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

Queer Halloween

by Vickie Tern

i.

 

Oh, there's the waiter. I'm so pleased we could get together today, Carol, it's been months! Nothing on for this afternoon? Good, because telling you all about it will take some time. You started it all, you know, in a way. Yes, thank you, I'll have a Perfect Bourbon Manhattan, and we'll order afterward.

I suppose it was wicked of me, what I did to him. But he did so deserve it, and it was such fun setting him up, and I was so furious that I didn't care about any of the possible consequences, that he might leave me flat, or that he wouldn't be able to return from where I put him, or he wouldn't want to return, or that maybe I wouldn't want him back afterward anyhow. In a way all of these things happened. We're still living together, but certainly we've turned a corner in our relationship. We've both learned a few things. He sure did, I saw to that!

He'd been unfaithful before, you know, very often. I always suspected, but I never knew for sure. Women were always coming on to him. Why not? He's a gorgeous hunk, and hot, and horny. That's why I married him, he couldn't stay out of my pants, and he kept coming back for more, and I got to like him that way. So did other women, I suppose. They'd leave tracks sometimes, makeup or perfume on his clothes, or a woman's voice unerased on the answerer asking where is he, why is he late. I'd ask casually, and he'd always have an innocent explanation.

I wondered sometimes if there was some kind of Don Juan streak in him -- you know, that idea that a man who's compulsive about bedding women may be trying to drown out some suppressed homosexual urge, that he really wants to bed down with a man, or even to be a woman? I suppose it happens, though with Jerry it seemed so unlikely. He's such a man's man, working out at the club all the time, and all. But you never really know! Anyhow, what could I do? Marriage is based on trust. I had to try to trust him until he went too far.

Well, finally he went too far. I wouldn't have known except for you, Carol. We were out shopping a couple of months ago, you remember? And you made an odd remark. Out of nowhere you said that you didn't understand how I keep my figure, eating all those rich foods the way I do.

Well, I'm slim overall, curved where it matters, always have been, you know that. I love looking the way I do, too, so I never over eat, and when I'm even an ounce too heavy I burn it off with Jazzercise or Modern Dance or something. And you know that too. I know you tend toward plump when you're not careful -- you once told me you gain weight just from biting your nails. So I figured you were just having one of your "I hate my body" moods, and I didn't pay much attention. I just asked, "Whattaya mean?" and that minute I spotted a very pretty blouse, and I asked you if you thought it would go with that purple shantung skirt I wore to the Arts Festival, you remember? The one I got at Elaine's Close-Out Sale? I just love it.

Well, I remember what you said. "Its perfect," you said. "The texture and the look are perfect. But that's not a Fall color, so you'd have to wait till next year to wear it." I remember you said that because the whole time you weren't even looking at it, you were looking at me. Then you said, "Anne, what I mean is, you've been dining out fancy I hear, for two weeks now. Practically every night this week. Places like the Versailles, with all those cream and butter sauces, and the King George, with those huge portions they think people can eat."

I just said "Oh?" I didn't understand a word of what you were saying.

You said, "Other places too, I hear." And you went on that Tim's partner had been entertaining out-of-town buyers, and that wherever he went he kept running into my Jerry with a beautiful woman who had to be me, the two of us very lovey dovey, dining and dancing in different places. Restaurants, cocktail lounges, night clubs, all over. He envied Jerry I'm such a knockout, and that we still feel so romantic about each other. Like when he saw us having drinks at the Starlight Roof, then holding hands all the way back down to our hotel room. On a weekday! So naturally you were wondering how I was able to eat all those meals and yet stay thin.

Well, Carol, I got the message, and I may not have been very nice to you at first. But my mind was racing. "I get lots of exercise," I told you. "You know that. I work out, I jog." All the while I was thinking, every night this week Jerry phoned me to say he had to work late at the office, while I've been home with the TV and the washing machine. "I beat up on Jerry sometimes," I told you, and then I got nasty. "Sometimes we make love, that uses up calories. You should try it with Tim for a change!" I'm sorry I said that, Carol, I really am. But you forgave me right away, I could tell.

Here they are. Another round after these? Then we'll order.

Well, we both knew that Jerry sat in on Tim's poker game now and then, so Tim's partner knew him, but he'd never met me. Jerry'd been getting home way past midnight, trying to get ahead of his work he told me, so his secretary could burrow in from the moment she got in, he said. I remember I told you "When you get hot under the collar, really steamed up, that burns lots of calories."

Well, was I steamed? You bet! The previous week Jerry'd been working late too, had to get in the figures for the Third Quarter he said. One night he didn't come home at all. I was frantic when I saw he wasn't there, till he called around daybreak to say he was still at his desk, he'd fallen asleep.

But what you told me made me really furious! That shit! I was thinking. That fucking, two-timing son of a bitch! That snake! All you said was "You and Jerry, still behaving like newlyweds. Don't know how you do it!" Then you held up a maroon scarf I remember, and said "Here's a strong Fall color that really picks up on your complexion." Were you ever right!

