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Message-ID: <49405asstr$1097424603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {ASSM} That Weekend by Vickie Tern 2/4 TG femdom
Lines: 608
Date: Sun, 10 Oct 2004 12:10:03 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d



                                ii.

We settled into the car and she started the engine.  I reached over
and turned it off again.  She looked at me.  "Joanie, before I go
anywhere further with you, where are we going?"

She looked back at me.  "Fair question.  Just remember, you don't
have a choice as I see it, but I guess you're entitled to know. 
First, Kara's place.  Kara's my closest friend, and any close
friend of mine has to be a close friend of yours too if we're to be
girlfriends.  I sort of like the idea of us as three girls
together, all good friends.  Calling each other up, chatting. 
It'll be good for your feminine image of yourself.  You'd like
that, wouldn't you?  So Kara will help us get it started."

She was right.  That had always been one of my fantasies, being a
girl among other girls, accepted by them as one of them.  "I guess. 
But ... Joanie, I'm still afraid.  Of seeming ridiculous.  Does she
have to know it's me?  Can't I be my sister or something?  Does she
have to know?  About me, I mean?"

Joan looked hard at me, and then started the engine again and
backed out of the driveway.  Then looking straight ahead, she said. 
"That's the man in you speaking, afraid he'll seem ridiculous.  As
well he might, he is!  Face it, any man who tries to be womanly is
ridiculous.  He's a freak.  So forget him!  Be all the woman you
can be, the one you'd like to feel you are, and you'll be just
fine.  Be proud of who you are!"

She was right.  I had to suppress those fears.  I am what I am, I
told myself.  And almost persuaded myself.

Then an unexpected revelation.  "Besides, Kara already knows.  I
phoned and told her all about this while you were dressing.  What
you'd claimed.  Don't be shocked.  She offered to help out, and
I've taken her up on it.  She's a physician, and a plastic surgeon
at that, how could I not tell her?  She knows all about
transvestites and transsexuals and men who want to be women.  Who
want to look like women.  Here's a secret.  I believed you when you
first said those clothes were yours.  Because no real woman would
ever leave lovely dresses like those packed away in suitcases,
getting all wrinkled.  They're for wearing, for being seen!  And
you're so transparent, so utterly without guile, my darling, that's
why you've always been such a lovely man.  I can always tell when
you're telling the truth and when you're shading the truth a
little."

"I'm a lovely man?  After all?"

"I didn't say that."  She paused, still looking straight ahead. 
"You were, that's for certain."  Then glanced at me and grinned a
pixie grin.  Still teasing me?

"So you weren't surprised to find that I was speaking the truth? 
Why did you make me get dressed up at all then?  Why all this?"

Her face became impassive.  "Because we can't go back, Sherry.  I
know, and you know I know.  So we have to go ahead.  You're like a
new puppy born with huge feet, in a way.  You know how a puppy has
to grow into his feet until they're normal for his size?  That's
you with these womanly urges.  The rest of your womanliness needs
a chance to grow to match your desire to look womanly.  I want you
to enjoy everything you are, and looking like a woman so you can
feel like one is what you yourself want too, isn't it?  Well, you
need to grow into yourself if you can.  If you can't, at least
you'll know it, and we'll both be better able to accept you as you
are.  And meanwhile you'll want to share all of your new feelings
with me, so I'll know all about them too, won't you?"  She threw me
a sharp glance.  "Which is not the way things were before today,
were they?"

No, they weren't.  She had me.  I should have told her years ago. 
A pang of guilt intruded on my general nervous anxiety, and I said
no more until she pulled into Kara's driveway.  "Does Hal know
too?"  I suddenly asked anxiously.  Hal was Kara's husband.

Joanie turned toward me as she opened her door.  "That's the man in
you asking again, isn't it?  Men do feel so competitive with each
other, don't they?  They're so fearful of seeming unmanly.  Well,
maybe the woman in you should be hoping he does know.  Maybe she
should be glad that she's no longer jockeying for position with him
in the male pecking order.  Maybe she should be looking forward to
flirting with him?  Hal flirts with every woman he sees, you know
that, women and girls of every age and disposition.  That's his
charm.  Women love it.  And some of the fun of being a woman is
flirting back, you should know that too.  Harmlessly of course. 
Mostly harmlessly.  So aren't you looking forward to teasing Hal,
maybe arousing him just a little?"

