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Message-ID: <49407asstr$1097424605@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern)
Subject: {ASSM} That Weekend by Vickie Tern 4/4 tg femdom
Lines: 235
Date: Sun, 10 Oct 2004 12:10:05 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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                              Epilogue

She'd never asked, but a few months later, when Joanie and I were
both getting dressed to go out, I finally told her everything that
happened that night after she'd gone off with Tim and I'd left the
restaurant.  How I'd discovered the evidence of her betrayal in the
gray suit jacket, and then encountered her treacherous e-mail
files, that scheme she'd concocted with Tim to get me to confess my
crossdressing and then to push me further.  How I'd gone to "Bosom
Buddies" feeling outrageously deceived and determined to get even. 
How I'd met this gorgeous babe there named Holly, and ... well,
there seemed no reason to keep any of that night a secret from her
any longer.  So I told Joan how I'd danced with Holly as if a woman
with another woman, and how I'd felt this intense urge to sleep
with her, to confirm what little manhood remained in me by fucking
her.  How, incredibly, she'd confessed that she felt the same way
about me.  

And how, when we'd gotten to her place and were naked with each
other, I found that she meant exactly what she'd said -- that she
was not a woman after all but a man like me, also with breasts,
though a man who'd been on female hormones for so long that her
figure was swelled out into gorgeous curves!  How I'd confirmed my
masculinity by fucking her, and then she'd confirmed my femininity
by fucking me!  How our passion had skyrocketed and exploded and
showered us with glorious sparks, and then glowed for weeks.  How
magnificent it had all been.  How we still greeted each other with
love and gratitude and affection whenever we saw each other, even
though we'd both eventually gone on to other things and other
people.   

Joanie listened closely as she finished with her hair and sat down
to put on the rest of her make-up, but then surprised me.  She told
me she already knew all those things.  That she knew them better in
some ways than I did.  And she told me how she knew.  

"Sweetie," she said as she stared intently into her mirror,
perfecting her eye make-up while I listened.  "Do you mean to say
that in all this time you still haven't worked it out?  No, I
suppose you've never bothered, you've never felt you needed to. 
What's past is past, and bygones are all bygones, and so forth. 
That's very sensible, and that's probably what I love about you."

She turned toward me and put up her face to be kissed, and I did. 
I loved her too.  "Careful, lipstick," she said, needlessly but
appreciatively.

"Well, let me tell you what really happened as I know it.  Knew it
while it was happening, in fact.  We really have no reason not to
tell each other everything, not any longer.  And I do think you'll
find it quite amusing, in a way!"

And she did, and it was.  She was a wonderful mimic, and as we
finished getting ready to go out she entertained me by reproducing
the dialogue practically word for word.  She seemed to remember
every detail.  When I asked her how come, she seemed surprised that
I needed to be told.  "Sweetheart!" she said.  "That was the most
important night of our lives!  Of our whole relationship!  That was
the night we finally got our marriage onto its present course, this
time in perfect honesty and harmony, neither of us with anything to
hide and with no reason to want to!  In a way, that night was our
new beginning, and even though we were apart and enjoying other sex
partners it was a kind of second honeymoon!" 

It turned out I hadn't a clue.

"You see, honey, nothing that happened that night was accidental. 
You took down that gray suit as I'd asked you to do, and you found
that invoice in my gray suit just where I left it, just as I'd
hoped.  You found my e-mail correspondence with Tim just as I'd
hoped too -- it was outside my password protection, didn't that
even occur to you?  And I'd copied those e-mails to so many other
places in that computer that I still keep stumbling into them!  You
couldn't fail to see them!  And if you hadn't, there were other
clues and hints about my extramural sex life and my schemes planted
all over the house -- I still keep stumbling onto them too."  

"Because those e-mails didn't tell the whole story.  They were
designed to arouse your male jealousy and carry you that last
distance into what you are now.  All voluntarily, all because you
wanted to!  None of it my doing!  When you said you weren't gay, I
believed you.  I knew it!  You aren't!  You sucked on Tim and
accepted his cock into your butt and his mouth on your tits at
Kara's only because you were bombed out of your mind and scarcely
knew what was happening, of course I knew that.  The man in you is
straight, and he's still there down under, and he still likes
women.  But meanwhile the woman in you still isn't sure what she
is, and does want to be treated like a woman.  That's probably been
true all your life, though you've probably known only a small part
of it, only the desire to look feminine in your mirror."

"It was Tim who came up with the solution, that before we try to
intimidate or cajole you, pretending you love men, before we get
the man in you out of the way in order to satisfy the woman in you,
we should first try a halfway arrangement.  Find you someone you
think is a woman you can fuck without my worrying that she'll take
you from me, someone you can fuck to even your score with me, to
make up for the injury my ... little adventures did to your male
ego.  Tim suggested we send you to "Bosom Buddies," which isn't a
gay bar or a lesbian bar either, but a specialized bar for
transsexuals, where there are plenty of lovely men on the make, all
well hung and always looking for new mouths to feed."  

That was true.  I'd found that out.  But I'd never connected that
fact with Joan's schemes, or the way I'd first heard of "Bosom
Buddies."

"I realized right away that was the answer!   That you were such an
innocent that once you were there you'd be sure you'd picked up a
genuine lesbian woman or some woman trans-hag, that you'd make
moves on her until it was too late to back away when it turned out
she was a man.  Because by then you'd have fucked and been fucked
as both a man and as a woman, and you'd have been satisfied both
times.  And would want more.  Because that's what you are, part and
part, some of each."

