base of the dildo with his lips and
tongue.  "What has this to do with playing the homo at a party?"

"Why Jerry," I answered, trying to restrain my glee as his tongue
chased his own cum around the dildo's shaft, licking it
provocatively in the process.  "Don't you know what gay men like to
do?  Every moment you're talking with some man, or dancing with
one, and you'd better, I'll want you to be imagining how his cock
would feel in your mouth, how his cum would taste.  You see honey,
you're going to have to try to seduce your partners, if you can
find any, and you can't fake a desire to be really intimate with
someone, or you won't be convincing to anyone who's watching. 
You'll have to seem to mean it!  To want to hold a cock in your
mouth as the height of bliss!  Now kiss mine with real affection,
and jerk off again while you're doing it so it feels good to you
whenever you kiss me there.  But be sure the cum lands where it
should.  Then lick it off me again, and I'll let you get to sleep." 


In the morning he had to produce cum for licking twice more, and
that next night the same again.  A few days before the party he
could barely cum even once, and I was quite sure he wasn't
rediscovering masculine drives with any of the secretaries at work. 
Each evening I reclined back on the bed with my knees parted, and
he flounced to the floor, sucked away on my cock, finally managed
to cum all over it and me, licked it all off, and went to sleep. 
It got to be a bedtime routine like brushing his teeth -- except
that he brushed beforehand, of course, because I wanted him
sleeping every night with the flavor of cum in his mouth. 


The Thursday before Halloween Saturday Night I took Jerry to my
Beauty Salon, got them to put tight waves into his hair like a
marcel, and then to pierce both his ears, both of them before he
had any idea what was happening.  I wanted him to wear little gold
hoops in both ears, I told him, until we found out which meant he
was cruising and which that he was taken.  Then he could take out
one, depending.

He wasn't happy.  In fact he was a little angry.  "How the hell am
I supposed to go to the office tomorrow looking like this?" he
asked.

So I sounded even angrier, as if my patience was exhausted. 
"Jerry, the same way you always do, only this time, looking the way
you're supposed to look Saturday night."  I stopped him as we were
leaving the salon, and I stared him down.  "And you better get into
character now, and stay in character all day tomorrow, pansy man,
and you'd better not tell anybody at your office what all this is
about!  I want them to think you're their resident closet queer
suddenly blossomed out into daylight.  I want you to get used to
different people's reactions.  If they make cracks, or insults, no
macho bullshit in return!  You can be bitchy if you want, or you
can name call.  You can even be aggressively affectionate -- try to
put your hands on them and call them 'dear' if they get too close,
and they'll back off soon enough.  Or you can cry and run away."  

"Most people will treat you decently enough, at least to your face. 
You might try flirting with some of them for practice.  Next Monday
I don't care what you tell them.  But tomorrow you are a flaming
queer and you'll dress the part -- tight pants, pointy suede shoes
and everything.  Maybe a little mascara and pink lipstick also, to
underline the point!"

I knew he'd have a hard day, and he did.  That afternoon he
flounced back into the house frowning deeply and muttering to
himself, and at first I wasn't going to ask him why.  I assumed
that the girls in the office had figured him for a freak, and his
male ego had cracked under the strain.  Or that Ralph, his boss,
had come by and had seen Jerry waving his ass at someone.  Well,
good!  But that night when I was in my whore's regalia as usual and
he was kneeling down to suck my cock as usual he suddenly
volunteered what had happened.

"Bastards!" he said.  "Out-of-town salesmen, they don't know me! 
Three of them figure I'm fair game, grab me when I'm in the third
floor men's room, nowhere near our office, and they haul me into a
booth, and then they take turns holding me down while I blow them,
one after the other.  They stank of piss, those goddam cocks.  And
their cum was so slimy I could barely get it down without gagging."

Perfect!  "But you did get it down," I said to console him, not
knowing whether to laugh or feel pity.  "That's a good boy.  What
did their cocks feel like in your mouth?"

"Rubber," he said.  "Like this one of yours, but silky smooth. 
Much warmer.  I don't want to think about it!  Wait 'till Monday! 
If I see them again, their asses are mine!"

"Maybe," I said, thinking that if all went well, by Monday his ass
as well as theirs would be up for grabs.  I noticed that he was
intensely absorbed, and there were tears in his eyes.  Because he
still felt furious?  Helpless?  Anything else?                  


                                iv.

You sure you have nothing else planned for this afternoon, Carol? 
Well, maybe we'll look in at that sale in Nordstrom's when we're
finished here.  I need to pick up a few things for me and Jerry. 
Remind me if I forget.

Anyhow, the big night finally rolled around -- it's hard to
remember now that it was just last weekend, so much has changed! 
There was a nip in the air, and unraked autumn leaves everywhere. 
Halloween weather!  I made myself ravishing the way I did every
night, but this time I put on new black high-heeled thigh-high
boots to wear instead of stockings, and my crotchless panties of
course, and a black leather micro mini that covered my bare pussy
lips only when I stood up straight and still.  Jerry looked great
too.  A little touch of mascara again, and his hair oiled back, and
a chest-tight knit silk muscle shirt together with his purple
velvet pants, and he was fussing around the room without even
thinking about it.  We'd had his pants tailored even tighter, so
his balls bulged in front as well as his buns in back, and he
grabbed for them now and then unthinkingly, to relieve the
pressure.  Just the right touch of suggestiveness.

Just before we left the house I gave his crotch a squirt of
perfume.  He looked startled, and I said playfully, "Can I help it
if my brother is a fag who wears perfume?"  That reminded him, and
he minced into the car.  Then as he was starting to back down the
driveway, I said to him, "Just one more thing and you're on your
own, brother.  When we make our entrance, walk as if someone's cock
was already in your ass.  If anyone really gay is interested, we'll
want them to know that you're available, so the judges can see for
themselves that even the real thing thinks you're the real thing." 