I swallowed hard.  She wanted me to play the role, so I'd play it. 
I owed her.  I had no choice anyhow.  "Yes, I guess so."

"Oh, what a shame, Hal's out of town this week.  We'll just have to
find you some other guy to get girlish with."  And she smiled a
dazzling smile at me, expecting me to share in appreciation of the
joke she'd just pulled.  I managed to grin back at her.  Sort of. 
"Remember to take your purse," she said, and got out of the car.

I had to get it out into the open now, before we went any further. 
"You keep emphasizing the sexual part of being a woman, Joan," I
told her as we walked toward Kara's front door and Joan rang the
bell, and we waited.  "What with all this talk of my wanting to
attract boys, or men, and flirting, and so on.  Why?  I'm not
attracted to men.  I like women.  What if it turns out that the
woman in me is a lesbian?  What then?"

"Why, then we'd just have to find you another lesbian to play with,
wouldn't we?  It'd be easier if you preferred men, but we can't
always choose, and anyhow, you don't really know for sure, do you? 
Not yet."  She hesitated, then she added, "I have a problem too,
honey, though I don't really know for sure either.  I'm not a
lesbian.  At least, not that I know.  I don't sleep with women." 
She flashed a smile at me.  Apologetic?  Regretful?  Dismissive?  

She seemed to be pulling me closer as her newfound girlfriend, and
she seemed to want me closer, yet she also seemed to be pushing me
away as her sexual partner.  The more womanly I became, the less
attractive to her?  This would take some thinking through.

She paused, then turned quite serious for a moment.  "Men play very
big roles in the ways women feel, honey.  Very!  Maybe bigger roles
than women usually play in men's lives.  In your case, a love of
the womanly seems to be inborn, it seems to have penetrated you to
the core, but that's not true for most men.  I wouldn't want to
deprive you of anything women love to feel.  And her attractiveness
to a man is an important part of any woman's pride in herself. 
When you know you're attractive, there's a special pleasure women
take simply in being women."

I was silent.  Not at all happy.

"Anyhow, cheer up Sherry, maybe you're bi-sexual.  If you're
bi-gendered, as it seems, maybe you're bi-sexual too but don't yet
know it?  And maybe we'll luck out and I'll turn out to be
bi-sexual too?"  Another dazzling grin.

Her jestings and evasions were beginning to get annoying.  If
that's what they were.  I forgot altogether that I was standing on
the front steps of her closest friend, my hair in a suave page boy,
wearing full makeup and a wide skirt with clingy top rising from a
dropped waistline, looking every inch a woman and a pretty one at
that, if I could believe my wife wasn't just flattering me.  
"Joan," I said in my man's voice.  No pretending now.  "Didn't all
this start with whether or not we've been true to each other?  Over
a small matter of marital fidelity?  About your questioning whether
I've been faithful to you?  So what's all this about me with other
men?  Or other women?"

She looked at me.  Directly into my eyes.  Hers were a clear blue. 
"Yes, it did start that way.  It certainly did.  Because we're
married, so we owe each other certain obligations.  To understand
and be open with each other and to try to forgive each other when
we're not able to understand, and to help each other, that's one
obligation.  Or maybe all of them rolled into one.  But that takes
time.  I'm trying to understand and help you.  Patience sweetie,
we're working on it."  

And the door opened, and there was Kara, grinning broadly.  "Come
in, come in, I've been expecting you two," she said.

I did.  Now I'd been outside dressed, briefly, and in a car, and
now I was in someone else's home.  As if I were an ordinary  woman. 
Kara and Joan kissed each other briefly on the cheek.  "And this
is?" she asked Joan.

"Sherry," Joan said.  "Sherry, this is Kara.  Kara's my best
friend.  Then to Kara, "Sherry's been my other best friend for
years and years.  Her circumstances have changed recently, but I
hope she still is, and that you'll get along."

"Oh I'm sure we will," Kara said, taking my hand and beaming at me. 
"Friendships go on and on through all sorts of changed
circumstances.  Isn't that so?"

She was speaking to me.  "I suppose it is," I said in what was now
my Sherry voice.  

"I do hope you'll be my friend too," she said.  She still hadn't
let go of my hand.

"I hope so too," I said.  No harm in saying so.

"Shall we, then?" she asked Joan, rather cryptically.

"The sooner the better, Kara," Joan replied.