Well, you were a real friend, Carol. All through the next week Jerry kept working late at the office and I confirmed that he wasn't there. Nothing to it, really. First a phone call and get only his phone mail service. Then drop by and find the place empty, but there's his secretary's day book open on the desk. And there it all was! Full day appointments with some floosie office manager from some place down south, notations repeated like "tied up with Jocelyn, Craig Assoc., all afternoon," and "flowers for Joc. to her room at the Westin, charge to C.A. account." Last week a jeweled silver bracelet came for "J, of C.A." and was paid for with office funds. I saw that a ladies' gold watch was delivered to the office just yesterday, and there it was in the secretary's top drawer, not yet re-wrapped after someone had checked the engraving -- "It's been just lovely, and you were even lovelier -- your Jerry" it read. My romantic Jerry. There was one more date listed, a final dinner reservation for the next evening at the Regency, that posh supper club. A plane flight the next morning, a limousine to the airport booked for her. Farewell floosie, I was thinking, back you go down south to associate with Craig Assoc. for a change! You were never lovelier!

But what should I do? I thought of breaking in on their little soiree that next night, then and there. But something held me back. It was so trite! What part was that for me to play? The long-suffering, wronged wife bursting in on their romantic love tryst, hair awry, shrieking, making a public scene, destroying their golden farewell, ruining their final fuck? And then divorce, as a matter of honor? No. Not me! That wasn't my Fall color! A tantrum was too good for him, and divorce was much too easy! Let him stay tied up with her all night if that's what he wanted. I decided to wait and see what else I could come up with.

Well, maybe you didn't know it, Carol, but last year when I suspected something I tried to humiliate him. I sent him to his office Halloween Party dressed up like a chorus girl. Shaved legs, Cupid bow lips, mascara slathered on for a deep, mysterious look, hot pants, net stockings, long-haired wig -- I even taught him a high kick or two for his grand entrance.

But it didn't work. He didn't behave at all like a chorus girl, and he wasn't any way embarrassed by his clothes. He was just himself, cocky, relaxed, grinning. He wore the cute embroidered bolero I gave him to set off his titties, but he wore it as if it were a sports jacket, and when he danced with the prettier wives and associates his hot pants and stockings looked like no more than ballet tights. And his high heels looked like dancing slippers. The secretaries all told him he looked just darling, and some crowded around to ask how his panties managed to hold everything in, and some felt free to feel up the bulges on his chest. If anything, it made him more attractive to the office cuties. No, he had much too much confidence in his own manhood.

But now Halloween was coming up again, and I was thinking real hard. How can you humiliate a man's man? One way for sure. That next night, while his floosie was being even lovelier than lovely at the Regency and then later on his cock, I waited for him at home in the fanciest night wear I own. Black lace gown, pink chiffon wrapper, hair up, face really beautiful, dripping all the sex I hadn't gotten much of lately. When I heard his car glide to a stop in the driveway about 2:00 a.m, the engine already off, I lit the candles I'd placed all around our bedroom. The bed was already made up with the black satin sheets my racy Aunt Agnes gave us for a joke when we were married. He came up the stairs shoes in hand, and when he opened the door to the conflagration of candles and saw me reclining luxuriously on the black bed, he stopped stunned.

"You're still up?" he asked. You bet I was!

"Come here and kiss me, lover man," I said to him. "It's been too long!" Exactly three weeks, as a matter of fact, is what I was thinking!

"I'm pretty tired," he said, establishing a negotiating position right at the outset. "It's been a long day."

"I bet it has. But my day's only started!" I said, baring my teeth. "C'mon baby! Put out my fire with that hose of yours!" My God! I was thinking, he has me talking like a porn queen!

He began to fold his hand. "I can't, hon! I've been hard at it all day," he said. "I'm exhausted, now, really! I'm not sure what I can do!"

"Kiss me, Jerry!" I told him. "You can kiss me!"

So he came forward slowly, and leaned over me. I sat up and grabbed him around the neck and ran my nose and cheeks all over his face. I was right! The smell of that woman's cunt was all over him, even in his hair! It was like earlier, when I could still taste my own juices all over his face. Even his neck was wet! How? I tried to imagine -- of course! I bet he'd been licking out her asshole while she sat on his neck and leaned way over to give him one last blow job for the road, and love juice trickled out of her. Her asshole! I just bet he was tied up with her? Did she feed him any goodies while he was tied up down there? No matter now, I had to play this hand out.

"Mmmmm!" I said. "More! I want you to fuck me, Jerry! I need you in me now! Now! Fuck me! Hard and deep! My pussy is aching for you!"

"Ummmm, I'd love to, honey, really. But I'm not sure I can right now. I've been working pretty hard! I don't feel too sexy."

"If you've been working hard, why are you so soft now?" My hand squeezed his nuts until he whimpered a little. Then I bared my breast and cupped it toward him for his delectation. "Just suck on this!" I said, growling. "Suck on me, lover man!" He bent over further and he did it. But it was obvious, too much titty had already passed through his mouth that evening! His heart wasn't in it. My nipples were barely in it.

"Ohhh!" I groaned as if I were getting near an orgasm. "That's wunnnnderful! More! Why can't you suck on me more? No? Then my pussy, suck on my pussy!"

