From nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE Tue Jul 15 11:14:42 1997
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From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg,alt.sex.stories.moderated
Subject: New TG: The New Secretary by Amy Brett (07/11)
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Date: 15 Jul 1997 15:14:42 GMT
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Hi.
This nifty submission is not included yet, but it will be in next
one during the upcoming weekend. This story is a refelction of the
current jobmarket and conclusions which may occur under strange and
rare situations. So folks be happy if you had a job.
As usual I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If
you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then
welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null.
If you are an author and wish to remain anonymouns or just try to
avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your
stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands for
story postings and for nothing else.
Enjoy the story.
Ciao
Nostrumo
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
_The_New_Secretary_______________________________________by_Amy_Brett_ 7
That left only the medium height black sandals that showed my painted
toenails, and bracelet, necklace, and earrings. I posed for myself and
thought I looked great.
The rest of the girls thought I looked good, too, and Margaret just sat
looking at me with a grin on her face that said, as clearly as she could,
that she was proud of how far I'd come.
A drink relaxed me as I waited for seven o'clock.
* * *
I walked up the curving sidewalk through the forest of trees in Bill's front
yard and rang the doorbell. The house was a single story Tudor styled house
with a gable above the door that made it look more impressive than its
modest size.
The door opened and Bill's eyes rose from my feet to my face, taking
everything in and breaking into a spreading grin. He wore a pair of tan
cotton pants, moccasins, and a shiny white tee-shirt. His hair was freshly
washed and casually loose. I thought he looked great.
"Come in," he said, opening the door the rest of the way for me. "Welcome
to my humble castle."
"Thanks," I said and went into a nice foyer, the floor covered with red
pavers and large tropical plants sitting in just the right places.
"You look wonderful." He made me believe by the way his eyes almost bulged
as he looked at the cleavage. "It's all yours, isn't it?"
"Uh huh. Nothing fake or padded."
"Even your own hair, huh?" I smiled.
"Like it?"
"Very much. I think you should forget about the wig. Even at work. Unless
this is too much work."
"No. It's easy." I found myself fluffing it in a very feminine gesture.
He took me by surprise by closing the two feet between us, putting his arms
around me, and kissing me. I accepted his tongue in my mouth almost
immediately.
I thought it was a quick welcoming kiss. But, as it extended for more than
a minute, I thought it was more than that. I'd set myself to accept a quick
kiss. But as I felt it surging through my body, I found my ankle moving up
the back of his leg and feeling the heat of his body against me. My insides
were vibrating with excitement before he suddenly stopped and looked into my
eyes from a few inches away.
"Welcome," he said.
"Do you greet all your guests that way?" I asked.
He smiled.
"We've got to cook. Come on." He took my hand and led me into a kitchen
that could have been in House Beautiful. Nice appliances of all sorts, a
center butcher block island, hanging copper pots, and bubbling pots on four
burners. "Would you like a glass of wine or a drink?"
"A drink, please," I said. "Scotch and water, I think."
He went to a countertop cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Chivas Regal,
added ice and cold water from a bottle in the refrigerator, and handed it to
me.
"Would you like to toss a salad or stir the sauce?" he asked. I chose the
sauce and used the wooden spoon to stir the delicious smelling spaghetti
sauce as I sipped the drink and watched his tear up lettuce, cut up tomato
and cucumber, and pour an Italian dressing over the top to toss in.
Croutons and bacon bits made it look perfect. I suppose pasta laden salads
or romaine lettuce are more "in" but this was exactly the salad I liked.
"Okay. Turn that off and put the spaghetti in the pot next door there and
we'll be a few minutes away from eating. The pasta is in that tall thing
next to the stove there."
When I looked in the tall canister I thought the spaghetti looked homemade.
Just a little more variation in length and widths than manufactured
spaghetti and it smelled different when I put some in the big pot. It
melted down into the pot slowly and stopped the rolling boil. I stirred it
all into the water before putting the lid back on.
Expertly, he poured the water off a vegetable (broccoli I learned as he
poured it on a platter and garnished it with cheese), poured the sauce into
a steaming bowl, and, finally, poured the spaghetti into a colander and then
another bowl.
"Can you bring something?" he asked as he picked up the vegetable and sauce.
I grabbed the other two and followed him into a sunroom on the back of the
house with a glass topped wrought iron table set for two.
He pulled out a softly covered wrought iron chair for me and held it as I
sat down. Then he disappeared only to come back a minute later with the
salad and my drink.
In the few seconds, I had a chance to react to the plants all around me in
the room, the deep green grass of the back yard through tall windows, and
the mass of trees to the sides. The sun was only slightly above the horizon
and I knew it would set in the time it took us to eat. He sat down and
carefully opened a bottle of red wine, pouring a little in a wine glass and
swirling it before tasting it.
Damn he's good, I thought as I watched him sniff, taste, and nod to himself
before filling my glass. The china was very large clean, white enamel with
a silver edge and matching salad plates. My mouth was literally watering as
I dished out pasta for myself and watched him meting out salad to our
plates.
As I coated the pasta with sauce, he pushed over a silver cheese cup. "I
grate my own Parmesan," he said. "It's much better that way."
"You'll make someone a wonderful wife," I noted with a grin. "Or chef.
I've never smelled anything so enticing."
He just nodded.
We ate almost silently, punctuated with my groans of pleasure, drank the
wine, and watched the sun set as if it were a big screen movie.
He just chuckled with each of my hundred exclamations about the food, the
view, and the wine. As I finished a massive plate of spaghetti, he left
again and returned with small plates of Brie and a cheesecake. In spite of
thinking I was much too full, I ate the cheese and two pieces of cheesecake
as well as helping him finish the bottle of wine.
It was almost dark when we finished and he got up.
He led me to a living room that sported another wall of windows into the
back yard, a fireplace, and the biggest screen TV I've ever seen. We sat on
the couch as he used the remote to start a movie I hadn't seen but had heard
about. It was a quiet romantic comedy.
"Make yourself comfortable," he said and I took my shoes off and curled my
legs up on the couch as he pulled me over against him. We watched half the
movie before he turned me so I was laying across his lap, my head on his
arm, and his other hand in the middle of my stomach.
He kissed me again as the sex scene ended and had me panting by the time the
movie ended. Except for our hard breathing, the house was silent as he
turned off the TV.
For a long time, he kissed me, his hand moving gently on my stomach. He
didn't stop as his hand explored my naked thighs. He didn't stop as his
hand stroked and caressed and cupped my breasts under the tee-shirt. He
didn't stop as he pulled on my nipples and rolled the flesh that hadn't
itched in a month but did then. He didn't stop as he pressed and
manipulated the spot between my legs and he didn't stop as his finger found
my carefully lubricated asshole.
Finally, after what could have been more than an hour, I couldn't stand it
anymore.
"Please Bill. I need you to fuck me," I moaned throatily. "Maybe if I get
on my knees."
"Huh uh," he said.
He stood up and waited for me to take his hand to pull me to my feet. He
led the way through the house and deposited me at the dark opening of a room
as he went inside. A soft light came on next to a massive canopied bed in a
room that seemed to soak up the meager light of the bedside light. I went
to him and his hands went immediately to the hem of my tee-shirt so he could
move it up and off as I held my arms above my head.
He kissed me as he located the zipper on the skirt, lowered it, and dropped
it to the floor. I started to take off his tee-shirt as well but he
intercepted me, flicking it off over his head as my hands went to the
waistband of his pants. They dropped to the floor before he tossed the
tee-shirt to the side.
Now he was as excited as I was as he stepped out of his pants and lifted me
onto the edge of the bed.
I scooted up the rest of the way as he took off his underwear, his long cock
dropping out as if to point to me.
I turned over onto my stomach, making myself available to him, but he
crawled onto the bed with me and turned me to face him, his mouth covering
mine as I lay back into the quilt cover and pillows.
Almost wildly, he sucked on my nipples as I moaned and rolled on the bed
under him. Then he was lifting my legs wide. He didn't have to use his
hands to find my asshole with his hard cock. It seemed to find it by itself
and was inside me before I had time to anticipate or to react.
The slow pressure of it further and further into me rolled me onto my
shoulders with my now sensitive nipples pressed into his slightly hairy
chest. My moan escalated until his pubic hair tickled my newly shaved
pubis. My ankles locked behind the middle of his back.
He began long, slow strokes that almost removed him from me before extending
into my throat from below. Or at least that's what it felt like. He took
it upward slowly slowly increasing the length of the stroke and the speed
until I could hear myself squealing with the pleasure of it.
We came together, growling and moaning and groaning and coming and coming
and coming. He collapsed covering me completely, my ankles locked behind
his knees.
Obviously, that wasn't the last time he fucked me that night or the only
method.
He fucked me from behind. Once, when I'd cleaned up our combined messes, I
sucked him and was soon being sucked by him at the same time.
We fell asleep in each others' arms and woke the same way. He wouldn't take
his arm out from around me until he'd fucked me again in the morning.
He made eggs, bacon, small pancakes, hash browns, and lots of coffee while I
sat, totally naked, and watched. His dessert was me pressed face down on
his breakfast nook table.
After a shower and thorough cleaning with the bidet in his massive bathroom,
he used his tongue on what he called his "pussy." That was certainly the
first time I ever came that way.
16. Chapter
At our three month checkup, I measured 36 (my old chest size), 24 (a very
tight waist and flat stomach), 37 (with what Bill called "baby" hips and
"the best butt in the business"). I filled out my C-cup lace bras without
help and my hair was below my shoulders slightly. My nipples were large and
erect most of the time rising from areolas that swelled like breasts on top
of breasts.
My posture had changed to accommodate the new weight distribution, my
shoulders back and back straight. I did things with my legs naturally that
Bill said turned him on as he watched me from his office and didn't even
think about it.
I'd improved my wardrobe with new additions for every occasion and more than
a little help from Bill, who went on my shopping trips on several weekend
days.
Similarly, Paula had her appointment and displayed her very real B-cup
breasts which had surpassed her "fantasy" A-cup breast forms, and measured a
very cute 34-21-33. Sleeping with her, now at my apartment, I knew from
experience that her nipples were larger than mine and seemed more sensitive
even though mine were more than sensitive enough. At least she could drive
me out of my mind licking them and had, on more than one occasion, driven me
to orgasms sucking me.
Michelle, who was still living with Margaret, had earned her B-cups as well
and started dating one of the guys in finance.
After the appointment, Paula told me she thought she might be falling in
love with the doctor's finger and we both laughed.
That afternoon, Bill slowly and seductively stripped me naked and made love
to me in the middle of his soft office carpet until we both came twice.
He dropped my vertical rib knit dress over my head and helped me into my
shoes as I tried to hold the mass of come in my bowels with a handful of
Kleenex. His "suggestion" was that I forget about underwear and I spent the
rest of the afternoon playing Sharon Stone for him as he looked up my short
skirt and watched my breasts bounce every time I moved.
