Right or Wrong Part - 2 by Cashmere Chloe

 More than Advertised

Wasting no time and surprising no one, Shelly descended to begin exactly the same head-bobbing maneuver I’d seen (and once received) from her before. Her hand did much of the work, pumping and rolling. She was nothing if not reliable. It was as if Shelly had experimented to learn the minimal amount of effort that would produce the fasted climax.

Don didn’t mind. As I watched from his sofa, Don held Shelly’s hair as she operated and trembled, bringing the three of us closer to the moment that mattered. I knelt, feeling more comfortable in a skirt than the last time but still avoiding any eye contact. Instead, I watched Shelly’s practiced maneuvers, this time with a critical eye. Precise and effective, her cock-sucking clearly lacked any passion or joy. Was she suffering through this just for me? Self-sacrifice didn’t suit her. We just didn’t talk about feelings so I knew her motives would remain a mystery.

Soon… Oh… yes! Finally!

Shelly took his load and pulled up the shaft once more for good measure before coming to me. I tipped my head back and leaned onto his sofa. While Shelly showed little emotion performing for Don, her expression betrayed her erotic interest in what was happening as she bent over my waiting mouth. Tongue out, I took Don’s cum as he hushed, “So nice,” apparently enjoying the show much more than he had before.

With the man’s cum still warm in my mouth, I slide a hand down the elastic front of the skirt. Shelly returned to Don for what I knew would be a few more glorious drops. I still hadn’t told Shelly how I could get off. She and Don were about to see.

In the haze before me, my girlfriend had returned to kneeling in front of a guy I barely knew. She was sucking out more cum for me.

My fingers pulsed as if they knew better than me. I didn’t seem to control the digits that were moving beneath my skirt. My breathing got heavy. Shelly returned and I gasped, then opened my mouth for a second time, flooding the room with my whines.

Cum flowed.

My whining peaked.

Cum flowed and flowed.

I climaxed with a man’s warmth in my mouth. Shelly gasped, having figured it out. Don simply said, “Nice,” and that was just perfect.

Before I could recover, Shelly asked, “Did you just…”

“I came,” I softly answered her.

“Nice,” said Don a second time. I had momentarily forgotten about him.

I blushed and apologized for some reason.

“Don’t be sorry,” Don was quick to say. Shelly seemed more shocked. “That was lovely to watch,” he added. He sort of had a dirty old man quality; not the boyfriend type. I wondered why Shelly was ever attracted to him.

“I, um…” I began, “I’ve got spare panties in my coat pocket. Do you think I could….”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Don answered, “Bathroom’s right down that hall on your left.”

Now, at that point, I was sure my experience was over, at least for the day. I’d just had an orgasm that I would remember for the rest of my life, a man had found me attractive enough to kiss and Don and Shelly seemed, at least, not bothered that I was going to change a pair of soaked panties.

Shelly was ready when I returned to the living room after what was surely too long to keep them waiting. “Sorry, the pantyhose,” I explained, making a note that they were a terrible choice when I had expected to quickly change panties in a stranger’s powder room.

“It’s cool. Let’s go,” was all she said.

“I’m headed out, too,“ Don noted with my jacket in his hand. He opened the door and that’s when he surprised me.

“I’m so glad you joined us this time,” Don said as he turned to face me.

It’s a pity, actually, that Don wasn’t more special. I knew he and Shelly had something going and even that didn’t make sense to me – he was just so ordinary.

Still, he was the one.

Don pulled me close and held my ass and kissed me there on his front porch.

This wasn’t any sort of “curious” kiss and it wasn’t a perfunctory “let’s get aroused” kiss. There was no purpose, no reason. Don had gotten his blowjob and I’d gotten the mouthful I so badly needed. Shelly, by then, was in a rush to leave; she had something else to do that night.

So as I stood in my high heels and began kissing that man there was no ulterior motive. I, well we… we were just kissing because…

Mmm.

Our tongues connected and I felt it so very deeply. This was how Olivia felt and would always feel when a man kissed her. The passion, the sincerity, the desire. The depth of feelings was nearly overwhelming and Don seemed to be returning them with the same emotion as our mouths connected.

“Hey, it’s getting late,” Shelly complained.

She was not trying to save me.

My girlfriend took my new fur jacket from Don’s hand and then took my wrist from its position near the back of his neck. “Let’s not overdo it, Olivia.” Terse, maybe jealous, but certainly impatient, her words were almost effective at breaking the mood.

Almost.

“I really had a great time,” Don said as he began walking with us. I wasn’t so much walking as being towed. “That was… so incredible. You… you came, right?”

Blushing, “I came,” I told him.

Shelly should have been more impressed, but it seemed her jealousy got in the way.

She didn’t react well when Don added, “Shell, bring your friend along anytime.”

Anytime? That made me wonder just how often my girlfriend was visiting. I thought we had some kind of exclusive-ish arrangement by that point.

Don stopped me again before I could get into Shelly’s car. He held me and truly appeared overwhelmed as he said, “Damn, but that was incredible. You’re incredible.”

“Oh, come on now,” was all I could say before we started kissing again. Then he opened the car door and watched as I sat, then picked up my high heels and spun to get my legs inside.

“You are such a good sport!” Shelly proclaimed once we were alone.

She looked over at me and noted my new jacket. “It kinda of fits you, you know,” she said.

In our one and only girlfriend moment, I gushed, “I love yours! Where did you get it?” and then, “Do you think leatherette pants would look good on me?”

Shelly told me where she got her jacket and, sure, I’d have to get one for myself. And, yes, she thought I could wear the pants so I’d get a pair of those, too, but I really wanted to talk about kissing a man.

I wanted to tell her how he kissed, how his tongue seemed to invade me, how his arms held me and how it felt to give myself to him. I wanted to go back to the reason for our visit and tell her about the bliss that warm cream brought to my very soul. Instead, “You liked that, right?” I confirmed.

The depth of my feelings was enough for a whole evening of conversation. No, there was more than that. I could have written a book or sat with someone for hours a day talking about my reaction to being kissed by a man swallowing his cum. Looking over at Shelly, though, I knew we wouldn’t share any more about it. We’d gotten to the bottom of her shallow well of emotional discourse.

My girlfriend hummed with satisfaction. “Loved it.” She promised to make it up to me, to show me her appreciation.

I was high, absolutely euphoric.

At no point did I ever think that my feelings might be a problem for our relationship. I was that blinded by desire.

Penalty Box

My hormones settled down after getting myself off in bed twice that night. Shelly had told me she was happy that I pulled it off with Don but, then again, she did seem awfully bothered that Don had any interest in me and those two seemed to have more going on than… well, it was complicated.

Nonetheless, I apologized for my part in delaying our departure, by message since that’s how she always liked to hear from me. I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t respond but weeks passed and still nothing.

I tried simple messages like, “Hey, what’s up?” and a repeat of my apology for kissing Don, twice, after she probably thought the afternoon was over.

Shelly’s penalty box was a cold and uncertain place. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried so hard to look good? Shit, I wondered what Don might have said to her after.

I began that winter like a lot of guys did – buying an excess of cosmetics online. What had been a drawer became a cluttered makeup table that turned into a weekend-long project to organize after my orgy of buying. I smiled, taking note of my hoard – no, I couldn’t say I was an ordinary guy anymore.

All the lipsticks in the world weren’t going to bring Shelly back and they weren’t going to get me back with Don (or some other guy – I had no preference).

I went out shopping one time, wearing a new bra that had arrived in the mail because the training bra I used in the fall no longer fit. Sure, finding a sexy blue minidress was fun and getting a few accessories made me feel like I knew what I was doing but my life just seemed listless. I had a near miss in the parking lot when Enrique and Paul pulled up just as I was about to get out of my car. Looking at the two of them banter with their cocksure demeanors, I thought of Shelly. Tall, handsome, and fit - was that the kind of guy she really liked?

I slumped down to make my car appear empty in the parking lot. She chose me and I was making her happy but I couldn’t help but think that, as kinky as Shelly was, she must want more. Surely she wanted someone she’d go out with, someone she’d talk to. She wouldn’t tell me but I guessed I was the right guy for a phase or some odd itch she needed to scratch.

Enrique was a classic ladies’ man. I guessed she’d leave me if she ever met him.

My workdays passed like a blasé blur as always. Ted noticed I seemed off somehow but I told him it was nothing. I was changing into lingerie every night and rubbing myself to bliss often but my orgasms seemed to lack purpose. I was missing something.

Even during my longer sexual hiatus in the fall, I knew Shelly and I would be back together and, sure enough, we did rekindle our relationship with a visit to her friend Don’s, a mouthful of glorious cum, a memorable orgasm, and my discovery that kissing men was amazing.

It was probably that last part, or so I guessed, that had driven Shelly away but for whatever reason, I had become a guy who was referred to as “miss” by strangers and someone badly in need of sex with a human connection.

“I’m really sorry for what I said, Shelly. I miss our times together. Can I see you?”

Nothing.

I wasn’t confident enough to even think about going to see Don on my own but, shut out by my girlfriend, the desire inside of me seemed to burn hotter as the days grew colder. Days blurred by and I tried, oh how I tried, to satisfy my needs by rubbing myself while wearing lingerie in bed night after night.

One unanswered message after another. I broke down at one point and just sent, “Shelly, talk to me! Please!” Spring came and went, as did summer, then autumn. My pert breasts had grown enough to add a new element to my nighttime play as I found myself lovingly caressing them and teasing my nipples. It was a nice reward for the pills I continued to take but not nearly enough to satisfy.

After yet another trip for hair removal, I tried another message to Shelly and even included a picture of my smooth leg with the hope she might feel a need to touch me but no reply. Nothing, no clue as to when my need, my desperate need to have a man’s hot cum would be satisfied.

Until…

Until the message inspired my phone to chirp from its spot on my coffee table. Picking it up to read the words, it began, “Olivia, this is Don.”

The Bold Call
“Don’t tell Shelly, but I found your number on her phone last time she was here,” Don wrote, “Want to come by?”

A light thumping sound followed - the sound of my phone falling on the living room carpet.

Don? Me? He’s inviting me?

My number. How did he get my number? Shelly didn’t leave her phone for him to see last time.

He wants me?

It took too long but then I realized… Mmm… cum.

I could have his cum.

The tingle began somewhere in the middle of my back and quickly teased its way to my neck. So much pent-up desire… I couldn’t say no.

When I gave him the only possible reply, Don surprised me with, “How about an hour or so?”

An hour?!!! Like, tonight?

My palms felt a little sweaty. An hour… “I can be ready by then,” I replied.

“I’ll be waiting,” Don said.

It seemed not replying could come across as aloof so my last message was, “I can’t wait!” which, after sending, seemed excessive.

No matter. I had to figure out what to wear!

Leaving the apartment at nine o’clock on a weeknight, my top concern was blending in. Enrique and Paul would surely make a fuss if they saw some girl, any girl, overdressed in the middle of the week. I decided to blend in with something ordinary – my black pants and purple sweater. I’d add that cute paisley scarf I’d picked up and wear my black platform maryjanes.

I went into my closet to get a wig but Shelly’s words came to mind. “Don’s a real hair grabber,” she had told me.

The whole thing was impulsive - heading out on my own to see a guy my girlfriend brought into our life to satisfy my needs. No, I decided, it was bold, daring, maybe but not reckless. I was bold and I wasn’t going to end up looking like a fool if he pulled my wig off.

I had enough time to do my own hair so I got to work with my curling iron as I thought about which of my kiss-proof lipsticks would look best. Once ready, I had to make another decision since it was too cold to go out without a coat but the fur was too showy. I wore my old black wool coat, hoping nobody would notice it wasn’t cut for a girl.

Sneaking out was easy, all the doors on my hall were closed and nobody was in the parking lot. The only thing that caught my attention as I drove was my bosom. It had been weeks since I last had the breast forms on and they were clearly too much to put on top of me since I’d been filling out on my own. Silicone was nearly spilling over my bra. “Oh well,” I said aloud. Shelly had said that Don loved big tits.

I looked around before I got out once I’d parked. My fears were ridiculous, of course; nobody knew me there. I took off the coat just before ringing Don’s doorbell and that’s when I first realized what I was doing.

I’d accepted his invitation to put on women’s clothes and makeup. Don wanted one thing and I got in my car to give it to him but the hour before had passed without any real thought about what I was doing. I’d been too busy thinking about HOW to think about WHAT.

“Olivia,” I heard as the door opened.

If a clear head was going to stop me from showing up in high heels for a man who wanted a blowjob, it was too late.

I took his hand when it was offered and Don led me inside to the exact spot where my girlfriend had dropped to her knees each time I was at this house before. I hadn’t noticed that Don was a little odd that way but it was my turn and I had another flash that made me wonder what Shelly saw in him.

