Sucker 3 So I didn't think there was any reason to follow her in. To plead with her. Saying what? I just sat there, shocked. My own wife wants me to be a cock sucker. But she's right, her own husband wants her to become a cock sucker! Fair's fair. Isn't it? Disconsolate, unthinking, I sat there. So somehow she's turned on by mouth-to-appendage, I was thinking. She'd mentioned fingers and toes. Other men's cocks too, apparently. But watching, not doing, or being expected to do it. Feeling in control of what's happening while she watches? That's OK. I guess she's something of a voyeur after all. Like me. Apparently she'd resented it whenever I'd asked her to do something she'd never done. But watching someone else do it? I picked up the remote and pressed "play." Then I half-watched the screen. Was this my future? The first of the "Special Project" episodes showed Stacy sitting on Chuck's face while leaning forward to lick and suck at his cock. There are worse fates than that, I decided, and I began to watch more closely. The next demonstrated Stacy's swallowing techniques, different shots photographed at different times one after another, with what must have been forty different loads of cum spurting into her mouth all told, and swallowed down. The most efficient method seemed to be a kind of closed mouth gulping, teeth apart, prick held loosely in the lips like a cigarette. I tried to swallow that way. Another episode established that however a cock sucker may feel about her man of the evening she should never break eye contact with him, not by looking down, not by looking away, not by closing her eyes. "Keep watching his face," the weather lady advised as Stacy's enormous dark eyes stared in solemn innocence at me again in the shot from the man's angle of vision, the one with her face centered just above Chuck's crotch. "He'll think you're hoping for his approval. But you'll know its just one more way you're playing tunes on his flute to make him dance." The angle changed to Stacy's, and I watched the man writhe in exquisite pleasure, or anguish, who could tell which, from whatever I was supposedly doing to him. Whatever Stacy was doing to him. The tape ended in a suck-fest, bodies heaped on other bodies indiscriminately, each mouth fitted to a crotch of one or another gender. Close up I could see that some pairs were guys with other guys -- it didn't seem to matter. One of them looked like a girl until you looked closely -- she was just like any of the attractive girls you see in porn films, pretty and heavily made up, with puffy lips, large full breasts, and pointy nipples. Except that she also had balls and a cock. Equality of the sexes was this film's message, I decided. All mouths are created equal, regardless of race, creed, color, gender, or political affiliation. Suck and suck alike. As ye give, so shall ye receive! From each according to his ability, to each according to his need! Orgy politics! Last of all was an image of two men sixty-nining each other devotedly, forming a perfect love knot I thought. Lying stretched out at their ease with eyes closed, heads bobbing, and mouths working, one atop the another, man on man, hugging. My mind by now was cluttered with all sorts of wise sayings. If you suck and don't succeed, suck, suck again. A cum saved is a cum earned. It's an ill cock sucker that blows nobody good. One good fuck deserves another. Good night, good suck, and God bless! I was too groggy to think straight. It didn't seem to matter. A few minutes later I crawled stealthily into my own bed for the first time in three weeks. Debbie didn't stir. But in the morning when I opened my eyes she was leaning on one elbow and looking down at me with her inexpressive look. When she saw I was awake, she didn't move nor change her expression. I looked up into her eyes, also not moving. Then she wordlessly extended her thumb toward me, toward my mouth, its tip not quite touching. An inquiry, I realized even though I was still half-dozing. Wordlessly I leaned forward, kissed it, then licked it, then opened my mouth and closed my lips around it. Then slid my mouth up and down on it a few times, my eyes never leaving hers, cock sucking her thumb by the tried and true Stacy system. She smiled and with her other hand she stroked my cheek. I suppose she wanted to be sure, so when I happened to be only kissing the tip of her red fingernail, she pulled it away, then placed both hands on the top of my head and gently pressed down. I slid down in the bed as she directed, until my face had arrived almost between her legs. At last? She spread those legs wide apart to accommodate my body, and I found myself lying between them just like Stacy with her second man, staring at her mound with its downy hair the