He insisted that I go out with him that night, dressed exactly as I was. We
went to one of the very nice restaurants in town, dancing for an hour or so
in a lounge in the hotel, and then to his house. He had my skirt around my
waist in the car before we got to his house and my dress off before we'd
left his foyer.
If I hadn't run for his bed, the first time would have been in a hallway.
The next morning, we went on a quick shopping trip that gained me the
smallest, tightest white shorts and half tee I've ever seen. And a pair of
heels that were little more than a few leather strings to provide the most
basic support.
Then, as if it were an attempt to unmask me, he took me everywhere he could
think of to show me off to the greatest number of people. We went to the
zoo. We went to the park. We went to the lake and watched the people water
ski and sunbathe and play frisbee until he decided we should do that too.
He got a particular charge out of throwing high and making me stretch to
catch the whirling disk and at least partially display my breasts.
Certainly to bounce them so much that my nipples were sore from rubbing on
the tee-shirt material.
Daylight in the car sitting in the parking lot, he licked them to do away
with the soreness. Maybe it even worked. It certainly seemed to work for
the twelve year olds who walked by and watched, wide eyed.
He got me home by ten but it was only because I insisted on sleeping in my
own bed, so my work clothes would be close, and because we had both had
enough sex to last us.
* * *
Bill had to go to a meeting with a big prospective client in Washington, DC.
He asked me to go with him but I knew that I'd be a distraction and so did
he. He also knew that he wouldn't have much time for us to be alone. So he
went alone.
Monday, Roger asked Paula to go out with him for the first time on Friday.
They had a relationship that had lasted since the first week we'd worked at
the company. But they'd never dated.
Paula had been so excited all week that she was like a little girl. And
then, as far as she was concerned, disaster struck. Roger's brother came to
town unexpectedly Thursday night.
"Amy?" Paula said at lunch. "You know that Sam, Roger's brother, is in town
right?" I nodded. "Well, Roger doesn't want to leave him alone on their
first night together for a long time. I guess he lives in New York and they
only get to see each other about once a year." I nodded again.
"Well, Roger says that the only way we can still go out tonight is if I can
get somebody to go out with his brother. I thought that since Bill is out
of town, maybe you'd go out with Sam."
I spent the rest of the lunch telling her why I couldn't, shouldn't, and
wouldn't go out with him. She came up with different reasoning for each of
my objections and finally did the best impression of a basset hound I've
ever seen. The big, sad brown eyes did me in.
That, and the first real opportunity I'd had to really dress up.
* * *
After work, we raced home and began a mad dash of baths, hair setting,
makeup, and dressing. I chose black lace panties and garter belt with
sheer, lightly black tinted stockings, and a little black dress with a
halter top and bare back. Dangly fake diamond earrings, dinner rings, and
bracelet with an ankle bracelet set off the black swede city pumps with
three inch heels.
Paula chose a red silk halter top connected to loose pants, with red panties
and heels so high I felt sorry for her. Her auburn hair was down onto her
back then.
When the guys picked us up, they looked very professional in dark three
piece suits, white shirts and power ties.
Sam was younger than Roger and where I thought Roger looked the part of a
Chief Financial Officer a little stuffy, only about 5'11" and a little heavy
his brother looked like one of those European soccer stars playing
businessman for a night.
He's probably 6'3" and weighs a nicely shaped muscular 190. The European
impression comes from long, loose blond hair, a small, neatly trimmed
mustache, and huge smile. His blue eyes looked me up and down three times
before he said anything. And that was almost breathless.
"Roger told me you were good looking," he said. "But he didn't tell me the
half of it." His eyes sparkled.
"Sam should know," Roger said. "He's one of the best plastic surgeons in
the 'rich' section of New York and if there's a beautiful woman he hasn't
worked on, they just haven't heard of him yet."
I offered a drink before we left but the men decided that we should have one
before dinner and the reservations were less than an hour off.
We got our bags and I shivered with the feel of Sam's hand in the small of
my back as he guided me to the midnight blue Mercedes Roger drove. The
first time I wondered if this was such a good idea was after Sam had
carefully watched my legs as I got into the back seat and Roger took Paula
in his arms in the front seat and kissed her for long enough that I wondered
if he intended to make the reservation or not.
Sam was as uncomfortable watching them as I was and made a good attempt at
distracting me with questions about work and personal life as we waited for
the car to even move.
Just when I was thinking about suggesting it, Roger put the car in gear and
soon delivered us to the downtown bank building where the restaurant they'd
chosen was. The glassed elevator they led us to was in the open lobby of
the bank and rose through four stories inside above a guard's head that was
craned upward to look under my skirt the entire time before it seemed to go
through the roof and into the open air above the city. I found myself
pressed back against Sam just to get away from the vertiginous drop outside
the glass.
I'd heard of the restaurant but had never been to it because it was much too
expensive. Roger checked on the reservations before leading us all into the
lounge.
The place was moody with low lights set so they didn't reflect in the
magnificent windows that overlooked the city. The room was long and only a
few tables deep with the long bar at the top of a set of tiers that allowed
everyone a great view. Two or three couples were dancing to a subdued dance
band at the far end, made up of a muted guitar, keyboard, and drummer.
The crowd, who seemed to all be looking at us, were a mixture of older,
obviously rich people, middle aged businessmen alone or in groups, and a few
younger people on "special" dates. I noticed three tables where older, gray
haired men sat with young, extremely beautiful women. Sugar daddies, I
thought.
The guys ordered for us and we talked softly, Sam sharing a little about his
practice and life in New York, while we sipped at drinks. About half an
hour later, when the maitre 'd told us our table was ready, we made our way
back up the steps and then into the other half of the rooftop that was set
up somewhat similarly but wider and lighted by candles everywhere you
looked.
The table linens were dark red and made the sparkling silver, crystal, and
white china stand out.
We ordered from a huge menu and had our third drinks while we waited. I'd
had two gin and tonics and, for some reason, thought a martini sounded like
a good idea. Needless to say, before the salad got there, I was starting to
giggle. And I never giggle. I pride myself on not giggling, in fact. And
when I wasn't giggling on general principles, we were all laughing as Sam
told stories about the old ladies he made beautiful, fading Broadway stars,
up and coming starlets with big noses, and breast augmentations for
strippers.
The food was wonderful, prepared at an open grill above the rest of the
restaurant, and the three bottles of wine Roger got us set it off perfectly.
I thought the wine probably cost about the equal of my weekly paycheck.
Paula had never had Crepes Suzette so we all had them along with an orange
flavored after dinner drink that was good.
After we finished, we went back into the lounge and had a good time deciding
what to order to drink. Paula and I ended up with drinks that came in
brandy snifters and tasted like orange sherbet but that you could feel go to
your head immediately.
For a while, the band played a mixture of things that were sort of upbeat
and we danced all sorts of dances I've never even thought of trying before.
Sam really knew what he was doing and had me feeling like I was really
coordinated. He just didn't give me a chance to step wrong because he led
so well.
We danced a couple, sat one out and drank a drink, dance, drank, and got
drunker and drunker, I think. Even with the exercise.
Then the music changed to slow and sensual and so did Sam's dance style.
There was just something very sensual about having his big hand in the small
of my bare back and rubbing my barely covered nipples across the lapels of
his suit coat.
He talked directly into my ear from a fraction of an inch away, exciting me
with his warm breath. He held me tight and moved perfectly in sync with the
music. Everything felt wonderful and looked wonderful. His leg pressing
between my legs was stimulating. The hardness I felt against my hip was
stimulating.
When he kissed me on the dance floor the first time, it made the hair at the
back of my neck tingle with excitement and goose bumps run up and down my
spine. When he kissed me again and his tongue sought my throat, I thought I
might come right there. By the end of the dance, I was oxygen staved from
my panting.
I think when we finished our drinks and got back into the glass elevator,
his arms around my ribcage from behind and his hardness pressed into my ass,
I would have done anything he wanted.
Strangely, we were kissing as I was turned almost facing backward, leaning
against his knees in the back seat of the Mercedes, when I realized this was
dangerous and that someone else was about to learn the secret I'd kept so
well over the months.
I wondered if I cared as both his hands went under the halter top and
covered my breasts, kneading and squeezing them as I sucked his tongue. But
I decided it wasn't fair to him to let him go on. At least without knowing.
"Sam," I moaned. He kissed my neck under my ear as I turned away from
letting him kiss my mouth again. "You ... let me ... I've got to tell
you."
"Roger told me," he whispered in my ear.
"But " I started.
"He told me all about you and Paula. And about you and Bill. I know," he
said, looking into my eyes. "Remember? I'm a doctor, too. If Roger hadn't
said something, I would have seen probably.
"Quite a lot of my business comes off 42nd Street. I've done several
surgeries for ..." he stopped and looked into my eyes "For beautiful women
to be. That's what I've always called them. And you're not a beautiful
woman to be. You're beautiful, dazzling, now."
He kissed my neck and shoulders and jawline as if to let his words sink in.
"And I'm going to be here for the weekend. Not for your life. I know you
are involved with someone and I don't care. And you shouldn't either."
As that was sinking in, we stopped at a big house in an exclusive part of
town I thought was a few blocks from Bill's and Roger turned off the car and
went around to let Paula out. He looked over the seat at us and said, "You
guys coming in or do you prefer my back seat?"
Sam slid across the seat as I got turned around, opened the door, and gave
me and hand out. We caught up with them, Paula leaning on Roger's shoulder
and holding his arm as he unlocked the front door.
"If you'd like a drink or some romantic music, Sam knows where it is.
Right, man?" he said to Sam now. "You'll excuse us. We have something to
do."
Paula's heels clicked on the marble staircase that curved up to the second
floor of the house. Sam grinned at me and led me into a formal living room
as they disappeared.
I don't know what I expected but what happened was beyond anything that had
happened to me before.
He guided me, his hand trembling slightly in the middle of my back, into the
room where he flicked on the lights of four floor lamps around the room. I
guess I expected a tour of the place or to be led to the long white couch or
any of a dozen other possibilities.
What I didn't expect was that he led me to the back of a heavily upholstered
white chair, moved behind me, and lifted my skirt.
"I knew you'd be wearing black lace," he said as his hands went to my
panties after tucking the back of my short skirt into my garter belt. My
hands on the back of the chair, I wondered exactly what was going on as he
whisked the black lace down my legs in a quick motion.
I looked over my shoulder in shock. It had happened so quickly that I don't
think I could have done anything about it. Even if I wasn't fairly drunk
and very hot from all the stimulation in the car. As I wondered what I
should do, his hands covered the globes of my ass, his thumbs pulling my
cheeks wide apart.
My hands slipped forward down the back of the chair as I fell forward, his
tongue diving into my asshole.
