Business Trip

by Forever CD

   

My name is "Barbara," at least that's the name I use when I am "dressed." That is to say, "dressed" in the most alluring feminine attire my finances can assemble, you see I am a lifelong Crossdresser, "CDer."

I enjoyed reading of crossdressing experiences. Although not a full time crossdresser, I do crossdress with a fair degree of regularity. Frequently and here is the "regularity" of my crossdressing activities, I always crossdress at home. As a career business executive I have utilized many a business trip to develop my second self. Over my career I have learned the different venues across this wide nation that have shown themselves to be more than tolerant and accepting of the GLBT lifestyle. I enjoy the Transgendered lifestyle within wide parameters. As a lifelong CDer I've always enjoyed "pushing the envelope," which to me is the "fun" of the crossdressing lifestyle.

Within the lifestyle I strive to strike a balance between living "on the edge" and the norms of acceptance. Some might say just short of avoiding arrest. I look toward a provocative appearance, i.e., tantalizing, but yet what is still acceptable to societies standards.

The frequent irony of my boundaries is that I sometimes surprisingly attract more attention from women than I do men. All too often, and no matter how many times it has happen, I never seem to know how to react to such advances.

I like to think that I "dress to the nines" to enjoy the "rush" of the idiom, more than to attract companions, male or female. So to be "hit on" by a female can be disconcerting. Especially, when that natural female is dressed just as seductively as I have attempted.

One of my first such experience was during a business trip planned and scheduled to last approximately four to five days consisting of several scheduled meetings with a whole lot of "down time" thrown in. Knowing this in advance I decided to utilize the free time enjoying my "fem" persona with some light shopping and evening "clubbing."

After a relatively uneventful, if not long flight I arrived at my designated destination and cleared the Baggage Claim Area faster than the time it took to deplane. With two "Flight Bags" and two carry-on's I darted to the Car Rental Pickup Area where a reserved mid-size sedan was awaiting my arrival. Smiling to myself I signed for the vehicle as an Attendant loaded my baggage into its trunk, wondering if the Desk Clerk spied the bra I was wearing beneath my white Golf Shirt? I particularly relished the many curious looks and raised eyebrows I encountered during the long cross-country flight I'd just deplaned from.

Through the courtesy of the Vehicle Rental Clerk I was able to obtain excellent directions to my hotel. Upon arriving and checking in I learned that a complete business suite had been reserved for me. "Business Suite?" In reality it could properly qualify as a small efficiency apartment what with its separate Bedroom with a Queen size bed, Formal Living Room which was very nicely furnished with ample side chairs, a recliner and even a Day Lounger that opened out to another Bed.

As if that wasn't enough…a full Bath with a Jacuzzi. (A simple stall shower would have been more than sufficient!) A small, yet complete Kitchenette rounded out the accommodations. "I wasn't moving in," I thought, "this is only a business trip, I didn't bring the "Little Lady" and Kids with me." "Very, if not more than, comfortable, but extravagant to say the least," was my concluding thought as I appraised my temporary "digs." "Oh well, it was the sponsors "dime," so I shouldn't "look a gift horse in the mouth."

The next day, during the trips first business day, most activities were predominately absorbed by business responsibilities that ran well into mid-evening with my returning to my hotel suite just before 9PM. As I felt it was just too early to retire for the evening I decided I would spend the remainder of the evening exploring the "night scene" the area might have to offer.

Under most circumstances, that would not be considered unusual by any standard for any out of town, away from home business executive, but this was "Barbara's" decision, my alter-ego, it was "she" that was going to attempt to "paint the town" and absorb the "night scene."

So with some trepidation, if not a whole lot of determination I began my beloved transformation from "he" to "she." It's not that it was an "impulsive" decision, hardly, it was more like a "planned" decision. It was part of a "game plan" put together before arrival, if not even before departure. Given that I knew before I left that I would be "on the road" for several days, I traveled with two well assembled wardrobes, to satisfy all clothing needs, be it my male business professional attire or satisfying "Barbara's" elaborate sense of fashion style.

So with deliberate, if not intrepid purpose, I began my often and well-practiced process to take on "Barbara's" persona. After the quickest of showers and the obligatory removal of any unsightly body hair I dried myself off to a generous dusting of my favorite Lilac dusting powder. The fragrant scenting of the dusting powder established the "Barbara" mindset required as I secured my maleness in my Professional Stage Gaff. Properly secured, I meandered over to the bed festooned with one of "Barbara's" favorite "clubbing" attire.

With the sense of inner security, only a natural woman knows, I retrieved one of "Barbara's" favorite lingerie set's, a matching Peach colored bra and panty. "Barbara" ever so gracefully stepped into the Lace and Satin paneled panty as it naturally glided up and sung against a very concealing gaff, highlighting it's designed seductiveness. Gently securing it's matching full cover satin-nylon tricot bra only enhanced the allure and seductive image "Barbara" was searching for. If only Victoria Secret's could know how well their designers did their job as I dropped my "C" cup silicone breast forms into their intended home for the evening.

I couldn't help but be amazed as I admired the forms pert nipples as they so naturally protruded beneath the scant sheerness of the all but see through nylon tricot cupped bra. The natural tone of the breast forms beneath the Peach color of the bra only further ensured and enhanced a very natural appearance of the buxom beauties it was intended to adorn and grace.

At this point, "Barbara's" mindset was securely established as "she" reached for the "smokiest" black toned pantyhose and ever so deftly stepped into the first leg and than its second leg to adjust them ever so securely and snuggly in place. Now to complete the mandated shaping process, her fanny and hip shaper completed the feminine stature sort after.

As "she" admired "her" manufactured figure in a full-length mirror affixed to a closet door, she couldn't avoid thinking "Oh, how naughty!"

With still too much to do, "she" had to erase such thoughts and move on to finishing "the look" she was striving for. That tantalizing, seductive, alluring, teasing "come fuck me look!" While not the intended goal, hopefully the unintended effect and results. So it was back to the bed and "her" awaiting outerwear.

This, no matter how many times it has occurred is almost always the inspiring moment of transformation as "Barbara" steps into what has to be her favorite skirt. Acquired quite by chance at a Leather Goods closeout sale. It had to be the sexiest skirt of "Barbara's" extensive "fem" wardrobe. Ever so sexy this short, at 14 inches, Black Nappa Leather Skirt, (which has always proven itself to be quite a traffic stopper), rested at mid-thigh with its raw hemline provocatively inviting advances to those who dare. As "Barbara" secured it's rear snap and zipper "she" could feel, relish and swoon as the skirt conformed to the manufactured figure it was intended to enhance.