Carol, normally Jerry can play harmonies on my pussy like a master harmonica player, blowing and drawing and tonguing tunes up and down my labia until I'm nearly out of my mind with delight, and afraid even to ruffle his hair or squeeze his head with my thighs for fear I'll ruin the concert. But now his weariness showed. His head hit my pubic wedge, and then he barely could lift and position it. His tongue reached for my clit a few inches too high up. I realized he was falling asleep.

I grabbed him and pulled him up onto me, and spread my legs and wrapped them around him. "Now fuck me! Never mind anything else! Just fuck me!"

"OK, hon" he said with some of the old verve, "How's this?" He hadn't fucked himself out with his lovely lady before coming home? No, he had. He was only being wishful. Nothing! That spent worm between his legs stayed small. Pathetic! Now to set the hook past the barb, no wriggling off!

"Please, now! Quick!" I let some real urgency into my voice.

He pushed his loins at me a few times speculatively, then lay still.

"I don't excite you any more?" I asked, concerned. "You don't respond to me any more? Maybe some other woman then?"

"No, no! Of course not!"

"Some other kind of sex then?"

"Please, hon," he said, defeated. "I'm just tired, is all."

"Your beautiful wife wraps herself around you and you're just tired? Maybe you're hot for someone else instead? Another beautiful woman? No? How about a beautiful man then? Yes? Are you through with that thing down there now? Maybe we should just cut it off and clear the way for a real man to get at you? Is that what would excite you now? A real man plunging real meat into you? With you going 'Ooooh! Ooooh! Ooooh!" in a little girl voice? No more need to perform as my lover any more? Just being what you really want to be, someone else's sweet darling faggot?"

And I unwrapped my legs from him, and turned my face away. I had to, I couldn't stop grinning. "Just stay soft, sweetheart," I told him. "And we'll see what we can arrange for you!"

"Sorry, honey!" he says. "Maybe tomorrow. You're just upset! Please don't be upset! I'm really sorry." He wasn't, really. Only embarrassed, and to give him credit, a little bit sad because he'd disappointed me. He wanted to be every woman's lover. But he was no way repentant.

"You owe me big time, husband." I made my voice sound hard, bitter, menacing, sorrowful, hurt, pitiable, all at once. Let him feel fearful and guilty, both. "My onetime husband. My somebody else's something else! You owe me! Say it!"

"I owe you. Big time. I'll make it up to you from now on, Anne. Really!" He thought I meant I wanted more fucking, for him no big problem now that his "Joc." had gone back to her Craig Assoc. down south. Was he ever wrong!

"Whatever I want, whatever it takes," I said.

"Whatever you want," he repeated. And before I could slide out from under him he was asleep.

That was good enough for then. Now he had it in his head that when he took up with any future bimbo there was always a risk of non-performance with me, and non-performance meant deep debt. I now had an edge on him he'd never get past. Hell hath no fury, and so forth.

As far as he knew I was a dissatisfied wife and it was his fault. That was bad enough. He didn't know that I was much worse, much more dangerous. I was a betrayed wife. I'd have him eating out of my hand soon enough, I was thinking when I fell asleep, his body still heavy on mine. I began thinking what to feed him out of my hand, and how, and when.

Yes. We'll order now. I'll have the broiled salmon, and just salad, cut lemon, no dressing, nothing else. And can I see a wine list?

 

ii.

Anyhow, for the next two weeks I was pleasant enough, and the only change in our relationship was that I wouldn't allow his prick any privileges whatsoever. He'd get into bed and hug me, and press against me and get hard, and I'd let his mouth loll on my breasts. He'd lick and suck and caress and gently roll them over his hands, and when I was ready I'd push his shoulders down with both hands, so he slid down on me and eventually found his head wedged tight in my crotch.

Then he really went to work. The hornier he felt, the more dedicated his lapping and sucking and licking. You really should get Tim that hard up some time -- they think if they get us hot enough with their mouths we've got to let them in, and boy do they perform when they're desperate! Well, the more he tongued me the louder I responded, sighing or groaning or crying out in sheer gratification and joy. I had lots of orgasms. But somehow whenever our bodies were coupled, his head never rose higher than my breasts, and his cock never got past my knees. While he gave head to my breasts or my pussy I could feel him humping away, dry-fucking the mattress between my legs. Then when I was satisfied I'd pat his head and go to sleep, or pretend to, anyhow. Night after night I left him so frustrated I could hear him in the bathroom afterward, whacking off into the toilet.

When he asked me why we weren't making love any more I told him I thought we were, and that I was very well satisfied with him. When he said he meant, why I wouldn't let him into me any more, I seemed to realize for the first time that he hadn't been there lately. Eyebrows raised in surprise, I said, "Oh, honey?" You can do that? I thought we decided you couldn't get it hard enough with me, it needed...some other kind of person." He said he'd been bone-hard for a week, ever since the pressure of his night work subsided and he could be home decent hours again. I said "Oh?" as if surprised, as if I didn't know what to do with this information.

"You're punishing me because I failed you that one night, " he said to me one evening after dinner. "And that's not fair!"

"Oh?" I said again. Then "Anything you want to tell me about that night, honey? I wasn't stimulating enough for you, obviously. Was anyone else? Were you seeing anyone else at the office? Any other women?" His face held absolutely impassive, no response whatever written there. "Any other men?"