"We left nothing to chance.  If you hadn't gone to "Bosom Buddies"
on your own, we'd arranged for a mysterious limo to stop at the
house to bring you there.  But you did go on your own."  

"Let me tell you how I knew.  We were still driving to that resort
of Tim's, Mountainview Lodge, when his cell phone rang.  I took the
call.  It was Jamie at "Bosom Buddies," who said, 'Darling you were
so right, I simply don't know how you do it, you're just wonderful. 
I have amazing news.  Yes!  He just came in, wearing the most
scrumptious evening gown!  That red beaded long-line with the
gathered bust, you remember how it exaggerates your breasts so
radically you decided you didn't care for it?  And a slit
practically to the armpit?  Well, on his figure it's divine!  And
just as you'd instructed her, Holly came up to him right away, the
dear girl -- I'd told her to watch out for him -- and they're
dancing together right now.  Yes, he still may well think Holly's
a real girl, though the way they're grinding their crotches against
each other I don't see how, they both must have enormous boners. 
Holly's is enormous, that I know personally.'  

'So it's all working out.  Holly'll take him home and keep him
there until Sunday night, and you can be home before him and then
when he gets home play whatever indignation game you choose.  In
any event you'll be free and clear of guilt for your own little
infidelities, and free to have more if you like, because your
husband will be doing the same, leading a richer and certainly a
more honest life with himself and with you.  So you'll both have
your cake and eat it, won't you?'"

"Well, I answered, 'Yes, Jamie, I'm glad to know this, thank you
for everything.  I'm sure he'll want to eat some of your cake too
when Holly's finished with him.   He did say he likes the smooth
feel of a cock sliding between his lips.  I'd like that to get to
be a regular thing for him whenever I'm somewhere else.'"

"'Oh, my dear, when you next see him, he'll love that smooth feel
in all his other places too, if I know Holly.  Not just between his
lips.  Don't give it another thought!'"  

Joan now looked at me, turning away from her make-up table at last,
her face as perfect as always when she was going out, and perfectly
composed.  I was sitting and listening, fascinated.  "Well," she
said, "I clicked off, and Tim looked at me, still driving, and he
asked, 'All still according to plan?'"

"'Yes,' I told him.  'With a bonus.  You're now officially off the
hook as his reserve cock.  We have other more fitting arrangements
now.  But thank you for filling in at Kara's when and where I
needed you.'"

"Well, Tim grinned as he turned the car into the Mountainview Lodge
Resort's driveway.  'You're feeling grateful that my cock filled in
when and where you needed me?' he asked, then added, 'Joanie, the
weekend's only begun!'"

"That's what he said, sweetheart," Joanie concluded.  "And that's
what he did.  Like many men before and since."    

I had nothing to say.  

Joanie looked at me.  "That's what happened, honey.  That's the
truth, every last word of it.  You didn't know how thoroughly you'd
been set up?  Set up to think you'd learned that you'd been set up? 
That I'd hired Holly to complete your feminizing and keep you busy
while Tim and I were locked in each other's arms and legs?  That
she did it so successfully that when Tim and I got back, instead of
your raging at me for all my betrayals and then storming out toward
the divorce courts with fistfuls of computer printouts, ready to
impoverish me for life, all that happened was you smiled and
welcomed me home and then asked me for the name of my hairdresser? 
You remember?  You'd had your ass filled with Holly's cock from
Friday night to Sunday afternoon, and you'd filled her ass whenever
her cock needed to recover, and it still didn't seem like enough? 
She'd caressed and stroked and sucked your breasts so delicately
that you'd gone into a trance -- she told me that at one point
she'd worried whether you'd passed out.  Then I remember, you
wanted to look as pretty as you could for her that next weekend. 
And the one after that.  Your womanly feelings bloomed beautifully,
and your residual manly needs were meanwhile adequately tended. 
What few there were left.  It was perfect.  Remember?"  

I remembered.  I smiled to let Joanie know I remembered.

"I must say you looked gorgeous that next weekend with Holly.  A
knockout!  Though how could you not, good heavens, you went into
that beauty salon at dawn and you didn't emerge until dusk!  I
didn't dare let Tim near you!  Then during the next week as I
recall you told your clients all about your change of gender and
yet you didn't lose a single one of them -- I've never really asked
you what little extra somethings you promised to do for them. 
Nothing I wouldn't do, I'm sure.  And you know something else? 
Holly never did bill me, not even for that first weekend you spent
with her.  Did you know that?  You were that satisfying to be with! 
So in effect you completed your journey into womanhood for free! 
With proud tits held high and high honors also!"

She grinned broadly at me, and just then a car horn sounded
outside.  "That's Kevin this week," she said, picking up her purse. 
"I shouldn't be home too late, honey, but if you get home before
me, don't wait up."  And as she headed for the door I heard a
second horn sound, then sound again.  And again.

Jamie, I told myself.  Holly's boss at 'Bosom Buddies.'  On time,
but disturbing the neighbors as usual.  When will she ever learn
that she isn't a man any more, probably never has been, that she
needs to act more ladylike, more discreet, less brash whenever she
calls for her dates?  That she needs to behave more like me?  

Then I picked up my own purse and followed Joanie out of the house.


End

(c) 2004 by Vickie Tern


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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