With a seductive pirouette back at the mirror "her" heart begins to pound, betrayed by a noticeable gentle rise and fall of her "C" cup breast as "she" admires the results of "her" unfolding transformation.

"She" can't help but think that "naughty" has disintegrated to "bad" and how far is "Barbara" from "slut?" She can't but help wonder will "she" achieve "slut ho" by the time "she" is done? (So frequently would "she" mentally debate the seductiveness of her creativeness?) "She" would ponder her satisfaction of "her" ample "42C" bust line. Only to better appreciate the possible increased sultriness a "D" cup might provide. Would her 5'8" stature support perky 42D proportionately? Being ever aware that "anything more than a handful is a waste!"

The final result has yet to be seen as "she" reaches for the Salmon toned satin shell tank top and blouse top. The blouse being the sheerest of nylon tricot she could afford to wear, and still project some modicum of demur respectability. The shell slides on and down over her pounding breast by gravity alone and settles ever so gently highlighting the fullest of bosom, with its mated see-throw blouse enhancing the look beyond description. To promote the randiness of the moment, if not the look, "Barbara" dares to leave the top two blouse buttons unfastened displaying the shiny satin of the underlying shell ever so invitingly.

A return to the mirror confirms the look desired has been reached, now to the "finish line" by way of the Bathroom Vanity for the most seductive cosmetic treatment dwindling time will allow. First, a very conservative coating of liquid foundation followed by Honey toned setting powder, a quick application of Peach Eye Shadow, Eyeliner Pencil and Mascara present a most subtle eye treatment. Then its a few quick brushes of Blush followed by generous strokes of Strawberry toned lipstick covered with the thickest of gloss for that full lipped appearance.

Now "Barbara" reaches for her "piece de resistance," "her" shoulder length human hair Auburn wig with its strawberry blonde highlights. After several strokes of a hair pick, "her" "do" begins to acquire the fullness commensurate with the frame beneath. "Viola!" "Barbara" has arrived!

Realizing, even the "dowdiness" of outfits need accent, "Barbara" rummages through her cosmetic bag for some jewelry. A Spoon ring for her left "index" finger, a matching Emerald Birthstone ring for her left ring finger and Topaz pinky ring. Not to be undone, a diamond cluster ring finds a home on her right ring finger.

To spare, if not avoid unnecessary introductions, if not invite one, a matching necklace and bracelet for her neck and right wrist are next. Both, ever so brazenly, proclaim in gold script "Barbara." So as to keep track of the ensuing "witching hour" "she" affixes the demurest of watches to her left wrist and is mentally prompted not to forget its matching gold Twin Heart ankle bracelet, which gravitates to her left ankle.

Another waltz in front of the mirror only confirms "Barbara" has arrived. Her "see through top" resting on an inviting "rack" that only directs the eye to a most inviting "spank me 'til I scream" Leather Mini that is purposely short enough to invite a wandering hand. All perched on what have to be the original "Cum Fuck Me Pumps." Satisfaction has to be it's own reward! As "Barbara" completes this self assessment she is stopped midturn as she notes…"Earrings!" "Oh, how mundane!" Quickly back to her Jewelry case to retrieve the nicest compliment to her entire jewelry collection, her Diamond Studs! "Oh yes, Honey…DIAMONDS." After all, "Diamonds ARE a girl's best friend."

Suitably complete, the final "look" surpasses all expectations. "We will stop traffic tonight, Dearie, to a complete stand still." (AND, before all is said and done, we may even get lucky? "You Go Girl!"

Having completed "her" transformation from "head to toe" literally, "Barbara" then minces over to her shoebag lying on the floor at the foot of the bed retrieving the "badest" of heels. Heels are always saved for last. As these are "killer" heels, truly scream "CFM" we don't want to kill our feet through longer warring pacing around the bedroom. "She" happened on to these four inch Black finished-leather heels during an earlier foray to a local Mall back home. These heels always added the "finished" touch to the inviting look Barbara strives for. Setting "herself" on the bed she deftly straps these "skyscrapers" on and promptly stands up to acquire her footing and balance for the evening of dancing, (and enticement), she hopes awaits her transformation effort.

Ever so gingerly she paces her room back and forth as she affixes the "cheapest" of artificial nails to each fingertip. "Barbara" would prefer acrylics, but for the required purpose of this road trip, "she" fears acrylics wouldn't be well received in the "Board Room," so "stick-on's" will have to suffice. "Tacky?" Maybe. Yet, the need has been met.

So caught up in "her" own transformation she quickly realizes that "times a wasting" as she spies the nightstand alarm clock noting it's getting later by the minute and the past upwards of two hours has drastically shorten her planned social activities. Quickly grabbing her pre-stocked black leather purse containing such "fem" necessities to include but not limited to…cosmetics to keep the "look" fresh, tampons to protect the "look," and condoms to "enjoy" the "look." Reaching for her Leather Car Coat she initiates her "great escape" from her confining hotel room.

As always, immediately before any departure "Barbara" has to ensure all can anticipate her arrival. So to this end it's always achieved via a very liberal spray of the a most seductive perfume. With practiced ease its aerosol spray finds its way beneath the back of both ears, both sides of her neck with a healthy spray across her bust, out to the inside of both wrist and down to the back of each knee. This downward spray technique ensures all strategic erogenous zones are clearly identified to the male senses.

To ensure a very feminine trail is left in "her" wake, a few quick sprites into the air followed by the obligatory "walk under" the descending spray guarantees the entire body, including hair and shoulders have acquired the "scream BITCH" identifying scent. Especially, advantageous in disarming the drooling males that line up to get two minutes with "her" on the dance floor at the Club only to be left with limp hard-on's as "she" successively ditches each and every one as they return to the bar to "cry in their beers."

As "She" contemplates her immediate departure she giggles in thought with the knowledge that "it's a lot of work," but, necessary since "love 'em and leave 'em" is what its all about. Tease, tease and tease some more. All men can't think past the head of their dicks. I know, "been there, done that." Who better to know the male mind but another man? It is often said, "No woman knows another woman like a woman." Well, if that's true? Then turn about has to be fair play. To that end "Barbara" has endeavored to perfect it to an art form, if not a science. To be a man and leave another man "wilting" has to be the extreme high, even if via illusion. To that end, crossdressing has to be the ultimate illusion.

On with the show…

Entering the corridor she hears "her" hotel room door slam and lock behind her. Barely steps away from its doorjamb she instantly realizes she has reached her point of "no return." With determined steps it's to the elevator as she inserts her door lock card into the security pocket of her purse.

Distracted with securing her room pass card she is oblivious to the passage of two gentleman guest that past by her without so much as a "G-evening" or "Howdy do." Yet, in retrospect, "she" instinctively knew she had been "checked out" in their passing. The clear absence of any hint of disapproval guaranteed the feeling of "passing."