"You keep bringing that up," he said annoyed. "Why?"

"You're avoiding my question," I pointed out. "But I can understand why you wouldn't want to tell me. Men are attractive, aren't they? They have broad chests, and large shoulders, and buns, and really beautiful dicks, and they're hairy all over, and you can lean into them and feel protected, can't you? Women are only round and soft and smooth, and not very strong when they grip you. And breasts are floppy, not at all like firm muscles. Maybe you're like me, you like a little resistance when you make love. Something solid. Maybe that's why your cock was so floppy that night."

"Anne, quit it! It's been stiff as a board ever since then!"

"Oh? I hadn't noticed." I'd carefully not let him press his dong onto my body, much less into it. "Well, I tell you what. When you've made love to me the way I want, if I'm fully satisfied I'll let you relieve yourself in me if you must."

That night he tried. He was inspired! I got the most stupendous head work imaginable! I was out of my mind, Carol! But then instead of turning over to go to sleep as usual I seemed to remember something, so I lay on my back and spread my legs wide. He clambered up onto me and he was all the way inside me in a single push.

It was lucky I was already dripping wet from his saliva and my own lubrication, he was so quick at it. He began to move in me, in and out, in and out. For a few minutes he felt good, my pussy wet and pressing in on him from all sides. But then he realized I wasn't moving at all! I was warm and slick but in effect I was dead meat, perfectly still and unresponsive as he banged me, pelvic bone to pelvic bone. When his cock began to get to my feelings I turned my mind to other things. He once said he thought about baseball scores when he wanted to hold off, so I pictured patchwork quilt patterns in my head, and that worked. I managed to hold my pelvis absolutely still even when he began to cum into me, spurt after spurt. Finally he softened and emerged, his cock dribbling down my ass cheek, still breathing heavily.

"What a shame you lost control like that," I said. "Now you'll just have to suck and lick all of that stuff back out of me, or I won't be able to let you do that ever again."

"My own cum?! You never wanted me do that before!"

"Well now I do want you to do that. I know what your problem is. You have too many hangups. You won't acknowledge your own sexual orientation. If you're a latent homosexual, we have to let it out. From now on, you get to fuck me only because I want you to taste the flavor of cum. I want your pleasure screwing me, and my pleasure when you eat me, all to be preliminary to your enjoyment of the jism you're eating out of me. That'll be my gift to you. Cum sucking is the main event from now on. Get to it!"

I must say he did it, slurped up all his own cum and swallowed it, along with my juices, and I came twice more. I wondered why I hadn't thought of this years ago. Because I love the way he fucks, I answered me. But so do too many other women. I was going to cure him once and for all!

'Are you ever going to move when I'm in you, ever again?" he asked me respectfully another night, after he had cleaned my slit out thoroughly, swallowing all of his own sperm and then drying my mound with his hair.

"Maybe," I replied. "I just have to relearn why. Give me time. But isn't it delicious, what you've been eating out of me?"

"I'm getting used to it," he said, obviously trying to placate me.

A few weeks later when he'd swallowed lots more cunt-flavored sperm, it was routine, no big deal for him. Then I saw my opening, and my plan fell into place.

He'd told me right after Labor Day that his office was restructuring and retrenching and down sizing -- he was too hot an account representative to feel threatened, but by October general office morale had completely collapsed. No one wanted to run their annual Halloween party this year, he told me, because it seemed like partying on real people's graves.

When I heard that I went to see Roger, the Senior Partner and C.E.O. where I work, and suggested that our office institute our own Halloween costume party. He thought that a great idea, it would get our whole office staff and all their spouses and significant others together, get us thinking like one big team instead of divisions and factions, and so forth. It would improve everyone's cooperation and efficiency -- maybe we'd work harder. And besides, he liked parties. So he offered us the use of his own home, though he stipulated that I'd have to attend to everything, getting out the invitations, the refreshments, the entertainment, everything, and get some house cleaning service to clean up afterward. The company would pay for all of it, and he proposed a whopping budget I had to stay within. Fair enough.

All that was exactly what I wanted to hear. I made a number of phone calls, and I talked to Jerry's secretary for quite a while, and meanwhile I checked out my Boss's house. I found out that his wife was on some kind of guided lecture tour of the Nile, along with Jerry's boss's ex-wife and some other wealthy women, mostly from the Oak Bluff Country Club -- the old money set. So there'd be no problem with wives. The place was huge, baronial, fifteen or twenty bedrooms, you could get lost. I delegated arrangements for food and music and so on to the younger staff. We decided we'd each of us come as someone or something we thought we weren't at all, a real stretch, and the grand prize would go to the person who turned out to be that person or thing most persuasively, or close enough to persuade the judges anyhow.

Then I called Jerry's boss -- a large, vigorous man named Ralph, we'd had him to dinner a few times, he's silver-haired and he's tough-minded. I told him I heard he was alone these days, and invited him to join us.

"Why me?" Ralph asked right off.

"Because I think it might do Jerry some good," I said frankly. "And maybe you too. It might even do me some good."