He took my coat and tossed it toward a chair but missed. Maybe Shelly still had a thing going with him? I didn’t want to find out.

“Love your lips,” Don oozed in an overtly sexual way. If he was trying to turn me on, it was over the top.

But that’s not to say it wasn’t working.

I knew it was working because we started kissing and I couldn’t help but slide my hands up his arms and over his shoulders. I purred when both of Don’s hands firmly grabbed my ass and started to grope me.

If a clear head was going to put me back in my car, I didn’t want it.

Don’s kisses were abrupt, forceful and, most of all, manly. His tongue invaded with a near-hostile purpose. I just whimpered and let it all happen.

If Don withdrew or slowed, I would tease him with a little bit of my tongue. I buried a hand deep into his hair and let my body fall into his. “You’ve got a great ass,” he told me. It was the first time I really felt a sexual compliment that I wanted. I tongued his ear and whispered my thanks.

Five words were ample reward for a year of lunges, squats, and bridges in my living room.

Kissing, more kissing.

Don felt the side of a breast form from outside the soft sweater. “I wish these were real,” he told me, “I’d be all over them.”

Then more kissing.

Though he had little interest in fake breasts (regardless of their size, it seemed), Don obsessively felt my waist and ass and when I told him I wasn’t wearing a wig, he proved Shelly was right about pulling hair.

If it was real, that man was into it.

“Olivia, I’m dying here,” Don blurted. It seemed sudden. I would guess later but we’d been kissing for nearly a half-hour.

“Oh! You poor thing!” I said once I realized what he was talking about.

I went down, easily pulled out his erection, and took it in my mouth before I could chicken out.

First of So Many

The working part of my conscious told me to just get started. My inner voice led me to kneel and then operate Don’s jeans. “Just reach in and pull it out,” the voice instructed, its silent commands whispering one after another in rapid fire so that I couldn’t possibly weigh the ramifications of giving another guy head.

When the voice told me to open my mouth and take it in, I had no feelings about kneeling in the same spot where I watched my girlfriend blow him.

Don’s hands, the same hands that I’d enjoyed pulsing and caressing my ass, were back on me, in my hair and on my shoulders and his voice, the same voice that confessed how he loved my lips, was cooing.

I pulled my head back, allowing Don’s shaft to feel the lips he liked so much as they softly caressed his hard-on. I’d taken a dozen or so up-and-down trips with my mouth before Don’s presence helped to bring me into the moment.

“Oooh, yes…” he cooed. One hand pulled a bit on my hair. The other held my shoulder and helped to pace my movements with gentle pulls and pushes.

I paused and tongued him. I had to ask, “Do you like it?”

“You’re good, Olivia. First time?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You gonna swallow?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re going to be great. Just keep it up, Honey.”

I kissed his shaft with the sincerity of a girl who’d been fed a wonderful compliment. “I want to be.”

Each time he passed my lips seemed more indulgent than the one before. Don was getting wet and the lighter version of what awaited me was the perfect tease as his slick skin rode by my lips.

Shelly never told me how she felt about giving head. She never described it or even said that she liked it.

Was it always so hot?

I hummed and took Don in deep once more. So hard, so thick, so smooth… the cock in my mouth had me under its spell and I wanted to please it with my very soul.

“Great, Honey. Damn… you’re good.”

With another purr, I took him back inside for more deep sucks and soon…

“Oh… oh… OOOOOOH!” I heard from above.

Don unloaded into me as the third cry carried on.

I reached up to him, leaving my hot mouth to comfort his pulsing cock as it spasmed and released inside of me.

A whine of blissful surrender filled the room. It was heaven.

Kneeling there, I lightly sucked and slowly rolled my tongue as Don’s cock spent itself and then began to soften. I held his arms and Don stood stoically, caressing my hair as his cum satisfied a need that was more desperate than I had realized.

“You’re trembling, Honey. You okay?” he asked.

I needed a few more breaths before I could move and a more time with his cock in my mouth before I’d let it go.

“It’s okay, Olivia. That was great. You were great.”

I let out a long sigh.

Cum. A man’s cum.

Finally.

The Return

Shelly would come back into my life just in time to invite me to a New Years Eve party but before that, I hoped to spend more time with my first male lover.

I had left Don’s, feeling a little awkward and not quite sure how he felt, either. “Okay, okay, Honey,” he had said as I suckled on his limp cock, “I don’t have any more in me and I gotta piss.”

I was still kneeling and still shaky as I heard him call out over the sound of him using the toilet. “Go ahead and let yourself out. I had a great time, Olivia!”

I mumbled, “Okay,” and started to get up. Coat in hand, I looked down the hall to see if he was coming out but still heard the stream of pee. “Okay,” I said again, loud enough for him to hear that time, “Thanks for having me over.”

At a stoplight, I shook my head and mocked myself aloud, “Thanks for having me over.” It seemed like such a stupid thing to say even though I couldn’t come up with anything better.

Once home and dressed for bed, I did a little better with a message to Don that said, “That was yummy.”

Yes, the perfect little tease, I thought.

I heard back from him the next day while I was at work. “I should have gotten a picture of you. Can you send one?”

“I’m at work, silly. Tonight?”

“Sure.”

“Someone’s in a good mood today,” Ted said, seeing me grin as I sent my message.

I batted my eyes and answered, “Someone had a pretty good night.”

“Your kinky girlfriend?”

“Something like that.”

Ted and I had shared longer talks before that and he partly filled the void that whatever Shelly and I had left empty. He sat on my desk and looked spiritual. “You know,” he began, “I’m just ribbing you when I say she’s kinky. I think it’s great. It shouldn’t matter what two people are into. If they’re into it together, that’s, well, that’s just magic. Don’t let that go, Jimmy.”

Maybe he was just a really good guy. “Thanks, Ted, that’s nice of you to say.”

He got up and, before leaving noted, “Your hair’s looking great, by the way.”

“Not too long for the office?”

“Fuck those guys,” was his immediate reaction followed by, “Look, Jimmy, if you cared about looking feminine I think you’ve got bigger problems than your hair.”

Once alone, I smiled again before getting back to work. Ted was a bright spot in a drab workplace that I glided in and out of, invisible to all others.

Don would get his selfie that night after some makeup. I had on the same red sweater that I’d worn to work that day and didn’t change because I got the impression Don liked that I was a boy.

Whatever Don liked, I liked having him more and I wasn’t going to take any chances of screwing it up.

“Love those lips,” was his reply, three simple words from a really ordinary guy yet they elated me.

“They loved having you.”

Olivia was getting good at teasing.

“I totally forget to let you get yourself off when you were here,” Don replied, “Did you want to?”

“It’s fine. Not like I had it all planned out or something.” God, that much was true.

“But you wanted to, right?”

At least one person seemed impressed that I could rub my imaginary pussy to climax.

“Oh, I took care of that as soon as I got home.”

“Next time.”

Next time? We would have a next time?

“Can’t wait.”

“And you know you can’t tell Shelly, right?” he said.

I agreed but, still, started to type, “Why not,” then deleted it. I just didn’t want to know.

“Do you want company this weekend?” I asked.

“Sorry. Plans. We need to be cool for a while, can’t let Shelly find out. After the holidays.”

“My lips will be waiting.”

I didn’t know if my own teasing was working on me or if it was the prospect of getting back with Don or his interest in watching me cum but I set down my phone feeling almost as turned on the night I came home from my first blowjob.

It was too early for bed and I knew from experience that if I got undressed I’d end up masturbating several times and then would have a hard time falling asleep.

Too horny to read, too distracted to watch TV, I spent hours painting my nails and experimenting with my makeup until it was finally late enough for my bedtime play.

I slid my hands up the red teddy and teased my nipples which led to humming as the predictable pleasure took me. Letting myself go, I said aloud, “I’m going to suck your cock again, Don,” words that amplified everything I was feeling.

I thought back to the feeling of a thick cock in my mouth and lightly pressed down on my pelvis. “Uhnnnn!!” My body lurched in reaction.

I rolled onto my tummy and reached back down to touch myself and whined again. Moving my hand away, I pressed into the mattress, then turned over and pulled my pillow up and between my legs.

My hips began rocking as if humping a pillow was a completely natural action for them and I pushed down on it from above.

I sat up and popped my hips to and fro, holding my breasts as if for emotional support since, obviously, touching myself would do nothing to help keep me upright.

In no time at all, the intensity of my whining grew an order of magnitude and before I could even think of getting the towel I kept by my bed my high-pitched sound of ecstasy filled the room. Even as cum flowed, I felt the shock of it all.

I had just dry-humped myself to climax.

Sex had utterly and completely taken over my life and the rewards were beyond description.

So when Shelly messaged me on Sunday saying she’d arranged to take me to a costume party on New Years Eve, she got the only answer Olivia would ever have: yes.

Costumes and Secrets

“Just any kind of slutty costume,” she told me when I asked, “I’ve got a cat outfit.”

It was mid-December and she was back but without explanation. Our time apart hadn’t inspired her interest in small talk or even reasonable adult conversation. But her invite said, “We’re going to meet someone there for you,” that was good enough for me.

Since we were going as a couple, I found a cat outfit for myself: a lycra bodysuit with purple animal print, complete with a tail and ears. It was tight enough to compress the breast forms which were clearly the wrong size for someone with breasts of their own. The alternative, though, was unimpressive and I guessed whoever Shelly had waiting would like an Olivia with curves. I curled and teased my hair until it seemed like an explosion of brunette held down by purple cat ears. I had to sneak past the neighbors but I couldn’t wait for guys to see me.

After a near-miss during my exit when Paul opened his door at the same time, I hid in my apartment for a few minutes, making Shelly wait in the parking lot. “Sorry,” I told her as I got in the car, “Almost ran into that jerk down the hall.”

“You know I hate waiting.”

“Sorry. He was coming out at the same time! I don’t think he saw me, though.”

Shelly tried to shake it off. “We’re going to have a great time. Cute ears, Jimmy.”

I smiled back at her. I was wearing the fur jacket and said, “I think you’re going to like it.”

“I think I’m going to like seeing you with Don tonight.”

I gulped. “Don?”

Shelly nodded with her usual confidence. It was clear that her plan was to get me out in costume before telling me what she had set up.

“Yeah, so I got him to agree to let you, you know, do the whole thing.”

“The whole thing?”

It seemed I had lost the ability to form words that were anything other than what I’d just heard.

Shelly glanced at me and said, “Yeah, Jimmy. I wanna see you do it, suck him off.”

Did that mean that she knew I had or that she just wanted to see it, thinking it would be my first time.

I was speechless.

“It’ll be cool, you’ll see,” she assured me. “Look, maybe I got a little pissy with Don going on about how pretty you were but do this for me and we’ll be even. We can get back to us, to what you like.”

Glancing over, I saw her with jeans on. And sneakers. “I thought we were both going as cats,” I asked, showing mild offense to her behavior for the first time.

She smiled the way an aunt might after letting it slip that the easter bunny’s not real. “Nah, I never agreed to that,” she answered, “Not like everyone wears costumes to this thing.”

Just another reminder about who was in charge and who was not. She added, “Really, those ears are cute,” as a consolation prize.

Once in the house where the party was, Shelly guided us to an out-of-view spot as if she didn’t want anyone to see me. She saw me, though, and took note of my body. “Damn, girl, but you just get hotter every time I see you!” she quipped, “Is all that real? I mean, except the huge tits?”

“The hormones are helping, I think.”

“Yeah, well, something’s really working for you,” she then whispered, “I like knowing that you’re my Jimmy.” Then she stepped back and took my picture saying, “I’ll send it you, you’re going to want to remember how great you look tonight.” Then she added, “I mean, it’s good that it’s a costume party. Some of them probably figure you’re in drag but you look good enough so it’s cool.”

Ted was right. My girlfriend was kinky.

“Whose place is this?” I asked.

“Bunch of guys rent it. They’re kinda jerks but it sounded like fun.”

“So, Don…” I began.

“Yeah, I ran into him last weekend. Can you believe he actually asked about you? Ha! Anyway, I told him that I wouldn’t mind a break from working on his dick and he’s game for letting you have a try.”

She had shut me out for nearly a year. Not a single message. I had so many questions, none of which I would ask. Was I right, did she get jealous? Was she still seeing Don? Did she find another guy? Did she, maybe, feel guilty about what we were doing?

Instead, I stood in silence as the music thumped.

“You’re here and you look hot and unless I’m wrong, you’ve been thinking about getting a mouthful because it’s been too long, am I right?”

Shelly’s words were both right and useless.

Though I had loads of unposed questions, one thing was clear. She didn’t know that I’d gone to see Don. Instead of knowing I’d been pining for a second chance to give head, my girlfriend clearly assumed I would take a lot of convincing. To persuade me to perform, she would even resort to threats.