Within the short distance of "her" hotel room door and the elevator the first obstacle had been overcome, apparently successfully. As "she" waited the few short minutes for the elevator to reach "her" floor she threw her Leather car coat on and admired the matched appearance to the "maybe" too short Black Leather skirt she wore being reflected back at "her" off the closed elevator doors. "No matter," she thought. Besides, it supposed to match!

Suddenly, the elevator arrived restoring her presence of mind. As the elevator doors opened she observed the elevator already occupied by two "late twenty-something" young woman and a very smartly attired stately looking gentleman, probably another "away from home" business executive.

Stepping across the threshold and onto the elevator "Barbara" could all but feel the reviewing, if not penetrating eyes of the two woman, all the while noting the quick glances of the Executive that ran from head to toe to and back up again. Inwardly smiling as she noted his visual hesitation when his view reached and centered at her bust. "Like my tits? Do ya?" had to be the obvious thought that raced through "her" mind.

All "Barbara" could think regarding the women's review was "eat your hearts out," and offer an appreciative return glance to the Gentleman.

Like a descending rocket the elevator reached the Lobby and its doors opened abruptly to a soft thud in their full open position. Being the last one to board the elevator, "Barbara" was quite naturally the first to exit. As "Barbara" left the elevator she could sense the piercing eyes of the two women follow "her" exit. Undaunted, "she" continued forward into the Main Lobby ever so confidently towards the Front Desk intent on securing information relative to the local club scene.

Just short of the Front Desk, which was manned by what appeared to be a College aged Desk Clerk, "She" took immediate note of the presence of the Hotel Lounge. Conspicuously situated in front of the Lounge entry was a placard declaring "Ladies Night." How convenient "she" thought, they must have known "Barbara" was coming and hopefully soon be "cuming."

Sinking deeper into "her" "Barbara" persona, her identity solidified, and "Barbara," "She," and "her," became one with the transition to "I" as in one, one single person remembering Helen Reddy's signature retort in song…" I am WOMAN, hear me roar…" in a first person singular account…

As I approached the Hotel's Lounge I couldn't help but notice it's subdued lighting, especially given the total lack of any lighting radiating outward from the inner sanctum of the Lounge into the Hotel Lobby. With a slight sense of unknowing I stepped into the Lounge, which was indeed, dimly lighted, and almost immediately welcomed by a college aged co-ed. All too cordially she offered seating by asking if I would like a one of the cocktail tables or would I be comfortable at the Bar which was clearly already well populated.

"Being a stranger in a foreign land," for whatever reason, I opted for one of the vacant cocktail tables. (My senses seemed to suggest that if I grew uncomfortable with the environment I could easily execute a very ladylike retreat relatively unnoticed.)

After being escorted to a table not steps from the Bar I noted the high stools surrounding tables that was barely three feet around as I hung my Leather Waist coat over the back of the bar stool. Nonetheless, as gingerly, if not as ladylike and gracefully as I could, I planted my derriere atop the leather covered bar stool only to realize how my leather skirt rode up my hips as I attempted to situate and balance myself on the unexpectedly high stool. Recovering from this unexpected discovery, I discretely, if not so instinctively, reached for the hemline of my all too short leather mini to establish some sense of ladylike posture and modest decorum.

My attempts proved to be all but fruitless, as the leather against leather produced a natural friction, which all but precluded any downward movement of my skirt. Accepting the futility of the situation I resorted to what every woman does almost immediately after taking any seat, I crossed my legs. With my right leg over my left knee, I began to feel relatively secure, further protected by the tabletop and the dimly lit environment from roaming eyes.

Comically, what passed through my mind was my good fortune to have worn pantyhose vice the stockings and garter belt I initially considered, as most assuredly the garters would have been fully exposed given the height of my ever so delicately balanced leather clad rump in my acquired seated position. I was left trying to decide if I was sitting on a BarStool or a highchair.

Having secured some sense of composure and not seeing any "No Smoking" signs, I reached into my purse for a much-needed cigarette. As I was lighting it one of the Lounges Waitresses all but materialized in front of me with a very pleasant "Can I get you a drink?" (Not all that unusual I thought; after all I was sitting in a bar. The sign outside may have said "Lounge," but we all know that's a euphemism for "BAR.")

With but a gentle whisper I responded…"A "Zin" will be nice." Smiling, she replied "one Zinfandel coming up." To my shock and dismay almost in the same breath she whispered "...if your lucky that may not be the only thing that will come up before your night is over." Too rattled with such an impromptu comment all "Barbara" could do was smile as she turned from me and headed back to the bar.

I couldn't help but wonder if she wasn't taking undue liberties and making catty mock of what she may have deduced to be my "on the make" attire.

Similar questions surfaced in my mind, as I again had to secure my composure. I had to wonder what generated her off color comment? Was I "in over my head," out of place, or exactly where I belonged?

I began to mentally consider the immediate as my waitress was placing my wine order in front of me as well as a clean ashtray. She commented that they usually only allow smoking at the Bar but since most of the tables were empty the Bartender told her to bring me an ashtray. With that I glanced over at the Bartender and gently nodded a "Thank you." He just smiled back at me and went about his bar tending duties. (Clearly, he had no objections to any of my chosen fashion choices for the evening.)

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the waitress was still standing next to me. As I looked at her she asked "do you want me to run a tab for you?" I replied, again at a soft whisper, "That'll be fine." She quickly scribbled something on her pad and retreated away from me saying "we'll keep the good eye on you, enjoy your drink." (Now I was at a loss. "Keep an eye on me?" What did they think I was going to do? Leave without paying? Create a scene about poor service? Or, was she cleverly suggesting that I would be safety would be assured during my patronage? (While I enjoy my "fem" persona, some times I am all but convinced I will never figure out how women think.) If anyone needed watching, I was beginning to think this waitress needed watching, not me.

Uneventfully, I began to enjoy my drink and as I did I began to relax. This first wine was as they say "sweeter than wine" and went down like honey. Before long, I'd finished it and managed to smoke another cigarette as I took in this "local" bar scene. It all came across as pretty low key and sedate. The bar area, appeared as though it could have been better staffed as the bar was shoulder to shoulder with only two bartenders holding off the masses.

Nonetheless, everyone seemed satisfied and it certainly did appear as though everyone knew each other what with the constant banting across the length and breath of the bar. It had all the characteristics of a local "hangout," a local "club" like on "Cheers" "everyone knows your name." After a few minutes of taking all this in, I half expected to see "Cliff" sitting at the end of the Bar once the crowd thinned, and concluded that "Norm" must have left before I got there.