"Oh! Ah! Sam! My God!" I gasped as his long tongue sought out my
prostate, extending and retreating, extending and retreating until I was
vibrating at the edge of orgasm.
As suddenly as he'd done it, he stopped. Cross-eyed with it all, I looked
back again and saw that he'd pulled down his suit pants without even
unbuttoning his coat. His cock was long and fat, dripping from the sheath
of uncircumcised skin. The tails of his white shirt were open around it as
he aimed it at my waiting hole and, with steady pressure, opened me to it,
retreated quickly, pressed again, retreated and was finally against my ass
and fully inside me.
One more thrust and I would have climaxed. But he stopped and, bent over
me, unfastened the back of the halter top and pulled it away from my
dangling breasts. His hands went under my breasts, his thumbs and index
fingers finding my nipples.
As I looked with surprised interest, he did what I don't think very many men
in the world can do. Holding me back against his chest, he lifted me
upright then free of the chair back, my feet almost a foot above the floor.
He took several steps to one side with me where there was a bare expanse of
interior brick wall and pressed me against it. My hands at the sides of my
face caught us. He switched his hands, one at a time, from my breasts to my
knees, holding my legs wide. I was pressed, the inside of my knees, my
breasts, and my hands, against the cool brick, as he began to piston into me
hard and fast, lifting me with each thrust.
I came hard, splashing the inside of my black skirt, and almost screaming
with the excitement and release of it. That transmitted to his cock that
spasmed and filled my insides.
He grunted with each blast of hot come into me and held me up before
retreating a little and doing it again.
"Oh my God!" I gasped at the intensity and wildness of our act. This time,
when he lifted my legs he retreated from my hole before carefully guiding
one foot down to the floor where I could support myself and lower the other
leg.
Still leaning against me, he unzipped the short zipper down my ass and freed
my dress to fall around my ankles. Never letting me go, he put his arm
around my back, twisted, and had my legs at the back of my knees, lifting me
easily.
He didn't strain in the least as he carried me halfway across the room and
lay me down on my back on the soft rug. Since I could see what was
happening now, I wasn't surprised at all when he lifted my legs and slid
back into me again.
"I'm going ... to do ... your surgery," he gasped between thrusts. I
wondered what he meant and whether that was the plan right now as his huge
cock tried to cut me in two.
He kissed me as we came together.
17. Chapter
His legs were behind mine, mine spread wide as he explained what he planned
to do to me.
"What you do is make an incision from here to here," he said as his
fingernail traced from a point below the head of my little dick to the front
of my scrotum. "You remove the cartilage and the testes and vas deferens.
Then, inside the scrotum, you make an incision here." He pressed between my
legs.
"It's almost as easy then as turning the whole thing inside out, putting a
few stitches along the deepest point and nesting the nerve bundle of the
penis in a labial trench."
"Sounds easy to me. I'm sure there's a kitchen knife around," I said with a
laugh. He laughed with me.
"Okay. So it's not so easy but that's the easiest part that any cutter can
do. Where the art comes in the part I've founded my business on is the
cosmetic. Moving a little fat into this area and this area to build up a
perfect labial trench, reducing the clitoral surface to a believable size
while maintaining the full nerve bundle, building the vaginal sheath to the
proper size and shape, and finally building a believable labia minora with
this material." He was playing with my balls.
"So would it be big enough for this?" I said, taking his big cock in my hand
and stroking him.
"As big as you want. If you want one big enough for an eighteen incher
though, you're going to loose some skin from your hip or buttocks."
"How long does it take?"
"The surgery?" I nodded. "About three hours if you're as good as I am."
"And before you get out of the hospital?"
"Couple of days but you'll probably want to stay in bed for a week if you've
got someone to take care of you."
"Before it's usable?"
"Another week if you don't mind a little pain mixed with your pleasure," he
chuckled. "Realistically? Probably a month from the first cut. The better
and faster the surgeon, the faster the recovery. And I'm the best."
"Did you take lessons from Mohamed Ali?"
"I am the greatest!" he mimicked. "But I am. Hands down. I've done it a
dozen times and, so far, I haven't had a single long term trauma."
"Meaning nobody's been out for a week?"
"Meaning that nobody's felt real bad for long and the nerve bundle is
preserved. Some surgeons screw up the nerve bundle so bad there's either no
feeling left, it's misplaced, or it's to sensitive or not sensitive enough."
He took a deep breath.
"But you'll get to see first hand before I do you," he added.
"What?"
"Yeah. This is sort of a busman's holiday. I have the weekend to visit
dear old Roger and then Monday morning we make sweet little Paula all the
woman she's ever wanted to be."
"What!" I exclaimed. "Does she know that?"
"Of course. I've had this trip planned for a while but the timing was
around the operating theater availability Monday. She and Roger have been
talking to me for weeks, more or less."
I wondered why she hadn't told me about it.
"Anyway. Right now, I have something else in mind."
"What's that?" I asked.
"First I'm going to suck your tits until they're sore and then I want to see
what my dick looks like when I fuck them." I gulped.
"Can I go to the bathroom first so I don't mess up Roger's carpet?"
"Yeah. But leave it good and slippery," he said with a chuckle. "I'll mix
you a drink while you're gone."
"Okay. But am I going to have time to drink it?"
"Maybe later."
* * *
Monday morning, Bill was back and I told him about Paula. Since, he said,
it would take him a while to get his feet back on the ground, he told me to
go to the hospital and see how it was going. When I got there, Roger was
already there waiting and, within fifteen minutes, Sam came out in his green
outfit.
As soon as he took off his mask, I could tell it was all going to be okay.
His smile went from ear to ear.
"She's okay?" I asked.
"Of course. The Picasso of plastic surgery has performed," he said.
"I would have rather you'd said Michelangelo," Roger said.
"What, you didn't want three of those cute little tits? Now you tell me."
"Can we see her?" I asked.
"About half an hour. I waited until she came out of the anesthetic so she's
awake. But it'll take a few minutes before she's ready for company. Even
you guys. And then it can only be a few minutes cause she needs some
sleep."
He sat and talked to us in all too graphic detail, telling us about the
surgery. Then a nurse came out and said she'd been moved to a room and was
awake.
When we went into the room, she tried to sit up a little and winced but a
smile came quickly. Sam took her wrist and looked at his watch to check her
heartbeat as Roger took her other hand. I kissed her and asked how she was.
"I think I'm okay. Ask Sam," she said.
"You're better than okay. You're perfect," he said.
"Right now, I don't feel anything. That even includes my legs."
"That's from the block we gave you. Waist down for another couple of hours.
But it'll come back like gangbusters and when it does, the nurse will give
you a couple of pills. Some sleep will take care of the rest of it."
"You said well, that I'm perfect."
"Of course. Just like I told you. Most girls have to depend on mother
nature. Mother Sam makes pussies to order. Everything in its place and a
place for everything.
"Most girls hope for some feeling down there and it varies from too much to
too little. A lucky percentage have just the right amount.
"And some girls have clits that are the perfect size or maybe a little large
to allow the maximum pleasure. All my girls have nice large ones you can
get your fingers around."
We laughed.
"Some girls have a puss you could drive a truck in but can't feel a normal
guy. Some have one so small and tight that it's an effort to take anyone.
My girls are just right. Tight enough to give you a thrill and deep and
flexible enough to take what's necessary."
He turned to Roger and I.
"I'll warn you that about two hours from now, she's going to feel like
somebody kicked her. Hard. And that'll probably last for a while, though
it will lessen as the day wears on.
--
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From nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE Tue Jul 15 11:15:11 1997
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From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg,alt.sex.stories.moderated
Subject: New TG: The New Secretary by Amy Brett (08/11)
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Date: 15 Jul 1997 15:15:11 GMT
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Hi.
This nifty submission is not included yet, but it will be in next
one during the upcoming weekend. This story is a refelction of the
current jobmarket and conclusions which may occur under strange and
rare situations. So folks be happy if you had a job.
As usual I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If
you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then
welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null.
If you are an author and wish to remain anonymouns or just try to
avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your
stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands for
story postings and for nothing else.
Enjoy the story.
Ciao
Nostrumo
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
8___The_New_Secretary_______________________________________by_Amy_Brett_
"You'll sleep well tonight though and, unless there's some unexpected
bleeding or you don't follow your doctor's orders, we'll be able to let you
out of here about this time tomorrow morning."
"We'll take turns taking care of her, Amy, if that's okay with you," Roger
said. "I'll take some half days I've got coming and I'll talk to Bill about
giving you some half days. And, according to Sam, she'll be okay alone
during the day by about Thursday."
"I'll take the bandages off Friday morning before my flight back to the Big
Apple and we can have a little fun," Sam said.
"What's that," she said with a sleepy, drugged slur.
"A surprise. You'll have to wait." He grinned. "Between now and then, my
colleagues here have asked me to do a few tuck and rolls for them. Show
them how it's done in the big city."
18. Chapter
I told Bill about my weekend with Sam and, a surprise to me, he said that
when we were together, he hoped I would be all his. When we're not, what I
do is up to me.
But it was two o'clock coffee time and he was sitting knee to knee with me
as we talked. I wasn't exactly wildly surprised when he unbuttoned the
front of my blouse the few buttons it had from my cleavage to my waist, and
began playing with my breasts.
"Tell me what you and Sam did this weekend." He asked questions and led my
tale, drawing out every detail, making me relive it almost minute by minute
and getting me so hot he could have done anything to me but stop.
Of course, he didn't stop until, my back turned to him as he sat on the edge
of the chair, he filled me with his pent up come from the long weekend
without.
* * *
The extent of the care I provided Paula during the week was keeping her in
bed, making the food, emptying the catheter bag and replacing it, and doing
an occasional bedpan. And that was only Tuesday and Wednesday. Thursday
morning she insisted that I help her to the bathroom so she could do all
that herself.
Sam literally didn't have time to take me out again except for a couple of
drinks Thursday night. He said he'd made a fortune during the week on the
operations but that he was exhausted. I didn't mind that he took me home
fairly early, yawning as he drove, and only kissed me for a few minutes
before walking me to the door.
At nine o'clock the next morning, he was at the door looking his old self
and ready to take off Paula's bandage.
Two minutes and a pair of household scissors took care of the bandage. A
dishpan of hot water with antiseptic soap took care of a small amount of
dried blood with her cringing with each touch but watching as avidly as I
was. The catheter came out easily.
Then, having her poise her ass at the edge of the bed, he used a tube shaped
stainless steel tool to look into her new hole before he used a packaged
douche, with both our help, to clean her out. Looking again, he repeated
with another douche loaded with the antiseptic soap. The third time, he
seemed satisfied with the results and instructed her to follow up with
douches several times a day for a week and at least once a day for at least
another two weeks, explaining that it was a good way to stay fresh even
after.
