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From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {Vickie Tern} New TG: True Love 1/3 M/F femdom wife humil 
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                           True Love 1/3
                           by Vickie Tern


Don't read this if you aren't legally entitled to read this.  It
contains explicit sex.  Mostly right at the outset, and mostly
gentle, but still, you aren't supposed to know about such things. 
There are characters who use obscene language too, nothing you
haven't heard before, chances are, but nothing you're allowed to
read here.  Your parents and your legislators want their thoughts
about you to remain pure.  

If the events in this story seems to resemble events in the lives
of anyone you know, I'm amazed by the coincidence.  I'm also sure
they would not appreciate your trumpeting that fact to the world.

Vickie Tern's other stories are archived at
http://www.fictionmania.com        and also
http://library.gaycafe.com/nifty/transgender/by_authors/Vickie_Tern

I appreciate all kinds of comment: VickieTern@AOL.COM.




                              i.

We were screwing, as we often did mornings to take full advantage
of my wake-up erections.  She was mounted on my crotch and leaning
back with her eyes shut, slowly rotating her pelvis on my cock,
which had melted into something all hers, deep and warm and wet
inside her.  Heaven on earth, in our own bed.

I was on my back with my hands reaching out to mold and support her
breasts, thumbs brushing casually against her distended nipples. 
She'd whimper now and then, and when I opened my eyes I'd see hers
closed, her beautiful face concentrating on her body's sensations,
that pert nose and delicate chin tilted high up, full brown hair
tumbling everywhere as she tossed her head to and fro in a rhythm
matched to her pelvic ecstasy.

This was our favorite position.  Now and then she'd ask me to
clamber up between her spread legs and ram her into the mattress,
my weight crushing her and my own thrusting our dominating rhythm. 
But more often she preferred to kneel lightly over me, in complete
control of her pleasures.  Crouched down on her, I could brush my
lips on her neck, and she'd invariably shiver.  But while on top I
couldn't comfortably caress her breasts, and as she once told me,
she always felt pinned down.  She didn't like feeling pinned down.

So she was above me with my penis deep inside her, revolving her
crotch on mine, a dreamy half-smile fixed on her face.  Twenty
years married, kids all grown and gone, and still my heart melted
to see that smile!  I set up a delicate counter revolution that
buried my shank far up into her to the root.  Just delicious.  I
closed my eyes and sent my mind down into my crotch to live
forever.

Still screwing slowly, she said in a preoccupied voice, as if in
passing, "You know, I've been seeing another man."

"'Seeing'?"  I opened my eyes.  Nothing had changed.  Hers were
still closed.  She was grinding down onto me as always.  "What do
you mean, 'seeing'?"

"You know.  Like now.  Fucking!"

"Another man?  You're fucking another man?"  She was still moving
on me, rotating her pelvis, and my slick shank slid in and out of
her as she rocked back and forth.  I waited.  She moaned, "Ahhh,
darling!"  Once, contented.  Then more silence.  "Why?"  

She looked down on me gravely, then closed her eyes again and
pushed.  She seemed to smirk, but I realized it was only
self-satisfaction, her extra pleasure as she ground her clit hard
against my pelvic bone.  "Honey, why does anyone fuck?  Because I
like it!"

She lifted herself up and thrust down, then up, then down, and let
out a deep sigh.  "Yesss," she hissed in confidence to herself.  "I
love it!"  Then she leaned way forward on top of me, and the base
of my cock pivoted against the inside of her mound, its underside
now thrust against her wet, velvet vulva.  Her hair fell over my
face, and her eyes became dark smudges.  I looked up into them. 
Her expression was no longer visible. 

"Ohhh!" she said.  "My tits!  Caress my tits, you sweet man! 
Caress my nipples!" she whispered.  "Kiss me!  Push into me! 
More!"

I did all of those things.  

"Don't worry, lover, I don't want to leave you!  And I'm trying to
arrange it so you won't want to leave me!  You're everything I need
and everything I want!  Deeper, ohhhh, yes, deeper!  Yessss!"

Now she was writhing on me, her hair waving back and forth over my
face, her tension mounting, her buttocks heaving, my cock carried
along inside her helplessly, working up and down and around it
relentlessly, passionately, gloriously as my own exquisite
sensations poised for their great leap and then overflowed,
spurted, hurled themselves into her as she clenched and squeezed
and clenched and shouted, "Ohhh, Yesss, Ohhh, Yesss, heavenly,
ohhh, heavenly!"  And then she collapsed on top of me, her face
pressed against my face, arms squeezing my neck, her breasts
squashed on mine.  