As I sat there amusing myself with my own thoughts, my "happy go lucky" waitress reappeared. Again she's all smiles and wants to know if she can get me another "Zin?" With a simple "that'll be nice" she again scribbles on her pad and saunters off to the Bar.

I follow her with my eyes as I watched her stop momentarily to exchange some small talk with two women patrons seated at the Bar as she apparently voiced my order to the Bartender that offered up my ashtray. He nodded to her and she redirected her attention back to the two women. While I could see the waitress in profile I couldn't quite make out who the two women she was talking to were. As I tried to focus through the dimness, the three of them laughed simultaneously as the two women than collectively glanced over at me and smiled.

The Waitress then reached between them and retrieved my drink order and headed directly back towards me. When she reached me she commented "You have admirer's," the two ladies at the Bar, (motioning to the two women I'd just seen her talking to), have this round covered and they want to know if they could join you, or if, at least, you'd like to join them?"

After having spent the better part of the last hour successfully attaining some level of feminine composure I was instantly shook to my panty clad core over this totally unanticipated turn of events.

As I hesitantly searched my mind for a tactful response beyond a "Thank You" I noted these two women weren't waiting for an answer as they picked their drinks up off the Bar and headed like "bee's to the hive" directly towards me. With no where to run or hide, all I could begin to think..."this is going to be interesting!"

Sure enough, within but a few graceful steps they were both upon me. I felt like "game for the slaughter." Seconds seems like hours as they wasted no time introducing themselves. As they did, my consternation hit full force as I recognized them as the two women I encountered on the elevator. To say I felt a sense of doom would have to be an understatement.

The first introduced herself as "Sharon" and pointed to her companion saying this is "Karen." To my chagrin, as if in chorus, they both said, "nice to meet you "Barbara." Clearly, neither of these two women missed too much. (I then made a mental note, "time for a new necklace.)

Nonetheless, they were very polite with a "Mind if we join you? You look so alone." Without even waiting for any reply on my part they both set their respective drinks down. Karen reached over to the adjoining table a pulled it's stool over as Sharon began to make herself comfortable on the empty stool already at my table.

Without missing a beat Karen commented "I'm glad to see you smoke, I'm a smoker too. Especially, when I'm drinking." Typical women I thought, they're going to beat me to death with incessant chatter.

It began to appear, as they were morphing into a "tag team." No sooner did one of them say something the other followed up before I could even respond to the first one. "You new around here?" "Never saw you here before?" "Where you from?" "Visiting?" "Are you waiting for some one?" "What's his name?" "Does he have a friend?" Cutesy, cutesy, I thought, actually, "catty, catty" may have been a more accurate perception.

Realizing I probably wouldn't get a word in edge wise I figured I probably do well to let them both run out of some steam before I attempted to "stoke the fire" with any responses to their very female barrage on my ears. I like your outfit Sharon was quick to note. "Leather is always a do all outfit." Typical woman, she was already or had already "picked me apart." I half expected her to be asking about my intimates. (Cheap shot I know, but that's how I sensed the conversation was going to unfold.)

While, to be sure, they were "checking me out," I too took note of their respective "club" wear. Sharon was very casually dressed in a conservative knee length shirtdress with either very low heels or flats. Karen sported a nice gray and pink top with a matching knee length skirt, which did justice to a nice set of shapely legs in their Court Shoes. (While both were certainly very casually dressed, in their company, I was definitely over dressed.)

As I was assessing my situation and trying to figure out where these two were "coming from," I couldn't help but wonder if I wasn't overreacting. There certainly wasn't any apparent threats making there presence known, these two were being very polite, friendly, and in a word definitely female.

They must have sensed that I was momentarily "zoning out" on them as Sharon broke into my thought process with "How would you like to join us up the street? There's another club that we go to that really starts to rock after midnight. Lot's of "dicks" there too." Karen picked up the invite with "Yeah it's great, very popular, all types, ya kno? Straights, Gays, Lez and even "Trannies," Ya know like Transvestites...Crossdresser's? It's always so fun."

Now I was in a dead panic. I'd been "read" by a couple of women in a Hotel Lounge with no retreat. Now what do I do? Admit to being "read?" Remain silent and let the remark play itself out? Most times "Discretion is the better part of valor." Let's see where this goes? I thought. Some sense of assuredness may save the day as opposed to panic and confirmation of whatever they may have thought amongst themselves.

Without so much as another follow up comment, as if they'd just told me what the temperature was outside, Sharon said, "Great, we'll have fun. Let me settle up with Bernie, (obviously, she knew the Bartender), and we'll go."

As she was rambling she reached into her purse and pulled out a "twenty" and all but ran over to the Bar sliding the bill across the Bar for "Bernie" to retrieve, (which he did without missing a beat). I just barely heard him say something to the effect "have fun" as he swept the bar top with his bar rag.

As Sharon returned to the table, Karen was putting her jacket on, (actually a coat). Sharon was tossing her coat around like a Matador as it settled on her shoulders and over some type of large tote bag, which struck me as a rather large handbag or purse for an evening of "clubbing."

With that Karen blurted out, "Why am I putting my coat on, I've gotta pee." I found that spontaneous comment amusing and instinctively giggled. Karen looked at me with raised eyebrows asking, "What's so funny?" In instant recovery I responded..."Guys have to take a piss, WE have to pee." They both erupted in a genuine laugh as they headed toward the Bar and it's adjoining alcove that led to the Restrooms.

I must have hesitated, because they both turned back towards me with that "Are you coming?" look. I looked at Sharon and just mumbled..."caught my heel." She smirked with a "Yeah, I know, heels suck." As they were steps ahead of me I just followed trying to figure out why when women need to use public facilities they all have some innate need to do so with an entourage?

As they navigated around they cocktail tables to the Bar and Restrooms beyond I noted that as we three past the Bar all eyes were on us. Self-consciously, I felt me in particular! After all, I was the new comer, both Karen and Sharon were regular's. Further, I suspected, there was no doubt that I was the "looker" of this happenstance trio. I was convinced all who assessed my "look" was convinced I was dressed to fuck.

As we entered the Alcove beyond the Bar, they both made a "quick-step" entry into the Ladies Room almost hitting me with the Door as I entered behind them. I hadn't even entered the Restroom and they had already disappeared into vacant stalls. It was a typical Ladies Restroom with vanity to ceiling mirrors and two banks of opposing stalls three on each side.

To protect the illusion, I disappeared into one of the empty end stalls as I heard one of them exit her stall over the flush of a toilet. Seconds later as I tried to discretely relieve myself, I heard Sharon's voice squeal "damn! I'm early."