way Stacy had stared at that man's huge dong. She wanted me to do her cunt! But no. Her hand covered her mound, and there was that thumb again sticking straight up out of it like a short, erect cock, exactly where a penis would have been if she were a man. I looked up and saw her looking down at me, her expression still benign, but expectant. So I kissed that thumb again, and took the red tip into my mouth. Then all of it. I then began to suck doubly hard on that pelvic thumb, my eyes never leaving hers. She knew now, and knew that I knew. I closed my eyes and concentrated on that phallic thumb as if it were my life, my soul's sustenance, lipping the tip, bobbing my head up and down while sucking it up to the first joint, licking the length of its underside, kissing its base passionately, avid to bring it off! I wanted that thumb to climax and cum with all my heart! I was starved! Desperate! I saw each time my head rose that the third finger of that same thumbed hand, her left hand, the finger with her gold wedding band, had slid into her slit and begun a gentle massage. My head bobbed rhythmically up and down over her as I finger-sucked her while she finger-fucked herself! Her thigh muscles tensed. Then her whole body! Then she gave a great sigh and relaxed. I'd brought her off! Nothing more needed to be said. There were no more rounds to fight. I'd agreed. She'd won. And she then welcomed me with open thighs! Our lovemaking for the next few hours was mind-shattering! The best of our married lives together, by far! She kissed and clasped and writhed and twisted on, around, atop, and all over me, and I lunged and plunged myself into and all over her! All without a single word spoken! There was no need. Except when at last I was about to dip my face into her delicate pink, shining, moist slit, its dainty lips curling along its length and the pink bud of her clit peering out shyly from its hood, awaiting liberation by my tongue. We were in a perfect position for sixty-nining, my crotch in front of her face just as hers was in front of mine. I squared my hips at that moment to thrust myself forward, knowing that my penis was only inches from her mouth, offering it to her in return for my face buried in her. But she murmered, "Not yet, love. Not yet. Soon! But do me! Lick me! Yessss!" I did. It was early afternoon by the time we finally came together in the kitchen for a kind of brunch, showered and dressed casually, at ease, feeling quite civilized. I suppose strange things happen to couples when they're separated -- what we each desire becomes fixed in our imaginations, and if we don't get them, petty discontents emerge to haunt us. Then with a few lurches the relationship re-establishes itself, as solid as ever, if it was solid to begin with. But different. I'd been three weeks away from Debbie, and my old desire for oral sex with her and her reluctance become the dominant fact of our relationship last night. Now we were different. She'd proposed a way to bridge the gap, and I'd accepted it. Already I'd enjoyed a bonus, hours of wonderful oral access to her body anywhere I chose. Her ten fingers and toes and her marvelous breasts had been sucked as lovingly, as fondly, as her clit. Now I was going to suck some guy's cock, and then she was going to suck mine whenever I asked her to do it for the rest of our lives together. We'd each give something and get something we'd each wanted. Otherwise nothing had changed. We still loved each other. It was a warm, sunny day. What had seemed unthinkable last night was simply no big deal. I got down to the kitchen first, and greeted Debbie with an elaborate brunch. She was wearing white shorts and a slightly-tight white T-shirt, her hair held back with a red scrunchie the color of her lipstick and nails, looking just adorable. Looking radiant! We kissed each other as passionately as on the first morning of our honeymoon, and we almost went back to our bedroom. But no, enough for now. We had things to talk about. She looked at the spread I'd prepared -- eggs benedict, blueberry pancakes, bacon and sausage, toast and fresh muffins, espresso coffee. Her face lit up. "That's gorgeous, sweetheart. I hereby claim this feast as a token of your love for me! Now let's eat no more of it than we must to keep from starving. We'll stow the rest." "Isn't today special?" I was disappointed. I'd been creating that breakfast for over an hour, and had even gone to a nearby bakery to get the muffins. "It is to me, certainly. But this needs to be a feast for the eyes, not the stomach. We need to lower your weight a little, improve your figure, so you'll feel more attractive. So do I." "You couldn't be any more attractive to me than you are right now," I told her. "And I'm pretty trim. Last