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Message-ID: <43580asstr$1059257407@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {ASSM} Last Summer by Vickie Tern 10a/11 TG fendom wife
Date: Sat, 26 Jul 2003 18:10:07 -0400
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                            Last Summer

                          by Vickie Tern 




                              x.

Late the next morning when Scottie had licked the last of Craig out
of me, and we'd both showered, and we were both making ourselves up
formally to attend a matinee performance of an opera that
afternoon, I took a deep breath, let it all out, then started in.

"There's this business friend I've invited here for dinner next
Wednesday, Scottie honey.  So plan on fixing something especially
nice for us, and be thinking about what you'll wear to look nice
too.  "

"Really, Mandy?" he asked, his voice incredulous.  "In the middle
of the week?  What is she, an especially valuable customer or
something?"

"Yes, he is, Scottie.  He's an especially valuable customer.  He
spends weekends with his children so he isn't available then.  He's
divorced."  

Not true of course, Craig would never consent to marry a mere
woman, and he was no way a family man.  But I needed to keep the
story credible.  

"I don't want him to think that I live with a man, especially a man
like you.  Or that I'm married.  But I can't tell you to go
somewhere else for the evening so we can be alone together.  So
understand who you are, a girl with whom I share this house.  No
more than that!  All right?"

A little puzzled, Scottie replied, "All right."  He suspected there
was more, and my next statement didn't disappoint him.

"He's incredibly handsome, irresistible in lots of ways.  I'm
thinking of fucking him.  I hear he's really great in bed.  So be
sure to change the sheets on our bed Wednesday morning.  We'll want
everything nice and fresh."

I'd done it!  It was in process.  Was I was stark mad?  Was I
deliberately destroying my marriage?  What was wrong with me?  I
took hold of my senses -- did I want to see Scottie get laid good
and proper, experience for himself that joy of womanhood, or did I
want to make him in fact the slut I'd made him in appearance?  Or
was I out to get even with him for diddling with that dress shop
clerk, letting her give him an orgasm?

Scott sharply drew in his breath.  I heard the hiss and glanced at
him.  He looked as if he'd been clubbed.  But he got to the point
immediately.

"You were browsing in my journal?  You read about last Friday, when
that girl in the dress shop took me home with her?   You're
thinking of revenging yourself on me now, all because of a little
harmless groping I had to do so she'd let me leave?  You think
that's equitable, fucking another man in this house while I'm here? 
Do I understand you correctly?"

"Yes"  I said, defiantly.  "You're a woman this summer,  Why should
you care?"  

He was silent, staring at me.  

"And you've been no good to me for months now, with your limp
prick."  I let him stew a moment.  Then I said, "You don't want me
to fuck him?"

"No!"

I channeled some of my anger into my next outcry and exploded, 
"Well then, Scott, you fuck him!"  

He was shocked!

Then I added more reasonably, as if that idea were spontaneous and
I was reconsidering it,  "You're a woman, Scottie!  Kill two birds
with one stone!  Lose your virginity and know what that's like,
every girl does it, you should have done it long ago!  And give me
the satisfaction of knowing that you've been fucked by a man!  That
you've been adequately punished for straying from me with that
girl!  " 

His next move was surprising.  Shocking even.  He came over and sat
down next to me, and took my hand in both of his hands, and looked
gently at my upturned face.  We were both wearing formal make-up to
go with the afternoon cocktail dresses we intended to wear to the
opera.  He looked stunning, and I knew I did too.  We were two
gorgeous women.  I'd done my work so well!

Even at risk of smearing us, he kissed me lightly.  Then he said to
me, "God, it must be terrible to be obsessed like this.  But we
both have to ride it out, don't we.  And hope.  Then when it's all
over, we'll be able to see what's left."

"Yes," I said in the smallest voice imaginable.  What was he
talking about?  My anger at his trivial lapse?  My whole
summer-long affair?  Did he know about it?

"All right, Mandy,"  he then said in the most tender, mournful tone
of voice I had ever heard from him.  "I'll do it.  If you want me
to.  But I don't know what it'll do to me when I've done it."

"I don't know either," I said.  "But I want you to.  I want you to
be a woman!  I need for you to be a woman!"

I then broke down sobbing, hysterically.  For sorrow but also for
joy.  These two months or more of separation, of living a lie with
my man, my woman, of teasing and manipulating and tricking him to
ease my own conscience so I could have week after week of glorious
fucking with that magnificent stud, they all evaporated.  I didn't
think he knew about me and Craig, nothing more than I'd just told
him.  As far as he knew, all I had going with Craig was this one
unacted intention.  Maybe.  But he was so generous, so
understanding!  Better than that husband in the movie we'd seen
that first evening when he'd first gone out as a woman.  He'd 
done that for me then, and now he was doing this for me!

He put his arm around my shoulders to hug me to him, and I sank my
head onto his shoulder.  He was still wearing only his bra and
panties.  Those breasts I'd gotten him bulged out as usual.  Even
though his bras were now being fitted by an expert -- his breasts
and nipples were as large and authentic-looking as any woman's, so
why not? -- they always looked a little spilled over.  And this one
was a "push-up," to give himself cleft for the low neckline of his
formal afternoon dress.  