"Okay. Now lay back on the bed with your legs spread comfortably. Shut
your eyes. Spread wider. That's it," he said. "Now I want you to tell me
when you feel something. Okay?"
Seen over his shoulder this way, it was amazing how much it looked like a
shaved woman's pussy. Except, as he'd said in the hospital, it was perfect
except for the healed tiny marks of the absorbed stitches.
The biggest difference was that she wasn't the least bit sexually excited
and her clit was the size of the tip of my little finger and mounded between
her labia a quarter inch.
I saw that he put a large dollop of an antiseptic creme on his finger and
softly rubbed it along the edge of her labia from top to bottom.
"I feel that," she said, her mouth opening with surprise. He nodded and
replace the spent creme. He did the same with the other puffy lip. "That,
too. It feels good. Ah, cool but good."
Replenished, his finger traced the fan-like folds of her labia minora
depositing the white ointment as well as making her lick her lips and
squirm.
"I feel that, too," she sighed. I noticed that her clit was enlarging with
the simple manipulation. He touched the top of her labial trench and she
pumped up to meet his finger and moaned. "Yes."
This time he put quite a lot on his finger and touched at the now opened
pussy.
"This?" he said and she nodded jerkily. "This?"
"Yes. I feel it. It feels good."
He slid the big finger he'd had in my butt several times during the weekend
inside her as far as it could go and moved it around from side to front to
side to back and back around eliciting excited yeses in every direction.
She was licking her lips more and looking more and more like the old
insatiable Paula. She sighed as he pulled his finger free.
"Okay," he said, putting some more of the creme on his thick finger. Then,
as if administering to a nasty blister, her rubbed it onto her clit. She
gasped and arched her center up to his finger, vibrating with the obvious
sensuous feelings.
Then he was rubbing in a more or less steady up and down rhythm that was
sending her higher and higher until she finally lifted her feet off the bed
altogether, spreading her legs almost straight across, screamed and grabbed
at his hand. At first it seemed that she was stopping him for doing it
more. But then she was holding it in place as she pumped her center against
it instead.
Both Sam and I could see the muscles of her pussy clasping shut tightly as
she came, loosening, and tightening again. She was squealing with it and
looked at sexy as any woman I've ever seen.
She settled somewhat and he stopped, pulling his hand away from her.
"Okay. Now you have to sweet talk Roger or Amy into doing that at least
three times a day," he said.
"Can't I do it myself if I want?" she asked.
"Sure. But it's a lot more fun if Roger or Amy do it. And they won't be
too hard to convince." He laughed.
"You'll see a little more blood in the douche for a few days probably. You
are under no circumstance at all to have sex with a man, other than the kind
you just experienced, for at least two weeks. Absolute. Got that?"
"Yes," she said, finally opening her eyes.
"If there is any blood after a couple of days, I have the name of a doctor
you should call. Try to get the antiseptic creme as far inside as you
possibly can. It will migrate upward somewhat just with your body heat but
you should try hard to reach the furthest parts. Right?"
She nodded.
"If your finger won't do it, or Roger's or Amy's, get a small diameter dildo
and use that but be very careful and don't get a large one."
He grinned. "At least until you're fully healed. In a couple of months,
you can buy a two foot long black one with a massive head if you want."
We helped her back into a pair of cotton panties and under the covers where
she seemed to immediately fall asleep.
"If there are no further questions," he said with a big smile. "I have very
important things to do."
He led me into my bedroom, threw my skirt out of his way, and fucked me hard
for the next half hour.
"God, these exams get me so hot," he sighed after his second climax. "I'll
bet you can have some fun showing Roger just the right way to do the
antiseptic, can't you?"
I giggled.
"I intend to," I told him.
"I'm coming back for a conference about a month from now," he said more
seriously. "Decide if I can do your operation while I'm here and, if you
do, try to decide on some dimensions."
"Dimensions?"
"Sure. Made to order pussies. Fat ones, thin one, ones as big as your arm
" he laughed. "Really. Big labia. Small. Huge clit, medium or small.
Tight. Loose. You name it and I'll make it for you."
* * *
Except for moving into the kitchen to eat breakfast or the living room or
bathroom, I kept Paula in bed for the weekend and, with Roger's extended
visits, helped her minister to her "wounds" on a regular basis.
She claimed that the itching from the healing was getting to her but Sunday
she had me do it an even dozen times. Once, she was standing up, holding my
hand and arm, and did virtually all the work by pumping against my fingers
so hard I wondered that it didn't hurt, even with the soothing creme.
She went back to work Monday morning and, for the next two weeks, I had to
remind her that she absolutely couldn't make love for that time, half a
dozen times a day. I've never seen a woman so hot to trot.
Flatteringly, when the day finally came (midnight two weeks exactly), she
sucked me to hardness and forced me to be her first. I didn't have any
problem initiating the new pussy and pronounced it the best fuck I've ever
had with a woman.
It was an easy call because it was the first woman who'd ever had a dozen
orgasms before my first and who could use her pussy like a third hand to
massage you and milk you from tip to root without pumping in and out at all.
* * *
It surprised me how quickly time passed. Particularly since I was spending
so much time alone.
Paula was spending most nights with Roger now. She didn't have to explain
why since she'd told me how good she thought Roger was at meeting her needs
now. It didn't take more than once of having her tell me what he did to her
one work night, to understand. He was innovative and, apparently, always
willing and able.
On the other hand, she would do absolutely anything he asked and innovated
in ways he didn't think of himself.
I worried a little that she would give so freely that he would tire of her.
I knew that would devastate her and, probably, throw her into a search for a
replacement that could get her in serious trouble. But, so far, she was
doing all right.
That's probably why Paula's invitation to Roger's party in Sam's honor came
as a surprise to me. But was it that I'd just let the time get away from me
or was it that I didn't want to think about Sam's return to town and the
necessity of making my decision about surgery.
My decision had become several times more difficult when, during the time I
was taking care of Paula, she told me that Sam's fees were very high but
that Roger had gotten a discount and paid for it for her. So now my
decision was both whether I wanted the surgery and if I wanted to go in debt
to get it. Either I would have to borrow the money somehow or tell Bill
about it and see what ideas he had. I didn't want to ask Bill for the money
even as a loan.
I made love with Bill because I wanted to. Not because of anything I could
get from it like money.
Since her clothes were still at my apartment, Paula came over about noon
Saturday and told me that Roger was supposed to pick Sam up at the airport
about two. We relaxed for a while and then started messing with each
others' hair and nails while we talked.
It was probably three when Roger called and talked to Paula for a while.
Her end of the conversation was totally uninforming since it was smiles,
grunts, and yes and no answers. She did look at me every now and then to
answer a question. They did a little kiss-kiss to end their conversation.
"Listen, honey?" she said after she'd hung up. "I don't know what you're
thinking about the surgery, but if you want it, Sam's got a way for you to
pay for it."
"How?"
"He'll tell you at the party tonight. Okay?"
"Do you know what he's talking about?"
"Huh uh. Not really. Roger said it would be fun and that you'd probably
want to do it. But that's all."
She stopped.
"And he suggested a way to dress for both of us. I'll show you."
Makeup and clothes could have taken fifteen minutes but we took our time,
trying on several things before we finally made decisions.
Both of us wore garter belts, our nicest sheer stockings, and our sexiest
panty and bra sets. My set had been very hard to find and, since Bill had
decided I shouldn't wear underwear in the office, I hadn't worn them before.
Unlike most that are easy to find, the panties were french cut and tiny but
opaque while the bra was equally revealing but provided support without
cover. My nipples were plainly visible through them. I'd grown some more
since I'd bought the set and the bra was now a little tight.
My red dress was sleeveless with an open neckline that showed my cleavage
off to best advantage. The waist was tight but the short skirt was full.
When it was buttoned, the top was tight too but could be unbuttoned to show
increasing amounts of cleavage.
My red shoes were the highest and least comfortable I own, with four and a
half inch heels that taper to a needle point. The toes just cover mine to
another sharp point and they're held on by quarter inch ankle straps with
tiny gold buckles.
Paula's outfit was similar in sparkling white, the dress a knit sleeveless
shirt-cut with big buttons all the way down the front. She'd gotten her
panty and bra set from Frederick's of Hollywood. It was sheer white lace
that really covered nothing of what it touched. The bra did not touch her
nipples or areolas but only lifted and shaped from below and the sides.
I thought her white spike heels looked more uncomfortable than mine since
they were higher and there was less of them.
Paula drove her car to the party and Roger met us at the door with a huge,
appreciative smile as he looked us up and down. Sam came into the foyer as
Roger was hugging Paula affectionately. He enfolded me and kissed me hard
for a minute. Then he asked Roger if he could use his den for a few minutes
and led me down the ground floor hallway to it.
Sitting on the front edge of Roger's desk in the den and holding me in front
of him with his hands on my waist, he talked.
"Amy," he began. "I know that you're considering the surgery. I plan it
for Monday."
"I'm not sure, Sam. One of the problems is that I don't have the money and
..."
He interrupted me by lifting a hand.
"That's why I'm talking to you now. If you'll do something for me today,
you can forget the cost."
Since I knew that it was very expensive, I wondered what I could possibly do
that would earn that sort of money. I wasn't sure I wanted to hear.
"The people at the party tonight are friends of mine or Roger's. But
they're also either potential clients or people who have some influence on
other people who are considering my services. Mine or Roger's private
business.
"They have some rather ... unique interests, let's say. Roger is talking
to Paula about this, too, and I'm sure she'll go along with it."
"What exactly ...?" He held up a hand again.
"What I want is a little advertising," he said simply. "I want you to
demonstrate in the way only you can what a beautiful, feminine person you
are now. I'll introduce you around in a minute. Just be your lovely self.
Then, as the evening wears on, show a little more of your assets.
"You'll get some offers or perhaps just some attention. Ultimately, I want
everyone to see your ... differences. If you know what I mean."
"You want me to strip?"
"In a way, I guess. But I'll suggest just how. All right?" I wasn't so
sure but I shrugged. "You will provide my before example and Paula the
after. And some entertainment.
"After your surgery, maybe sometime next month, we'll have another party and
we can do a little follow up. Okay?"
"And this is enough to pay you for the surgery?" I asked.
"Oh, you'll see that you're uniquely qualified and the deal isn't totally
one sided on my part."
He pulled me close, hugging me and kissing the side of my neck below my ear.
"What do you say?" I shrugged again.
"I'll go along with you for now. But, well, I'll see."
"You always have the option of stopping." I nodded. I knew that and planned
to exercise it if I wanted to. "Let me introduce you to our guests."
He took me by the hand and led me back to the foyer and then into the big
living room. I smiled to myself when I saw the big overstuffed chair and
the brick wall that reminded me of my first time with Sam.
He led me into the middle of the room and several men stood at our entry.