night probably took off any extra weight I added during the past few weeks." She dimpled, then put her forefinger under her chin and bobbed her head, obviously delighted. "That's so very sweet of you to say that, darling! You are an angel, and I do love you! And you do look lovely, yes! You certainly feel lovely!. But I think ten pounds less to love would mean more that we can enjoy loving! With just a little care we can each lose that much in a week! Twenty in the month we'll need to field test before the big event!" "All right," I said, a little puzzled. "That can't hurt. But why?" "We need thin waistlines," she replied. "We're starting out fresh now, in a way. You're a new you, so you need to look new. More huggable. You can't imagine how happy I am, knowing that you're willing to please a man for my sake! Even if only on a whim, in order to satisfy me!" She smiled, and her radiance lit up her whole face. My whole body glowed in the warmth! I melted! "There's no hurry. But I know just the man! I think you'll like him too. And no complications!" "Complications? You mean, I won't feel tempted to run off with him afterward? Who, Debbie?" "Bruce!" "The office manager who recommended that video to you to begin with? The gay guy? "That's who, honey. You'll love him! Well, you will, sweetheart, that's true, at least you'll make love to him! He's so hot! I described him to you last night, you remember? A professional dancer, once? Thin, not as thin as you even now, but a real hunk! His every move marvelous to watch! And those penetrating eyes, gentle yet intense! You'll adore him, we all do! He'll be ideal for this! I'll talk to him on Monday. He's very particular about his partners, but I think maybe he'll let you do him as a favor to me. The other girls would be insane with jealousy! What a pity I can't call them and tell them!" I was uneasy about this. "Give a blow job to a known faggot? Debbie, what would that make me if it got out? Think of my reputation! Think of yours, married to me!" "That's what I am thinking about, baby. Who's more likely to talk, some straight guy boasting to his buddies about the freebie he got from that queer he always thought was straight, or Bruce, who gets all the sex he wants whenever he wants it, from other men if he wants them, so one more isn't notable? Who's had to be discreet about his sexual preferences all his life? Who knows more about this kind of sex? He'd be doing us the favor!" She had a point. "As for what blowing Bruce makes you, what does blowing anyone make you? The same thing. A gay man's penis isn't different from any other man's. Either way, whether or not it becomes known, sweetheart, you'll have taken a man's penis into your mouth. And tasted a man's cum. You'll be a man who has sucked cock. A cock sucker. No different from any other cock sucker, the same as Stacy in that regard. And that's what you'll always be from then on, the same as any girl would be who's ever gone down on a guy. You'll know it, and I'll know it! And I'll always know it, that my husband sucked on a cock until it spurted sperm into him. I'll remember every time I look at you! I'll also always know that I'm married to a man who'll do anything to please his wife! Who puts her desires above even his own! A real love!" And she kissed me. I felt a little reassured. "I guess Bruce makes sense," I said judiciously. "He's had plenty of experience with this kind of thing, I suppose. Even with amateurs like me, I suppose." "Don't worry about whether you'll do yourself proud, baby. You'll be fine! We'll work on it. You'll be ready when we decide to do it. I think he'll be willing." The rest of the weekend was idyllic. Debbie was like a schoolgirl with a new fella, humming and prancing around the house. Each time she got a glimpse of me roaming about doing odd household repairs, or watering the house plants, or sitting at the computer entering figures in my sales log, she'd beam, obviously overjoyed just to be in my vicinity!. And I'd glow! And I tumbled in and out of bed with her, on and off, the whole weekend! And in bed her body was heavenly! We were dieting, thinning down, so it didn't occur to us to celebrate our new relationship by going out to eat. All I remember about food during that weekend, and for the days that followed, was diet cottage cheese and unsweetened lemonade. And some diet pills of different kinds Debbie got from the drugstore to curb our appetites -- one of them made me feel so much better about myself that I almost didn't care much how hungry I was. Also the high moment of our dinner meal, a milkshake with very few calories that I found completely filling. She spooned the powder out of an unmarked jar into a blender, and told me that the recommended dose was one