Message-ID: <32757asstr$1001949002@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <VickieTern@aol.com> From: VickieTern@aol.com X-Original-Message-ID: <92.1aef68d4.28e94e00@aol.com> MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="US-ASCII" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-ASSTR-Arrival-Date: Mon, 1 Oct 2001 00:41:36 EDT Subject: {ASSM} Scenes, by Vickie Tern, 13/17 TG Femdom F/m m/M F/M etc Date: Mon, 1 Oct 2001 11:10:02 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2001/32757> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, kelly Scenes, by Vickie Tern, 13/17 TG Femdom F/m m/M F/M etc This is a tale about a married couple who try to meet each other's needs, and also their own. What they think are each other's needs, that is. What they think are their own. It includes explicit sex scenes. Married sex, mostly, gentle, loving, and appreciative, mostly. If by reason of age, temperament, or moral principle you shouldn't or don't want to read about such things, think hard what to do about it, and you'll figure it out I'm sure. Scenes from a Marriage by Vickie Tern (vickietern@aol.com) 13. So hesitantly at first, Carol took the first step. She proposed to Carl that he try using a dildo to satisfy her. Carl was deeply disturbed by the idea. In fact he was plunged into despondency. He was already unhappy that the only penile pleasure he got any more was from her mouth, and also unhappy that the only genital pleasure he could give her these days was from his mouth. A dildo seemed a capitulation to his incapacity, a confession that their marriage had failed. A second hand substitute for the real thing. "Oh, no baby!" Carol cried, leaping to comfort him. "It would prove that we want to satisfy each other's deepest needs, and it would help us do just that, that's all!" But she was thinking even as she said it that he was right, their marriage had in fact failed, or nearly so. It wasn't her fault -- she wasn't the one who wanted to become a woman, he was. And he couldn't help it! It was a fundamental -- if not exactly common -- incompatability. But still, they needed to do something! She needed a man, and he needed to learn about men! Finally, between kisses, when her soft mouth was wrapped snug around his soft penis and she was sucking sweetly on it, he agreed to try using a dildo on her. She felt relieved. It was a beginning. She knew how she hoped it would end. She brought one home, huge, an excellent replica of a prizewinning cock, made of soft rubber, hollow so it could be pre-heated and filled with a sperm-like fluid for squirting when the time came -- the booklet recommended warmed Gatorade or thinned, lightly salted yogurt if it was to be swallowed afterward, hair conditioner if not. Carl strapped it on and then used it to hump her after his usual preliminary session with his face between her legs, feeling vaguely the whole time that he was encouraging his own rival to fuck Carol, guiding someone else's cock into his own wife's pussy. Carol insisted that it be loaded with the yogurt mixture. "I want you to enjoy what I enjoy!" she told him. But that cock worked as his never had, he had to admit it. The experiment was altogether successful! Carol hadn't expected the feeling at all, but as soon as that fat, veined tube stretched her lower lips open and pushed deep into her, as soon as her vagina was distended, stuffed to the brim with it for its entire length, when finally Carl's crotch was pressed tight against hers, she felt a strange quivering in her pussy. Then she came! Shuddering, glorious! Even before Carl had begun to fuck her, she'd reached a climax! Then when he backed off and pushed in again only once, she came again! Then yet again! An orgasm with each thrust? Did size matter after all? Had she been that deprived since her marriage? Was this why she was always recalling the well-hung boys she'd fucked before she'd met Carl whenever she was astride him? Yet even they were nothing like this! Carol immediately fell in love with that dildo! It was as if she were having sex with someone else with Carl's cooperation and blessing! Carl felt that way too, unhappily, but what could he do? He was glad that Carol was enjoying herself, and he paced his thrusting accordingly. But when eventually she tensed for yet another orgasm -- how many already? -- with no sign of slackening, his abdominal muscles began to feel weary. He was feeling nothing himself of course. "Enough?" he asked her a little plaintively. No. She felt sorry for him but she wanted more! To prolong her pleasure she rolled over onto him and began to ride him as she'd once ridden his real cock, wildly, passionately, furiously, as if astride a tireless stud! Utterly stuffed, crammed full, she came yet again! Carl tried to help her celebrate her joy as best he could, thrusting up at her, and this time squirting the warm yogurt mix into her, The dildo's cum flooded her, and she