Quickly, he introduced me to the group of people. It was obviously a very
upscale group of people and a quick scan showed me a movie star, a
millionaire, and a recognizable playboy.
I didn't catch the names (except of the people I recognized from the
newspapers) but the men all seemed to smile broadly and almost drool as they
shook my hand or nodded from further away. The women of course stayed
seated and smiled and nodded when they were introduced. All were in
couples.
The movie star was with her highly advertised younger husband who had been
her weight trainer or tennis coach or something. The older millionaire was
with a beautiful woman I thought was probably a model by her shape and good
looks. The playboy was with a rather hard looking woman about his age who
spared me the smallest smile.
Another couple looked like a banker and his middle aged wife who could
obviously use Sam's talents for the beginnings of wrinkles around her eyes
and lips. His heavy jowls were probably beyond Sam's duties. And the final
couple was a prosperous looking man in his mid-30's, probably a stock broker
or something similar, and a woman almost his age. She was quite pretty but
for a broad nose that seem displaced somehow. Obviously that was the
subject of Sam's interest.
Paula sat on the edge of the couch as Roger rubbed her back with one hand, a
drink in the other.
I thanked a man in a short waiter's coat who held a round tray with a scotch
and water on it. The banker held up his empty glass and the waiter took it.
Sam led me to the couch where there was space. He sat next to the arm,
where he had obviously been sitting before, and I sat next to him beside the
playboy.
Conversations picked up where they had apparently been temporarily suspended
for my introduction but I noticed that even though people looked at each
other to respond to comments, attention still seemed centered on Paula and
me.
"You're an administrative assistant at the same company Roger works for?"
the playboy said beside me.
"Yes. I've worked for Bill Miller for several months now," I said.
"You've lived here for quite a while?"
"Yes." I didn't want to elaborate too much.
"I get around quite a bit," he noted unnecessarily. Anyone who read the
newspaper knew that. "I've never seen you around town. I'm sure I would
have remembered you if I'd seen you."
"I haven't been out to the discos or anything and just a few times on dates.
Dinner out. A little dancing." I looked at Sam, wondering if he remembered
our date as well as I did.
My mention of the discos apparently launched him into a discussion of the
local nightspots I couldn't contribute to. Even as a man I hadn't gone to
these places because they were too expensive for me and really didn't hold
much interest for me anyway.
As I looked at him, the woman on his other side leaned forward slightly to
look at me as well. A smile played at the corners of her mouth as her eyes
carefully scanned the expanse of my legs below the skirt's hem or looked at
my chest. When the playboy turned to say something to her, Sam leaned close
to my ear and whispered, "Play with your top button. After a while, leave
it undone."
I looked around the room and began doing as he'd said. I noticed that,
though not obvious about it, everyone at least glanced my way and noticed my
fingers on the button.
"So Amy," the banker said from the next couch. I turned my attention to
him. "How do you like working with Bill Miller?"
"I've enjoyed it so far," I said. "He's a good boss and has given me
responsibility for several things that are challenging and interesting."
I had gestured with the hand that had been playing with the button and, I
hoped, it looked natural enough when I left the button undone. I felt
myself blush as the banker's eyes wandered from mine down to the slight
opening at the top of the dress. I knew it would reveal another two inches
of cleavage.
"Do you work closely with Roger?" he asked.
"Not really," I said, playing with the next button down. "But Paula's my
roommate and works for him, of course."
"I've worked with Roger now for the last, oh, what has it been Roger? Five
years?" I let go of the button, leaving it open.
"Almost," Roger answered. I noticed that Paula was playing with the second
button down the front of her dress, the top one already open. When it was
open, I noticed Roger lean toward her and her next target changed from the
next button down her front to the bottom one on her skirt.
Everyone drank and looked as relaxed and normal as any cocktail party group.
The conversation among the diverse group was as introductory and shallow as
any. Pictures of the individuals wouldn't have shown anything abnormal
about them just as a tape recording would have been as boring as a recording
of any other in a similar situation.
The only things that would have changed this from any other was that
virtually no one looked at whoever the speaker was at the moment. They were
all watching either Paula or me and all their eyes were on the progress of
our fingers on the buttons. It was a very sensuous feeling, all those eyes.
And exceedingly strange.
My more closely spaced and numerous buttons above the waist allowed me
slower revelation. Paula's skirt front buttons allowed more of her legs to
be revealed as well as the insides of her breasts and the lace of her bra.
I was watching the banker's gentle and spreading smile as he watched my
fingers when one of the women moaned in an animalistic low growl. Since
each of them looked totally capable of having made the sound, I couldn't
tell who had actually done it.
The banker's older wife absently rubbed the front of her dress below which
her nipple rested. The millionaire's model slowly and rhythmically lifted
and dropped the upper of her crossed legs, rubbing herself I'm sure. The
stock broker's wife squirmed in her chair.
After two buttons on her skirt, Paula switched back to the top to complete
opening it to her belt. When she returned to the last two on the skirt, I
reached the waist of my dress. Sam leaned close to my ear and told me to
work the hem of my skirt up.
Doing it playfully, an inch at a time, I reached the tops of my stockings at
the same time Paula undid the last button and reached for her belt.
I'm not sure how long it had been since someone had said something and I'm
pretty sure no one remembered who had spoken last or what had been said.
When Paula undid her belt, her dress fell open across her lace covered
breasts and Roger held it like a coat as she shrugged out of it. She
crossed her arms over her thighs, her legs still crossed, but sat now in
only bra, panties, garter belt, stockings, and shoes.
As Sam told me to lift up and pulled my skirt out from under me, I knew I
would be sitting the same way in the next few seconds and wasn't
disappointed. As soon as he had the skirt out from under me, he moved it up
my sides and over my head as I lifted my arms for him.
"Great tits," a man's voice said softly from across the room while my eyes
were covered by my dress. When it was free, I tossed my hair and mimicked
Paula's pose.
Since I didn't think it was my turn, it took me by surprise when the playboy
unsnapped the back of my bra but, since I saw it as inevitable, I relaxed
and let him and Sam pull the straps off my shoulders and down my arms.
"Gorgeous!" the same man's voice said.
"Is that your work, Sam?" the model asked.
"I can't take credit for this," he said, lifting my breast and brushing my
nipple distractedly. "Hormones and nature. But I can do this kind of work
when it's necessary."
Everyone including me was staring at what he was doing but I was the only
one who was feeling the blasts of nerve impulses his thumb was producing.
Some of the attention moved from me when Roger helped Paula with her bra.
She sat with her hands over her breasts as they asked more questions and Sam
and Roger answered much as they had about mine. Sam never stopped flicking
my nipple and I was having trouble staying still.
When I stopped his hand, it did what I hadn't really intended because
everyone seemed to look at me again.
"It was getting to me," I explained tentatively and the women, grinning or
nodding, seemed to understand but the men showed signs of not sharing that.
"There's a lot ... well, it's a turn-on," I tried to explain.
"They're that sensitive?" the playboy asked. I said they were. "More than
before the hormones?"
"Oh, yes. Many times more."
"Sam? Is that a natural result of the hormones?"
"We have limited research on the broad results of hormone therapy. But a
local doctor who treated Paula and Amy says that his experience has been
universal."
"That kind of growth? Is that normal?" the banker asked.
"It seems that the hormones have augmented a native secondary characteristic
with Amy. Paula's growth is the more frequently observed result."
"You mean Amy's genes built in big tits?" the stock broker said.
"Perhaps it's genetic. Yes. But it could also be that there was a latency
that actually augmented the result. She's still growing, if you can believe
it." There was some general discussion about the size of my breasts that
embarrassed me but pleased me at the same time.
"Can we see the rest?" the woman next to the playboy said. The first thing
she'd said in quite a while.
"I think so," Sam said without consulting me. But I knew it was coming.
"Amy? Would you stand up and take your panties off?"
I gulped. No one but doctors, Bill, and Paula had seen me since I'd been
taking the hormones. Being partially naked among a mixed group of fully
clothed people was very strange. Being the center of attention was very
strange. Standing now, my fingers vibrating with outright fear, I had to
take a deep, shuddering breath as I pushed the panties down at the sides and
then further down my bottom.
The odd thought was that, though I'd done it at least once every day for
months, I wasn't sure how to take them off. The problem wasn't physically
getting them off that was simple but preserving my modesty to some small
extent in the process. Should I sit back down? Should I stoop down?
Should I just bend over? Should I lift my leg as I would at home?
I held my legs together as I pushed them off my ass but looked at Sam for
direction before going further. He motioned down and, as I complied by
pushing them onto my thighs, he leaned forward and took them the rest of the
way to the floor where I could step out of them with just a slight lifting
of one and then the other foot.
I don't think my body could figure out how to react. My nipples were almost
painfully hard to the extent that they were even pointing upward on the
swollen fields of my areolas. But there was no comment when I stepped out
of the panties because, for whatever perverse reason, my penis, which had
been settled in the strip of panty back between my legs, was almost
invisibly soft.
Maybe the fear overcame my sexual excitement at being exposed this way.
"Can I see?" the woman next to the playboy, now behind me, asked. Since no
one else had given me direction, I turned toward her. She looked at the
conjunction of my legs fixedly but the playboy spoke.
"I thought you said ..." he began but stopped as the woman reached to the
spot and freed my penis from between my legs where it had been nestled.
"Oh."
"It's so little," she said as if I weren't there.
"Amy's actually larger than Paula was," Sam explained. "No one is terribly
large when they're soft," he continued. I had the flash of him soft and he
put the lie to his own statement.
She was clinically inspecting my penis and locating my tightened and reduced
scrotum with the red tipped fingers of both hands. I noticed she was
licking her lips as she did it and that, as much as her manipulation of my
privates, was making it grow.
"Did you shave it?" she asked rather breathlessly. I told her yes.
"Are you a virgin?" the playboy asked and my eyes flicked to Sam.
"No, she's not," he answered for me to the accompaniment of several chuckles
around the room.
"I didn't mean, did he sleep with a woman," he said.
"Neither did I," Sam said to more chuckles.
"Really," the playboy stated with some surprise, his hand moving to my
bottom and using it to turn me sideways to both of them but accessible to
both as well. I gasped as he slid a finger into my ass and stroked my
insides with it. "Something for everybody," he said absently. I remembered
that there had been some well publicized rumors that he was gay in spite of
always having a beautiful woman on his arm.
"My feelings exactly," the stock broker said from across the room.
"So what are the limits here?" the playboy asked Sam. Sam just shrugged his
shoulders. "Do you ...?" he began but Sam reached into his jacket pocket
and pulled out a tube of KY jelly, offering it to the playboy who smiled and
took it, pulling his finger out of me.
He was almost wild as he unfastened his pants and pushed them down to his
knees. He was hard and very long and narrow to a small head partially
sheathed in uncircumcised skin. He worked efficiently to coat it with KY as
I watched aghast at the idea of what I thought was going to happen here. I
apparently wasn't the only one as I heard the banker's wife whisper
something to him and him clearing his throat nervously.