Coyly, she added, “And if you want a ride home…”

For many reasons, that shouldn’t have bothered me but it did. She could tell by my expression.

“Oh, come on, Jimmy, this’ll be hot. Do it for me.”

And with that, my girlfriend took my arm and delivered me to a man she wanted me to blow.

“I think you two know each other,” she said with a smirk.

Ted was certainly right. My girlfriend was kinky.

Reunited

Shelly handed me off to Don who quickly pulled me close. He seemed happy to see me though not at ease. I reached the hand he wasn’t holding past his upper arm until it found a home, gently settling behind his neck. “Are you alright?” I whispered.

“I don’t like parties,” he simply said.

“Is it okay that I’m here?” I asked.

“You’re why I came.”

I teased, “So you can come?”

It made me snicker. I was truly loving the way Olivia teased.

It didn’t matter that Don didn’t like my joke. I asked him what his plan was but he didn’t have one. Shelly rescued us by leaning in, “Come on, I know where the bedrooms are.”

Don put his arm around as we turned to follow my girlfriend. Feeling me while we walked, Don whispered, “Love your ass.”

“It’s the heels, they make me walk like this.”

That was, at best, a partial truth. The true part was that wearing heels each night in my apartment had inspired my new gate. The lie was any suggestion that it was six inches of lift that caused my feminine sashay. I had, instead, simply developed a new walk, one that characterized my movement whether I was in heels in a catsuit, in heels at home, or at work wearing men’s loafers.

Shelly interrupted our playful talking with, “Here, this one,” as she pushed on a partially open door.

She turned on a light, then dimmed it and closed the door as Don brought me inside.

“Is she great in that costume or what?” Shelly noted.

“Olivia is sexier every time I see her,” Don answered. Shelly would later tell me that Don knew I was a boy and that she asked him to say nice things about my appearance.

Sure that Shelly shouldn’t get any hint of our recent intimacy, I whispered, “I missed you,” in Don’s ear before teasing it with my tongue.

Don didn’t say a word after that.

That man simply started kissing me. Either he had the same concern I did and didn’t want to slip up and give Shelly the impression we’d been together while she was away or he was too horny for talk. In any case, we were soon lost in our kissing just like the last time.

Only it wouldn’t be like last time because Shelly interrupted.

“I’ll bet he’s hard for you. Check,” she said.

Right. The Shelly just-enough-to-get-him-hard method. Ugh. She was checking the door and clearly acting like she was in a rush.

Fine.

I didn’t stop kissing him but I did reach down and… wow. Don really did like me because he was rock hard and it hadn’t been more than a few minutes of making out.

“Just don’t think about it,” Shelly advised, “Take it out and I’ll tell you what to do.”

No, she had no idea this wasn’t my first time.

I might have been new to giving head but it was clear Shelly didn’t understand the joy of it. “Don’t think about it”? Really, Shelly?

Kneeling in the dimly lit room, I pulled out Don’s cock and tried to seem like I was unfamiliar with the act.

“Just put a hand around it and the end in your mouth,” Shelly instructed, adding, “So hot!” She was trying, it seemed to be an engaged coach but nervously watching the door and listening for someone in the hall clearly preoccupied her.

Don, though, apparently had a preference. “Try taking more of it in your mouth, Honey. Go on, you’ll like it.”

Even though my comfort might give me away, I teased, “Promise?” looking into Don’s eyes and pouting.

Shelly started to object but I blocked her out as my lips traveled down the familiar path toward Don’s pelvis. But I went farther than before, relaxing myself and any reaction to his presence to deep inside of me. Don cooed. Shelly gasped and stopped trying to save me from an act she seemed to think I wouldn’t like. Mmm, there was that taste.

“Jesus!” Shelly called out after I receded and then engulfed Don a second time, “Deep throat!”

I came back up and kissed the shaft as it pressed into my hand. “I think you were right. I do like it.” I would learn there was nothing related to giving head that I didn’t like.

Don knocked my kitty ears ajar and took a handful of my volumized hair. He pulled me inward a bit, suggesting that he wasn’t in the mood for teasing.

I opened up and in he went again, thick and full, just like I remembered the night I got off fucking my pillow. The lights went up. “I just have to get a picture,” Shelly said, but neither of us were going to reply.

It seemed that Don really liked the catsuit. Or maybe it was the idea of hooking up at some random party. Or the deep throat treatment. Or he liked being watched.

Whatever the reason, he came even more quickly than our first time and I was rewarded with the second mouthful of cum that was mine, all mine. Don’s cum flowed into my mouth. Unlike our first, I pulled back when he was close and wrapped my hand around to pump the load right onto my tongue, savoring all of it. I whined with pleasure that was a bit more intense than our first when I’d let his cum disappear too quickly because he ejaculated deep in my throat.

“Show me, show me,” Shelly urged as I saw her come into view.

Shelly had certain kinks that I didn’t care about. She was into me wearing that catsuit, for one. I mean, she never wanted a picture before. She really needed me to hook up with Don at that party and not at his house, for another. I liked wearing the costume and it was fun to be in some stranger’s bedroom but it wasn’t a big deal and I wasn’t sharing her enthusiasm for the details.

Pausing with my mouth full of cum was an entirely different thing. Shelly snapped a picture as my finger bashfully put my face in my hand. Don’s brought his tip back to rest just above my lips and I showed off his glorious gift.

Sure, that was kinky but I loved it.

I swallowed Don’s cum before a drip from his cock would fall. I learned that night that I couldn’t linger with a mouthful of a man’s cum if I wanted to finish him off completely and joyfully sucking those remaining drops while a man talked to me was too great to pass up.

“You were great, Honey,” Don said as he played with my hair, “Great job.”

The Runway

“Okay, let’s get out of here,” Shelly announced. She seemed positively giddy, like the act she’d witnessed had satisfied a longtime fantasy.

I helped Don with his pants and got up as Shelly checked the door. She whispered we should go first, saying she’d get the door behind us.

But once we started out, there was a commotion. It was hard to tell but I thought I heard a guy say something like, “You sure it’s her?” as he ran past us.

Once they past, Shelly darted into the lead but looked over her shoulder and broke into a run. Someone dressed as showgirl happened to cross behind her and the two men who ran past had turned around, passed us and then crashed. They then felt obliged to help the showgirl up, allowing my girlfriend to escape, from what I didn’t know.

I started after her but Don stopped me. “Don’t,” he simply said, “She’ll be fine.”

“That’s my ride.”

“I’ll get you a ride home.”

“Why is she running?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t get involved.”

We stood there, Don holding my hips from behind me as we watched Shelly run down the street. I’d ask her, by message that night, but she wouldn’t say much.

I watched the guys help up their other guest and their exchange was resigned. “At least she’s gone,” one said.

It was an unnerving end but the night’s drama was hardly over.

Don called a ride for me and I messaged Shelly the moment I got home. Still in the catsuit, I first asked her if she was alright.

“Fine. Those guys are jerks,” was her reply and, though I tried, she wouldn’t tell me more. In fact, she was oddly cold for a girl who supposedly just witnessed a fantasy.

“Shelly, I’m glad that I was able to do that for you. It was good for me, too. Are we okay?” I asked.

But no reply.

“I hadn’t heard from you in so long. You’re ok, right? You’re not mad or jealous or something are you?”

“Why would I be?”

Shit… I would have been fine if she hadn’t replied. No, she knew about my other time with Don. Of course she did!

“Shelly, I’m so sorry! You were away so long and didn’t talk to me and I didn’t know if you ever would.”

“You knew I was just busy.”

Shit, shit, shit. I didn’t see her angry much but it felt awful.

“It’s not his fault,” I wrote. I’d feel terrible if Don got in trouble, that just seemed wrong somehow since I could protect him. Maybe. “I just got desperate and went over. It was only one time, I promise!”

Her reply took a while. I got undressed and made tea.

“You blew him in his usual spot?” she asked.

“I guess that’s what he likes?” I replied, “I’m so sorry!”

I didn’t hear from her again that night. What should have been a fun night of sex had turned into a weird night of drama.

The whole thing was about to get worse.

On Friday night, Shelly messaged me with anger in every character: “I’m coming to get you at 11 tomorrow. Be dressed as Olivia. If you ever want to see me again, you’re going with me and doing what I say.”

Jesus, that girl was angry.

Dressed in jeans, a pink sweater, and black booties, I was ready for my punishment long before the time she would arrive. She simply messaged me, “Here,” from the parking lot and I dashed out, trying to break the ice with, “No Enrique or Paul today!” but she didn’t seem to want to hear it.

After she silently brought the car out onto the road, I said I was sorry again and asked where we were going.

“You,” she said sternly, “are getting your hair and eyebrows done as punishment.”

That seemed odd.

“You’re going to keep on taking those pills and you’re going to let your hair grow. I’m going to make you live like the tramp you were when you went down on a guy I introduced you to! Now, if you don’t want everyone in world to see pictures of you giving head then you’ll do EXACTLY as I say and maybe, just maybe, a long time from now, I’ll take you back.

“Don’t even think about calling Don again,” she added in a way that made is clear that was a bad idea.

Yes, odd.

No, she wasn’t kidding.

I sat through the hair styling and the brow shaping. Shelly talked nonchalantly with the stylist, giving her details about her upcoming trip. I learned she was going back home, this time for most of the year, to get her parent’s house ready for sale and get them settled into a nursing home. I also learned that Shelly really didn’t like men. The way she talked about her brother, her father, and a few other guys who came up in conversation made it clear that my feminist girlfriend had little respect for the opposite sex. It also explained why she could be so chatty with a woman she barely knew and had little interest in conversation with me.

Prior to that day, if I made an effort like wearing a big flannel shirt and lowering my voice, people would sometimes guess I was a guy. The work Shelly directed on my eyebrows would put an end to that. Nobody would ever think of me as male again.

Shelly dropped me off late that afternoon and simply said that she would let me know when she was ready. She warned me not to undo any of the changes and that she would be asking for pictures.

I undressed and put on old boxers and a tank top and paced around my house.

The anger, the blackmail, and the lure of getting back on track with what was clearly the best sex of mine or anyone’s life… it was a lot to process.

I had loved being Olivia but it was my private joy, not my whole life. And I had depended on Shelly for the sex I craved. I was far too timid to think about going out on my own.

I’d been though ups and downs but that day felt like rock bottom.

The Long Wait

If I had any notion that Shelly would let me off easy, her patience drenched them with the spring rains.

Ted assured me nobody at work cared so I just kept going in even though everyone I ran into had been calling me “miss”. Enrique, one of my asshole neighbors walked passed me just days after the forced makeover and stopped me, saying, “Jimmy?” He laughed and went on, “Why don’t you just admit you’re a fag!”

For months, I only put on my women’s clothing and makeup if Shelly insisted on a photo check-in. My heart just wasn’t into it.

Not everyone was awful. Ted was supportive and let me off without any detailed explanations. A guy I ran into at a store looked at me and smiled. He was familiar and said what I wondered. “Sorry, do I know you?” he asked.

I turned my head and answered, “Maybe? You look familiar.”

When he said, “Are you that girl Shelly brought to our place?”

“That girl”… I’d heard that sort of thing before and learned not to answer with, “No, I’m Jimmy.”

So, “I don’t think so, I’m Olivia,” I answered.

With that, he shrugged and turned to his friend who called him. Just a simple, brief encounter that was kind and easy going – that’s how much I craved feeling normal. Instead, the guys at work had become so practiced at avoiding me that nobody ever walked past my cube. I did my best to avoid my neighbors and got warmth from brief talks with ted or smiles from people I saw while out shopping.

I was just waiting for Shelly to come around and no idea how long this round of punishment was going to last.

I looked to Ted for support and tried to get advice without sharing. “So, what do you think about a couple where, say, one of them isn’t telling the other about, you know, their sexual needs.”

“Well, that’s dumb,” was his reply. He paused and added, “Then again, when I told my ex what I was into, she acted like I was a pervert and we got into a huge fight.” He shook his head, “It seemed to set her off or something.”

“So, what would you do if you found out your girlfriend was doing something that she thought was okay but it wasn’t?”

Ted cocked his head. “Jimmy, it sounds like you’ve got a story to tell. Look, I don’t want to pry but all the changes you’ve made and now… it’s not going well? You sure you’re okay?”

Aaaaaand, that was it. I started to cry.

Ted’s shoulder helped more than I would have guessed but I wouldn’t tell him about the thousand conflicts playing out in my head.

Spring would pass and at the end of summer I would finally accept some help that would get me back in hot water with the girl I still thought of as my girlfriend.

“Fine,” Shelly tersely replied after our mid-August check-in.