understood that Carl had at last spent himself. But not joyously. As she recovered her breath and looked down, she sensed that his closed eyes hid a growing melancholy. Carl was unhappy. He knew now that she loved this dildo more than she'd ever loved his cock, that was obvious. And he knew that this superior substitute for himself was now all he could offer her! He felt both inadequate and rejected. Sad, sad, sad. It showed on his face. Carol read his expression differently. She took it as further evidence that Coral was essentially a woman. A man would never weary of performing this office, fucking a woman, bringing her paroxysm after paroxysm of delight! But a woman would weary of it! A woman would want her turn too! She was being selfish, Carol realized, hogging that dildo for herself. She'd forgotten for the moment why she'd gotten it. For Carl! So Carl could learn to enjoy being a woman! It was Carl's turn to get fucked! No problem! The dildo was still dripping, with her fluids and its own. It was as slick and slippery as it would ever get! "Hand it over, Coral," she said to him. "Unstrap it!" Carl thought that having taken her fill, she was through. Unable to look her in the eye, somehow betrayed by this piece of artificial man, suspecting he'd just participated in his own cuckolding, he watched surprised as -- still between his legs -- she buckled it onto herself. "Put a pillow under your butt and lift your knees up high, honey," she said. "It's your turn!" Carl was suddenly frightened, down into the pit of his stomach. It was one thing to listen to Sondra encourage him to open his back door to new experiences, but it was another actually to do it. Even when sanctified by marriage! But Carol felt confident, sure of herself. It's a good thing there were pictures in the store where I bought this, she thought as she slid down and waited for him to obey her, those pictures showing how gay men and women use these things. And some married couples! "Put your legs over my shoulders!" Maybe next time I'll do my man doggy style, Carol thought, the way that woman did it to a man in one of those photographs. But I do want to see his sweet face now, his expression at the very moment he loses his cherry! She did. She saw it all. Apprehension as the huge rubber knob touched his anus, bewilderment when it failed to enter, pain as it slid in part way, a mixture of pain and wild expectation as he began feeling sensations unlike any other he'd known, filled full, full. Then as he closed his eyes she saw he'd come to feel pleasure, pleasure intense enough to require undistracted concentration. She slid in and out of him, in and out, and finally she was pleased to feel him humping back. In and out she went as his rear end left the surface of the bed and rose to try to keep the dildo deep inside him even as Carol tried to withdraw it. And finally, she saw him smile, a wide, straining, happy smile, and she felt stickiness on her belly, and she realized that he'd done it, actually pumped clear fluid of his out of his prick, that she'd brought him to orgasm through his asshole! Through his only available womanly opening! That he'd just had his first female orgasm from getting fucked by a cock, or anyhow a facsimile cock! He did have a future as a woman! She reached down and squeezed a bulb at the base to spew salty yogurt, leftover facsimile cum, deep into his guts. Then slowed, then just lay there atop him with her massive dildo still deep inside. His ass was no longer pulsing, no longer squeezing it as if trying to milk it. "Was that good for you?" she asked him slyly. She knew, she could see the answer all over his face, but she wanted to hear it from him. "Yes!" Carl answered. "Very strange, but .... Yes!" "Very good?" "Yes, honey. Very good! Thank you!" Carl didn't know what else to say or think. It had been humiliating, then agonizing, but toward the end fantastic! Stupendous! He'd felt so helpless at first, then he'd felt enslaved by his own desire to feel more and more of that stiff thing thrusting inside him, more, more, until his euphoria could no longer be contained, and spilled over everywhere! Gloriously! Was this what women felt? No wonder they love it! "You're welcome." Carol replied. "There're lots more fucks where that came from! Do you want more?" "Yes!" Carl replied all at once, mindlessly. Then he realized what he'd said! He'd committed himself! Now he couldn't ever protest this little experiment in mutual infidelity. It had made them man and wife again. No, not really, it had altered their relationship altogether. They were now wife and wife, sharing the same lover! He mentioned that to her at breakfast the next morning, and she agreed. "You're not jealous?" she asked him, concerned. "Not worried that Mr. Dildo is bigger and harder than you are. Not afraid he'll alienate my affections, that I'll run off with him?" "No," Carl replied. He paused, embarrassed to confess it, then said "Not as long as he tries hard to satisfy both of us." Another shy pause. "He felt good." Yet one more. Then, "Is that how you feel when I'm inside you, moving around?" Another embarrassed pause. "Used to feel?" "You felt better," Carol said simply. It was partially true. "Because you were the real thing. The real thing feels better." Then she paused, and while watching him closely she added, "You'll see." Carl heard her, but decided in his confusion that the best way to respond was not to respond. The suggestion was disturbing. In fact, Carol knew that for sheer physical pleasure Mr. Dildo was far better than Carl, because he was far bigger, leaving not even wiggle room when he was stuffed into her. His pressure in all directions then turned her whole body it seemed into one huge throbbing pussy, pure ecstasy, desperate to slide up and down on him. But in the end he was only rubber, and sooner or later we all come back to the real thing. For affection. For love. For the satisfaction of dominating another person's will. "The real thing feels better," Carol repeated. But they agreed to keep Mr.Dildo an active participant in their lovemaking from then on. Now they both had to move on to the next stage of the plan she'd worked out with Maddy, to the real thing. She was now certainly ready for another man in the flesh, oh, Lord yes! Now that she'd made love to Mr. Dildo, she knew it! But first she had to get her hubby accustomed to the idea. Really accustomed to two ideas, each one equally devastating to his male ego, what was left of it. He had to accommodate to the idea that someone else's real cock could fuck his wife, was fucking his wife, had fucked his wife, and she'd loved it. That he was no longer a fit man for her, and another man was. Then he had to accommodate to the idea that someone else's real cock could fuck him, was fucking him, had fucked him! And that he'd loved it! That being a woman, he was fit to be fucked! Men don't easily accept either idea, not at first. When he'd accepted both of them his transition would be complete. Carl would disappear into his suppressed self, which would then finally emerge. He'd know he was a girl named Coral. The old Carl would be only her memory. Carol's former beloved husband would become the woman he wanted to be. She wanted to be. But he'd need more time. He'd need to feel Mr. Dildo deep inside himself more often. He'd need to make love to Mr. Dildo with his body and his mouth and his whole heart repeatedly before he'd be ready for sex with some actual man. Carol knew she had to be patient. Even though Carl was innately a woman with a woman's desires, he'd had a man's upbringing, with a man's inhibitions. She'd see to it that Mr. Dildo fucked them both nightly, and then she'd gradually persuade Carl to move on to the next stages. When Carol put Mr. Dildo away that night, she kissed the tip. "Well done," she said to it. "Keep it up!" The next night it occurred to her that Carl should also show his appreciation to Mr. Dildo. With some coaxing and much reluctance he too finished the evening by kissing Mr. Dildo's tip. A few days later he was licking it, and by the end of the week under Carol's guidance he was giving Mr. Dildo a thorough, passionate, deep-throated blow job at the beginning of each evening. Carol also decided that Mr. Dildo could play hard-to-get, that Carl each night would need to persuade Mr. Dildo to screw him. Really use his feminine wiles to seduce him! So in the privacy of their home Carl began dressing in the most outrageously provocative clothing, and tried behaving like a sex-starved streetwalker. At first he felt embarrassed to seem such a slut, but after a few full days of it, including a humiliating stroll through a distant mall, it no longer troubled him. If Carol and Mr. Dildo wanted him that way sometimes, he'd be that way. Carol saw to it that sometimes Mr. Dildo suspected insincerity and refused him. She loved seeing the disappointment in Carl's face when that happened, because it meant that he genuinely needed to feel that stiff dick in him, he'd been anticipating it, dreaming about it! His girlish desires really were coming on! She'd tell him to relieve himself into a kleenex, and disappointed, he'd do just that while she settled herself for sleep. But dribbling into a kleenex was no substitute for a fulfilling fuck. Eventually Mr. Dildo would relent, and she was delighted to see that in no time at all Carl was again on his back or his knees getting plowed, squealing in spasms of joy, loving it all! One further preparatory step. Carol was now sure that her husband would fully accept his new gender once he was committed irrevocably, even though he didn't know it yet. He was prepared for it physically now, but he needed to be prepared emotionally too. It remained that he wouldn't be a real woman until he'd been with a real man, wanted to satisfy him, and did so. But real men had certain requirements. What