I waited until I could find breath again.  "Why, then, if I'm
everything?" I asked.

"Everything is good," she said into my neck, muffled.  "More of
everything is better.  Kiss me again, sweetheart!"

I did, but I couldn't believe we were having this conversation!  It
was unreal!  Without thinking, I kissed her as so often before, so
many times before when we had just made love and were feeling
especially intimate.  She kissed me back so very tenderly, as if my
mouth were a rare jewel, then after a few more deep breaths she sat
back up on me and looked down on me, altogether pleased with both
of us.  I stared back bewildered, my prick not yet soft, still
crammed somewhere inside her.

"My precious!" she said to me.  "My darling!  I've wanted to tell
you for so long now.  And now I've told you.  I'm so relieved! 
I've worried it might come between us, but now I feel so relieved!"

"What?" I said.  I was dazed.  Addled.  What questions could I ask? 
What did I want to know?  What not know?  "For how long?  Tell me
again, Cynthia!"

Now she spoke more slowly, patiently, her hands stroking my chest,
enjoying the feel of what little chest hair I had.  "I've been
seeing another man, honey.  Fucking him.  Rob, you know him, he's
one of the younger men at your office.  I've quit with my previous. 
His wife found out and stopped him from coming to see me.  We're
still friends and she feels sorry for me, but it's the same with
them as it was with Bill and Helene, and before that with Scott and
Francine.  With practically all of our friends, really.  The wives
all feel sorry for me, but they won't share.  Betsy was quite rude,
in fact, telling me to keep away from Cal.  Actually warned me to
stay away!  A shame, because Cal has the most beautiful cock I've
seen anywhere.  Any I've actually fucked, I mean.  Even more
beautiful than yours."

"You've been unfaithful to me?  With other men?"  I said it, and
immediately could have bitten off my tongue.  But I was baffled! 
"Why?"  

Cynthia looked down on me, puzzled and a little annoyed.  "I just
told you, sweetie!  Weren't you listening?  I like to fuck!  You
know that!  I love it with you!  I adore it with you!  But I like
it with other men too!  So I do it with others!  Only one man at a
time, of course.  Besides you, I mean."

She looked down at me with real affection, and impulsively bent to
kiss the tip of my nose.  I didn't turn my head up to kiss her
back.

"Aww, you're upset!  Don't be, sweetheart!"  She bent to kiss me
again.

"Cynthia!"  I tried to get a grip on this lunacy!  She'd been
sleeping with half the men we knew, and I never knew it, and she
didn't seem to think there was anything wrong with it?  Their wives
felt sorry for her?  How could I make sense of this conversation? 
I tried.  My penis still snugged inside her was softening, a
little, but it still felt good there.  Without realizing it I
pressed up against her to secure it inside for as long as possible. 
"My God, Cynthia!  All those men?  Our friends?  Suppose I were to
sleep with all of their wives!  How would you like that?"  This was
the craziest conversation I had ever had!  None of it was real!

"I wouldn't like it, lover!  Because you're mine!  All of that love
juice inside you belongs inside me!  And I want all of it!  All the
time!  But the last few years, each year there's been less.  You
know!  Some nights I'll climb on you, and there's nothing at all! 
That's all right, darling, we hug and smooch, and that's just
wonderful. I love it, and I love you."  

She leaned way over and kissed me again gently, with infinite care,
on my lips, and seemed reluctant to stop.  I couldn't help but kiss
her back.  Her mouth was so soft!  My heart swelled with love for
her, even though my stomach was sinking into the pits!

"But it's always so frustrating for me, those times when you can't
get it up.  So the next day I'd call up whoever I was seeing at the
time, and I'd ask him to fuck my brains out that very day!  And
whoever it was, he'd try!  He'd really try!  Younger men can still
really do it too, over and over!  They remind me of you when you
were younger, honey!  They sometimes fuck me so hard I can't sit
still or see straight for days!"  

Her face was rapt with the memory.  I tried to feel angry with her,
but I couldn't, not from underneath her crotch, my pecker still
plugged into her pussy and still holding back trickles and gouts of
cum.  I tried wriggling out from under, but I only got in deeper. 
 

"Cynthia, that's not right!  We're supposed to be faithful to each
other!  How could you?"

"Don, honey, don't be such a stick!  You're my husband!  I always
prefer you!  I always give you first crack at me, if you're able to
do anything!  Anything at all!  Night or day!  That's being
faithful!  And you're the only man I truly love, and the only man
I ever will love the way I love you!  That's being faithful!  If I
thought you'd take it this way, I'd never have told you!  How can
you say I'm not being faithful?"