"Relax your arm, then, Sherry, would you?" she said to me, pulling
my hand close to her and then grasping my wrist gently, as if to
examine my bracelet and manicure.  She then produced a syringe out
of nowhere, swiped a patch of my forearm, tipped the needle just
under the skin, and pressed the plunger.  I looked down at what
she'd just done, then up into her eyes, silent, shocked.

"You'll love this, Sherry, never fear," she said, looking back into
my eyes and watching my reaction closely.  "It's just a
tranquilizer, honey.  Nothing to worry about.  So you'll feel sort
of comfy while we do the rest.  None of this commits you to
anything, but Joanie thinks it'll be best if I help you over every
woman's first few hurdles, so you can decide for yourself whether
you want to go further or just let it all lapse and go back to what
you were.  It'll all be your decision.  But an informed decision,
honey.  This will make it easier." 

I heard that much, and felt a little reassured somehow.  Then I
began to feel woozy.  "What have you...?" I started to say.   

I then entered into a strange mood.  Relaxed, mellow.  Unconcerned. 
No more talking, it didn't seem worth the bother.  I could still
hear Kara maintain a steady patter, I suppose to maintain what
little consciousness remained to me, my awareness of an outer
world, maybe to keep me awake.  I sort of understood her, without
really listening.  I could still walk.  Or sit.  If I was told to,
or reminded.  

"Certainly, Joanie, go right ahead," Kara was saying.  "Tend to
your other things.  She'll be fine.  In maybe an hour?  Better two,
I'm sure that by then she'll feel like a very different girl, and
then you can take her to dinner."

I felt her arm around my shoulder, urging me to walk.  So I did. 
Through her house into a kind of annex.

"...my examination room, Sherry, I hold a Saturday clinic here for
local teenagers, girls with acne who need light hormonal
adjustments, things like that, nothing really serious of course. 
Yes, on that table.  To the waist, you won't need that bra any
more, I'll give you one with the kind of support you'll need for
the next few days.  This one's very pretty though -- we'll be sure
you remember to take it with you."

I was lying there on the table, relaxed, and there was someone else
in the room.  A nurse?  I felt pinpricks in my chest all the while
Kara was talking to her.  "Yes, it's quite new, conjugated
estrogenic collagen is what they call it.  Liz Forter loved what
happened when I injected her!  She told her friends about it and
then my phone never stopped ringing, not for two weeks.  Pull the
skin back here.  And here too, please, we want her breasts to feel
full as well as look full.  That's it.  I must have done a dozen
patients that first week it came out.  Why not?  Even well-endowed
women know that a protruding areola and a fat nipple turns men into
mush, the right kind of men anyhow.  And then there's this
incredible increase in erogenous sensitivity too, so the woman can
enjoy her gentleman's attentions as never before.  That's done, now
the other one.  Yes, there.  And now here.  Perfect."

The other woman said something amusing, I guess, because Kara
laughed.  "Oh, maybe one cup size for about every ten milligrams,
and that's something else men never complain about.  Sherry here is
getting thirty milligrams in each breast because she's beginning
flat and her own body's estrogen can't help.  She'll take slightly
longer to replace these implants with her own tissue, maybe even a
full month.  Yes, she really was once a man, can you believe it? 
My best friend's husband.  She still is a man down below, see for
yourself if you like.  But first let's get this prosthetic bra
placed properly on her.  There!  Now she has the best of both
worlds, breasts held well-shaped till they heal and new nipples
fully exposed for play."  

"Can you sit up, dear?  Good!  Now we're going back to the main
part of the house, there's someone there waiting to meet you." 
Once erect, I felt a stiff binding tight on my torso, all around,
and a weight on my chest that tugged my shoulders.  Kara gave a
playful flick to a nipple as I stood up, and I nearly died from the
sudden suffusing pleasure!  Oh, God what joy!

"Marvelous!" she said.  "Plenty of feeling.  That was a lovely
shriek, Sherry.  It all went very well, everything is obviously as
it should be!  Just remember not to remove your bra for a couple of
days, you'll need the support until the gel sets.  Now I want to
give you one more injection, a memory drug this time, so you won't
be especially aware of anything that happens during the next hour
until Joan does the honors and reminds you of it in her own way. 
Then you'll recall it, whatever she wants you to recall of it. 
There."