“I’ve done everything you told me to do,” I pointed out.

Shelly, it seemed was missing our sex life, too. When she wrote, “I’ll bet you need a man, don’t you?” it seemed I could hear desire of her own in her question.

“I really do! Can we?”

“Soon. You’re not done being punished for what you did.” I’d been feeling awful for months it had become impossible to hide.

Ted could tell when he saw me the next day that I was down. Without asking what was going on, he said, “Hey, let me take you to brunch on Saturday. We don’t have to talk about it unless you want to but you haven’t gone out anywhere this year, right?”

I hadn’t. It was all too conflicting. My Olivia persona was all about sex but nobody saw me as a guy. The people at my apartment building just made fun of me. There was no “me” to go out. It was either Olivia going out to hook up with a man when Shelly was ready to take me back or Jimmy, the ridiculous-looking guy who hid at work and nodded quietly when stranger called him, “Miss.”

“That actually might be nice,” I answered.

Ted surprised me when he said, “And dress however you’re comfortable. Don’t feel you need to keep up this,” he gestured to by oversized sweatshirt, “look. I’m fine with the way I saw you that day in your apartment.”

After just a little thought, I told him, “You know, you’re right. I’ll feel safe if you’re with me and it would be so nice to see what it’s like without people looking at me like I’m a freak.”

When he picked me up, I blamed it all on fashion magazines.

“Since I’m not going out, I don’t have anything else to do!” I whined with a big smile. Ted was smiling, too, but I had to ask, “Do you like it?”

I stood there, outside my apartment building as I waited to hear what he thought. It was dangerous, of course, loitering where my jerk neighbors might see me with makeup but I had to know.

Before Ted could answer, I added, “It’s almost labor day, you know, this is my last chance to wear this outfit this year.”

The white high-waisted pants were snug from the knees and had fun flared bottoms. The matching top was a halter with long sleeves that left my shoulders bare.

“That’s your hair isn’t it?” Ted asked, “You’re always hiding it at work.” He paused, then went on, “Sorry, I just didn’t know what to expect.”

He still hadn’t answered me but a car was pulling in. I took Ted’s arm, “C’mon, we need to get going!” I called out as I looked around the lot, “Where’s your car?!!!”

Ted opened my door and I slid in. He asked the obvious question when he joined me, “So, the neighbors…”

“Oh, god no!” I replied before he could finish, “just you and my girlfriend. Nobody else knows and my neighbors are total creeps!”

“You look beautiful, by the way,” Ted said as we started driving away.

It was the first time a man had told me that. Don liked the way I looked but even I could tell he was creepy. It didn’t matter that Ted was just a friend, his compliment made me blush.

Brunch with Ted was simple enough. We talked about shows and books and work, of course. Ted was really into it – his job, that is. He knew I was just floating along but seemed to respect that I was reliable. I liked hearing his insights and ideas and I realized, that day, why we had become good friends at the office in an opposites-attract way.

The highlights of lunch were when not one, but two different guys were caught noticing me. “That guy over there is totally checking you out!” Ted commented, trying not to laugh.

On a dare, I walked to the ladies room when Ted caught the second one. He held up his phone and videoed the man as his gaze followed me all the way out of the dining room. We laughed and laughed, watching it when I returned.

Show Me A Good Time

When he complimented me on my hair again, Ted said I should throw away my wig. “Actually,” I confessed, I bought more than one but, you know, I like it best when I’m not wearing one.”

“Like that plain-Jane look I suggested for your shopping?”

I smiled and reached for my phone, finding the picture Shelly had taken of me in the catsuit. She had captured way too much of the room, I thought, so I cropped it down to just me. She was right, it was a picture I wanted to keep and the memory of the last time I’d enjoyed another man’s cum. “This was last winter,” I told Ted, “That’s my own hair.”

At first, he froze. Then he looked up and said with real emotion, “Jimmy, that’s very sexy. Wow. I love seeing girls dress like that…” he paused and looked at me, “well, like you dress.”

He just kept looking. “New Year’s Eve party,” I noted, “I worked and worked at it, you know, tried for the biggest hair possible.”

Still gaping, Ted blindly said, “Yeah, my roomies used to do a costume party on New Year’s. They’re fun.”

The memories of that party, of Don and the thought of a man staring at my ass as I walked past… it was all too much. The moment I snuck back inside, I was naked on my bed and rubbing myself to climax, coming three times before I was ready to get up.

I was desperate, I knew that.

What I didn’t know was how hard the wait would be.

Autumn came and went. Shelly told me her project at home was on schedule and would return before the year was over and but promised, “We’re okay now, Jimmy. We’ll hook up when I get back.”

At my desk, I sighed audibly and read her message multiple times. “We’re okay now,” rung in my head. At home that night, she would be particularly pleased to see the first genuine smile I had for a required check-in photo.

“Oh baby, but I’m going to show you a good time! You should get another costume!” she wrote in reply.

“It’s a padded, push-up bra,” I confessed, “But since you told me what Don likes I figured I’d show you.”

“We talked about Don,” was her terse reply, “You’re done with him.”

When Shelly said she was going to show me a good time, I just assumed that meant hooking up with Don. It didn’t occur to me that she might have meant a different guy.

“So sorry!” I typed as fast as I could. “I thought that’s what you meant!”

“You think you can treat me like that? After all I’ve done for you!!!” Her words had turned to anger so quickly that it left me startled. I apologized again but Shelly put me back into the penalty box. This was around the time I truly began to appreciate I was dating someone who was unstable.

It was a month before she would even reply to my messages. I couldn’t share details with my only friend but when I told Ted I was getting the cold shoulder he could only quip, “Girls can be crazy, anyone can be crazy, Jimmy.”

She seemed to feel in control when she made me dress up so I put on makeup and sent pictures to Shelly, hoping to win her forgiveness so she might show me the good time I so badly needed. I went out and bought a costume - flared pink miniskirt, white halter and white over-the-knees boots, all made of vinyl to make me look like some kind of trashy hooker. I guessed she might find it fun.

“Looking good,” she would reply but then she wouldn’t say anything about coming home.

“You like the outfit? I thought you might.”

She said, “Some asshole guys are into trampy stuff. They’d love it. You like dressing like a slut, don’t you?”

Shelly, I’d come to learn, was all jeans-and-a-T-shirt so, yes, everything single thing I owned was slutty in her mind.

And I loved my clothes.

“I like the way it feels. I like it when guys look at me. I went out last summer in a tight white outfit and a guy stared at me as I walked by him. Mmm.”

I struck a nerve, a good one. “You’re my slut, though.”

She was my one and only possible contact to the experience of warm cum in my mouth. “All yours.”

Then our dialogue ended and she didn’t write back. Yeah, I was dating a psychopath.

“Shelly,” I wrote in mid-December, “I didn’t mean anything about Don. You can’t be mad at me this long. When are you coming back?”

Her anger seemed to be melting a bit. “Alright,” she replied, “but I won’t make it back until February. Maybe I can hook you up with one of the guys for the New Year’s Eve party? I know it’s not like being with me but at least it’s something, right? Can that work for you? You know it’ll make me happy.”

I wouldn’t ask if she meant a repeat with Don. I would, of course, do anything and I told her that. And I would hook up with a guy, any guy, any time, with or without her – I felt it best not to tell her that part.

“Wear that vinyl outfit,” she instructed, “It’s the same party as last year. The lighting will be dark so nobody’s going to see you’re a boy in drag.”

As the party approached, Shelly gave me the details for my hook-up. I was to find Jerry, one of the hosts. Jerry had an arrangement with his girlfriend and would play dumb but Shelly told me not to worry about it. “That’s part of the game,” she said.

She also asked me to get pictures, especially some with Jerry and, if at all possible, to hide my phone and get some video while I had him.

“You’ll be fine. Just know that he likes this game,” Shelly assured me when I told her I was nervous.

Nervous or not, it had been far too long so I was soon taking a selfie in the entryway of the house where I’d last had a man – one full year before. There were no words to express my level of desire.

“Were you looking for me?” the host asked.

I smiled. Oh, at last!!! I’d been wandering that house forever (minutes, actually), asking, “Have you seen Jerry? Have you seen Jerry?”

The man before me looked familiar. “Olivia,” I said, offering my hand in an uncomfortable handshake. My inner voice asked what the right greeting was for a guy who wanted casual sex.

“Hey!” Jerry exclaimed, “We met before, remember? I saw you out and asked if you’d been here before!”

Advertising my connection to Shelly wasn’t part of the play. In fact, she specifically told me not to. “He likes thinking you’re just some girl who wandered into the party,” she explained.

“Hey,” I said, leaning in to whisper, “You still have that arrangement with Courtney?”

He acted surprised. I was clearly playing it right. I let my words hang with him.

“Well, she’s back home as usual but we sorta outgrew it. Getting serious, you know.”

Courtney, I was told, was Jerry’s girlfriend. She went back home for a few weeks every holiday season and the two had a hall-pass for anything short of intercourse. It was perfect, of course, because according to Shelly, Courtney wasn’t much for giving head.

I could tell by the way he was looking at me that I would end up having that man. I lightly tongued his ear and whispered, “I want you in my mouth so badly I could die.”

It was barely an exaggeration.

Jerry looked around. I’d clearly played my hand well. That boy was ready. “I don’t know…” he muttered.

“Nobody needs to know,” I told him, using the phrase Shelly said got Jerry aroused. I added, “All the guys say I’m really good.”

He whined, “Oh man!” as if to complain at the circumstance – I saw Jerry playing his role well, too as he acted bothered with a situation of his own creation.

He looked around again. I whispered in his ear, “I want you in my mouth, Jerry. All of you. I want your cum.”

Truer words were never spoken.

He whined, actually whined, when he agreed. Quite the actor, that boy! He told me which room was his and to meet me there, sending me away so we wouldn’t be seen going in together. It was the longest two minutes of my life.

“So, Olivia…” he began once he closed the bedroom door.

“Shh,” I answered with a finger to his lips. There was no way I’d let any words stop what was about to happen.

We kissed and once we started, Jerry’s feigned reluctance was gone as fast as my cheap lace-up halter top. More and more kissing and Jerry’s whines returned only this time they weren’t complaints.

I had seduced my second man.

And it was glorious.

“Our little secret,” I said softly as I went down on him. Shelly told me that would turn my guy on.

He echoed the phrase, assuring my that, yes, Shelly had, indeed, found me the perfect setup.

And there it was.

Jerry’s cock pulsed irregularly as I got his pants off. In the moonlit bedroom, it glistened with desire. That boy wanted me.

“Ooh,” I purred as I stroked it with my fingertip. I flipped my hair to one side, watching it jump and jerk.

“I love this part, you know, before I get my mouth on you, watching your wetness build.”

“You are smoking, baby… god I can’t believe this is happening.”

“Oh, it’s happening,” I said, still in my soft I’m-all-yours voice. The bulb of sticky cum had grown and was ready to drip. I looked up and made eye contact once I was sure my tongue was beneath it then I slid my grip up from the bottom as if milking his love.

There it was. A year, an entire year of waiting.

The man’s cum greeted my tongue like a parade marshal ushering in an event that we’d all been anxiously awaiting for the past year. Overwhelmed with my reacquaintance, I would think of nothing but the lovely fluid and the cock that would give it to me for the next twenty minutes. The moment I had the taste in my mouth, I felt everything was going to be alright. Shelly was back in my life. My sex life had returned. Everything was going to be wonderful.

I would be disappointed; crushed was more like it.

But for the next 20 minutes I didn’t know what lay in store. All I knew was that a man wanted me and I would show him that, yes, all the guys will say I’m pretty good.

You're What?

Sticky and soft, the warm treasure fell onto me and then fanned out to invade my taste buds. A single drop, more clear and less viscos than my goal, it more like a tease than an satisfier.

From that first time I had another man’s cum, I knew there was nothing like it. A year since the last, I was reminded of that simple truth. Standing before me, wearing just socks and a Christmas sweater, the man didn’t matter. His name was lost, his identity meaningless.

What matted was the shaft, the ballsack, and the tip of his relatively youthful organ. He was about my age, unlike my last cock which was clearly older.

That organ held the elixir that I had obsessed over each of the past 365 days. How many times had I gotten myself off, reliving my kneeling bliss across the hall from where I had pleased this host with an experience that, rules or not, he might likely have to share with his beloved Courtney.

Oh, or course I didn’t care about what rules detailed their hall pass as long I knew he wasn’t going to try to undress me. He might tell her all about it, maybe talk about my skills as way of offering suggestions. Or he could keep it secret, a secret time in his bedroom that, if I had anything to say about it, he would cherish as his most erotic memory.