When the playboy had rubbed his hand around his long dick a few times, he
almost absently turned my back to him impersonally and guided me backward
onto it. He shifted and grunted as he pulled me back onto his lap, fully
encapsulating himself in my butt.
"You selfish son-of-a-bitch," the girl said. When he'd turned me, he'd
pulled me away from her hands. Now she moved onto the rug in front of the
couch, pushing both his and my legs further apart. "He's so cute and tiny."
She grinned up at me as she found my minimal testicles and leaned forward to
take me into her mouth. The blood drained from my face, I'm sure, when I
looked across the room at all the people looking at me being fucked and
sucked at the same time.
The playboy's hands came around my sides under my arms and squeezed both
breasts at the same time as he began rolling his middle to stoke in and out
of me.
The combination of everything, didn't allow me time to think about anything
or to even consider. I came in the girl's mouth and, oddly, she never
slowed in her attack, just moaning around me as I sprayed into her mouth.
I hadn't really recovered as I knew they weren't going to stop at that. He
stroked faster and, I saw, she rubbed wildly between her own legs as she
continued to suck me.
A few minutes later, he pinched my nipples and crushed my breasts in his
palms as he exploded in my bowels. The woman seemed to orgasm at the same
moment when I again shot off in her mouth.
19. Chapter
I'm sure we were quite a sight. He seemed to go boneless beneath me and,
coming twice in such short proximity, I did the same against his chest. The
woman let my rapidly shrinking cock drop from her lips and slumped down with
her head against the inside of my thigh.
I didn't open my eyes when someone across the room said, "Ah, yes," in a way
that I knew came with release.
"Are you ready now to see the result of my work?" Sam's voice at my side
asked.
There was general agreement before he said "Paula? Please."
I opened my eyes to see Paula stand in front of Sam.
I started to sit up in anticipation of moving back to my place on the couch
but the playboy's hand went across me, cupping the opposite breast gently
and holding me back against him. The woman raised her head from my thigh
and looked at Paula before partially turning, putting her hand lovingly high
on the inside of my thigh, and leaning her head back with her hair against
my penis and tummy.
Sam helped Paula with her panties just as he had me, letting her step out of
them.
"I had these built specially," Sam said and moved to the coffee table near
the other couch and heavy chairs where the others were sitting. On his
knees, he fitted what looked much like the stirrups of his examining table
to it. He placed a small red pillow on the glass top near the edge and
motioned for Paula.
She walked the few steps and let him guide her to sit on the pillow and held
her hand as she lay back on the glass top, reacting to the chilly surface
against her back. Settled that way, he lifted one leg into a stirrup that I
now saw bent her leg and spread it to a far greater extent than the
examining tables. When he placed the other leg, she was spread almost
uncomfortably wide, with her new labia and pussy as well as her asshole very
prominently displayed.
Jokingly knee walking back to the end table next to his place on the couch,
he opened a paper bag and removed a ten inch, inch and a half diameter
anatomically correct dildo and held it up for inspection. There were
several remarks from the other people including a question of whether it had
been part of someone before he did surgery.
Going back to Paula, he placed it at the opening of her new vagina and
gently stroked it in and out, advancing a little with each forward thrust
until he obviously met resistence with only about two inches still sticking
out of her that he used, it seemed, to torture her by twisting and moving it
as he talked.
"We use skin and flesh to construct the vaginal sheath, the labia majora
..." he rubbed the sensitive external lips "... the labia minora ..." he
stroked the loose, puffy vaginal lips "... and the clitoris." When he
rubbed the far more sensitive protrusion of her clit, her leg muscles
clenched and her knuckles turned white where her hands were holding her in
place on the table.
"What do you use?" the stockbroker's wife said, interested.
"The penis and scrotum primarily but, as was the case with Paula, sometimes
a small addition is required. In her case, we took it from the inside of
the gluteus maximus cleavage, here." He indicated her butt between her ass
cheeks, showing the slightly scarred area I hadn't noticed with her before.
"On some others we would use skin from the hip or the inside of the thigh
but we didn't want any visible scarring for Paula."
--
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From nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE Tue Jul 15 11:16:58 1997
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From: nostrumo@nienor.IN-Berlin.DE (Nostrumo)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.tg,alt.sex.stories.moderated
Subject: New TG: The New Secretary by Amy Brett (09/11)
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Date: 15 Jul 1997 15:16:58 GMT
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Hi.
This nifty submission is not included yet, but it will be in next
one during the upcoming weekend. This story is a refelction of the
current jobmarket and conclusions which may occur under strange and
rare situations. So folks be happy if you had a job.
As usual I DIDN'T write this story and haven't any claim on it. If
you have some usefull hints or some good coments, your mail is then
welcome. Flames, you know, they will be piped to /dev/null.
If you are an author and wish to remain anonymouns or just try to
avoid the replies to your work. I offer you the chance of posting your
stories and collecting the response for you. This offer only stands for
story postings and for nothing else.
Enjoy the story.
Ciao
Nostrumo
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> cut here with a sharp knife <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<
_The_New_Secretary_______________________________________by_Amy_Brett_ 9
"She, he, well, Paula must have been hung like a horse," the millionaire's
model said.
"No. Actually, she was smaller than Amy. The skin stretches to a large
extent but we still needed the slight addition from her butt," he explained.
"When we do Amy, we won't need any additions. Just a course of lubrication
application, for softening, and regular exercises."
"What kind of exercises?" the banker asked perceptively. Sam laughed and
pulled out the dildo and replaced it quickly.
"Ooooo!" one of the women said. Paula had, of course, reacted differently,
clenching and opening her mouth for additional air.
"Often?" one of the women asked.
"At first it's implanted with a battery operated expansion device. After
the bandages come off, it's reduced slowly as the desired size is maintained
and healing takes place."
"How was that, Paula?" the banker's wife asked.
"At first it was pretty numb and then it was a little painful. But by the
third day, it was what you'd expect," she answered.
"Like being fucked all the time?" the woman said with a grin.
"Pretty much. Yeah," Paula responded with an embarrassed grin.
"Can I have that, honey," she said to her husband. He laughed.
"You just have wrinkles and a droop. Your pussy works just fine."
"We can tighten it up, if you want," Sam said with a grin.
"Now there's an idea," the banker said, getting smacked on the arm
playfully.
"Sign me up," the millionaire's model said.
"After the course of hormone therapy is complete, Tanya," Sam said simply.
I didn't realize this beautiful woman was ... not. Apparently the men in
the room hadn't either from the way they looked at her.
"I noticed the way she's reacting to the dildo," the woman between my legs
said. "Does it fell real? Like a real pussy and clit and everything?"
"I never had one before," Paula said simply. "But if it's supposed to feel
wonderful, Sam did everything right."
"You like being fucked?" she continued and Paula blushed and grinned.
"You bet she does," Roger said.
"And you can do that for me?" she asked and Sam grinned.
"Us," the playboy added.
"In your case, Linda, the mechanics are much simpler. You've got all the
equipment in the right place. You just need the nerves brought a little
closer to the surface." I'd heard of that somewhere. A clitoral peel? It
sounded so much like a banana or orange.
"But I'll for sure need the exercises," she said and everyone laughed.
"I'll tell you the name of the supply house that carries these things," Sam
said, removing the dildo again.
"Well, seeing is believing," the millionaire said across the room and began
unfastening his pants. "Come here and let's see if it really works."
Paula looked at Roger, who shrugged and smiled. Paula went to the
millionaire and, as he pushed his pants down to his ankles and sat back to
reveal a thick, hard cock in his hand, she positioned herself over him by
crawling up onto the edge of the couch on her knees.
Slowly, she lowered herself onto him, gasping with excitement and
stimulation as he found her nipples with his fingers. When she moved back
up his length, he guided a nipple to his lips and she hugged his head to her
as he pumped partially into her new pussy.
"Okay. That's all I can take," the banker said and quickly pulled off his
suit coat, tie and shoes before taking off his pants. I didn't see his
intention before he stood up, his moderate sized cock bounding in front of
him as he walked across the room to Sam, and got the tube of KY jelly from
him.
He went to Paula, squirted a considerable amount of the slippery lotion on
the pucker of her asshole and the head of his dick, and spread her quivering
asscheeks to guide them together.
She gasped and orgasmed as he sunk it home.
The millionaire released her nipple and pressed her far down on his fat cock
as they all started a rhythm. Her hands on his shoulders, she threw her
head back on the banker's shoulder with her mouth open wide and began
guiding the movements of the two men in her.
For several minutes, I'd been peripherally feeling the playboy's long tube
filling in my butt. I'd only noticed slightly that I was getting hard as
well but Linda noticed it when it nudged at the back of her head.
"Mmmm," she moaned. "We're ready again." She smiled as she turned to see
it.
I lost track of the action across the room as the playboy lifted me slightly
higher on his chest so he could stroke into me. Linda watched and caressed
the insides of my thighs with her fingernails.
"Are you going to be able to come again?" she asked with some wonder.
"Uh huh," I gasped. She shook her head in disbelief and moved so she could
put her lips around the head of my little penis. Her tongue sought out the
opening at its tip and roved around the most sensitive flesh of the head.
"Ah ah ah ah ah ah," I heard Paula from across the room and knew she was
close again. "Ohhhhhh!" she moaned as she went off, the grunts of the men
in her joining her.
I didn't see her run off to the bathroom with a hand over each hole because
I was in the process of having my ass filled with come and giving Linda
another taste at the time.
* * *
Certainly, the sexual activity broke the ice for the party. When I got back
from the bathroom, conversation was free and open with the discussion
turning first to the mechanics of Sam's work and to questions about how
Paula and I were coping with our changed lives and bodies.
Two more drinks and the conversation was livelier and more in fun than the
other, more serious topics.
After I'd returned from the bathroom, I'd replaced my panties but everyone
had insisted I leave my bra and dress off.
I learned after a little conversation that the stock broker and his wife
were interested in me and I ended up sitting on the couch between the two of
them. They were about equally affectionate with me.
He, Dave, sat with his arm around my shoulders, holding me against his side
and occasionally playing with my breast. Martha, his wife, sat on the other
side of me and rubbed my crossed leg. Occasionally, her hand would find my
penis and gently massage it as if that were a perfectly natural thing to do.
They asked me to go home with them and, when I looked at Sam for his
intention, he smiled and nodded approval.
Dave carried my bra, dress, and purse as Martha held my hand and led me to
their car out front, insisting that I not get dressed. He drove his
Mercedes and Martha sucked my breast as we wove our way to their house. She
only stopped when we arrived and hurried me inside. They were both shedding
clothes, alternating his playing with my breasts until we were all on their
bed.
Dave completed the job of stripping me as Martha moaned and writhed as I
sucked on her large breasts.