I remember being guided back into Kara's living room.  Things
happened then sort of kaleidescopically.  I felt involved yet
inattentive, though it all felt good.  I didn't know what, exactly,
but it was nice.  I kept at it until this woman returned and told
me to stand up and tell Kara thank you and goodbye, which I did. 
Then the world began to come together again.  Kara told her I was
still a little zonked but I'd be out of it and altogether myself in
another half-hour or so, so she should use the time to bring back
my memory selectively.  Joan led me back to the car and we sat
there.  It was dusk now, evening settling in.  I looked at the
darkening trees on Kara's quiet suburban street.  Something had
changed.  It felt exciting.  My chest felt so very marvelous!

"Do you remember who I am, honey?"

"You're Joanie," I smiled at her.  "My wife Joanie."  To my
surprise she leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek.  She was
almost never that demonstrative.

"Your dearest girlfriend Joanie," she said.  "We do love each
other."

"Yes," I replied, because it was true.

"And what's your name, sweetheart?"

"Sherry," I replied.  Then I felt confused.  "No, Jerry," I said.

"Same thing, baby.  "It's Sherry until we make some more permanent
decisions.  Until you know what you really and truly want it.  All
right?"

"All right."

"Do you remember what day this is?"

I strained, and remembered.  "Friday?"  I'd gotten back from my
trip early Friday afternoon.  It was still Friday?

"Yes.  You got back from your trip early, and we've had a busy time
ever since.  You especially.  Now we're going to dinner.  The
Bamboo Club.  Don't worry, you're dressed just fine for it, though
you'll need to refresh your make-up when we get there."  She
smiled.  

There was a pause.  Then, "Kara's been helping you become a woman. 
You've come a long way in just a couple of hours.  She's fixed your
figure so it looks authentic because it is.  And it feels good too
I bet." 

"Yes," I said, remembering how it had felt when Kara touched my new
nipple.  Then also while I'd been kneeling down with my face in
someone's lap and his hands were on my nipples.  Oh, God, what
ecstasy!  What was that?

"Do you remember anything afterward?  After she fixed your figure?"

I looked at her.

"Was there a man?"

It was blurred, but yes, there was!  He was sitting there, and I
was kneeling and looking up at his face.  My face was in his lap,
looking up.

"Yes," I said.  "There was!"  It seemed miraculous.  Of course! 
How could I have forgotten? 

"Yes, Tim.  Quite a man, too.  You like him?"

Another memory returned.  A feeling!  

"I had him in my mouth!" I said, amazed.  

"Yes, you did, and you loved it.  What's your best memory of it?" 


"Big.  Thick.  And slippery on my lips.  So velvety smooth."  

"Yes," she said gently.  "Men's cocks are like that.  That's why
they're so nice."

"Slick and salty when he squirted."

"Yes, they do taste that way.  Now stop and think, take your time. 
What did you do while he was in your mouth?  What do we call what
you did?"

I was stymied.  For a moment.  But the fog in my mind was blowing
away more rapidly now, and I could see things more clearly.  I
remembered what I'd done.

"Sucking.  Cocksucking.  I sucked his cock!  That's what I did!" I
said triumphantly.  Then heard what I'd just said, and realized
what it meant!

"Yes, honey, you did.  You're now a cocksucker.  Men who suck cocks
are not always well-respected, but women suck cocks all the time
and are always appreciated.  You were appreciated.  So that's what
you must be.  A woman."

"Yes."  That was a comforting thought.  So I wasn't gay after all! 
I'd just known it!  I remembered telling Joanie that earlier this
afternoon!  I'd been a woman when I'd sucked that cock!  That was
why I did it.

"And you have breasts now too.  Just like all other women.  Did he
touch them?"

I remembered.  Rapture!  "Yes.  He did something with them.  It
felt wonderful.  I came in my panties."

"Yes, when I came in you were kneeling astride his lap with his
cock deep in your ass and holding his head and mouth gently to your
breasts while he caressed them and sucked on your nipples.  And
your bottom was bobbing up and down on his cock ever so gently,
slowly, swallowing it and releasing it.  You looked so beautiful! 
So blissful!  So perfectly, happily feminine.  Do you remember
now?"

"Yes," I said, because suddenly I did.  It all came back now.  I'd
sucked a man's cock, and then he'd anchored me onto his lap by
pushing it deep into my rear, and then he'd sucked my exposed
nipples as they'd poked out of the opening in each cup of that
stiff bra I had to wear for support.  It had felt heavenly
underneath, and unspeakably, utterly glorious above!  I'd felt so
tender toward him!"