It didn’t matter that I’d had only one male lover and that the number of times he’d had me could be counted on one hand. I’d flown close enough to the warmth of accolades and attraction to know I’d forever be cold without them. This man would love me, he would love what I would do for him. He would cherish this blowjob and never forget it or me.

With a hum and a smile that might have been befitting of my costume, I licked the first cock I’d had in a year. “I hope you’re not in a rush,” I teased, “there’s so much I want to do.”

Words were uttered from above. They didn’t matter. I parted my lips and slid down his strong cock.

It pointed upward, much more so than the last one, causing me to get more upright to take it in and match its angle. I felt his body tremble. I felt my body tremble.

Releasing him from the soft love of my mouth, I kissed his cock generously. Deep, full, passionate kisses. I let myself feel the adoration, the love. I was, in every way, truly in love with that thick manly shaft and I was sure to let it know.

Moans, coos, and more words I didn’t care about from a man I would forget about. It was enough to know he wouldn’t forget this. Ever.

With a long suck, I passed down his shaft again. Then over and over. I pumped with my hand, sucking, then teasing with my tongue. When it seemed he was getting close, I blew on his tip and watched it jerk away as if it was teasing back at me.

But I knew better. It wanted me, it was desperate for me.

I licked up and down and, though the question didn’t need to be asked, I asked it anyway. “Will you come in my mouth?”

The unimportant words were both affirmative and desperate. It was the emotion that mattered – what I was telling him was that I was desperately his and in love with the act. I would be legend in his mind.

I sucked and caressed him, kissed and licked. I offered series of fast pumps interspersed with slow journeys to his body until the entire length of his shaft was inside. I kissed the tip and told him how much I loved his cock, told him how lucky I was to have found him, told him I couldn’t wait to swallow his cum.

His legs started to tremble a bit but he was a trooper and kept standing for my love as I gave that boy all I had to offer.

I pumped in the Shelly method, not because I wanted to get him off with the least effort but because I needed all of that cum on my tongue to be savored before finding its ultimate route down my willing throat.

A he-man howl sounded its arrival. If not for the beat of dance music, those downstairs would have heard the event forever burned in my man’s memory. Before I could really consider my part of the epic moment, the cum began shooting.

The hard cock fired at me with an abrupt strength that made it almost seem angry, vengeful for the teasing it had endured.

But the second burst was somehow calmed. It still carried the same impact, more volume, perhaps, but was more purposeful and less spastic. If the first blast said, “Take this!” the second said, “Here, take this,” as if it knew what I needed and wanted to please me. More followed and each one assured me that, yes, the cock loved me just as I had loved it. “This is yours, I love you,” it told me as it delivered the hot prescription.

Above me, the groans cooled and were quickly moved to soft moans of relief. My own sounds, nearly shrill whines of joy and delight took up the dead space and kept the room alive with the sounds of love, sex, passion and satisfaction.

Though I hadn’t planned on it, my hand moved beneath the elastic waistband of both the skirt and pantyhose. As I gently took in the last of the load, my fingers made contact and began their well-practiced dance.

I took my free hand off of the nearly spent cock and braced it on the strong thigh nearby. There were more words but the combined bliss of cum and what my hand was doing produced some kind of filter in my mind so that his speech sounded like it was coming through a low-grade announcement system on a very old subway.

I’d gotten myself off, I don’t know, a hundred? more? times in the previous year of nights (and some weekend afternoons). My well-practiced fingers had little trouble producing a climax before the cock got soft. I sucked the last of his cum with a soaked panty. “Holy hell…” he said in a mix of surprise and delight, “did you make yourself come?”

The man before me wasn’t the only one who would never forget that night.

Hands came into view. “I gotta get back down there.”

The hands were finding pants, pants that stood between me and my desire.

But that was over, it seemed. “Baby, really, that was the best ever but people are going to notice I’ve been gone for a long time.”

I let him zip, button, and buckle, all of which was a bit comical since the boy was still shaky. I touched up my lipstick as he got ready. Out in the hall, I had to ask, “So, be honest. Was that a good blowjob?” I was that insecure.

“Every guy loves head, Olivia, but that…” he began but then noticed we were not alone so he paused awkwardly before finishing, “that guy likes nothing but,” his voice raised so the new arrival could hear. Seemingly happy that he had changed the subject for the benefit of his friend, he went on, “Yeah, nothing but head, that’s his thing.” I tried not to look confused.

He turned to the other guy and did a terrible job of acting like he didn’t know he was there. “We’re talking about our ex-roomie. Am I right?” he said to him.

“Oh, hell yeah, dude’s like a blowjob fiend or something,” the other guy joked then asked if I know him, whoever “him” is.

Jerry answered for me, working hard to maintain his lie, “She thought he’d be here,” he said, then turned to me as if explaining, “Sorry but he was dating this crazy chick and then my girlfriend got dragged into it and the whole thing blew up. I promised her I wouldn’t invite him to parties because, I’m serious here, she was worried that his crazy ex would show up and make a scene.”

I had no idea what he was talking about. His friend did, though, and added for my benefit, “Cool dude but it’s just not worth it when he’s got a ex so insane.” With a chuckle, he went on, “That chick is completely looney. If she thought she was getting back at him, she might come in here and strip, then try to do us all in the living room or she might crash through the front door with a water cannon and start blasting away.”

Shaking his head, the guy I just had sex with agreed. “Seriously,” is all he said. Jerry was clearly pleased that his ruse worked. He turned with his friend and just said to me, “Enjoy the party.”

Once alone, it was obvious that being dressed as a cheap slut with wet panties only made my fear of being found out worse so I quickly left.

Shelly was somewhat happy to see I’d taken a few pictures of me at the party but disappointed I had none with the host. “It all just sort of happened,” I explained, “but the setup was exactly like you said it would be. He even did that ‘keep it secret’ thing.”

On the one hand, I was back with Shelly; at least she wasn’t mad at me anymore. On the other hand, she told me she was taking a year at home to help out there and, just like that, she said we’d have to put things on hold.

“But I just waited a year!” I complained.






Shelly was a lot of things. She was my girlfriend and my facilitator for sex. She’d given generously to help me find satisfaction. Heck, without her, I’d never have found the beautiful world of sex that had come to define me.

But she was also cold and unpredictable.

She literally didn’t reply to my complaint about waiting a year.

I imagined myself working listlessly by day and wandering my small apartment on the weekends, looking for a distraction from yet another session of rubbing my make-believe pussy. She demanded pictures to show I wasn’t cutting my hair and that I was keeping my brows plucked. “It’s alright,” she might say, “Good enough if it’s dark. If you’re good, I’ll find another guy who won’t care that you look like a boy.”

On hold again. “Let’s see what you can do with that body,” she wrote, suggesting whatever she wanted from me needed a womanly figure.

I just tried to get by one day at a time and apologise over and over for whatever I might have done wrong. I kept up with the pills and took dieting and exercise to a new level. As my appearance waxed more and more feminine, I was giving Shelly what she wanted and didn’t mind one bit that I was stepping so far away from manhood that I’d never return.

I thought I’d last long enough for her to come around but eventually I broke down and had one of the most terrifying experiences of my life that started with an innocent afternoon walk alone in a park.

Patience

That winter was simply miserable. Shelly wouldn’t reply to my messages. We were on a break and my only guess was that my girlfriend felt she needed to assert control or something like that. Or did she have some kind of grand plan that required full hips and D-cups or something like that? She wouldn’t say.

I hid my body at work, or sort of tried to but when I came home each Friday I’d put on a push-up bra, do my nails and play with makeup and try on clothes all weekend. It was fun at first but I became too lost in Olivia’s world and felt like a prisoner.

Ted could tell I was becoming melancholy. “Girl troubles,” I simply told him. His visits to my desk became more frequent, like a dedicate doctor worried about a favorite patient. He didn’t ask how I was doing and instead just talked about books or movies but I could tell he was checking in on me. I started hearing from him on weekends, too. Nothing big, just a short text asking what I thought about the newest episode of a show we were both watching or maybe asking for a recommendation for something to read. I could tell, though, he wanted to know I was doing alright.

Ted never asked about my weekend plans; he knew I was a hermit. But when Valentine’s Day weekend came around, he could tell I was particularly down. You don’t have to have friends to know love is in the air and everyone’s talking about their plans. One of the girls in the office thought she was going to be proposed to and wouldn’t shut up about it. Meantime, I was losing my male identity for a girlfriend who was giving me the silent treatment just to be assertive.

“It’s such a nice day!” Ted messaged on Saturday afternoon. Though snow was on the ground, it had warmed up but the pleasant temperature didn’t matter to me. I had done my nails and was practicing a new technique to fill in my eyebrows, wondering if it might be possible to buy groceries without people assuming I was a girl.

“I was thinking of taking a walk in that park near the office, want to get outside?”

It was Ted being sweet again. I’d long-since abandoned the idea he was just being nice to advance his career; he was actually a nice guy. Still, I replied, “Sorry. You know it’s a hassle wrapping up my top and putting on all those layers and hiding my hair. I’m just staying in today.” Putting it in writing hit me hard. Why was she doing this to me? I broke down and cried.

“It’s me, Jimmy. You know I don’t care. Come on, just jump in your car as you are. I’ll meet you in 15 minutes.”

The idea of getting out was awfully appealing. I trusted Ted and knew he’d protect me if I needed protection. As I paused, he messaged again, “On your way?” and I relented.

“Ugh!” I uttered, looking at myself in the rear-view mirror once I’d parked. My crappy attempt at filling out my brows, no makeup and face wrecked from crying, I just looked awful.

Hair down and wearing black jeans and a turtleneck, one bootie at a time stepped out once I saw Ted standing there by the only other car in the parking lot. I stood awkwardly for a moment as he walked toward me but once he smiled, I smiled back and started to feel relaxed.

“Must feel good to get out of hiding, huh?” he asked. Did he mean hiding inside or hiding what had become of my body? Baggy pants and layer after layer of clothes were not only bothersome to put on – the whole look-like-a-boy costume was terribly uncomfortable at work. The women’s jeans, on the other hand, stretched around my curves and my full breasts felt relaxed and almost natural for me beneath just a soft sweater and a bra.

I put a hand to my face. “Sorry I look awful,” I told him, “I really wasn’t planning on anyone seeing me today.”

He said I looked fine and said it in a sincere way, like he really didn’t care and maybe I didn’t look as terrible as I thought. Then Ted confessed he was worried and as we strode through the woods I agreed it was great to be out. I opened up about my body’s changes and how they confused me but that, yes, I was enjoying being a girl. But I had too many secrets and didn’t want anyone to know the truth of my sex life so I simply said that my girlfriend loved my body and left it at that.

It was dangerous, I thought, spending time with Ted. He was nice, too nice, and it was too easy for me to slip up and accidently drop a hint about what I’d really been up to. So, after a short time out, we parted and I demurred when he suggested we meet up the following weekend.

I felt my spirits lifted for weeks after that simple walk but, with time, the effect ebbed and I knew I needed to get out again. I wouldn’t - I couldn’t - lean on Ted, though. I was terribly worried about getting any closer to him and him finding out that instead of having a girlfriend who liked having sex with me looking feminine, I was actually someone who was losing touch with my manhood due to a love for giving head. The guys in the office might be fine ignoring a quiet guy in baggy clothes but I could only imagine how terrible work would be if the truth got out.

So, that’s how I found myself out alone in the same park in March. The decision occurred in phases. First, I said aloud, “I need to get out.” Second, I decided I’d wear my black jeans like last time. Third, I’d wear makeup and that’s when I realized that I wanted Olivia to get out, not Jimmy.

Jimmy, I’d come to realize, didn’t care about getting out. He didn’t care about much at all. In fact, odd as it seemed, I was beginning to dislike him. I didn’t really know who Olivia was or would become but there was something about her, something about how I felt when I was her – something that I liked.

My breaths were deep, matching my thoughts as I strolled in the crisp afternoon air. I wasn’t close to sorting out who I was. Confusing thoughts pinged me from every direction and that’s probably why I walked into him.

“Oh! Sorry!” the young man said.

I backed off, hands in the pocket of the faux fur jacket I had on. “Sorry! My fault!” I exclaimed.

He had a warmth about him as he tried to take the blame for our little collision. “I should have noticed you were deep in thought,” he said, making me smile. Roger, “Rodge” for short, asked if I was okay and seemed to enjoy my nervousness. It wasn’t like Olivia met a lot of people, after all.

His continued apology lacked sincerity but had plenty of charm. “Let me buy you a drink, it’s the least I can do,” he suggested.

That’s all it took. A guy, a good-looking guy at that, asking me, asking Olivia out. A man… My heart skipped and my mind went to one thing. I agreed before I thought it through.