"Oh?" he said. "Maybe I hear you and maybe I don't. I'll be there."

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

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

So it was all set.

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

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

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

"What's that?"

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

"What are you proposing, Anne?"

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

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

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

"So what'll I go as?"

"A man."

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

"A gay man."

"A what!!?"

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

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

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

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

"What's that?"

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

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

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

"What would I wear?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

iii.

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

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

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

"I told him I was taken."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Maybe," I said, thinking that if all went well, by Monday his ass as well as theirs would be up for grabs. I noticed that he was intensely absorbed, and there were tears in his eyes. Because he'd felt so furious? So helpless? Any other reason?

 

iv.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked me over appreciatively. My face was still flushed from my two fucks, and I was still feeling a little squishy under my short leather skirt. There must have been something in the way I stood, or moved, that told him that too. "Are you what you seem to be tonight, Anne?"

I took Ralph's arm. "You bet," I said. "Try me."

He wrapped his hand around mine, securing it firmly on his arm. I was off and running again! "Tell me, Anne, why are you doing this to him?"

"Payback. He fucked other women and fucked with me once too often. He thinks if he wins tonight's costume contest I'll forgive him, and he would've won, too, because he is certainly acting out the way he looks, and you know that's not the way he started out. He's absolutely convincing, don't you think?"

The dancing couple dipped deep, and as Mike leaned back holding Jerry partly between his legs, I realized that if Jerry had a vagina at that moment Mike's prick would have slid all the way into it.

"'He *would've* won' you say?" Ralph asked. "You mean he won't?"

"No," I replied. "It's a shame. He doesn't know it, of course, but what with all the details setting up this party I seem to have forgotten to appoint judges. Nobody's watching. Or everybody's watching, but nobody's judging anybody. Not tonight, anyhow. Tonight we're whoever we are only because we want to be."

"Then shouldn't we be somewhere else, looking for refreshments, or refreshing ourselves?"

"Yes. Just a moment. All right now. There, see? It's happening much faster than I'd hoped. Your Mike has Jerry by the hand and seems to be talking to Roger about something. Yes, Roger's directing him to that same bedroom just down that long hallway. Let's wait just a moment, and then we'll follow. I want to see what happens." I looked at Ralph. "Even more, I want Jerry to see what happens. Are you willing?"

"I never refuse a lady," Ralph said with mock gallantry. "Especially a lady like you! I'd never risk it!"

We stopped to chat with a few people and to sip some of the excellent champagne Roger had contributed in the name of employee relations, to give Mike and Jerry a chance to settle in. Some guys from the office started toward me when they saw my look, then deflected in other directions when they saw my arm wrapped in Ralph's. Maybe fifteen minutes passed, We drifted down the hallway, and then into the room.

Jerry and Mike were in full fling. Neither of them even noticed us as we stepped inside quietly, and in the dim light sat down on the other bed to watch the two men thrashing away at each other.

Jerry's purple pants were no where in sight, probably crumpled up somewhere en route to the bed. There he lay, bare-assed on his back, his legs high up on Mike's muscular shoulders. Bare-assed isn't quite the right word, Carol, because what I saw was a huge prick, bigger than any I'd ever seen anywhere, bigger even than the dildos they display in sex shops, and it was sliding in and out of Jerry's anus like some gigantic piston pushing and pulling inside its cylinder.

Ralph and I could see it perfectly when it was withdrawn practically to the head then plunged all the way back in, Jerry giving a little mewing shriek each time. I'd wanted Jerry's first ass-fuck to be a wholly new experience, a discovery he made all on his own, so I hadn't prepared him with dildoes or butt plugs or anything to stretch him out and relax his sphincter. Now I regretted it. It seemed cruel, what I'd done. There he was helpless under that gorgeously muscled man, pinned down like a bug, and that huge thing was sliding in and out of him mercilessly. All he could do about it was make those strange high-pitched squeaks.

"Enough," Jerry cried out suddenly. "For God's sake, that's enough!" He remembered his partner's name. "Mike! It hurts!" As my eyes got used to the dim light, I could see Jerry's face streaked with tears, his mascara run a little. Was it pain or mortification? Probably both.

"It always hurts my partners at first, Jerry honey," Mike said. "No matter how many partners they've had before, I'm always a little...stressful for them. But soon enough they begin to sing that old song, 'Pull it out deeper, it hurts so good!' Then they can't bear for me to leave them. You'll see, sweet cheeks!"

Even so, Mike slowed down, and his humping pelvis seemed to thrust more gently. "You're tight, Jerry. You're sooo tight! You've had fewer partners than I thought from the way you responded when we were dancing together. You seemed so casual then, so matter of fact. But now no matter. Just lie here under me and get used to feeling a real man inside you, until you're ready to really enjoy a real man, and you feel like pushing back on me. I can go slow like this for a long time."

Jerry thrashed his head in desperation, and then saw me sitting there with Ralph, the two of us holding hands. His eyes opened out wide and then bulged! He stared at his boss, then me, then Ralph again, and all the while that great penis of Mike's disappeared into his anus and then reappeared. "My GGGoddd!" he said, and then seemed to choke. Obviously, seeing his boss calmly watching him impaled by Mike's huge prick overloaded him. His focus shifted to my face. "Anne? Enough!" he cried, still pinned against the bed like a butterfly, his legs spread like wings up over his head, his naked ass now nearly empty, now filled to bursting. "Please, Anne, tell him! I'm not like this!"