"Kara enhanced your breasts for you.  So you'd feel like more of a
woman.  She injected a new hormonal collagen to swell them up and
bring the nipples forward, to give a man's mouth something to hold,
so you can suckle a man as only a woman can.  Yes, that was our
plan.  You'd suck him and then he'd suck you.  Wasn't it divine? 
You were embracing Tim's head so passionately just before he
brought you off!  You should have seen yourself, your head thrown
way back, eyes shut, moaning out loud in the deepest ecstasy,
living in another world altogether, one far better than this one. 
Do you remember any of it now?"

I remembered all of it now, and said so.

"Then I have to congratulate you, honey.  Now you know something of
what you've been missing while you've been dressing up in secret
and pretending to be a woman, hiding all alone inside the house,
afraid to go out and actually be a woman.  Now you've taken several
giant steps toward knowing what it is you really want to be.  I
mean knowing, not just playing at it, too timid ever to really find
out.  Now you know a few things about feminine joy.  You're more
like one of us.  As Kara said, you can always go ahead or you can
go back, your choice.  But now at least it's a real choice.  It
isn't just clinging to what you know because you're afraid of what
you don't know.

She was right.  I had to think about this.  This morning I was a
man and an occasional crossdresser.  Now there was no getting
around it, I was a kind of probationary woman, a cocksucker with
incredible tits and a woman's name and a wife who was urging me to
be honest with myself about what I truly wanted.  And I actually
felt good about it!

"Was I fucked?"  I asked her timidly.  "He had his cock in me.  Did
he fuck me?"

"If you feel you've been fucked, then you were," she answered
cryptically.  "If not, that's something else to look forward to." 
Then she added, "If you mean, did he cum in you, the answer is no,
not yet.  In that sense you're still a virgin."

We pulled into the Bamboo Club drive, and the valet parking
attendant held open Joan's door, then mine.

"First stop the ladies' room," Joan said.  "You need to fix your
lipstick, girl!  It all rubbed off on Tim's prick, did you know
that?  So there's another lesson to remember.  Every time you give
head, no exceptions, re-do your lips.  Swallow, lick the cum off,
then re-do them.  Because you want to keep them attractive.  What
if you should meet someone you know?  You wouldn't want to disgrace
yourself!"

It felt so strange, hearing Joan address me as '"girl".  Rather
marvelous.  I loved it.  And it was a thrill, walking into the
restaurant confident that no one would think me a man, waiting for
the hostess to seat me and then sitting down delicately, skirt
tight, rump precise, just as I'd so-often practiced at home.  And
ordering in a breathy voice.  And taking small bites.  And actually
chatting away with Joan as if I really were her girlfriend or her
sister.  I decided that I loved it!  By now the effects of that
tranquilizer Kara had given me had worn off altogether, and my mind
was perfectly clear.  I did love it!  I felt so very much like a
woman!  I wanted to do this with Joanie much more often!

Then as we loitered over coffee came an altogether new surprise.  
A rather handsome, tastefully-dressed man came to our table and
leaned over and kissed me affectionately on the cheek.  "Lovely to
see you again, Sherry," he murmured.  "I never had a chance to
thank you.  So, thank you, sweet Sherry, from the very bottom of my
heart.  And from other places too."  He smiled charmingly at me. 
Did I know him?  I was astonished!

Then he turned to Joan and as she half-rose he kissed her firmly on
the lips.  And she kissed him back.  Put her arm around his neck
and drew him down and kissed him even closer.  With deep affection! 
I was amazed!

"I can only stay a moment, Joanie," he told her.  "I've left the
car in the restaurant pick-up zone.  Are you about ready?  Have you
told Sherry the rest of whatever she needs to know?

"Not yet, Tim," she said gently to him.  Lovingly?  "I'll do that
now.  You go on ahead, I'll only be a few more minutes."

He kissed her again, smiled fondly at me, and disappeared. 

Joanie turned toward me.  "That was Tim," she said.  "Didn't you
recognize him?"

"No," I said.  "You mean the man I was ... who ... earlier today? 
At Kara's?" 

"You were rather intimate with him earlier today.  One would have
thought ...."

"Joanie, don't joke.  I was zonked out of my mind earlier today. 
And the only parts I saw of that man were the back of his head and
the pole between his legs."

"Well, that was the man.  Tim.  Doesn't he seem nice?"