"Anne, just how far do you mean for me to go?  Isn't there any
limit to this notion of yours?"

"Jerry," I said.  "You just stay in character, and be what you're
supposed to be for this one night, and do it right even if that
means you have to go a little further than you'd like.  It won't be
anything men don't do.  Then afterward we'll talk.  I suspect that
after tonight I'll feel satisfied.  We'll see."

The mansion was impressive all lit up, as we parked in the space
I'd reserved for me.  My boss Roger met us at the door, looking
splendid in a tuxedo with a wing collar, not much of a costume, but
suitable I suppose to his role as a host.

"Welcome, Anne," he said.  "You've done wonders with the
decoration, and the food, and the orchestra, everything. 
Impressive, and handled with no last-minute flurries!"  He looked
a little more closely at Jerry and his mouth opened just a bit. 
"And this is...your husband?"

"My brother!" I told Roger, looking him straight in the eye.  "This
is my brother Jerry.  Same name as my husband's, no resemblance
otherwise.  I'm alone tonight, though I don't expect to stay that
way."

"Not in that costume," he said.  "You look good enough to eat."  

"I hope so," I replied.  "I'm looking forward to it."

Roger squared his shoulders and took my arm and led me into the
main hallway, leaving Jerry standing on his own at the door. "Not
a chance it won't happen," he said. "Not a chance.  May I have the
first dance?"

He did.  A half hour after we arrived I was in one of the larger
bedrooms off the main downstairs hallway, two huge beds with
coverlets already drawn down, wiping his cum out of my pussy as
best I could, tucking kleenex into my slit to slow the flow, and
kissing him on the nose.  "That was marvelous!"  I told him.  "My
husband's been away a long time now.  I'd almost forgotten the
moves."

"Oh no," he said.  "You do things my wife couldn't possibly do. 
That teeny rotating of your twat just about when you started
moaning, it drove me wild!  And I wish I'd known earlier how
wonderful you taste."

"Well, you know now," I said.  I just couldn't stop smiling!  I
felt so liberated!  It was just delicious, being a bona fide slut! 
Here in front of me was my first brand new man since my marriage!
A whole new world to explore!   He had a great tongue, really
marvelous, and a short but fat and altogether satisfying prick.  I
had no complaint about either of my orgasms.  "I'd better go see
how Jerry's doing," I said.  "He doesn't know anyone here."

"Don't worry, Anne," Roger said.  "I suspect he's well tended. 
There are a few people here with his... ahh... interests.  I notice
that you invited your husband's boss, Ralph.  He's an old friend,
we were in the same eating club at Princeton.  I'm glad you asked
him, his ex being off with my wife and all, and Ralph with nothing
else planned.  But he's brought someone who'll certainly want to
meet your brother if he hasn't already, a client of his who is as
it happens is also a client of ours too.  If the two of them hit it
off, we can all be happy."

He smiled at me, and took me gently by the elbow, and led me back
to the bed.  "Anne, if you don't mind mounting me this time, I'd
love to show your wonderful breasts how profoundly I can worship
them while we fuck again.  My wife's also been away longer than I'd
thought."

"That's what I'm here for, Roger," I said.  "Sluttish is as
sluttish does." 

His tongue on my nipples felt even better than his cock in my cunt,
and that was ecstasy!.  God, I'd waited a long time for a real man! 
I smiled as I thought that Jerry'd been one only a few months ago. 
I wondered if I could think of him that way ever again.  If he'd
ever be one again.

It didn't look that way when I went into the large room we'd turned
into a ballroom, orchestra on one side, all sorts of animals and
bunnies and horror film characters swaying and bouncing everywhere. 
The orchestra began a slow dance, and the floor quickly filled. 
Sure enough, there was my Jerry in a far corner plastered to a
tall, muscular man I didn't know.  The man wore a studded motorcyle
jacket, and Jerry was nearly wrapped inside it. The mutual client, 
no doubt about it, and they'd found each other as Roger had predicted.  

As I looked closer I saw the client grinding his pelvis into my
Jerry's crotch with each beat, holding Jerry's velvet buns close,
one in each huge hand.  Jerry was holding his partner around the
neck, taking the woman's role I noted with satisfaction, his head
on the man's shoulder and turned well away.  There seemed to be a
desperate gleam in his eye, and as I watched I saw why.  The client
let go Jerry's rear end for a moment, and as Jerry turned toward
him thinking the dance was finally done, he took Jerry's head in
both hands, leaned over him, and tenderly but with iron firmness
kissed him on the mouth.  The kiss lasted a while.  Jerry's hands
fell helplessly to his sides, dangling there.  Then his partner
placed them back around his neck and they resumed their clutched
movements, grinding against each other.

"They're getting on very well, wouldn't you say?"

I looked up, and there alongside me was Ralph in a tiger costume of
sorts, also looking at the loving couple.

"I'm glad you invited me to invite him.  His name's Mike,
incidentally. I introduced Jerry to him as your brother, as you'd
suggested, and they hit it off right away.  At least Mike did, and
Jerry's obviously under strict instructions to go with the flow, to
be what he seems to be.  I told him Mike was our best client, so he
should be sure Mike gets whatever he wants.  How did you turn that
compulsive stud into such a compliant queer?  What kind of a hold
have you got on him?"

"The best kind," I replied.  "I've got him by the balls!  He still
wants to stay married to me for some reason, and I'm setting
conditions.  Enlarging his horizons for him."

end Queer Halloween 2/3

VickieTern@AOL.COM


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