As soon as he finished with the stockings and garter belt, he was inside me
as she guided my mouth to her engorged clitoris. Since they hadn't had any
release during the party, they came hard and quickly.
They were kissing and rolling together on their large bed when I returned
from the bathroom. I just molded to Martha's back and rubbed her side as he
hardened and plunged into her vagina. She begged me to fuck her ass with my
"cute little cock."
We fell asleep together from sheer exhaustion after exploring most of the
possible combinations. I think we explored the remainder the next morning
before, during, and after a long shower.
About noon, they dressed me in panties, my dress, and shoes. But Martha
bared my breasts and sucked me as I finger fucked her on the way to my
apartment.
I took a much needed nap that wasn't interrupted until about six when Paula
and Sam woke me. Together, they took me to the hospital to be prepared for
my Monday morning surgery.
20. Chapter
Sam went home at about eight to get some sleep after he'd seen that I was
completely settled and ready. Paula stayed and told me about her night.
Apparently, shortly after I left Linda and the playboy went home. But the
remainder of the people stayed, taking turns with Paula. Roger and Sam had
waited til Sunday morning to take her together and, she said, do the best
anyone had. She kept telling me I had to try that as soon as I was healed
up from my surgery. I looked forward to it.
She left me to sleep about ten after "one last good fuck," as she called it.
So that was how I ended my life as a man.
A nurse woke me at five to give me a couple of pills that would let me
sleep. I was really out of it when Sam came in later, smiling in his green
surgical outfit, and examined me. I was still pretty much out of it when a
nurse and a pair of orderlies came in and lifted me onto a gurney for the
trip to the surgery.
Under the huge reflective surgical light, a smiling woman put a plastic mask
over my mouth and nose and told me I was going to sleep now. That's the
last thing I remember.
* * *
The world was very fuzzy and hard to focus on when I woke up looking at the
same woman.
"Welcome back, sweetheart," she said. I just mumbled something and fell
back to sleep. I woke again with Sam looking down at me.
"You got a great little pussy, Amy," he said with a broad grin. "Everything
went perfectly. How do you feel now?"
"Ohhhhh, just wonderful," I mumbled through the pleasant pink fog in my
head.
The next time I woke up, I was back in the room and it was dark except for a
small light. When I moved, a nurse stood up and came to the side of the
bed.
"How do you feel?" she asked.
"Thirsty," I mumbled through cracked lips. She held a glass of water with a
bent plastic straw in it so I could drink.
I could feel a generalized tingling all through my body similar to when your
foot falls asleep.
"Any pain?" she asked. I shook my head slightly and said no. "I'm right
here for you. If you need anything, I'll get it for you. Okay?" I nodded
and fell back to sleep.
When I woke again, the pleasant pink fog was gone taking the tingling with
it. The whole thing was replaced by an upset stomach and a feeling in my
groin reminiscent of a good kick in the nuts. The nurse was there with my
first groan.
"How are you this morning?" she asked.
My mouth seemed dried to immobility and, as I tried to say something, she
held the straw back to my mouth. I accepted it gratefully.
"I'm okay," I finally said. "I feel like I got kicked." She nodded. "My
stomach doesn't feel so hot."
"I can understand that," she said. "Here."
She held my head up a little and put a pill in my mouth before giving me
some more water to swallow it with. She did the same thing with a second
pill.
"Doctor is due about any time but you just sleep now." I nodded and promptly
fell asleep again.
"Welcome to girlhood, Amy," Sam said as I fought to open my eyes again.
"We're just going to check out our handiwork here. It shouldn't hurt,
okay?"
What could I do? I just lay there as he pulled the sheet down and lifted my
hospital gown. I could feel the cool room air on my stomach and legs and
knew I was laying on my back with my legs spread.
I listened as he talked pleasantly with the nurse, took the bandages off,
and gently prodded around the area. Sometimes I felt his touches distantly,
like you feel your face when your mouth is numb from the dentist's
novocaine. Only a couple of his touches caused any pain and that wasn't
bad.
The nurse brought a washrag and container of hot water that smelled of
disinfectant. They washed things down there for quite a while and Sam kept
alternately asking me if I felt things and talking in medical terms with the
nurse.
Finally, they were done and had replaced the bandage with a new, smaller
one.
"You're going to start feeling this in a while," he said. "And it's not
going to feel very good. But just ask for a pain pill if you think you need
one and remember that every hour it will hurt less and less. Okay?"
"Sure," I said. "It's okay now." He nodded.
"Typically, we did a fantastic job," he said. "You're going to have the
prettiest pussy in your Girl Scout troop."
I chuckled with the nurse.
* * *
I woke again, this time definitely feeling the unpleasant effects between my
legs, in the late afternoon. The nurse didn't hesitate to give me two more
pills and long drinks of water before helping me with the bedpan. We worked
together, to the extent I could help at all, to change my bed linens and my
hospital gown.
Telling me I had guests who wanted to see me, she helped me put on a little
makeup and brush out my hair.
Paula and Bill came in all smiles, both giving me nice kisses.
"So how did it work?" Bill asked.
"I slept through it but it feels like he used a chain saw," I told him.
"It goes away quick," Paula said with a big grin. "Then it gets to be a lot
of fun."
"Whatever you say," I said, showing my disbelief.
They stayed and talked for more than an hour before the nurse told them I
was getting tired. I didn't know it until they kissed me goodbye and left
that I really was tired.
I slept through to morning.
Sam and the nurse woke me (the nurse had given me another pill in the middle
of the night but I didn't really wake up for that).
"Okay, honey," Sam said with his best bedside manner. "How do you feel
today?"
Strangely, I felt almost normal and told him so. The upset stomach was gone
and only a remnant of the feeling that I'd been kicked was noticeable.
Instead, as I moved I felt little stabbing pains like needles or, more
appropriately, little cuts.
"Okay. Let's look at that beautiful cunt then," he said, pulling the sheet
down again. The nurse had just brought the wash pan and rag.
"I get to watch this time," I told him and he directed the nurse to crank up
the head of the bed slightly and build the pillows so I didn't have to hold
up my head. He'd removed the bandages by the time she was finished.
Now I could see why it hurt.
It looked vaguely like labia and a clit if you'd seen them swollen to ten
times their normal size, colored red, blue and black, and crisscrossed with
stitches. It was an initial shock but I got over that quickly as he used
the washrag on the area. Somehow he was gentle but businesslike, cleaning
it off with a minimum of repeated touches to the same areas of the sensitive
skin.
The clit was much shorter and a little smaller than my penis had been but,
swollen, it almost looked as big. It was tremendously sensitive and not at
all in a pleasant way. Washing it and the areas immediately beside it was
the hardest part for me.
Together they placed me on a bed pan that I didn't have the inclination to
use right then and got out what looked like the biggest syringe I've ever
seen.
"Not a shot," he said with a grin. "This is called a louvage. Instead of a
needle, it has this tube on it that we're going to shove up your cunt." The
nurse flushed with embarrassment at the word she hadn't heard the last time
he used it. "Then we're going to empty a few quarts of cleaning fluid up
there and see what comes out. Sounds like fun. Right?"
I chuckled with him but I really didn't think it was going to be at all.
I was absolutely sure of it as he began feeding the soft tube into the hole
between my legs I hadn't had two days before. My response to his movements
tended to center on "ouch" as he pushed it in, pulled back slightly, and
directed in again. I was very happy when he stopped and connected the
syringe to it.
Then, as promised, he pushed the plunger and I felt myself filled with
liquid before it finally broke the seal at the opening and gushed into the
bedpan. Empty, he twisted the plunger, pulled it back out, filled it, and
did it again. I couldn't see what was coming out very well, except that it
started out pretty red and, after four or five refills, seemed to be about
the same color as what went in.
The experience was distinctly unpleasant.
When he pulled the tube out most of the way, he massaged my lower stomach,
pressing hard, until it seemed the liquid was expelled completely. He
cleaned up as the nurse emptied the bedpan and brought it back for me to use
in a more normal way that I really needed by then.
I noticed the catheter below my new clit as they painted my front with
Betadine antiseptic. He talked to me, telling me that the nerves seemed to
be hooked up right and that there was definitely a hole down there now and
other things while we waited for the Betadine to dry. Satisfied, he
replaced the bandages and kissed me in a way that was un-doctorly enough to
raise the nurse's eyebrows.
The next morning the same routine was repeated but with much less pain and a
change in the skin colors, going toward red and blue with a little green and
yellow thrown in to replace the purple and black. The lips were only five
times the size of those I'd seen before.
The next morning, they were only twice what I thought should be normal and
the colors had shaded down to reds and blues with a minimum of the sicker
colors.
When he was finished with the cleaning, he asked me if I could get up and I
was sure I could. As it happened, it was a good thing they were both there
to hold my arms when I got up. All the blood rushed out of my head and I
would have ended up in a pile on the floor.
I only had to go as far as a wheelchair that the nurse maneuvered through
the hallway to an examining room. They again helped me onto the examining
table and, with a little difficulty, into the stirrups.
"This may hurt a little but it's necessary, okay?" As if I had any choice.
He used something metal to very carefully open my new hole and, as he'd
warned me, the last bit of that hurt like hell and I let him know. He told
me it was a child's instrument rather than a woman's but it didn't matter to
me.
Then for the next what seemed a half hour, he prodded and pressed against
every surface inside me with varying results from wild pain to mild
discomfort to a zing of pleasure that had me squirming in an entirely
different way.
After he removed the instrument and the catheter, replaced the bandage
before taking me back to my room. But, rather than putting me back to bed,
Sam leaned on the arms of the wheelchair.
"What do you say to getting the hell out of this dump?" he said.
"You're releasing me? Fantastic!"
"You think you can take care of the cleanup with Paula's help?"
"Sure," I said, not sure but knowing I wanted out of the hospital.
"Okay. Paula and Bill are here to take you home. These are your
instructions if you care to accept them," he said in his Mission Impossible
voice. "Eat and drink very sparingly. With the catheter out, that means
that you have to do this whole cleanup routine every time you take a piss.
The same for when you have a bowel movement.
"I'll want to see you in here at nine o'clock each morning for the next
week. We've already provided Bill with the packaged louvages and that's
part of the cleanup. Every time. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!" I said.
"Okay. Are you feeling less heady now?" I did and they helped me to my
feet.
With the bulky bandage, panties were superfluous. But the nurse helped me
with a skirt, bra, blouse, and low heeled shoes. They got me back into the
wheelchair and pushed me out to the waiting room where Paula and Bill stood
up to greet us.
"Here's our girl," Sam said as he turned me over to them. "Thanks to you
all, I have some work to do this afternoon but I'll try to stop by this
evening to see how we're doing."
The nurse wheeled me out and helped Bill ensure I didn't fall getting into
the car. The two of them practically carried me into my apartment in spite
of my protests.