No sooner did I fathom the comment I felt and heard a thump on the sidewall of my stall and what has to be an obvious question in any Ladies Room..."Karen, Barbara...either of you guys got a plug?" Thinking quickly and recognizing the opportunity to dash any suspicions I quickly reached into my purse and pulled out my Tampon case and handed one of them under the stall wall to Sharon. With that spontaneous reaction I got "Thanks Hon, you just saved the night." (I did? I thought, "I know!")

Tending to her natural need I somehow managed to redeem myself, and somehow validate my "fem" persona. Without further adieu we were all out in front of the Vanity as Karen was hurriedly running a hair pick through her hair and Sharon was disposing of the evidence. With not so much as a glance at me, it was "Lets go." Karen chimed in laughingly, "Yeah, lets see how much trouble we can get ourselves into?"

The three of us exited the Lounge with several waves from those still holding up the Bar and were on the street in seconds. As we exited the Lounge, I took note of the fact that the Front Desk had been abandoned, and wondered if the Night Clerk wasn't catching some "Z's" in a back office. Even the Lobby Lights had been dimmed; promoting a quiet and peaceful atmosphere in the Lobby. This darken and subdued environment suggested that, if I were smart? I'd be better off up in my room in bed myself.

As we reached the street the night air was all but a "wake up call." The cold chill of the evening wafted up my mini and raised goose bumps. Both Karen and Sharon voiced my thoughts as they both felt the collective need to comment on the chill in the air. Sharon, for whatever reason had to note she had "just popped her nips," and Karen chimed in with "Glad we went to the bathroom, it's cold out. Good thing we're only going up the street."

It was too, just up the street. No more than a block away. We all charged in like we were seeking refuge from a blizzard to get out of the cold night air. Our impromptu arrival was greeted by a rather burly bouncer who clearly knew both Sharon and Karen acknowledging their arrival with "Hey Ladies...whose your friend?" He too assessed me from head to toe. (Seems I was destined to spend this "outing" being "checked out.")

"Oh, she's Barbara, she's just visiting," volunteered Sharon. "Mr. Muscles" just looked at me saying "Welcome Ladies, enjoy yourselves." I swear these two were a "tag team" because Karen had to continue with the bouncer/doorman with "Anything going on tonight?" "Not now! You missed the excitement," he replied. "One of the Lezzie's went off on some jackoff that couldn't take No for an answer by repeatedly hitting on her main squeeze. It was over as fast as it started, but I tell ya...Lezzie's can be real bitches. It's pretty quiet now. Gotta get back to the door, talk to ya later," he concluded his wrap up of the evenings event.

With that Sharon motioned to me to follow her as she snaked her way across a Parquet hardwood dance floor to the Bar. The Bar area was separated from the Dance Floor by a partition that was about shoulder height so you couldn't see the density at the Bar until you got past the partition. To my surprise the Bar was really crowded with a din of conversation that came across as dull collective moaning. No shouting across the Bar like at the Lounge, just everyone involved in his or her own chitchat.

The clientele struck me as a young "Yuppie" crowd reminiscent of the 70's. All young "up and comers," young professionals, career types. True to their word, or Karen's word, it was a very diverse crowd. Everyone was equally represented, just as she said, Straights, Gays and "yes" more than a few Crossdresser's. All blended into some unidentifiable homogeneous blend of our current day society.

I had to really reflect on my own observations, after all I was exactly what I seemed to be looking at, dare I observe with any critical eye? You bet! You could pick out each strata layered at the Bar. The Straights were discrete; (Maybe it was a thrill thing for them?) The Lesbians were all but unabashedly open as they kissed and whispered into each other's ear. The Cder's were just as obvious, only I found myself wishing they give the lifestyle some credence and "try." Try to dress a little more conservatively, or at least get clothes that fit and are coordinated. While such stood out, there were other CDer's that Sharon and Karen knew and pointed them out to me. I was impressed with their respective expertise and fashion sense.

At this point I was feeling extremely self-conscious. Again, I began feeling I'd been "read." The entire evening that led to this very instant in time was nothing more than the "coup de ta" to a setup my two escorts had, I suspected, devised from the outset. (If it wasn't…they were being very cool about it.)

Aside from my immediate sense of paranoia, nothing seem amiss as Sharon began to circulate through the Bar crowd making small talk with many as she minced her way along the Bar with me in tow. As she made contact with those she clearly knew she introduced me to each of those she spoke with. Buried within the giggles and jibes she exchanged was some hidden sense of purpose. This was a woman on a mission. As we reached the end of the Bar she waived to the Bartender in a "high five" gesture and securing her attention ordered up a "G&T" for herself and a "Zin" for me. As the Barkeep was mixing our drinks, they exchanged pleasantries.

As Sharon was running on with the Bartender she grabbed me by my coat sleeve and wedged me into the Bar next to her. She introduced me to the Bartender with a "Barbara meet Barbara." The Bartender just smiled and offered a "nice to meet you" as she attentively poured the Zinfandel. She hardly looked at me or even paid any particular attention to my very presence.

With experienced deftness she rested both drinks on the Bar above two coasters that had to appear out of nowhere announcing "that'll be $7.50," and in the same breath asking, "Where's Karen? Or is this your new amour?" That's was and had to be a proverbial "Freudian Slip," if I ever heard one. (So that's why she so cool…she's Lesbian.)

My mind began working overtime as I began to try to connect the dots. It's a fair conclusion that most women have no problems with crossdresser's, they don't see or perceive them as threats, so acceptance is easy. Within the Lesbian community there perceived as "bridges" to the heterosexual world without actually becoming part of it and violating their own sexual preferences.

Whether my own perceptions were accurate or not really didn't seem to matter. Here it was "almost closing time" and for whatever reasons my "fem" illusion was still intact or certainly appeared to be. Where the night would lead or was leading still remained a mystery? Wherever it was going had to be academic at this point, as there would be little if anything I could do about it, short of vanishing in a puff of smoke. "In for a penny…in for a pound," was all I could reason. So I committed myself at that point to "follow the leader," who at this point was clearly…Sharon?

As the din of Barkeep Barbara and Sharon's small talk resonated between my ears I deciphered Sharon explaining that Karen was still lost in the crowd or doing "the nasty" on the dance floor behind us. The Bartended laughed saying, "Yeah, knowing her that's probably exactly what she's doing!"

Sharon then strained her neck to look over the demising wall to see if she could catch a glance of Karen anywhere. "Em, don't see her, but she's out there," she responded to Barbara. Barbara giggled saying…"dry night without her, eh Hon?" "Yeah really, but just as well…got my Friend tonight." Looking at me almost in the same breath she volunteered…"with a little luck maybe we can get you "some," so the night won't be a complete loss. I know almost everyone here and they're all "clean." Not to worry. You up for some fun?"