She was genuinely hurt, not far from tears.  I reached up to stroke
her face.  But I had to try again.

"Honey," I said.  "If I could, if we didn't make love so
frequently, or at least whenever I can, would you want me to go
around sleeping with all those other wives?  All of the women we
know?  I could do that, you know!"

"You're so sweet!"  She was teased by the thought, and began to
tickle my cheeks and the tip of my nose with the ends of her hair. 
"No you couldn't!"

"Why not?"

"Because you can't.  Not when I'm done with you, you can't."  She
hesitated.  "And also because they know you can't!"

"What?"  I was speechless again.

"You may as well get used to the idea, honey.  None of the women we
know will get into bed with you.  They think that you're impotent. 
They think they know you're impotent.  We've all talked about it.
I've explained to their husbands why I find fucking them so
delicious.  Because you can't satisfy me.  And sooner or later they
tell their wives about me, and the wives tell each other.  Everyone
knows I'm looking around because you don't perform, sweetie!"

I was silent at this.  "That's why they feel sorry for you?" I
asked finally.

Cynthia didn't seem to hear me.  "Marge, she's a psychologist,
remember, she thinks its your gender confusion that causes it. 
It's been a long time since I told them about how you were wearing
my panties.  I'm sure that by now they all assume you wear my other
clothes too.  That you want to be a girl.  Marge thinks so.  She
has all kinds of theories about it, but mainly she thinks it's kind
of sweet.  Nearly everyone else does too."

"You told them I wear your panties?!  When?  Whatever for?  What
else did you tell them?!"

"Oh, a few more things.  But why are you so upset?  That was years
ago!  A couple of years, anyhow!"

"Years?!"  The wives thought they knew, and so did the husbands. 
I tried to remember if Bill had been simpering or leering at me in
the past few months.  But nothing came to mind.  Anything when we
changed clothes for raquetball at the Club, or changed back again? 
Did he check out my midriff after a shower?  Nothing.  But I
wouldn't have noticed.  Who thinks about such things?  "What few
more things did you tell them?!"  

"Oh, a few more.  I see no reason to upset you any more than you
are right now.  We'll discuss this another time."

I calmed down as quickly as I could.  "Cynthia," I said in as
measured a tone as I could manage.  "I'm not upset.  Just curious. 
Why did you tell them I wear your panties?  What was the occasion?"

She looked at me with her eyes wide open.  Here it comes, I
thought.  Cynthia was a youngest child, her daddy's little girl,
and the ways she'd twisted him to gratify her whims and avoid
punishment all through her growing up had carried over into our
marriage.  I always thought they were cute when she tried them out
on me.  I never failed to melt when I was on their receiving end. 
That darling little girl simplicity she could call on any time was
one of the many reasons I loved her.  

"Why, Marge saw your panties, honey, that time we were all together
at that resort hotel.  You and the boys were out playing golf while
the girls stayed back and did the laundry and gossiped.  A whole
week's worth!  Remember?  All mixed together by the time we were
through!  Then when we all had to sort out each other's things,
Marge picked up some of your panties, and I had to claim them."  

"Marge?"  My voice rose and cracked, and I must have sounded a
little frantic, because Cynthia began looking at me closely, those
big beautiful eyes fixed on mine.  My cock was soft, but still
tucked into her.  Would it toughen up again?  That hadn't happened
for a few years!  

I resumed control.  "Cynthia, I don't wear your panties."  

I was trying to be calm and reasonable and matter-of fact, but all
sorts of thoughts tumbled through my head.  Marge was there, and
Chelsea, Eric's Chelsea.  Cathy too.  All the couples of our
bridge-playing set -- that's what we were there to do, golf and
play bridge.  And to do laundry too, apparently.  And to do me, to
undo my reputation.  "Why did she think I wore your panties?  I
don't wear your panties!"

"But you do, sweetheart," she said, still wide-eyed, a reassuring
smile beginning to brighten her face.  "Hanes Her Way cotton Hi-Leg
panties, the same ones I used to wear before you asked me to get
sexier down there, and I stocked up on those lacy things you love
seeing draped across my ass cheeks and caught tight in my pussy. 
Remember when you asked me?  I thought they were silly, but now I
love them.  Most men get hard the moment they see me in them!"

She leaned back, then forward, and then she pust have clenched a
pussy muscle, because I felt my penis lurch a little.  It was
returning to life!  