serving a day only, but that she'd already doubled the concentration to be sure I'd be well-nourished. "Drink only one of these each day, honey," she warned me. "It's pretty rich. As it is you'll probably experience some pretty fierce mood swings, like sugar highs, maybe even acne problems, a few zits like when you were a teenager with your hormones raging. But it'll mellow you out, body and mind. It'll help you redistribute your weight. It's just the thing for that!" I have to confess, now and then when I felt starved I did sneak in an extra milk shake. Each day, in fact! They made me feel dizzy at first, even a little nauseous. Not terribly sweet, but incredibly rich, I guess! Strong stuff. But the pounds started to melt off me and I felt just great! By Monday morning I was thinner. "Not yet willowy," Debbie said, pleased at how loose my pants were. "But getting there! Thus far it's mostly loss of water. Like when I'm finishing my period -- I can lose four pounds overnight! But we'll keep it up." I was in much better shape, too. She wanted me to burn off my incoming calories and tone up my body too while we were at it. No harm in that, so for exercise I joined her doing her aerobics tapes, then her jazzercize tapes, then a tape teaching slow moves like Tai Chi, all of them graceful, elegant, and delicate, feminine even down to the ways we draped our fingers. We did all three each morning on arising, and they were strenuous. We'd finish dripping wet, but I felt much more limber and lithe almost immediately! All of the movements were intended for women, I realized, with lots of the hip-thrusting and pelvic twisting that looks so wonderfully seductive when done by a curvy woman. And some swooping moves were exquisitely refined, and took lots of practice to get coordinated. All three had lots of limp-wristed, elbows-to-the-ribs moves that look so helpless when a girl does them. They're not as easy as you'd think, try them some time! All kinds of unaccustomed muscles come into play! I couldn't keep up at first, until Debbie told me to quit thinking and clunking like a man, to just think of myself as fluid and graceful, to imitate the women on the tapes and go with the flow. "Be fey, sweetheart! You were worried about seeming to be a faggot? Be one! There's only me here! Be a really pouffe fairy!" I tried, and it worked. By the next session I'd learned how to flow intead of just step, how to loosen my arms to form captivating curves in the air when I danced, and how to tuck back my shoulder and toss my head in that fetching way girls have. Debbie was turned on by a lot of what I did. I seemed so much less boorish or brusque, so much more sensitive, she said, even in some ways endearingly coy. The choreographies seemed to reveal a side of me I hadn't wanted to let out before, one she found very attractive. True, all this was new, and I was feeling a little tentative about it all. Beginning to feel uncertain about other things too, in fact. Those mood swings from the milk shakes had kicked in, I supposed. She thought I looked so sweet when she saw me taking dainty short steps instead of bold strides that she asked me to move that way all day, wherever I went. And the next day. And afterward. So I did. At first it felt a little femmy, but I got used to it. And if that was how I chose to move, that was that, whatever anyone else thought. None of their business! Debbie loved it! And I loved her! We went to the movies together that Sunday night. By then I'd learned another trick the tape told me would tighten my stomach muscles, to walk by crossing one leg in front of the other with each step, pointing my toes straight ahead. It put a seductive wiggle into my hips, I noticed, but I got it down pretty well. I worried that I looked too much like Stacy when she'd waved at the camera with her ass, but Debbie told me it was subtle and expressive and good for my abs, a dancer's move, not to worry. So I didn't. Not even when after the movie, when we were crossing a gloomy parking lot in the dark, and a man coming the other way who could barely see us touched his hat and said, "Ladies" to reassure us he was no threat. He'd guessed that by the way our silhouettes moved. Debby was so amused she gave me a wonderfully reassuring hug, as if we were in fact close girlfriends sharing a secret. I suppose we were. She found this new high-toned, more sensitive-seeming me so attractive that more than once we stopped running the exercise tape and made love right there on the floor, sweaty as we were. And again in the shower afterward. It was the loveliest weekend of my life, as was the week that followed. Debbie and I felt more deeply wedded to each other than at any time previously! I vowed to myself to give her whatever she wanted.