My moment had arrived. "Jerry, you just want to have all the fun!" I replied, forcing out each single syllable word separately. "And you've had lots of fun, you have! But I want my fun too! And I'll have it! Just watch me now!"

He couldn't pull his eyes away, and in the twilit room a fantasy unfolded that must have seemed to him a nightmare. I wanted it to seem dreamlike, so I moved slowly. First I gestured Ralph to rise, and he did with excruciating deliberation -- he'd caught on to my little scenario. I undid his pants, and sat him down in slow motion, and knelt and applied my mouth to his cock as if it were a child's lollipop. When I glanced up now and then, Ralph was looking amusedly over at Jerry, his employee folded nearly double, thighs pushed into his chest, eyes nearly out of his head in horrified bewilderment, going out of his mind. Mike continued his slow pumping, in and out, in and out.

"Take good care of our customer, Jerry," his Boss said to Jerry mildly. "And I'll take good care of your sister here. I wish I'd known about your orientation earlier, I would have given you many more accounts like Mike's to tend to. But it isn't too late. They're yours now. We'll talk about it Monday. Enjoy yourself! Mike, you know we both appreciate your business."

"Oh Jerry already appreciates my business, enough for the both of you," Mike replied. "Don't worry. But if you don't mind, Jerry seems stressed out now for some reason. We'll just watch you two if you don't mind, and I'll stay still and give Jerry's asshole a chance to stretch a little more. I do want him to enjoy what we're doing."

Jerry was still speechless, his asshole crammed and stuck and immovable. He tried to wiggle free for a second, but only worked Mike's cock deeper. So he stayed still, still bug-eyed, his head turned, apprehensively watching my every move.

As if in his dream I took Ralph's cock head into the back of my mouth and pushed it into the back of my throat.

"Oooooh!" Jerry groaned, as I turned sideways and looked slyly at him. Then I closed down on Ralph's cock and forced it into my gullet, and then slid it up again.

"Beginning to relax, are we?" Mike said to Jerry. "Well, you'll soon see. I'll soon have you so loose and supple you'll think we're both swimming in butter."

"AH!" came next out of Jerry's mouth, a high-pitched shriek that would have been more suitable coming out of my mouth. He'd just realized that I'd just deep throated his boss. I'd never been able to do that with him, even when he'd begged me to try -- I'd always gagged and coughed. But I'd been practicing with my dildo, and now it seemed simple enough.

"NNGGNGGNNGHH" I let out a deep, contented groan when I next had Ralph's cock way down in my throat. It sounded muffled and strained, almost inhuman as that solid meat pressed on my vocal cords from the inside. But I wanted Jerry to hear that cock's pressure, to feel it with his ears. He did, and replied with another cry, even higher pitched.

"You want to suck on my cock too, honey?" Mike asked him. "Don't worry, you will. We have all night. We're going to know everything there is to know about each other before morning.

Jerry replied with a squeak, maybe because Mike rubbed in that promise by withdrawing, then slowly pressing in again until he was back in all the way again.

"Sure, I know," Mike said tenderly. "It feels good. You're getting softer, and I'm getting harder. That's the way it should be."

Jerry couldn't reply, because at that moment I stood up, still slowly, wiggled my leather-covered ass onto the bed, lay back, and spread my legs wide. "Come into me, Ralph," I said. "Come into me. Roger's fucked me twice already, so you'll slide right in with no problem. I want your cock in me, deep. I want you to feel some loving wiggles and wriggles no one has ever felt before. Not in me, anyhow."

Jerry watched as his boss mounted me slowly, and saw his long, thin cock slide on and on and in through my crotchless panties until finally Ralph's thighs were mashed against my leather mini skirt. Then out just as slowly. Then in again. I was beginning to heat up again, but just before I wrapped my arms around Ralph's neck and closed my eyes and began to thrust back with all my heart, soul, and might, I looked over again. Jerry still stared straight at us amazed, and I saw that Mike too had picked up the pace again. I also saw that Jerry was now lifting his ass up slightly but noticeably on each of Mike's approaches.

Then there was another moment some time later, after I had risen under Ralph to a glorious orgasm, and a delicious peace flooded me, lasting for a while before I began to build again. Again I glanced at the couple in the other bed. Success! Jerry was now holding Mike's head in both his hands and kissing him voluptuously, as he'd never kissed me, while Mike just kept stroking in and out of him with long, easy thrusts. I thought to myself, Jerry must have figured that when your wife's fuck is inevitable, relax and enjoy your own. Or maybe watching his boss slam raw meat into me has turned him on, the voyeurism emphasizing his helplessness, his helplessness emphasizing his humiliation, and he loves all of it. Or Mike's monster cock had finally found Jerry's point of no return. Or Jerry always has been a repressed closet queer, and that's why all the skirt-chasing. Whatever the reason, he's not repressed any longer!