She felt it too.  "See, even you, just from imagining me in them! 
You wear some other brands too.  I gave all my old cotton panties
to you.  You never noticed?  All those briefs you like to wear, you
never noticed that none of them have flies, the way men's briefs
do?  That there's double fabric too far down in the crotch to do a
man much good?  Where women get moist?"  She wiggled a little.

"No," I said.  The mystery was clearing a little, leaving only my
reputation among friends murky. 

"Well, whenever they came out of the dryer I had to reclaim them,
and then the girls got a little silly, and whenever my lacy things
were peeled off the pile they'd say 'Here, this must be Don's too,'
and we'd laugh and giggle.  I'm sure they think we share
everything."

"Why didn't you explain to them?"

"Honey, why should I?  I could see their attitudes toward you
changing, right before my eyes!  Some of them used to think you
were quite handsome and attractive.  They'd tell me so, with that
look in their eyes, you know?  So I thought, let them think what
they think!  Then they won't try to take what's mine!  Try to play
up to you, and maybe cheat me out of one of those moments when
you're up and ready for action!"

Again I was silent.

"I didn't lie.  Chelsea said she'd love to see you in those frothy
tap pants you got me for my birthday, the ones that make you feel
so...loving, whenever you see me in them?  I told her you'd bought
them yourself in Victoria's Secret and that you just love them. 
They were impressed.  In fact they were quiet until Marge asked out
of the blue, 'Are his brassieres from Victoria's Secret too?  Does
he wear a slip?'  They're such teases!  They were disappointed when
I told them no, no slip.  But they felt better when I showed them
the two brassieres I bought that time you were a little tipsy and
nuzzling me and said you wished I wore lower necklines with more
cleavage.  Remember?  I held them up and I said, 'Don wanted these
bras, so I got them for him.  He loves seeing cleavage when we
dress to go out.'"

"Well, sweetie, then they were really impressed!  They all started
talking at once.  'You two dress to go out?  Together?  Like that? 
The same way?  My Ellis would never ever!  But when you go out,
Cynthia, where do you go?  What do you do?  How does he look?'  So
I told them usually we go out dancing, but first to a nice
restaurant, and after a few drinks and a bottle of wine and a good
dinner we feel just lovely, and you look so very lovely at least to
me, so we go some place where there's an orchestra and we dance. 
At first we dance together, I told them, but men begin to cut in to
dance with me, so I tell you to go find your own partners.  And you
do.  Like at Joyce and Tim's daughter's wedding, you remember? 
There are always plenty of singles to dance with.  So we may not
even see each other for much of the evening.  It's so very
Romantic!"  

"Well, now the girls are sort of solemn.  Gail -- she was there
too, you remember, your boss's wife, she took over the conversation
and everyone else just listened.  She got real interested!  She
asked me if we always leave together after a date like that.  I had
to tell her 'Not always,' because there was that time we were out
with your cousin and his wife, and we got tired, you remember, and
you two wanted to see the end of some basketball game on the tube,
so you came home later, remember?"  

"'One of you uses a hotel room on those occasions?' she asks, and
I told her we both do sometimes.  It depends on how late it is, and
how far we're willing to go for a good time.  I mentioned that
you're always more eager to spend the night in a hotel than I am. 
And it's true!  You never want to drive back home when we've both
had a lot to drink.  Isn't that true?"

"Well, when we were going upstairs, Gail told me confidentially
that she didn't know we were into kinky things, and that she hoped
we'd both come to a dressup dinner for some selected friends some
time when she could arrange it.  She told me that Geoffrey, your
boss, that he looked smashing in a wig and a long gown, and she was
anxious to see how you looked.  She asked me who does your hair,
and I had to tell her you did, when it wasn't mussed, which it is
much of the time given the way you get when you're really into
things.  She said she could understand that, you being a hands on
kind of person, and I certainly had to agree to that."  

Cynthia smiled to herself and wriggled her bottom into my groin. 
There was no doubt about it.  I was getting harder.  She picked up
my hands and placed them on her breasts.  "Caress me again, lover!"
she whispered confidentially.  I did just that.

"Well, we've talked about it now and then since that time, all of
us, they like to tease me by offering you their dresses and things. 
Whenever you compliment them on something they're wearing -- and
you often do, Don, you're such a gentleman! -- they can't wait to
get to the Ladies' with the rest of us and giggle about it, how
you'd love for me to buy you the same thing for your next birthday. 
Mmmmmmmmmm!  More!"