Risks

There are countless risks for a 120-pound man going out in a skirt and heels. I could get pulled over by the police for some reason. I could have gotten in an accident. I could run into someone I know from work or my apartment building. Strangers might realize I’m in drag and make fun of me or worse.

Then there’s Rodge, my date. I knew I was taking risks going out with a guy who assumed Olivia was everything I let him think.

There was one risk that I didn’t see coming and that, it turned out, would be the one that mattered.

I had gotten a cute leather jacket trimmed in fur around the cuffs and collar. It was cheap and neither the leather nor the fur were real but I loved the short cut and thought it was fun and sexy. I bought it just after Christmas, hoping to wear it out with Shelly, assuming my winter might include a hook-up arranged by her.

I dressed in a tiny woolen miniskirt in a classy tweed pattern, pumps, and a stretchy turtleneck. Though we agreed to meet at a bar, my only thoughts were looking good for my date as I pictured myself kneeling on his floor and taking out his cock.

For that, I don’t know who or what to blame. Did my girlfriend-arranged trysts really warp my reality? Did my lack of dating experience excuse my ignorance about social norms? Most likely, I was just too horny to think about behaving like a reasonable person.

Rodge would meet Olivia, a girl in sheer hose and the world’s shortest skirt, eager to please him with her mouth.

“A man!” I said aloud when parked. Nothing else mattered – not the fear of being seen or found out or any of the real fears I should have had. Instead, wearing six-inch heels, I simply walked into a bar with one thing on my mind.

It was a fairly tame place, the kind of bar with a few big screen TVs showing guys riding motorcycles, pop music playing, people sitting with the backs toward the door, engaged in conversation with each other or the bartender, and a dozen or so tables, mostly occupied with a couple or two.

Rodge stood up from one of them and waved me over. He was alone at a table for two and wore a nice dress shirt and jeans. I felt attraction, instinctive attraction… for a man.

“Hey!” I said before kissing his cheek. I looked around to make sure I didn’t know anyone. Satisfied, I took off my jacket.

Oh… right… I caught my date staring. Oh god but that felt good! He was absolutely checking me out. I wanted to say, “They’re real, you like?” but just gazed at the floor. Let him look a little.

I was a minute into my first date and had zero regrets.

Rodge got our conversation going. It was all the usual stuff, work, family, that sort of thing. I had just about finished my glass of wine when he asked if I lived near the park where met. He lived in a high rise and that’s when I took my chance. “I’ll bet you’ve got a great view.”

It was that easy. Holding his arm, I walked the short hallway from his elevator to his condo thinking of how wonderful it would be to have a man again.

The small talk, a little giggling, some touching and the vamp walk I’d perfected in my apartment had all served their purpose. I didn’t especially like Rodge; didn’t dislike him either. He was sort of a Don but better looking and closer to my age. None of that mattered, however.

Once sitting together, I only had to look into his eyes and let things get quiet.

Mmm…

A kiss. A man’s kiss.

I let it start slow but soon moved to open mouth kissing and then teased a little with my tongue. I let out a few soft moans to help things along and soon Rodge was fondling me much like I’d fantasized a man might. He cooed my name a few times as he squeezed my soft tit and then rounded down to feel my waist and my ass. Though I didn’t want to, I thought of Shelly as I slid one hand up his jeans to find his cock, firm and eager for me.

“I want you,” I whispered, “I want you in my mouth.”

“Disco ball mauve” was the lipstick I wore that night. A kiss-proof shellac that promised to make my lips “shimmer and excite”. Getting ready in my bathroom, I felt the advertising was accurate. Rodge paused and I sat back bit and breathed, bringing my hand up and then taking a finger past my lips to lightly suck on it as it watched.

Yeah, let him look a little.

“Oh, Olivia,” was all he could say.

And down I went.

When he started to lift his butt to help with his pants, I suggested, “Why don’t you just stand for me?” I suppose he was still in shock that a girl he just met in a park that morning wanted to blow him but he eventually got the point and got up.

I hummed. On my knees in front of a man. Finally!

He pulled down his pants and there it was. Nearly hard, Rodge’s cock pointed at me suggestively. I hummed once more before extending my tongue to enjoy the wetness from the tip. Oooh… suddenly I was afire. I took hold of the shaft and took him inside of me fully, wrapping his organ with soft disco ball mauve lips that couldn’t be happier.

I bobbed my head as my date grew fully erect inside of me and soon lost all control.

Rodge would finally get my attention by stepping back. “Olivia… Olivia… slow down. You’re gonna finish me off before we get to bed!”

Bed? Who said anything about bed? I was pretty clear about the whole mouth thing, remember?

“That’s the idea,” I replied coyly, “This is how I want you.”

He offered his hand, “It’s great, really but you’ve got me going. Come on, let me show you my bedroom.”

“No, really, that’s nice but this is what I want.”

“It’s a great warmup but, come on. I don’t want this to be just for me.”

“That’s not it. Trust me, this really is what I want.”

He looked at me as if I must have been crazy. Seeming puzzled, he asked, “Are you, like, are you okay down there? You’re not sick or something, are you?”

Looking back, I probably should have just said I had a venereal disease but, then again, I think you can get some of those from a blowjob. Instead, I just repeated that I wanted him in my mouth but that boy wouldn’t take blowjob for an answer. My date keep going on with pleas that suggested he didn’t want to be selfish as he let me know that he really just wanted to fuck.

Panicked, I replied with the worst reason possible. No, I didn’t tell him I had chlamydia. “I’m not really a girl!” I blurted out.

The room got suddenly quiet. Uncomfortably quiet. “But…” he began.

Feeling committed, I told him, “Really. I’m sorry.”

And then my date took a surprising turn.

No, it took an absolutely shocking turn.

Rodge, it turned out, was completely fine with me being a boy. He must have read doubt in my eyes because he stepped across the room, still pant-less, and fetched a tablet. Fingering the screen as he spoke, he told me, “I’ve never had it, of course, but I follow a guy like you.” Showing me the screen, he asked, “Have you heard of Cheri Love?”

There was a professional-looking page for someone by the name Rodge spoke. I shook my head. “I don’t think anyone really thinks of her as a guy but you can sometimes tell. Otherwise, she’s got long hair a great body – just like you.”

She was stunning and part of me wanted to learn more. This was a guy? What became of him? Her journey would be a wild one but that’s another story. Rodge was getting hornier just looking at the page.

It didn’t occur to me where this was headed.

“Look, I’m cool with it. Between you and me, I’ve watched Cheri get banged a hundred times. And, well,” he slowed as if he might be a bit embarrassed, “I’m really into anal anyway.”

Breaking back into confidence as if everything would be alright, he seemed to summarize when he announced, “So, come on. I’d love to fuck and I’ll be gentle if that’s what you want.”

It was NOT what I wanted. I’d only had a couple of encounters with men and this guy had no idea what I was about. I wanted to explain how it was just about cum but then I started to like sucking cock. If there was any chance for me explaining and us connecting, Rodge killed them before they could bud by saying, “Really, Olivia, I don’t mind the foreplay but nobody’s really that into head. Guys like the real deal, you know, I want to be inside of you.”

I had sex with two men and had thought about those times over and over. I thought about the men or, rather, men in general. I pictured myself in different great outfits and even imagined different places like the beach or his office or even a dressing room.

But in every fantasy one thing was constant and that was an ending with my mouth full of warm cum. My ass? Oh, hell no.

Now trembling, I used the word “no” with a man for the first time. I didn’t like it. My host didn’t like it either.

Then, of all the reactions I might expect, Rodge surprised me with his. “Come on,” he said, “It’s alright. I know what you want. I’ll take good care of you.”

I snapped, “You obviously don’t know what I want!” and suddenly our date was over.

I guess it was over before that but Rodge started getting dressed. I took my trembling up to another level. “Fine,” he said curtly, “I’ll take you back to your car.”

I rode in the back of his SUV, trembling and ready to cry as my first-ever date drove in silence. I got out without saying “goodbye”, “goodnight,” or “thank you for not raping me.” I had left my jacket on his coatrack and would never get it back. A long bath and chamomile weren’t enough to calm my nerves and I couldn’t fall asleep until sometime after one in the morning.

I vowed to never try to find a man on my own again. Shelly had warned me that I still looked like a boy. I was preoccupied with thinking of the million ways my night out could have ended worse.

It was late summer before I calmed enough to enjoy my time at home. I got myself off for the first time after modelling lingerie all afternoon on Labor Day. I was back to staying inside, Olivia’s voluntary prison. I must have come dozens of times. When Shelly re-appeared, everything would be different.

For better and for worse.

Return

“You don’t have to get all dressed up, just let me see you in makeup,” Shelly wrote as another year was coming to a close.

Flustered, I told her, “I still have work hair!”

I tried to be patient with her. Ted had given me advice about being patient. “Some girls are worth it, I suppose,” he told me, “If she’s into what you’re into, then you should give a little, that’s important in making a relationship work.”

I had asked him why it didn’t work with his last but he would only say it was about sex and didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t press him; not like I was willing to share details.

Shelly would get her after-work picture, of course. She was due to come home just after Christmas and I couldn’t help but think the New Year’s Eve costume party would become an annual event for me.

“Ted says I look cute,” I noted as I sent the photo.

“Who’s Ted?”

“He’s the work buddy I told you about. Great guy. He’s the one who took me out that time some other guy was checking out my ass. Ha!”

“What’s Ted look like?”

“Tall, like 6-2, black hair, looks like he swims a lot… OMG, are you jealous, Shelly?!!! Ha!”

“How long have you worked together?”

“He came over two years ago, used to work at Abott.”

“It’s good that you have friends at work.”

Just another odd exchange with my girlfriend. I offered my promise that, of course, my free time was all hers but she didn’t need that. She knew she was in control.

Complete control. After that, “Every Friday,” she instructed, I was to send a photo in makeup and to “Wear something sexy.”

I was about to learn about the “worse” side of “for better or worse”.







“Book shopping,” I answered Ted when he messaged me that weekend. “I brought out a pillow and got cozy on the couch,” I added, then asked what he thought about a few titles I was considering.

I wouldn’t tell him about my weird conversation with Shelly. The fact that Ted still talked to me at work had become more and more important as my relationship with my girlfriend devolved into a controlling oddity that I treated like an inconvenient necessity so I could keep getting sex.

I had never made any real friends at work but at least I used to have lunch in the break room or have people say hello when we passed. Since Shelly, I ate at my desk and noticed that everyone else took the longer route to avoid even walking past my cube. Ted was the sole exception and, more importantly, he genuinely didn’t seem to care that I was dressing up on the weekends.

“Got your weekend look on?” he asked, making me smile.

I reached up with my phone and sent a picture that he replied to with a smiley face.

I couldn’t tell him how comforting his acceptance was.

Party Time

“Come by at seven,” were her final instructions. For months, I dressed up for pictures when she asked for them and when I finished every work week.

I didn’t mind the Friday pictures, they were a fine transition to my weekends alone as Olivia. The day after I told her I’d gone out, Shelly told me that letting workmates see me as Olivia was dangerous and told me to stop. When I told her that I trusted Ted she stepped it up and forbade me. “I’ve got plans for you when I get back and I don’t want you fucking things up because you have to get chummy with some jerk at the office,” she told me, adding, “NOT AGAIN,” in case that wasn’t clear. I whined a bit about her absence, but Shelly reminded me that she had a life outside of our fun and told me to stop acting selfish. It was hard to argue but none of that history mattered once we were back to making plans.

The day Shelly came back to town, I fought myself from messaging her every hour asking when I could see her.

She had made it clear that we would pick up where we left off and that should have been good enough for me. Still, the waiting was absolutely maddening.

It was a few days before New Year’s and I was sure we’d be going back to that party. The memory had faded and I could no longer conjure the sensation I had from sucking a man off and swallowing his cum. I badly needed a refresher.

When Shelly told me she was back and invited me over, I asked, “How do you want to see me? As Jimmy or Olivia?”

Her answer was quick and clear. “Olivia. Always Olivia now. If you think you’re going to pal around with jerks from work, I’m not going to let you have our special connection. You stay as Olivia and, damn it, you’d better act like you’re into whatever I set up for you and maybe, just maybe, you can get back to what you want from me.”

Minutes passed. I didn’t reply, didn’t know how to.

It was Shelly who would message next. “Anyway, sweetie, I really do love watching what you can do!”

Yes, my girlfriend had sex on the brain. I knew she wasn’t addicted as I had become but she sure seemed to enjoy it with me. The minutes clicked by so very slowly after I asked her when and where she wanted to meet.

She was back in the same apartment building, just a different apartment for what I would come to think of as the second phase in our relationship.

In the first, Shelly was the girl who took an interest in me and opened my mind to the joys of another man’s cum. It ended with her largely away from me as my body revealed an orgasmic pussy and I developed a deep lust for, not just cum, but the act of giving head.