Now the dots are connecting…at least…I think they are. She wants to get into my panties and it's not the other way around. She's horny as a mink and at the onset of her period. You could see "BUMMER" all but tattooed across her forehead. Clearly a "bitch in heat" with no immediate release. Such is nature. "What's a Mother to do?"

As I pondered current observations, Karen comes plowing threw the shoulder to shoulder bar hangers and snuggles up to the two of us with a victorious "Found You! What's going on?" She had a drink I her hand and I was left wondering where she got a drink? Especially since ours' had just been served. Karen was clearly "feeling it" too; as she was all "bubbly," if not clearly upbeat, running on incessantly, but not in a complaining way, about having just had some "jerk" cop a feel as she tried to get off the dance floor. Sharon was indifferent, responding "pul-lease" where in a "meat locker." Karen laughed saying "Yeah, really!"

At this point I was looking for an avenue of escape, while I didn't have any early morning meetings or commitment I did have an afternoon seminar planned. I was wondering if I'd be up to the task at the rate things were going. All I could think of was that it was a good thing I wasn't driving and my hotel was but a short block away. As I considered that remedy I noted that both Sharon and especially Karen's ability to drive was clearly in dire question.

In that regard I felt duty bound if not obligated to ask, "by the way, you two live around here?" "Nah, we live out in the "burbs," nothing to do out there so we come into the city here to party." "Oh," was all I could respond with.

Karen chimed in "Yeah, we came in my car, Sharon's car is at her brother's, he's fixing something." Sharon cleared up the mystery, "my brother putting new brakes on my car, and he's taking his sweet time about it. I'd bitch, but he's my brother and it's only costing me for the parts, so I can't complain too loudly."

"Well," I said, "If it's helps, if we leave now I'll get you both home. I've got a rental back in the Hotel garage." "We'd probably take you up on your thoughtfulness but you may not find you way back to your hotel," Sharon replied. Now I'm "feeling sorry" for these two. Both, who up to earlier this evening I didn't even know were walking the face of this earth. Ever the "heroine," I volunteer to secure them a cab, they both laughed. "No cabs out to "the burbs," too many fares right here in the city. Besides this is not Chicago or St. Louis!" Sharon explained. Sensing, or seeing my concern, Sharon confidently asserted, to my complete shock…"We wondered if maybe we could spend the night with you?"

Now I'm starting to panic BIG TIME! How do I get out of this one? (My look must have been priceless.) Sharon then leaned into me, unnoticed by the surrounding crowd. Then as gentle as the feather that you could have knocked me over with, copped a feel of her own as she ran the palm of her hand from the waistband of my skirt down to my crotch whispering "we'll make it worth your thoughtfulness."

Trying desperately to keep it together, I replied "We?" "Oh, come on…haven't you concluded we're more than girlfriends?" I stuttered and stammered for a moment as she then admitted "Dam girl, we're fucking lover's, we're both "Lez," as in Lesbian, and we know you are too!" "Really!" was all I could say.

Now the claws were out as in a teasing way. Sharon noted, "your features and mannerisms scream "dyke." Your just too hard to be a "sub" so both of us figure you to be a real "Dom." Yet, the way you carry yourself, come across, you got to be a closet lesbian, other wise you wouldn't have allowed us to come on to you the way we did and you wouldn't be here now.

Karen just stood there between us like a corner of a triangle listening to Sharon's assessment. She was "wild eyed," and clearly if not in spite of her being under the influence, very attentive. Her safety net was just to take it all in and revel in her mates boldness. Sharon was very discrete everything she'd said in the past minutes was said in a whisper, intended for our ears only. Her perceptions were piercing. Clearly this was no neophyte; she'd been down this road before, even if I hadn't.

As I tried to absorb the moment, I couldn't help but wonder if the two of them weren't corralling me. Especially since my senses where awaking me to the reality that I had someone's hand up my skirt in a crowded bar. I knew it wasn't Sharon's as she had pulled away and both her hands were articulating her comments at her bustline. The obvious conclusion drew my attention to Karen who I realized was all but leaning on me as our tit's rested against each other's.

Barely a nose length away from me she whispered, "awe, c'mon, it'll be so fun." As she voiced her comment I could feel her palming my "pussy," or at least what she thought was a vagina in her less than coherent stupor. (As if there was ever a purpose for insisting on a Professional Gaff, this had to be it, and this had to be the time, was all that ran through my mind.)

With no way of even guessing where I could go at this point? Looking to extricate myself from the immediate pawing I was receiving I reluctantly relented? Agreeing, if not reasoning, in my mind, that if I didn't give them safe harbor, there might have been the likelihood that I wouldn't see any either. Affixing my gaze on Sharon I quietly suggested, "OK, lets go, come the AM you two can then drive home without getting yourselves or someone else killed."

As we hit the wee hour's morning air it was clear it only had gotten colder. I was glad we only had a short walk back to the hotel. The three of us, on wobbly legs and with unsure stride, found our way back to the hotel, but not after being stopped by a local police cruiser with the Patrolman inquiring if we were "OK" and where we were headed. NO doubt he suspected he'd just happened on a trio of "Nightworkers," spelled "PROSTUTUTES," looking for more clients or headed back to their Pimps with their nights booty.

Figuring I was probably the more sober of the three of us, and certainly more coherent, I responded to the Officer's inquiry through the side window of his Patrol Car "We're fine," waving my Hotel Pass Key very visibly. Satisfied with my immediate logical reply he just said, "Be safe" and sped off. "Whew," was all I could think, I shudder to think we're that could have gone.

Soon we were all safely back to the Hotel and the warm environment it offered. I noted the Front Desk was still void of any staff, obviously the Night Clerk was "sleeping in." (But at 3:30 in the morning what should I have expected?)

Ever the "heroine" again, I got Karen and Sharon into the elevator with Sharon leaning against its wall, as I literally braced the still giggling chatty Karen. I concluded that Karen was coming down from a "buzz" from the drinks she chugged all evening, and Sharon was just dealing with the days of her month discomforts. Without much faldarah I was able to get us all secretly secured in my room with it's huge Queen size bed in the bedroom and day lounger in the Living Room.

Gladly, if not fortunately, sleeping accommodations were not lacking. I figured I throw the two of them on the bed, give up the bedroom to them and I'd "catch a few Z's" on the Day Lounger in the front parlor.

Which is what I attempted to do! I plopped Karen down at the foot of the bed and as I did Sharon was throwing her coat and purse on a side chair. I explained to Sharon the Bedroom is yours, I'll sleep out here. With out any acknowledgement she sauntered into the bedroom with "Let me see what Karen's up to?" As she was walking away she had already successfully dashed her dress and was down to her lingerie, which was nothing more than her bra, and pantyhose beneath a white half-slip, as she was running her hands through her tresses. "Whatever" was my surrendering thought, "just go to bed."