I was fully hard again.  Cynthia lifted and lowered herself just to
make sure, then began plunging at me.  That delicious feeling
returned to my loins.  I flicked her nipples gently in response. 
She leaned forward and kissed me with passionate intensity.

"Oooh, I do love you, sweetheart!  Never doubt it!  This kind of
talk turns you on, doesn't it?  I'll have to remember that!  Then
last week it was Gail's turn to warn me away from Geoffrey.  She
understood, she felt sorry for me and all that, she knows how
different men have their compulsions, but she wasn't going to
tolerate my affair with him.  She told me confidentially that he
wasn't that much of a lover anyhow, and I had to agree with her,
and we got to be quite friendly, gal to gal, comparing notes. 
She's been around the block a few times too.  I told her that Rob
had been coming on to me, and she encouraged me to go for it.  So
that's what I did.  And she encouraged me to tell you all about it,
that it wasn't fair you were the only one who didn't know what
everyone else knows.  Or thinks they know.  That's why I'm telling
you now."

"Oh?" I said.  I was feeling a little bitter, but Cynthia had begun
to corkscrew her sweet, soft, moist quim into me, and I was having
trouble thinking.  I kept stroking and cupping her breasts without
even realizing it.

"Also because you have to know, now.  She's invited us to her
house.  It's tonight.  A dinner party, it's supposed to be a
surprise, something about a promotion for you, honey.  It must be
some kind of costume occasion, formal, because she said we both
should wear long gowns and put our hair up properly, and all.  That
Geoffrey was looking forward to meeting you looking beautiful, the
way he'll be dressed.  She said you wouldn't regret it."  

She was silent for a while, rotating slowly, then faster. 
Everything became more intense, much more concentrated!  When she
finally leaned forward to climb higher into the sublime, her ass
was in a whirl, frenzied!  I had no idea where in all that glorious
energy and sensation my cock might be, until we both exploded,
shrieking.  Both of us!  Pure joy!"

When she could breathe again, she continued.  "There!  Now you're
well-drained!  No danger now that some other woman'll carry you off
and use you.  Not until tomorrow the earliest, I know you!  Not
until the middle of next week.  But by then you'll be all mine, I
hope, and nobody else's ever!" 

She leaned way forward to nuzzle me.  I felt numb.  I couldn't
think.  Dinner at my boss's was a rare honor.  I'd been only once
before, years ago.  But wearing a dress?

"I can't do it, Cynthia," I said, torn between regret and fear. 
"I'd be ridiculous.  I'll wear my dinner jacket!  Or you'll have to
go without me and make my excuses.  I can't go dressed like you! 
Like a woman!  I'm a man!"

"You don't have to tell me that, lover!  Not right now you don't." 
Her mouth smiled, lips closed, as if savoring the memory of honey. 
My prick softened and slithered out, and then cum poured out of her
slit and soaked both our crotches. It lubricated the inside of her
thighs, and she began rubbing them absent-mindedy on my hips. 

She pulled back her gorgeous long brown hair, so it streamed onto
her back and shoulders, some strands still sticking onto her skin
with perspiration.  Still as beautiful as ever, my wife, but what
had she done to me?  To my reputation?  She leaned forward again,
but this time she took my head in both her hands before continuing,
and stared straight into my eyes, and spoke with intense
earnestness.

"You don't have a choice, sweetheart.  Don't worry.  Tonight you'll
only look the way everyone expects you to look.  They've known
about you for years, remember!  Or they think they do.  If that's
how your boss means to dress, then that's how you'll have to dress
too.  Or think how embarrassed he'll feel!  Gail tells me she's
really curious to see how lovely you can look when you're really
done up properly!  I've boasted about you to her.  In fact, she
recommended two hotel rooms for later tonight, for us each to stay
in after the party.  'Rob will be there,' she said.  'And maybe Don
is impotent, but if he's as pretty as you say I'm sure he has some
uses still.'  I couldn't disagree, whatever it is she has in mind. 
What do you think?"

I couldn't say.  I couldn't say anything.

"It's time you were wearing frillier underwear anyhow," she said. 
"Just leave everything to me.  I've already made the appointments
for your hair and nails, and I've already bought you your dress. 
Slinky satin, like that pale blue gown you told Chelsea you so
admired on her.  Only yours is cream, with white beading, because
you're still a virgin, aren't you, so you can wear white, can't
you?  As a woman, I mean!  Don't worry a bit.  You have clear
features, and you're not too large.  You'll be gorgeous!"

end 1/3
VickieTern@AOL.COM


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