I had to walk spraddle-legged but, other than that, I felt almost normal.
Paula helped me a little while later when I had to go to the bathroom and do
the cleaning.
* * *
The whole thing got boring more than anything else during the next three
days. Morning cleanup. Doctor's appointment. Home. Careful. Bathroom
and cleanup after dinner. Cleanup before bed. Sleep like a rock.
Saturday morning things changed when Sam carefully removed all his tiny
stitches in a long and laborious exercise that was uncomfortable but mostly
just time consuming. The internal stitches, he told me, were the dissolving
kind and had mostly disappeared already.
When he finished with the stitches, another cleaning, and the liberal
application of antiseptic that felt like the tips of cigarettes applied all
over the area, he placed the odd dildo in my new pussy and showed me how it
works.
To start, he told me, I had to used the harness that came with it. These
nylon straps held it firmly in place with an X shaped arrangement connected
to a two inch waistband. When it was fastened in place, the harness held it
pressed into the depths of my pussy, pressing against its furthest reaches.
He pointed out the three dials on the little handset that would clip to my
belt or skirt waist dangling a wire to the dildo. He showed me the dial
that said "circumference" with zero to nine settings and turned it slowly to
two. I could feel the thing expand from its comfortable but full initial
size to one on the verge of a scream that made me spread my legs to
accommodate it.
He returned it to zero before turning the "length" dial to two. I did
scream as it lengthened inside me before he returned it to zero.
"Okay. You'll want to do this a few times manually at first. Then later
let the 'speed' dial do the work for you."
Nothing happened when he turned it to two. Then he turned the
"circumference" dial to two as well and it began expanding and contracting
at a regular pace. He returned that to zero before doing the same thing
with the "length" dial. As I now expected, it lengthened and contracted at
the same rate.
"Work up a little each time you use it. At least once an hour. When you're
finished, I expect that you'll be using it at about a five or six setting.
But do it in private. Or," he grinned, "with friends. It's going to start
feeling really really good after a while.
"The higher the speed setting, the faster it goes. The higher the others
are set, the longer or bigger around. Ah, the miracles of modern
technology."
After he helped me off the examining table, I got dressed and accepted his
hug and long kisses.
"I just wish the technology wasn't quite so good so I could be the first to
get you off," he said.
"Yeah," I agreed but couldn't help but kid him. "But then you'd have to
clean everything up again."
"You realize that you have more feelings down there than Paula," he said
with a grin.
"I thought so. What does that mean?"
"It means that your orgasms are going to be magnificent. Also the way your
pelvis is configured, you'll have the first certifiable G-spot I know of.
And it's placed perfectly against the vaginal canal so the outstroke is
going to catch it every time."
He chuckled. "Not only that, but you're going to love being finger fucked."
I blushed but said, "you'll have to prove that to me later."
"Happy to do it," he returned.
21. Chapter
I stayed in a robe for the rest of the weekend. Paula helped me a lot by
taking care of all my normal needs like eating and getting drinks and trying
to entertain me as well as helping with cleanups.
The "exercises" changed from painful and done manually circumference then
length to enjoyable with the automatic speed doing first circumference and
then length. I had my first certifiably female orgasm with all three
settings at two and, an hour later, my second on settings at three while
Paula watched.
Sunday night, I determined that I was tired of being an invalid. The
swelling in my labia and clit was apparently gone though they were larger
than others I'd seen. Now they were red and sensitive but not painfully
sensitive.
Monday morning, I dressed for work after the week long leave. Wanting to
look as hot as I could, I wore thigh high stockings, medium height red
heels, a short red skirt and the matching red suit coat. The tightly
tailored suit coat buttoned with a single button just below my breasts that
showed my cleavage from start to finish and held me tight enough to make the
most of it.
I didn't wear a bra and panties were still a little superfluous with the
"exercise" machine and harness in place.
At work, I was greeted by some of the other secretaries who came in early,
did my morning routine with the schedule and got coffee for Bill and myself.
When I returned to Bill's office, he was sitting behind his desk and
brightened like I'd turned a lightbulb on when I walked in.
He leaped out of his chair and came around it to take the cups of coffee,
set them down on the front of the desk, and enfold me in his arms for a
wonderful kiss.
"I didn't expect you back to work for a few days," he said as he finally
broke the kiss. "How are you? How do you feel? Is everything okay?"
"Yes, yes, yes," I said with a giggle. "I'm fine. Just a little sore. And
I have to go see Sam at nine. But it's okay."
"So. Can I see it?" I nodded and sat down in my chair in front of his desk.
He sat on the edge of his chair and looked as I pulled up the short skirt.
I knew the front of the harness covered much of what he wanted to see, so
unbuckled its belt and dropped it down my thighs a little ways. His fingers
immediately went to my red labia.
"Careful. It's still a little sore." The tiny holes of the stitches had
healed completely and the incisions were closed and only visible if you
looked very closely.
"God! It's beautiful!" he sighed gratifyingly. "Does everything work?"
"It seems to," I told him. "The dildo still needs to go up a few settings
before it's done. But it's working."
"When are you supposed to use it?"
"Every hour."
"When's the next time?"
I knew what he wanted and had anticipated him.
"Now," I said with a grin. "Want to watch?" I didn't need his grin to know
he did.
I explained quickly what it did and refastened the belt before setting the
speed on "4" and the circumference to match. That had always been the easy
part. I took a deep breath before turning the length setting slowly upward
until it was at "4" as well. The experience was still fairly overwhelming
and I was leaning back in the chair with my legs spread and reacting to the
stretching and probing inside me.
That was why it took me somewhat by surprise when he unbuttoned my suit
coat, pushed it aside, and began sucking one nipple while pinching the
other. It added immensely to the experience and I was orgasming almost
immediately and repeatedly.
I didn't even object when I saw him reach for the hand control and turn it
to three fives. I orgasmed several more times before he turned the machine
to zeroes and left me panting, sprawled lewdly with the coat still open and
my legs spread.
"I can hardly wait to provide you with some 'real' exercise," he said.
* * *
When I left his office, put together again, I just had time to make it to my
doctor's appointment. Sam pronounced everything "perfect" after looking
into my insides and touching every surface. He took the exercise machine to
"4" circumference after it was back in place but edged the length up until
it was painful. That didn't keep me from orgasming wildly.
He told me that I could leave the circumference setting at "4" now unless I
wanted a thrill but to take it up to the painful area by feel.
* * *
Back at work, the rest of the morning and lunch with Paula went normally,
broken only by my hourly exercises. I was sufficiently out of control to do
it in a stall in the bathroom rather than at my desk.
At two, I took coffee in to Bill.
"Are you still feeling good?" he asked as I sat down and sipped the hot
coffee. I filled him in on everything else that had happened, both business
and personally, during the day. Our coffee finished, I had an idea.
"You know, Bill?" I thought aloud. "Right after my surgery, everything from
my waist down was affected. But, even before I got out of the hospital, my
only problems were my new pussy and things."
"Yeah," he said, showing his interest.
"Well, I was thinking. I have to do my exercises again. But there's
nothing to say that my other hole is unusable."
He got the message immediately and was smiling all over. I got up and
walked around his desk. I lay the exercise control on the desk close at
hand before pulling my skirt up in back, laying down on my front on the desk
surface. It was easy to move the straps in back onto my thighs.
He hadn't wasted any time and immediately found my asshole with a lubricated
finger. Surprisingly, since the surgery hadn't touched that hole or the
area around it as Paula's had, it was a little tender. But it felt
unbelievably good when he slid his long, narrow cock into it.
"Hold it," I told him when he was fully inside me and reached for the
control. "Ready?"
I felt him nod as he wrapped his arms around me and found my nipples with
his fingers.
"Now I am," he said.
I turned the speed setting to 2, circumference to 4, and length to 6 where
it just started to be painful.
"Oh shit! It feels like someone else is in here with me," he gasped.
"Mmm. Fuck me, Bill," I told him as I squirmed under him. And he did.
As he slowly accelerated, I increased the speed setting of the dildo. I
started orgasming at 4 and pulled his from him at 5. I had my best climax
with him and still, a moment later, had the presence of mind to turn it off.
He helped plug me up with a Kleenex before helping me to stand and go to the
bathroom to drain.
22. Chapter
I can't say that I was getting tired of the dildo but I was glad to have the
option when, Friday, Sam told me that the 8 setting I'd gotten to for length
was enough and that I could cut the use of it to a couple of times a day
instead of wearing it full time. His examination had showed him that I was
almost completely healed inside as well as out.
Of course, his exam had been done with the dildo out and replaced with the
obnoxious metal instrument that opened me up painfully.
"I didn't want to be too previous," he said then as he stood beside me.
"We've had ample opportunity to examine the nerves in the newly constructed
areas and know they all work.
"What we've resisted doing so far is checking to see 'how' they work. So
here we go," he said. "Now tell me if these things feel good or bad. Okay?
If you don't feel anything for a few seconds, tell me that, too. But I
don't think that will be a problem.
"Okay. Ready?" I nodded.
He set one hand in the middle of my stomach but used a finger of the other
hand and touched the upper extent of my left labia very softly. I told him
it felt good. I told him the same thing as he teased down the length of it
to my pussy. Starting over at the top of the other lip, he did the same
thing with the same results.
"Good," he said. "Now this."
He started again at the top of the left labia, pressing harder and rubbing
the flesh in small circular motions against the bone below. That felt even
better and I told him so. He continued it all the way down before going to
the top of the other and doing the same thing.
He repeated the lightest touches on my small lips around my new opening and
it felt even nicer.
"Sit up here. I want you to see this," he said and when I did, he ran his
finger up and down the labia. "Look at the way they engorge and turn redder
with the infusion of blood." I saw. They looked like any woman's but
possibly they enlarged more than most I'd seen.
I lay back down as he probed around the opening of my pussy where I could
tell him his touches felt good.
He touched my clitoris very lightly and I could tell him quickly that felt
"very" good. Great. He wetted his finger with KY jelly before rubbing it
harder. With a steadily increasing pace, he drove me to a numbing orgasm in
a few minutes.
"Okay. I knew that was going to work well. I could tell from the start,"
he said. "Now let's test the other."
Again wetting his finger, he inserted it into my new pussy, pressing hard
against its outside perimeter and exciting me in an escalating way. From
the tone of my moans, he knew, I'm sure, when he found the G-spot he'd told
me was there below my clit and inside my body. It felt similar but
different in place and intensity.
In seconds, he had me arching my back, almost standing on my head, as he
stroked in and out of my pussy across the sensitive spot near its opening.
As if that weren't enough, he lowered his tongue to my clitoris, soon
licking and sucking it as he continued pumping his finger into me.
The orgasm was mind shattering and, when he didn't stop, rose to an even
wilder one almost immediately before he let me come down from it.
--
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