Though I dressed in my women’s wardrobe often while at home, I’d only left my apartment a few times as Olivia in the previous year. The first was that scary experience in March when my urges got the best of me and I drove to a bar wearing a cute little skirt and a jacket that I’d miss. The other two times were to get my hair done, the second of which was just days before; as soon as Shelly told me when she’d be back.

My “normal” life had lost all sense of normality. For a while, I tried to blame it on the physical changes.

My hair was nearly waist-length though that wasn’t much of a problem; I could hide it up inside a baseball cap and had gotten good enough doing that so nobody but Ted at work even knew I was growing it out.

I found a way to smudge a little eye pencil around my eyebrows to make them look messy, not shaped. I thought it was unattractive but it worked fairly well.

My body shape was more challenging to conceal. Years on hormones had completely transformed me from a skinny guy to a shapely woman and only the baggiest of clothes over a couple of snug t-shirts could hide what had become of me.

The teasing from Enrique and Paul had gotten worse. “What the hell are you?” they would taunt if they saw me around the building or during what had become my sprint from car to front door. I did all I could to avoid them.

But it wasn’t just them. “It’s getting pretty hard,” Ted had answered when I asked if he still thought of me as Jimmy. He added, “It’s not just the way you look, there’s something, something else about… I don’t know, can’t put my finger on it.”

Ted’s words helped me understand what had happened to me. I had blown two guys (well, almost a third but I didn’t count him), a total of three blowjobs but they had opened the gates to a land of lust and passion that seemed to have been created just for me. I did my best to keep the memories of those trysts alive, reimagining every sensation as they stimulated my body night after night. Little wonder that those memories stayed with me during the day, running alongside everything I did like a partner in my life.

I wouldn’t admit it but I’d lost any identity as a man. Moreover, I’d lost identity as a junior financial analyst, as a son, as a neighbor… as anything but… a cocksucker.

Ted could tell. Maybe anyone who knew me could tell. I was desperate to go down and couldn’t stop thinking about it.

So when I arrived at Shelly’s and she asked me what I’d been thinking about, I just let it all out. “Men,” I confessed, “Giving head.”

There was no one else I could talk to about it. “Shelly, I’m so glad you’re back. I… I can’t wait for you to take me out again.”

“Someone needs his cum, doesn’t he?”

“It’s more than that, Shelly. I really like the whole thing, I mean…” I had so many feelings, such strong feelings and hadn’t been able to share them.

“You like sucking guys off?”

I needed to tell someone and she was clearly the one who needed to know.

“I love it, actually. I really love it.”

She put her hands on my neck and pulled me close. My girlfriend kissed my nose like an aunt would kiss a troubled niece. It was like she understood me, that I was okay, and she would take care of me. It occurred to me that Shelly probably thought I was telling her what she wanted to hear. Damn, but it was a complicated relationship.

“I love your hair,” she said softly, “It’s even better in person.”

“Yours is pretty, too,” I replied, “how long are you going to keep it black?”

She shrugged. Shelly didn’t usually seem to care much about her appearance and didn’t talk about it like other girls did.

“You up for a party?” she asked.

I lit up. “That New Year’s Eve party?”

“I’ve got another one in mind. Sort of a post-Christmas one tonight.”

“Tonight?” I was wearing a black miniskirt with a simple cream sweater. I looked down. “Is this okay?”

The cream-colored pumps wouldn’t have been my first choice for a party but it was way too snowy for the strappy heels I would have preferred.

“You’ll be fine,” my girlfriend said. She was always a woman of few words.

And just like that, we were off in her car.

Nearly a year had passed since I’d been with a man. “You know someone there, right?”

Shelly nodded as she drove. “You’ll have a great time,” she told me.

My needs were desperate, truly desperate, but if I’d known what she had in mind, I would have gotten in my own car and drove home instead.

I was the one who suggested I start dressing like a girl. I had willingly taken mouthfuls of cum. I had answered a man’s text and earned by girlfriend’s wrath by going to his home. I had tortured my body though drugs and exercise and made its natural form impossible to see. I had gone home with a man who wanted to bend me over and fuck me. Some of those decisions were awful mistakes but not one would come close to the one I would make that night.

Party Girl

It wasn’t a long ride so Shelly didn’t have much time to tell me about it. Not that that mattered. “Just some people I know,” was all she would say. When I asked about the guy and if it was someone I knew, she shut me up with, “Don’t even mention Don again, Jimmy.”

The mood in the car suddenly turned cool and I was thankful when she slowed to park. Shelly texted and I reached into my jacket pocket for my phone, half-expecting she was messaging me because she had something to say but also needed to give me the silent treatment. We both remained silent as we approached the door. Before opening it, she told me, “I’ll take you to him. He knows about you and he’s into having you do your thing but don’t expect much. It’s not easy, you know, to find a guy who…”

“I know,” I said finishing her thought. I wouldn’t tell Shelly about how many times I wished there was a way for me to safely find men who would want someone like me. I wished I could tell someone about my near-miss and how it terrified me. I was so lucky with Don and would have gone back to him if I wasn’t so afraid of my girlfriend’s reaction.

As parties go, it was pretty awful. I heard music when I went in and heard voices from the kitchen but that was about it. It was a nice enough house, typical middle-class family home that, I guessed, had just hosted a warm holiday gathering with out-of-town aunts and uncles.

We put our coats on the couch in the living room. “My fur’s going to be safe, right?” I said aloud. Shelly scoffed and then I followed her into the kitchen to get drinks.

I had been to exactly one other party dressed as a girl. Shelly didn’t seem to appreciate that in the least. “I take it we’re early?” I asked.

The kitchen was as empty as the living room when we entered. “Yeah, it’ll get going soon.” She smiled and looked around a little, then announced, “He must be upstairs, you ready, Jimmy?”

Jimmy. She added my name with intention and it felt wrong. “I feel more like Olivia now,” I told her.

She looked me over and smiled. “Of course you do but it’s fun to remind you of who you are,” she said. Then she turned to the stairs and asked, “Ready to go up there, Jimmy the cocksucker?”

It was the way she said it, not playful but almost mean, like an insult. Instead of realizing I was hearing anger, I just followed her eyes and thought about what awaited me. Then, using words that would sound like I was complying with her orders, that I was willing to go along with her set-up, I told her, “It’s been a year. You have no idea how much I need a man in my mouth.”

As if I could have made things worse, I had.

Up the stairs we went. Shelly looked back to say, “You look great in that slutty skirt, by the way.” That should have been one more suspicious thing but I just thanked her instead of realizing I’d managed to piss her off again.

She shushed me at the first doorway, cracked it open and said, “Oh, sorry,” into the room then led me down the hall as she explained she must have had the wrong one. Repeating a second time, I heard her say, “You ready?” as I fidgeted and shifted my weight from one platform heel to the other. Her last words were, “Do this for me, give them a good performance.”

As the door swung open I made out a faint outline of a man in a Santa suit.

While the hallway was bright, the lights were off in the bedroom, a window providing just enough moonlight to make out a silhouette.

“Turn for him, Olivia,” Shelly said, “Let him see what’s he’s getting.”

I faced away from the open door, then back and tried, but couldn’t see the person (or people?) in the room.

Boasting, my girlfriend said, “As good as I told you, right?”

She paused and I guessed she was waiting for an objection that didn’t come. She told me to go to him.

So dark… “Just walk slowly,” Shelly suggested in a hushed voice.

“I’ve got Olivia here for you,” she announced. There was no return, the room was quiet but for our steps on the carpet.

My girlfriend whispered, “He’s not going to say anything but he’s all yours.”

We were close enough to see the red velvet just before me. And… sunglasses? Fine, my man was bashful. I didn’t care.

“Should I sit on your lap?”

Quickly, Shelly answered, “He’s not going to answer you. No kissing. Just get down and have your fun.”

My fun… a girl likes a little foreplay, I thought. But, then again, after waiting a whole year, I wasn’t going to be choosy.

And so, down I went.

“Olivia loves going out in tight skirts,” Shelly said as I got comfortable. “Tell him what you wore last time you went out.”

I almost started with, “Jeans and a red v-neck sweater,” since that’s what I had on to get my hair done but Shelly didn’t know about that I worried she might get upset. Instead I gave her exactly what she wanted. “A purple animal print catsuit,” adding “with heels and cute little ears.” I slowed my words, letting myself get in the mood as I worked the cock free, “It was verrrrry verrrrry tight.”

“You like showing off that ass of yours, don’t you?”

I had only experienced a little dirty talk and I liked it. It seemed Shelly was helping my shy man play with me so I went along, answering to him as if my girlfriend was channeling Santa’s kinky words. “I love the way guys look at me. I went out to brunch with a friend and he got video of some guy turning his head and following my ass all the way out of the room.”

The dark room was quiet as I fully extracted the cock before me and was able to hold it. “Mmm,” I hummed, “Nice.”

“You missed this, didn’t you?”

“Sooooooo much,” I purred in reply, looking up at the sunglasses that glinted in the moonlight.

He was coming to life. I little jerking and steady growth as his cock stiffened with my caress. I kissed it softly and hummed again.

“Olivia, tell him how much you like it.”

“Like it? I looooooove it. Sooooooo much. I’m going to make love to you so good you’ll never forget me. There’s nobody who loves sucking cock like I do.”

“Tell him about your others.”

“Mmm,” I hummed, thinking about both my history and my present. I licked the shaft. It was nearly hard. “Two other guys have had me,” I said softly, now talking directly to the cock, the object of my love, “They sort of broke me in maybe… It was after the second guy that I realized how much I love this.”

He may not have been an active participant but Mystery Man liked the dirty talk because he was hard enough to take into my mouth.

Finally, a reaction. A manly hum soothed my ego. Yes, he likes me. He likes what I’m doing for him.

“God, I missed this so much!” I confessed as if the organ I’d just taken deep inside could listen or needed to really understand how much I desired it.

Shelly would remain quiet for the next ten or so minutes of my sucking, licking, and kissing until, in the ultimate spirit of giving, the groaning man in the Santa suit filled my mouth with his cum.

I thought about going south with my hand but I had no idea what Shelly had in mind and I didn’t want to hang around a party with soaking panties. The room had gotten quiet again and Shelly guessed, “Did he come for you, Olivia?”

“Uh-huh,” I answered in my post-blowjob bliss.

Then it started to get a little more strange. “Olivia, you wait here for a minute,” Shelly told me.

Santa stood, patted me on the head, and moved to the door without a word. I watched Shelly follow him outside.

I was too happy, too horny, and satisfied at the same time. I didn’t really care what might be going on. I sort of laughed it all off as I heard Ted saying, “Your girlfriend’s kinky.”

So when Shelly returned and said she had good news, I was elated. Mystery Man had told another guy about me and I’d be getting a second treat! Two guys in a row.

Giddy, I told her, “It’s impossible to explain but when I blow a guy, it’s soooo satisfying but it also makes me horny and, oh my god, Shelly, really, I’d love to go down for another!”

“The next guy wants something a little different,” she told me in the dark, “he’s going to come on your face if that’s alright.”

“I’ve never had that,” I said, telling her something she, of course, knew.

In her sultry voice, Shelly replied, “Oh, I think you’ll like it.”

“I’ll take my sweater off so I can still go back to the party.”

“Good idea, why not take that skirt off, too.”

Two men entered with Shelly and one remained by the door. “Did my last lover come back to watch?” I asked as I waited, kneeling in the dark bedroom.

Shelly asked if I cared and, of course, I didn’t.

Minutes later, in my lacy panties and a bra, I began making love with my mouth to a second man in a Santa suit.

This one was a bit more rough and was clearly making a mess of my hair.

I laughed a little and asked him, “You really like my hair, don’t you?” though I knew he wouldn’t reply.

The groans grew in intensity and I could feel my own passion level hitting new heights. Two in a row… it was so hot!

“You need it, Baby, do you need it?”

Shelly was back in her role as voice-over for the man who was enjoying my mouth.

“So bad, this is incredible!”

I went back to lavishing the cock with the kind of attention that only lust and love can deliver. As he got closer, I looked up to see the sunglasses were gone. I was elated to think he was losing control because I watched him take off the hat.

“Mmm, I teased, then licked his throbbing shaft once more, “You like me, don’t you?”

The lights came up just a bit. I looked over and could make out a man’s figure by the door. He was apparently working a dimmer.

So good, so hot. I was delivering long sucks and soon I’d have my reward.

I starting thinking about what he wanted and the idea made me steamy. “Are you gonna come all over my face?”

He grunted but Shelly answered, “Tell him if that’s what you want.”

“No guy’s done that to me yet. It sounds hot.” I took another long suck, then, “Will you come on me?”