Even so, when I looked further down at his lap, there was no
mistaking it, there was a small bulge there!  Doreen's hormones had
been working in him for ten weeks or more, but even so he had a
little boner!  Not much bigger than a boy's, but clearly he was
excited!  *  

What had turned him on?  The idea that I might want to fuck another
man?  The prospect of getting fucked himself?  I didn't understand,
but no matter.  I put my hand down on his cock casually, as if
casually, and it felt strong -- not rock hard but definitely not
slack.  And then I realized what it meant.  My dear wanted to get
laid!  This would be no punishment at all for responding to that
shop girl's seductions!  It was a reward for being a woman!  And he
was so sweet, so generous, that now I wanted to reward him!  I
wanted to make my darling happy!

I kissed his cheek and began to stroke him down there.  Not to
climax, I was thinking, but in the turbulence of my gratitude to
him, my enormous relief that this plan was going forward even
though for different reasons.  A climax would be his reward later
on.  I stroked him just enough to let his cock know that I was
there for him.

And Scottie's deflowering then happened exactly as I'd hoped, with
Craig completely hoodwinked.  Score a big one for me.  Scottie
tarted himself up with his hair piled high and his make-up
dramatic, and he put on the most demure chiffon blouse imaginable,
with no bra at all, so his dark areolas and his fat nipples were
clearly silhouetted as shadows provocatively poised on the tips of
his heavy breasts.  Though he'd already prepared our dinner and set
the table, I pretended to be busy in the kitchen when the door
chimes sounded and Scottie went to answer them.

I heard his female voice fluting a warm greeting a full octave
higher than usual, chattering almost continuously, with only brief
punctuations audible in Craig's basic growl.  I couldn't tell what
Scottie was telling Craig, but I could hear him turning on all of
his girlish charm!  When I came in a few minutes later to greet
Craig they were already seated together on the sofa, drinks in
their hands, Scottie's breasts thrust at Craig's chest within an
easy hand's reach while she gestured with her arms high up about
something or other, her upper body fully open and accessible.  Her
shoulders and hips undulated animatedly each time she spoke --
she'd learned well everything I'd taught her about seeming to be
attracted to a man.

Her skirt, I saw, had somehow hiked up past her lacy thi-hi
stocking tops.  She'd decided to wear a spandex thong that revealed
her compressed crotch in glimpses.  Craig couldn't make up his mind
where to look first.  When I saw him put down his glass to free his
hands, I told them both, "I'll only be another ten or fifteen
minutes, amuse yourselves meanwhile!" and disappeared back into the
kitchen.  And turned off the stove -- there'd be no company dinner
tonight.

Sure enough, a few minutes later silence descended on the other
room, then was broken by a muted squeal.  I peeked in.  There on
the thick carpet in front of the sofa I saw Craig kneeling, leaning
forward away from me, his pants across an adjacent chair, his bare,
muscular, hairy ass pushing rhythmically at something his body
completely covered.  He had mounted my Scottie and was doing her
doggie style.  This was Craig's favorite way to fuck a girl's ass
-- for spite I'd always insist that he do mine face to face, but
each time we met and coupled he usually fit in at least one rear
entry anyhow.  

Now he was doing Scottie proud -- I could see the back of Scottie's
high-piled, platinum blonde head bent way back, and as she shook it
from side to side in apparent ecstasy I saw that her bright red
mouth was wide open, gasping, squealing louder with each of Craig's
thrusts forward into her. Finally Craig's pace picked up and with
tremendous force he slammed himself repeatedly into my darling's
asshole, and she began shrieking full voice continuously,
apparently helpless in the throes of a chain orgasm.  He crammed
himself tight into her  plump, pillowy buttocks and froze.  At that
moment I knew he was pumping huge loads of sperm into her, and her
shrieking died away finally into a plaintive but glad squeak.  Now,
I knew, her bowels were flooded with hot cum.

When they paused to catch their breaths and enjoy the afterglow, I
suddenly realized that ever since Craig had arrived I'd been
thinking of my darling Scottie as a real girl.  For the first time,
feminine pronouns had risen unbidden into my thoughts.  Throughout
this scene she'd been the seducer, her own woman, no longer the man
I'd revised into the semblance of a hot chick.  Was she also her
own woman in her own mind?  Had I done my work too well and
persuaded both of us?  I didn't want this.  I knew that the
high water of my passion for Craig had been reached as we sailed to
Bermuda, and that it had lowered considerably since.  Soon it would
end, and I'd want my Scott back -- with a few reminders of our
marvelous summer of course, his boobs and his butt, but a man
again, as unaware as ever of what the summer had really been for me
and therefore for him too.  For 'him' I reminded myself.  His sex
was male.

The deed was done, Scottie was now well-fucked, and it was time for
me to intrude.  I entered the room and stood quiet for a moment,
enjoying the scene.  Craig was still inserted into Scottie's rear
and was now pawing her breasts as they hung down, the tips of her
elongated nipples grazing the rug.  I knew that in another moment
he'd grow hard again -- Craig had astonishing recovery powers --
and that if I interrupted them after that happened, both of them
would feel deprived.  So I broke in with a firm voice.