"Yes, very," I said.  And waited.  There were things she had to
tell me.

And she did.  

"Sherry," Joan began.  "This is a day for confessions.  You've
revealed your bi-gendered desires to me, and told me you're a
transvestite, at least a transvestite, and now we both wonder if
you're something a little more than that too, don't we?"

Fair enough.  I nodded.

"Well, I have a confession to make too.  I didn't just find your
women's clothes only today.  I found them weeks ago.  Maybe a
couple of months ago.  It was then that the discovery devastated
me, not today.  It was then that I decided you were having an
affair with some woman I didn't know, that you were inviting her to
our house in my absence, into our bed!  That you'd shamelessly
betrayed me and our marriage vows!  I was desperate!"

"Weeks ago?" I repeated, stunned, trying to work through the
implications and unable to think at all.  "Maybe months?"

"Yes.  I didn't know what to do about it.  Who could I talk to? 
Kara warned me not to leap to conclusions, they could be anyone's
clothes, even yours.  But I told her that was impossible, that
you'd have told me if you had any tendencies in that direction, any
little kinks in your sexuality that needed ironing out.  I was sure
of it.  Because we had no secrets from each other."

And Joan stared at me meaningfully.  And I stared back at her
mournfully, guilt rising, aware of her implicit rebuke.

"The more I thought about it, the more furious I got.  I couldn't
stay civil with you.  We argued over everything, the most trivial
things, remember?"    

I nodded.  I remembered.

"I decided finally that the only way I could even things out
between us, get over my sense of injury, was to take a no fault
divorce from my obligation to be faithful to you.  To even the
score.  To start an affair of my own.  That wasn't difficult. 
There was this very attractive man in my office, Tim, a confirmed
bachelor, by reputation and preference bisexual, a sexual athlete
with women or men alike.  Tim will take on anyone.  You already
know that.  So he seemed safe enough, and not likely to threaten my
marriage to you by getting serious.  You've just met him again, now
for the second time."

She paused to let all that sink in.  Then she proceeded.

"Sherry, my husband Jerry would never understand this, but you're
a woman, you will.  Tim and I have been seeing each other for weeks
now.  Often.  Three, four, five times a week.  Fucking each other
silly!  I don't love him, I still love the man I married.  But Tim
is marvelous, between your legs, humping your backside, anywhere! 
Incredible!  I can't get enough of him."

She nodded to me to underline the seriousness of what she was
saying.  I nodded back that I understood, though I now felt twisted
by jealousy.  I'd felt that passionate about her when we were first
married.  I tried to recall anything at all about what made Tim so
attractive.  He was a decent enough man I supposed.  His cock was
long and smooth and thick.  His mouth had felt glorious while
wrapped around my protruding nipple and he was sucking and tonguing
me.  Thinking about these things, I could understand.  She was
fucking Tim and it felt nice, nothing personal.

She went on.  "It was all going to come to a head when you got back
from your trip next week.  Monday or Tuesday you were due back,
remember?  Then I'd tell you I knew all about your ... woman, your
whore, I'd tell you that I'd had enough, that I was thinking of
leaving you, that I'd just gone away to a resort hotel with Tim for
the weekend to get some of my own back, and we'd just had a
marvelous time.  I'd tell you that you could live with that idea or
not as you chose."

I nodded, appalled.

"Because that's what Tim and I are planning to do.  That's what I
was preparing when you got home earlier today.  I'd spread all your
women's clothes around so if you got home when I was still away
with Tim, or when I was at the office on Monday, or whenever, you
couldn't deny what they were and what they meant and that I knew. 
 I'd spread them around, and I was crying about the end of our
marriage.  And that's when you arrived home unexpectedly."  

She paused again, and swallowed.  I felt terrible.  Then she said
in a regretful, plaintive tone.  "Who knew that you were the whore? 
Who'd have suspected?  You never told me!"  No, I was mistaken. 
Her tone wasn't regretful but accusing.  Resentful.

So I'd more or less forced her into an adulterous affair by my
failure to confess to her my odd, shameful, compulsive desire to
cross-dress.  Retribution.  In effect, she'd been sleeping with Tim
because I'd been unfaithful to her, somehow.  As she understood it. 

So I had to forgive her.  Divorce under these circumstances would
have been absurd.  I could forgive her, I realized.  I had to.

end 2/4
VickieTern@AOL.COM

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