Then I stopped thinking about it altogether, and concentrated on the wondrous, glorious, sublime feelings sweet, dear, marvelous Ralph's long, long cock set glowing in me, then blazing, then exploding, again and again as the night wore on, and not one of the four of us stopped or even slowed down. God what heavenly fucking we had!

We'd better ask for the check now, Carol. Oh, my, I feel so warm! It must be all that wine! Waiter!

v.

Anyhow, I opened my eyes again when daybreak began to break up the dark outside the window and I could see shadows of separate trees. I looked around. Mike and Ralph were both asleep, each spooned into his lover, each hugging us. Ralph's hand rested lightly on my breast, and oddly, Mike's hand caressed one of Jerry's nipples even in his sleep. I vaguely recalled hearing Mike say affectionately to Jerry as he was falling asleep, "You're a wonderful girl. I love the feel of your pecs. Don't go queen on me too soon, and get breast implants or anything like that, Jerry. Not right away. Promise me. I want to get to know you better as you are."

I listened closely, but all I could hear from Jerry in reply was "Heeahh!" in a high, soft voice, which I'm sure Mike took for a 'Yes.' But I was thinking as I fell asleep, I hadn't promised Mike anything myself. Jerry could keep his pecs for the present, maybe, but this thing was far from over.

I untangled myself from Ralph and stood up, and felt a deep puddle of his cum suddenly bubble out of my cunt and start to trickle down my leg. For the moment I ignored it. Should I ask Jerry to....? No. His face was already crusty enough with Mike's cum.

I crossed over to Jerry. 'C'mon, honey," I whispered to him. Time to go now. The party's over. Wake up!"

Then I saw he wasn't asleep. His eyes were still fixed open, a pained, defeated look in them. Maybe he hadn't slept at all, just watched me and Ralph as we did things together all night long? What he must have seen if so! Maybe he was hoping Mike would wake up and fuck him true blue one more time? I'd find out later.

"Never mind how your ass feels now, lover." I said to him. "Mine feels the same way. You saw!"

I saw in his eyes that he had seen. My ass had been virginal before tonight. He'd often wanted in, but I'd always wanted him in my quim whenever his cock was hard enough to go in anywhere at all. But Ralph was incredible. His third fuck had been into my ass, long and languorous and beyond my ability to describe it. And then his fourth was back into my cunt again. And wherever he pushed into me, my whole body rose up and followed delighted, and I came and came, orgasm after orgasm. So I could hardly complain.

"No, my butt hole is not for you," I said, guessing what might be on his mind. "You have your ass and I have mine. Mine will never be yours. Other men's, maybe, but never yours. Don't even think about it. You'll find other men who can fit into yours if you feel a craving. I won't mind. I'll find other men too."

He lay stone still, now looking at me piteously. There was no doubt that my confident, cock-swinging, manly husband was way past recovery.

"We're both sore now, but I'm sure when we think about things later, and remember how it felt, we'll feel very good indeed down there. And in time we'll both get used to accommodating our lovers down there. You'll have to, I guess, if your boss gives you all those new accounts he mentioned. And now I'll want to. I'll surely want to. C'mon now, honey."

I reached out my hand and he took it, detached his chest from Mike's hand, and carefully, not to wake Mike, swung his legs over the side of the bed. He sat gingerly for a moment. But the pressure on his butt must have seemed too great, because he then painstakingly stood up. He tried to walk toward the bathroom, and managed only his mincing lurch. I could see cum glistening between his ass cheeks now, and a shiny streak further down the inside of his thigh. There was a smear of red still visible on one cheek, not altogether wiped away by the rest of the night's gyrations. My poor dear had indeed lost his cherry!

When we were in the bathroom and the door was shut, I turned on the night light. There were his clothes, half soaked in the tub where Mike had probably tossed them after they'd showered together before their little tete-a-tete, Jerry then still under duress and Mike powerfully muscled. No telling if Jerry resisted, but I doubt if it was more than token.

"Oh dear," I said. "You don't have those pretty purple pants to wear any more. But there's a dress hanging in the closet over there. I'll get for you to wear home, so you can be decent. Just wait".

This was more than Jerry could handle. He'd really had a hard night this time. He stared at his drenched fag gear. "You aren't going to tell anyone about this, are you?" he said. "This is just this night, isn't it?"

"It is if you want to quit your job and find another," I said. "And find another town to live in. Just when you've been given some of the best accounts in the industry. But that's up to you. I've gotten my satisfaction now. Roger and Ralph were just lovely. You were even lovelier, dear. I'll get that engraved for you to wear, if you'd like. Here, put this on, and we'll leave.

Jerry seemed stunned when he heard that reference to his last girlfriend's inscription. Maybe the last girlfriend he'll ever have, I thought gleefully, but I didn't say a thing. "You knew!" he said. "You knew about Jocelyn the whole time. You've been getting even! But you said that after tonight you'd forgive me. Now what are you talking about for me? Is this what you have in mind for me from now on? Dresses?"