Off went the beard and I shivered. Seeing a man lose control had become a stroke for my ego and made me want to please him all the more. Then his white gloves and the coat. He then began to stand so I moved back. “Is this so you can come on my face?” I asked. It was, after all, my first time.

“Mmm-hmm,” he hummed in reply.

“Tell him how much you want it.”

“God, yes! I want it! Please, come on me!”

“Beg for it.”

The lights went up big more. He was getting close. I’d never wanted anything so badly.

I whined, “Oh god yes! Come all over me, please! I need it!”

He hummed and pulled on my hair.

“Mmm, nice,” he said as I sucked.

I was getting him, I was getting to him. That man would never forget me.

He pulled my hair to get me off and I knew it was about to happen. I looked up to ask for it one last time.

But instead of asking for anything… “Enrique?” I said as I recognized my neighbor.

Yes! Angry.

“You want it, Baby?” said the familiar voice.

I’ve thought about that moment so many times in the last six months.

I’ve pictured myself and re-hashed the situation and my alternatives. I’ve tried and tried to make sense of what happened next but there is always only one conclusion.

I was horny, far too turned on to be responsible and nearly light-headed with desire.

Maybe I should have dashed out. I had my mad money in the fur’s pocket. I also had my phone. I could have gotten home. Of course, I don’t know what I could have ever said to Paul (who I would soon thereafter find by the doorway, raising the lights), Enrique or anyone else. In retrospect, I thought that I could have moved away. It wasn’t like I loved that apartment.

Then there was Shelly and no matter how I thought about it, bolting would have created a real problem with her. My sex life would have ended. And god only knows what else that vindictive woman would have done to me.

Of course none of that mattered because I didn’t run.

“So bad!” was my whiny reply. It was my sincere, desperate, cocksucker reply.

The lights came up the rest of the way. I recognized the switch’s operator.

“Say please,” Enrique told me. He had such a firm grip on my hair and he was so strong.

“Please!” I whined, adding, “Come on my face!”

Paul chimed in, “Put your hands behind your back,” so I did.

Enrique then began shooting my face with hot cum.

It was my first time and the moment it began, I knew I’d want it again.

My second phase of the Shelly relationship had started out exactly as she had planned. She had set everything up that night.

Turns out that Shelly had returned to town the week before and went over to find Paul and Enrique one evening after work. That woman had walked right past my door, confidently knowing that I’d be trapped inside wearing lingerie and grateful I could hide from the world that night like every other.

She had little trouble, they told me, selling my neighbors on the idea of getting head. Paul had the idea of using his uncle’s house since he knew the family was away for the evening. They had gambled that I’d be past the point of no return so that Enrique could enjoy the moment as I’d beg to have him cum on my face, knowing it was my tormentor I’d been caressing and loving.

Shelly would be delighted to see that she had guessed right, that I’d go through with it even though I knew who was having me.

What she didn’t know, what none of us guessed, was that, that night, a new persona took over me – a persona with an excessive sex drive and a sad lack of self-esteem.

I laid my head back in the bright room and took a deep breath.

I felt it, truly experienced it and let the sensation take me over.

I was a slut, a whore, a sexy cocksucker.

And I loved it.

The trio watched as I slid a finger across my face to gather up Enrique’s cum and deliver it to my mouth. They seemed happy watching me and I giggled as I performed and took in the cream that had unwittingly started me down a path I didn’t know existed.

“Your friend told us you like cum,” Paul said as he watched me indulge.

He just leaned up against the doorway. I smiled at the man who had so perfectly met my needs.

“I loved yours,” I told him. Then as if I’d committed some sort of slut faux pas, I turned to Enrique and said the same to him.

I was so far gone.

And it was only the beginning.

“We’re heading home,” Paul announced, “Finish up.”

For some reason, that made me giggle again, then I went back to my finger-scraping and cum-eating.

As the boys dressed, Shelly asked, “Hey, you wanna give him a ride home?”

Paul shrugged and said, “Sure.”

I had made things worse for myself when I told Shelly how much making love with my mouth meant to me. She had shared that with my neighbors who then knew it wasn’t just about my love for cum, but that I wanted to please men and needed to do so.

Then I made things worse by not picking up on Shelly’s anger and walked willingly into her trap. My final chance to change my destiny was when Enrique revealed himself but I wanted it too much to stop.

After all that, after everything I’d done to ruin my self-esteem and let myself become a slut, it seemed I still had one more self-inflicted wound to make.

“So, maybe you’re not done with me?” I said to Enrique as he fastened his pants.

He just chuckled. “C’mon, man, let’s talk about this,” Enrique said as he left with his roommate.

Shelly just shook her head. “I think you’d better get cleaned up,” she suggested.

We found a bathroom and I blotted my face. “That lipstick’s impressive,” Shelly noted. Hers smeared all over Don when I watched them.

“Shelly,” I began, “look, I’m not mad or anything,” (actually, I was) “but why? You know who those guys are, right?”

“Of course I do. Jesus, you freaked out about them enough.”

“So, why? I mean, they really don’t like me.”

She stroked my hair. “Because, Jimmy, you needed to learn a lesson.”

“But I thought we were over that?”

“What the hell were you doing, going on a date with that guy from work?”

“Ted?” I snickered. “Shelly, he’s just a friend! And you told me it was a bad idea so I haven’t done anything with him!”

“See that friend again and you’ll find out how angry I can get.”

“Olivia, let’s go!” I heard from below.

Shelly followed my smiling face down the stairs and called over my shoulder to say, “Thanks for saving me the trip.”

“No big deal,” Enrique answered, “happy to help you out and my boy here wants another go.”

As I got my coat, I saw her go to Enrique and ask, “Not you?”

He stood close to her and answered, “Not really my thing. You know, you sounded like you really needed to get back at him so I wanted to help but…” he paused like a master and finished with, “I like strong women.”

“Hmm,” was her only reply.

She walked me out so she could take my arm and whisper, “Remember, Jimmy, I know you. Don’t make cross me again,” were my girlfriend’s last words.

I didn’t have any time to think about what she said. The guys were getting in their car. “Just a sec!” I called out.

Cementing My Role!

“That girl,” Enrique began once we were in his car, “she, like, fixes you up with guys?”

“Yeah, we both seem to like it,” I answered.

Paul just observed, “Kinky.”

“Two others before tonight, huh?” Enrique recalled. “They get tired of you or something?”

I smiled. “No, it’s a little complicated with Shelly. She got jealous or something.”

Paul noted, “She told us we could have more; said she’d let us know.”

I was quiet in the back seat. “More” rang in my head.

I couldn’t explain why and I never bothered to try to understand, but the notion that I’d become a slut took me completely. I just let it in. I relished in it, the instant it occurred to me, I loved it.

I tried a suggestive tone and asked, “So you’re not done with me tonight?”

The guys turned toward each other. Enrique shrugged, “What do you think, man?”

Paul glanced back to find me with willing eyes. He answered his roommate. “That chick gives great head, am I right?”

A bit soulful, I asked, “Not you?” to Enrique.

He turned back to me. “Damn, you’re hot. No, I’ll give you another go. Don’t you worry.”

Puzzled, I asked, “But you told Shelly…”

He laughed and then, as if it was an inside joke, Paul joined him. Enrique told me, “Just for show, cum-face.” He looked over to Paul and shook his head to say, “Mmm-mmm-mmm. How I’d love to blast that chick with my load.”

As if I had competition, I chimed in, “I don’t think she’d be into that.”

Paul quickly answered, “You haven’t seen the master in action! This guy,” he grabbed Enrique’s shoulder, has gotten soooo many girls to do that!”

“It’s a method,” Enrique said, “ya gotta be patient.”

I just shook my head. “I can’t imagine Shelly letting a guy do that to her.” One way or another, Enrique’s idea was bound to blow up.

I added with a soft voice, “But, you know, I liked it.”

The boys turned toward each other and shrugged consent.

So, they would have me again. I freshened up my makeup and pushed their door open once I was ready.

The door, they told me, would be left ajar so that nobody would hear me knock. I was told not to go in if anyone else on the hall might see me.

“Start in my room,” Paul said, “And get topless.”

I walked past, hearing the guys chuckle and Enrique saying, “She’s got great tits. Good call, man.”

They stayed out in the living room for a few minutes after I took off my sweater and bra. I lay on Paul’s bed, unable to make out what they were saying.

Gone were all the memories of how those two had teased and berated me in the past. All I thought of was getting a cock back in my mouth.

When Paul joined me, I rolled onto my side, still in the miniskirt and heels. “Is this how you want me?” I asked, eager to hear his approval.

He started to undress as he spoke. “So, look, we’re both gonna do this but you have to promise you won’t tell anyone, deal?”

“I won’t.”

He was taking his pants off and asked, “You kiss, right?”

“I love kissing.”

Then his socks. “Good,” he said, “because we decided that would be okay, too but you gotta always act like Olivia all the time. We’re not gay, you know.”

“I love being Olivia.” That was easy to agree to.

He climbed onto the bed. I was tentative and didn’t touch him. I was anxious as he seemed to be looking me over as if he wanted to be sure before he started anything.

“Damn, you’re sexy,” he said before kissing me.

And just like that, I rolled onto my back and held that man as we made out. Paul was the second man who kissed me knowing that Olivia was just a name I’d adopted for nights I went out in heels. It was freeing, somehow, and his kisses felt more erotic.

“You can touch me,” I breathed, offering my breasts to the guy who used to purposefully park so close to my driver’s door that I had to get in the other side to go to work.

“Gonna pass on your fake tits,” he said simply, “gotta draw the line somewhere.”

“But…” I started to argue. Pass? My breasts had developed into soft, natural, perky plumps that I knew would love a man’s attention.

Instead, I kicked off the pumps as he rolled me on top of him. Feeling my ass, Paul asked, “If you take off this skirt, I’m not gonna feel your dick, am I?”

“Nope,” I assured him, “it’s taped down and you can’t even see it as long as I keep my panties on.”

I understood his gesturing and slid off, unzipped the miniskirt and paused for a moment in nothing but panties. “See?” I said proudly as I turned side to side.

“Damn,” was all he had for a reply. I pulled me back on top and we intertwined our legs as Paul felt up my entire body.

Always Oliva!

He was pulsing into my leg and I reached down to touch him and hummed.

“Yeah, get down there,” Paul suggested.

I slid between his legs. Paul propped up his pillow and got comfortable. “I love watching you work, Baby.”

He’d gotten wet so I opened up and took him inside pausing to suck a little on the tip to enjoy what had been seeping out.

“Just stay like that for a sec,” Paul asked. I held him in one hand and sucked. “So sexy,” he concluded.

As I began to make love to him, Paul was thinking about our future. “You gotta be Olivia whenever we see you now, got it?” he asked.

“Of course.” I’d agree to anything. Sluts aren’t difficult.

I let my tongue glide all the way down and paused. I’d always been kneeling when men had me and it was the first time I could easily get to a man’s balls so I kissed his sack and gently played with it. “You like it?” I asked.

“Nice, Baby, nice.”

I kept one hand on his sack as I took him back into my mouth for long sucks.

“Yeah, you’ll do nicely,” Paul said as I enjoyed my first-ever bed sex.

As if Shelly had given him the idea, Paul began dirty talk as I sucked on his cock. “Yeah, you’re not a nice girl are you?” he asked rhetorically, “What kind of girl are you?”

“I’m a slut.” It felt good. No, it felt warming and erotic to say it.

It felt good to Paul, I guessed, because he hummed with satisfaction. “That’s right, Baby, you’re a slut. You’re my slut.”

I whimpered my submission as I loved on his cock.

Seemingly hung up on my appearance, after a few minutes, Paul told me, “You gotta be Olivia all the time, we don’t want to see who you used to be, got it?”

Blowing that man, blowing any man, was so incredibly wonderful. I was humming and whining along as I licked and kissed. I jerked a bit, then sucked, then teased. I was in love – in love with the new me and what the new me did for men.

So, sure, I just agreed like I agreed to anything that night.

“Come up here,” he called, “I want to feel those lips again.”

I giggled and told him, “You’ve been feeling my lips,” but slid up knowing he wanted to kiss me.

I couldn’t take my hand off and kept stroking his cock as we kissed. Paul’s tongue was wild and he groped my tits as we made out on his bed. He came around and noted, “Hey, your tits don’t feel hard at all!”

His breathing picked up and he pushed me to the side. “That’s it!” he cried out and I knew he wanted my hand to finish him.

His cum blasted out, the first shot hitting his chest before the main load pumped onto his stomach. My body slid down before I told it to move and I was back between his legs, taking his cum into my mouth from my hand.

For good measure, I looked up as cum dripped all over and told him, “I’m your slut.”