"Scottie, I think you'd better go upstairs and get a tampon for
that rear end of yours and wait for me to join you!  We need to
talk!  Craig, I think you'd better take your pants and leave. 
You've fed yourself already I see -- no need for me to put anything
more on your plate.

Craig twisted himself around to look at me, surprised, as if he'd
forgotten where he was and where I was likely to be.  His long cock
emerged from my darling's gaping rear and then dangled there, still
partly swollen.  With a cry of "Oh!" Scottie gathered herself --
HIMSELF I mean -- and crept out from under him.  Then stood up and
looked at me for one moment.  Shamefully?  Desperately? 
Accusingly?  Then ran for the stairs, and the next moment she was
gone.  HE was gone!  My husband!  My man, my feminized and freshly
fucked man!

Craig leaned over and picked up his pants, untroubled by the sudden
interruption.  "If you'd waited another five minutes," he said,
"I'd have given your girlfriend an even better fuck than this one. 
As you know well my cock feels almost magical when it's soaking and
sliding in it's own semen.  That drives women wild every time. 
What would it have done to your Scottie, when just that first
warmup fuck obviously drove her out of her mind?  She'd still
remember it when she was a dribbling crone in an old age home, I'm
sure.  But then maybe it would have cost her sanity, and
fucking me would have been the last coherent thought that blonde
head ever had?"  

I pretended to be angry.  "Craig, why did you have to go and fuck
her!"

"Amanda, she's a piece!  She wanted it, you saw that blouse she was
wearing, and she reached for my prick almost before I got through
the door!  And when I saw her, your special girlfriend, I knew I
had to have her if only to get at you.  So I did.  Score one for
me."

I smiled mirthlessly.  "Craig," I said.  "You don't seem to know. 
You've been taken.  Scottie is not a girl.  He's my husband.  A
man.  You fucked a man, Craig.  You are now officially not only a
macho homophobic pig, you're also a faggotty fudgepacking fairy. 
You just dipped your dick into a man's asshole and got off on it,
and I saw.  You're a ponce, a queer!  Shall I spread the word? 
Score one for me!"

Craig seemed untroubled, as often when I seemed to have the
upper hand and told him as much.  "Amanda, do I hear you correctly? 
Your husband?  You're telling me that you've been betraying him
with me all summer, and now you've arranged for him to betray you
with me?  That's very generous, making sure that the man you
married gets fucked at least once the way you've already been
fucked hundreds of times.  Was this a sampler, so he'll understand
and forgive when you confess that you've been spreading your legs
in other men's beds?  Any way I figure it I've scored at least
twice here.  And as an extra, you owe me a fee for letting him know
how a real man fucks a woman, and how she feels when he does it."

I hadn't thought of it that way.  I didn't want to think of it that
way.  So instead I replied with a certain high disdain, "Craig,
face facts.  Any way you figure it you've been used.  You're an
available prefabricated and pre-heated dildo ready to fill cunts
and assholes, female or male.  A cock for all seasons.  I've been
using you to masturbate with all summer, and now I've made you
available to my husband so he can masturbate himself on you. 
You're our family sex toy.  And Scottie's writing a book about his
experiences this summer, so you're also his unpaid research tool."

"Amanda my pet, think what you're confessing, and all for the love
of me.  That you're a promiscuous cunt, a hot slut who can't get
enough and so has turned a perfectly decent husband named Scott
into a quivering pansy named Scottie.  You're an unfaithful wife
who emasculated her lifetime companion and made him into a girl --
a quite passable girl, I congratulate both of you on that -- so she
could feel free to fuck a real man without feeling guilty.  A real
man who knows how to make her feel fully alive and gives her
something to live for.  You're a wife who offers her eunuch husband
to a real man.  Why, as a love gift to me?  He's a really good lay,
by the way.  Tight as a virgin despite what I assume was a certain
amount of dildo work you put in preparing him for me.  Though he's
a lot looser now that my dick's been there and done that.  You must
have heard him shrieking his pleasure.  Did you ever get him to do
that when he was with you?"

I said nothing.

"Say, I bet he was a virgin!  He was, wasn't he?"  

I said nothing.

Craig grinned.  "One more virgin deflowered on the altar of my cock
and sublimated to the stars.  One more of the countless numbers of
virgins that have preceded her.  See you this Saturday?"

I could see that no one was going to win this one.  "Of course," I
said.  "I wouldn't miss it.  Be sure to bring that faggot dick with
you.  It probably needs re-consecration to the service of a real
woman now that you've used it to pleasure a man."

"Oh, I will.  And I'd agree that it needs reconsecration, if your
Scottie was a man.  But you've done too good a job on her.  I hope
you'll bring her along too.  I'd love to ask your lesbo husband to
suck my faggot dick.  I bet she's even better at it than you are! 
With those lips?  She can do me any time she wants.  She's a real
doll!"   

And with that, his pants finally pulled up and buckled, he glanced
once upstairs regretfully, grinned at me, waved two fingers, and
departed.  

end 10a
VickieTern@AOL.COM

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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