could Carl offer a man now? A blow job certainly, and his rear end was now well-prepared. But not proper fucking -- that was out of the question for the time being. An orchiectomy and a vaginaplasty would traumatize him right now -- he still needed to learn that what women have between their legs is more desirable than the now-functionless flabs of flesh he carried between his own legs. He'd come to that truth in his own good time, and then he'd arrange for the necessary surgery himself. He wouldn't need her to coax him. Maddy pointed out that a complete sex change wasn't necessary to his further education right now anyhow. Most men would be delighted to use his mouth if it was as talented and well-trained as Carol claimed. And they'd love his newly ripe, well-rounded ass once they saw it, especially once they'd been in it, rolled their bellies around on it with their dicks deep in his guts -- Sondra's extramarital career was plentiful evidence for that! But if Carl was ever to compete with other girls for the best guys, if he was ever to get a man of his own into bed to coax sperm out of him, and enjoy all the other womanly pleasures, he'd need to excite the man first. And that meant he'd need bigger breasts. There was no question there. That's what men want. That's what they look for. That's the way they are. A girl with small tits gets only leftovers. Carol couldn't disagree. Yes, he'll need them, she thought, and once he has them he'll enjoy them I'm sure the way I did mine when they finally came in. His figure is blossoming now, but only slowly. He has the cutest tush already, but it'll still be a while before he can fill a high-styled blouse properly, or wear a backless or spaghetti strap gown and still show a really impressive cleft. And he still refuses to wear breast forms of any kind, because of the delectable feeling those new thick nipples give him when they rub against his clothes. He loves his little swellings, even though he still thinks they'll eventually evolve into a manly chest. Carol smiled. Time to disabuse him of that. It takes more than little swellings to make a whole girl! Time was of the essence, and implants were the answer. His figure would be better proportioned, his nipples would stick out further and feel more erogenous, sexier, and it would be easier for anyone to suckle them! He'd love to feel them jounce when he walked, she was willing to bet, lots of women did. Reason enough right there. But the clincher was, she wanted Carl to have really big tits, and she wanted Carl to have them because she knew that deep down in his heart, never saying so, he wanted them too! Left to himself he'd never agree. She'd mentioned surgical breast enlargement at breakfast one day, and a terrified if wistful look came into his eyes. She was sure it wistful. The poor dear was still conflicted. He wanted it so desperately, but he couldn't admit it to himself! This being in denial was a terrible thing! Carl's expression in fact wasn't wistful but worried. He now knew that no matter how many concessions he made to Carol's kink, she'd still want more of this femininity stuff from him, always under the pretext that he wanted it. He always agreed -- she was so delighted whenever he agreed that he couldn't deny her anything! And having done it, it always turned out she was right, in a way. Pretending to be a girl and living a girl's life was novel, interesting, absorbing, challenging, and often it was fun too! Fulfilling in some ways, completing the circle, closing the gap between him and the girls who were his closest friends during his earlier years. And by now he had to admit it was easy, no problem. Some of it, like becoming Mr. Dildo's passionately devoted sex pot lover, was just great! With other people, all of Carol's friends, he acted like a proper woman and was accepted as one, whether they knew what he'd once been or not. So it was no big deal to take whatever the next step Carol fancied. It always seemed only one more concession, no great leap into the unknown. And each new concession, each article of clothing, each little gesture or trick of behavior he learned, really did turn her on! And when she was turned on she'd fondle him with such affection, rubbing her whole smooth, soft body against his, which was also far smoother and softer that ever for some reason he couldn't fathom. Sympathetic vibrations? Was Mr. Dildo turning him into a woman by using him as a woman? He still disapproved of Mr. Dildo in principle, but he couldn't object to Mr. Dildo sharing their bed because he gave both of them so much pleasure. Carol especially! But he never objected when Carol was leaning over him, stroking Mr. Dildo in and out of his cunt -- that's what she liked to call it -- and then, oh, glorious!, stroking him in and out again! But where would it end? end 13/17 -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> | | FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+