As I observed Sharon reach the doorway into the bedroom I saw Karen coming out the same door. (Clearly two objects can't occupy the same space at the same time…simple physics. This is going to be cute.) Karen was the winner, forcing Sharon to back out into the Front Parlor. These two must have identically wired brains because Karen is standing in front of me sans her skirt and blouse in her pantyhose and bra. As I surveyed the scene before me I realized that "Barbara," was in a Hotel Room with two adult females clad in the skimpiest of attire, ("see through" might be better descriptions), absorbing whatever observant appraisal their host may send their way.

While my male self would relish such a turn of events. "Barbara" had to be extremely discrete with regard to any casual glances. In spite of that, it had to be noted that these two women were "statuesque" in their collective striking appearances. Sharon was the taller of the two at probably 5'6", which appeared to be about two or three inches taller than Karen, but both carried very curvaceous figures. Sharon, I suspected, sported very respectable 38C or D breasts, while Karen appeared to be a very natural perky "C" I suspected probably a neat 36C. Both carried proportions suited to their general build and frames.

Collectively, their lingerie only highlighted, if not accentuated their natural proportions. Sharon's black panties were clearly visible through her half-slip and her matching black bra did nothing but draw attention to her bosom. Karen was rather "vanilla" in her choice of lingerie with rather practical white panties prominently outlined through her beige pantyhose, and very utilitarian white matching bra. Closer scrutiny revealed, in fact, that they were a French Cut bikini panty complimented by a white three quarter bra that was more than filled by ample breast that gave a very seductive hint to their respective nipples.

As I took in the sight before me, Karen asked "You going to sleep in your clothes?" Sharon laughed and said, "Lets help Barbara…she looked after us, now we can at least do the same!"

With a siege strategy they both descended upon me. In a flurry my blouse was off and on the floor, followed by it's matching shell. Fortunately, "Barbara" has been shaving "her" body hair for years so "her" "fem" appearance was still intact. At least I thought it was?

As Sharon was chasing my upper garments, it was Karen who really posed the threat as she unsnapped my skirt and let it fall to the floor, only to be confronted with my longline panty shaper. "What's this?" "A fucking girdle?" "Girl" she taunted, "no one wears girdles!" With deliberate force she grabbed the waistline and in one fell swoop my pantyshaper was at my ankles. Save for my pantyhose, panties and gaff I'm thinking, "I'm toast!" Just about done for…it's "discovery" time.

To my unexpected absolute amazement time seemed to stop as both Sharon and Karen each stood up and as hastily as they could they were both out of their pantyhose in a flash. Sharon left her panties on, while Karen doffed her own panties to the pile of clothes that managed to accumulate on the floor behind the three of us.

Sharon said, "Come with us, it's 'cum' time!" She grasped my right elbow and Karen my left as they both led me into the bedroom with Sharon turning me around as she pushed me back onto the bed. No sooner had my head hit the mattress surface Karen was atop me positioning herself above my breast aiming her pussy directly at my gapping mouth. (I was, or at least had to be, in some state of induced shock.)

At the same moment I could feel Sharon tugging away at my panties as I instinctively raised my buttock off the mattress to assist her effort. Without another word from Sharon she made short order of my Gaff and without so much as "by your leave" had my prick buried in her devouring mouth. No hysteria, no shock, no amazement…just no reaction to her discovery what so ever. It's as she found exactly what she expected to find.

Without the slightest hesitation she began a practiced suck and stroke process I hadn't experienced in years. As she began to establish rhythm to her suck and stroke, Karen picked it up in unison and without any warning planted her pussy squarely on my lips and whispered "Lick, BITCH and you'd better make me cum!"

Just as I was accepting my fate and even beginning to enjoy it I could feel Sharon's hands crawl up my torso and rest on my breast. "Dam," I thought, "there not even real!" Yet, while that was an entirely accurate statement it didn't assuage Sharon in the least as she ever so gently began to offer up a very gentle circular massage to each tit simultaneously and collectively.

"Barbara's" senses was functioning on overload. My prick was lost in the mouth of a horny woman while my face and tongue was getting washed by the natural juices of the pettiest doll of a woman "to die for" as my tits were being worked through my rib cage.

Just when I felt I would explode they would both stop. "Hold on, Hon" Sharon would whisper. Karen would cajole with "a little bit more, a little bit longer, a little deeper." I was bordering upon delirium. Try as I may, I could no longer get any of my senses to act collectively. In my euphoric state I lost track of Sharon releasing my prick for a moment or two. When I next felt her, her hands were at the back of my knee's motioning me to raise my legs, which I did. It was at this point that I caught some presence of mind to the obvious sound of the soft hum of a vibrator.

I concluded that since she, (Sharon), was menstruating, she was going to get relief any way she could? Wrong! What I was hearing was a vibrator, but it wasn't for her, it was for me. It was, if fact, a nine-inch strap on dildo vibrator that had to be dam near an inch plus around. Ever considerate, if consideration of any kind could enter this weird and wild scene, I felt the coldness of a heavy dose of lubricant drip from the base of my balls right down through my ass crack onto the bed linen.

Without any hesitation Sharon found her intended "port of entry" and very forcefully acquired the desired entry. I thought I would pass out, but I wasn't to be so lucky. With ever increasing deliberate force Sharon directed her humming behemoth ever deeper until I could feel the harness straps against my bare skin. (It was here that I concluded Sharon had a "strap-on" and was going to "do me" good!) Entry achieved, she began a very slow "in/out" series of motions and with every stroke I began to relax and she began to moan.

At some point, my devastated senses began to recognize her motion became piston like and rhythmically steady, as my prick grew stiffer with each thrusting penetration. Karen had been exceedingly patient as her love mate found her pace and sensing unison she asked…"we ready?" I didn't know to whom the question was intended, Sharon or "Barbara." As if it could have mattered… "Barbara" wasn't going anywhere.

With that question Sharon just nodded an affirmative. Without any further motion or talk Karen reached behind her back and grabbed the tube of lubricant Sharon had thrown on the bed and squeezed a healthy doze the literal length of my raging hard-on, that had to be at it's bursting stage. As I felt the cold gel coat my prick, it had the effect to reduce its natural swollen state, but only for an instant.

Just as the cold gel began to reach and soak my pubic hairs Karen grabbed my rods full staff beginning a backhanded stroking from tip to base. With every downward stroke she tightened her grip, and barely released it as she brought her hand and stroke back up to the head of my prick.