"Oh, no, Jerry!" I told him. "It isn't a matter of balances, you owe me so I pay me, and that way I'm even. I do forgive you. Last night you did everything I'd hoped and more. But now we're living in different worlds. This morning we're both different from when we came here. And there's no going back. You're set up with Ralph's special clients now for good it seems, no down sizing ever. If you stay with Mike's kind you'll be a member of the mincing-in-tight-pants brigade. You heard him. No breasts for now. But then there are other clients I'm sure who will prefer a less manly account executive, one who can be a little more delicate, and gracious, and soft, a little more femme, more of a temptress, or a coquette. When you meet with them you'll find you'll need to choose which way you want to go."

"No, sweetheart, I won't put you into dresses. But maybe they will. You will, maybe, after talking it over with Ralph. Maybe simply for convenience you'll want your own breasts, hormonal or implants. That'll be entirely up to you."

"As far as I'm concerned, now that you've been used like a faggot or a woman, you have to decide which. Either way you're now like me, a common whore available to a variety of men. And we both know it. Neither of us can ever forget it. So no, there's no going back, sweetheart. I myself don't want to, I like this new life, different cocks hard at work trying to satisfy me each night, men using themselves up in me while I keep going and going. I'm satisfied. But are you gay now, Jerry, or are you a girl? Which?"

He looked up at me, grim and mournful.

"Cheer up, sweetheart! I myself think you have much more talent toward gay. Compare this year's great performance with that sorry spectacle last year, when no one thought you were a girl even for a moment. But now everyone, even your own boss, thinks you're as queer as a three dollar bill. And I must admit, I prefer you manly to altogether effeminate, even if you're some other man's man. I'm not yet through with your cock. I just want to know where it's at from time to time, who's using it besides me."

"You don't seem at all sorry for what you did tonight with Ralph and Roger, Anne! At least I am for what I've done!" Jerry was feeling for the moral high ground, but there wasn't any!

"That's right, not at all! Tonight I got from other men what you've been getting from other women ever since we got married. Laid! Isn't that so? You never felt bound by our marriage, so I see no reason why I should. It's just a matter of my catching up, is all. I mean to try."

As we sneaked through the now pale lit living room and out to the driveway and our car, I whispered to him. "That's it, a perfect walk. You've finally mastered it. Still dripping? I'd carry a tampon from now on if I were you. You keep swishing your asshole like that, as if there were still a cock in there, and there soon will be!"

"It's priceless! Now everyone thinks you're really the gay man I wanted you to become this Halloween. So from now on, honey, weekdays at least we remain sister and brother. You'll just have to keep being your new self, whatever the clothes you actually wear. No one will believe after last night that you're not what you seem. And if you claim you're not, when everyone at the party saw you and Mike together, you'll seem something much worse!"

"On weekends we can make it up. Then if you want to be my great macho lover again, I'll always welcome you into me. I don't want you to prefer all men to any woman, after all. Not to me, anyhow. We *are* married after all! You *do* have a wonderful cock, and though Mike isn't inclined to make use of it I certainly am. Of course whatever happens happens, even on weekends. You do have a darling tush, and I can't fend off the whole world!"

Jerry seemed gloomy as I drove us home, hunched over in his dress so the early morning traffic wouldn't recognize what he was wearing. He knew that his days as a Don Juan among women were done for, and said as much. Probably word had already spread about him, girls could no longer think him a great lover.

"Did I at least win that prize you wanted me to win?" he asked.

"I don't know," I answered as we approached our old neighborhood. It too seemed different. "We weren't either of us there for the judging, remember? We were both somewhere else!"

I was feeling quite cheerful. If Jerry was now a member of the gay community, reluctantly, I was now also committed to my own new Halloween way of life. I wondered how long it would be before Jerry wondered why his sister was working late nights on so many week days, maybe as many as he'd be working with his clients from now on. I wondered if he had access to Ralph's day book, where his sister would certainly be mentioned frequently. I knew I'd show up in Roger's almost as often as I showed up at the office for work.

As I thought about posh dining clubs, I wondered how long it would be before we ran into each other at one of them, Jerry and me, and nodded our acquaintance, and Jerry would introduce his sister to his man for the evening, and I'd introduce mine. Above all I wondered how under these circumstances I could possibly keep my figure, your very first question, Carol, now really come back to haunt me. Maybe it would balance off, I was thinking, because Roger and Ralph and the other men I mean to enjoy would be giving me some pretty exhausting workouts. Maybe for a special treat we could let Jerry and his boyfriends watch, and pick up pointers.

So you see, Carol, it won't do you any good to try to resume that old long-term relationship you've had with Jerry. It's over. That's why he could tell me about it in the car going home, about how jealous you were of that Craig Associate woman, about how you threatened to blow the whistle on him. Well, you certainly blew it. Now I suppose you'll have to train Tim to do the things Jerry used to do with you. Maybe in a few months I'll check out how well he's learned them, and teach him a few more things. If it happens, you'll know. You can count on it!

I'll take the whole check, Carol, please, be my guest! I asked you to join me here after all! You can get the tip if you like. Then we really should get to those sales. Both Jerry and I need lots of new things to wear now, obviously. I only wish I knew whether he'll be wanting to wear more of his own kinds of clothing or more of my kind. It would make the shopping so much easier.

 

END

(c) 1997 by Vickie Tern. Archiving and copying for personal use is fine, but sale or resale is a no-no.

  

  

  

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