Deftly, if not expertly, Karen continued her stroking, never missing a beat. With each stroke I felt myself attempting to bury, if not lose, my tongue in her cunt. With each upward stab of my tongue I would purposely dance across the "boy in the canoe." It wasn't long before her clit had completely distended making it's presence known, begging for more. My tongue sensed it had to be the size of my pinky, fully exposed and engorged.

Undaunted Karen just rode for life, as she never lost track of the job at hand. If her hand got dry she'd just squeeze some more gel onto my swollen prick and continue stroking at her established steady pace. With each quiver of my prick she grasped me tightly and whispered "Not yet, Hon." She would then turn back to Sharon asking, "You ready?" This went on for several minutes. I lost track of all sense of time. While Sharon didn't answer, she did nod and Karen took her cues from Sharon's nodding instruction.

Just after I thought I couldn't survive another minute, Karen asked again, "You ready?" This time, Sharon nodded in the affirmative. With that reply Karen then asked…"You or me?" I was beside myself with this exchange of questions and responses between both of them. All I could do was moan or grunt as Karen still had her cunt squarely planted where she wanted it…on my mouth.

As Sharon acknowledged she was ready, Karen turned back around looked down at me and said, "suck my clit…make me cum!" As her instruction was registering I felt Sharon lift her weight off my buttocks. Yet, while the feeling of her pounding weight was gone the vibrations deep in my ass weren't! If anything they'd increased.

The increased sensation of a vibrator buried to it's hilt dancing on my prostate was all but sending me over any sexual edge I had ever experienced as I heard her say to Karen "Let go!" I then felt Sharon reacquire my prick back in her mouth and begin to "deep throat" me. This return to my prick were with longer and deeper suck and stroke motions which now only intensified beyond any level I thought I could ever be expected to withstand.

With the stiffness my prick had achieved I just couldn't believe it could sustain any more continued manipulation. It was definitely an erection that had past it's prime. (Unbeknownst to me. my hard-on was being sustained by a cock ring Karen had affixed at the beginning of her initial alternating gestations of my prick. (Her alternating squeezing and stroking masked their designed purpose and intent, which was to distract me as she snapped the cock ring on my prick. Further, to prevent any possibility of premature ejaculations, if not more importantly, to sustain my hard-on, to the requested pleasure of her "dom" love mate Sharon.

I'm sure Sharon had managed to suck my cock raw, or at least that's the way it felt. Seeking relief Sharon stood up for but a moment and leaned over and kissed Karen "lip on" and said "lets cum, Hon, Lets all cum, it's 'cum' time."

It was at this instant that I spied this humungous black dildo dangling from Sharon's cunt. It had to be a foot long…with at least ten inches buried up her cunt. The vision I saw only intensive the myriad of sensations I was feeling as I still had one just as long doing it's thing up my ass, butt fucking the hell out of me. (My subconscious resurrected the image of Sharon carrying the large tote bag I noted earlier that evening when we left the Lounge, deeming it to be more than a "purse." It was her "toy" bag and apparently well stocked.)

Without missing a stroke Karen looked back down at me commanding "Suck BITCH, we're all going over the edge, especially you!" As her commands were reaching my ears, Sharon had already returned to her position of dominance over my prick resuming her intense sucking activities. I didn't know what to focus my attention on…the clit I was sucking or the "bitch in heat" that was sucking me. Just then I felt Karen wiggle and declare: "I'm going to cum, I hope your ready?"

No sooner had she said has much I began to feel torrents of cum begin to wash down my cheeks and simultaneously experience a rush that went directly to my prick as I felt Sharon release the cock ring and just about suck my prick down her throat.

Sharon clearly was not going to be undone, as she increased her sucking the intensified pressure initiated a natural pumping action of my prick which had to pump a fucking gallon of my cum down her throat.

To my amazement she never let go, never stopped sucking and somehow managed to capture spurt, after spurt, after spurt with no residue of drippings to be shared. (Talk about selfish!) By the time I was done pumping her mouth I was convinced I'd never have to worry about getting some "Ho" pregnant. This cunt just took every ounce of cum out of me. She managed to drain me to the point where I was convinced my balls had shivered down to the size of pea grains.

Feeling her release and my drained balls I was left to concentrate on the cunt sitting on my face. I concluded once I got her "off," she get off my face and allow me to breathe again. As I attempted to return my tongue to her clit, quite surprisingly she jumped up and off me and mumbled, "Not yet Bitch, I'm not on my period and I want some of what's left."

With a lustful plunge Karen saddled my hips and what was left of my now dwindling erection found it's way under her soaked cunt. Undeterred she somehow managed to catch the head of my prick in her vagina lips and with sheer body weight force the remnants of any hard-on past her labia, past her cervical opening and then literally wiggle it to life via her own vaginal muscles.

She was determined too! To my own disbelieve she managed to achieve some semblance of a hard-on and continued until she felt a new erection rise to find her "G Spot" and then begin rocking insanely back and forth. She was "hell bent" for an orgasm as she grabbed my hands and insisted I massage her tits and nips. With her hands over mine we massaged her tits to the point her nipples were the size of half-dollars.

She was clearly in control and was enjoying the moment, even if I wasn't sure I was. I was bordering complete physical exhaustion. Just when I thought I was "down and out" I felt her vaginal muscles take hold again and as they did my prick found new life. It swelled, and penetrated Karen's pussy deep enough as to elicit a deep sultry, all but sinful moan of desire that had to emanate in her cunt and escape through her mouth and its lips, followed by a scream of joy and release I'd never heard.

As silence took over the bedroom I was reminded of Sharon's forgotten presence with her pronouncement…"very good, guys." Two "bitches" cuming together, "Ya gotta luv it." While offering her critic I couldn't help but be amazed over the fact that she was still sitting there with this fucking slimy dildo still buried in her cunt. "Amazing, just fucking amazing." No other explanations seem to make any sense. Clearly she had been masturbating as she watched Karen fuck me. (Hey, "I like to watch too," I thought.)

What did make sense was the stark reality that it was now after 7AM! I'd been up all night with these two nymphomaniacs. To be sure, we all, no doubt, had "fun!" But I had come for a series business meetings, not to spend all night "cuming." I was spent, exhausted and still had an entire day of business responsibilities facing me. Would I be up to the task? I wondered as I watched both Karen and Sharon sort through the pile of clothes and lingerie that had accumulated on the floor since we returned to my room.

Appearing suitably and tastefully attired they both returned to my prone exhausted position on the bed. Both rendered delicious kisses, with tongue, no less, and thanked me for the evening. As they departed they offered up a collective "Cum again, "Barbara," as they both tossed their panties back at me, and like horseshoe throwers each pair of panties landed directly, if not haphazardly, on my tits, one on each tit."

"Hopefully, you'll visit us again?" resonated from the Front Parlor as I heard the door slam with their collective departure and exit.

  

  

  

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