Teasing Eight "Look at me, Patricia." I did. "I've met many women like you in the gay bars I go to when I want to meet other men like me. You're beautifully done over, really lovely. Exceptional. Few people could ever imagine that you aren't everything you seem to be. But I can tell. You've transitioned only recently, haven't you? " "Yes." "Then you're probably still feeling exhilarated. It's intoxicating, I'll bet, after all those years of repression. Have you been with a man yet?" "No." "That's wonderful. Then I'll be your first. You can't begin to dream how happy you'll feel afterward. How liberated. The sense of completion, of a wholeness finally achieved. " Despite my orange juice-induced glow, I began to feel desperate. What could I do? Expose myself, stand up in my full female regalia and declare myself to be a straight male after all? That is, expose Tara's attempt at fraud, her attempt to defend herself from Bill's horny proposals by bringing me along as her secretary? That would kill off altogether any sort of future for her with Castro Enterprises. She'd feel devastated. And everything I'd gone through thus far for her sake would be for nothing. No, I had to play along with Jim's misconception of me. At least he couldn't do anything to me here. Not with his boss and my supposed boss in the next room. So I said nothing. "I know," he said, gently. "You're shy. I can't blame you. We'll go slow, don't worry. Are you full time even now?" "When I need to be," I said, not quite understanding his question or my own answer. "I understand," he said. He was still caressing my cock, I suddenly realized. And a sense of well-being suffused that part of my groin, despite this conversation being the worst of my life. Our intimate talk continued. "Honey, exactly what is your relationship with Tara? Besides being her secretary or administrative assistant or something. It does her credit that she employs a transsexual woman, even though you do her credit by your remarkably pretty appearance. Or does she even know what you really are?" "She knows," I replied. I hoped she still did, anyhow. "Oh? Is she anything to you apart from being your boss? A relative? A neighbor? You were an old boyfriend, or someone who came out to her way back, someone she'd dress so you could spend odd weekends being a girl? I saw no point to deception. Not when he'd be consulting us daily for the next few months in what was in effect a home office. "We're married." "I see," he said. There was a long pause. "Better and better. Perfect, in fact. Then no one will ever want to begin talking to anyone about anything ever, for fear that different relationships they need to keep secret might unravel." He continued to stroke my cock, which had now grown half-hard. Now deliberately, all along its length, with a gentle pressure I could no longer ignore. That old familiar erotic pleasure began to rise up from it and spread into my belly. "Your lips are so soft and full, Patricia," he said, studying my face. "Yes," I replied, recalling what Sarah had done to them. "I suppose they are." He leaned over and kissed me. A man kissed me! I felt shocked, though it was over before I realized what had happened. But I could still feel the pressure of his mouth and the roughness of his stubble when he whispered, "Now you kiss me, Pattie. Can you find it in your heart to kiss me back?" I had to. Full on the lips. Jim only sighed, "Now again," so I did it again, directly on his mouth. Deliberately. I actually kissed another man twice! Unable to think of a way out! "Again," he breathed. I pecked at his face this time, aiming for a cheek, but he turned and pushed his lips firmly onto mine, and his free arm wrapped around my neck and held me tight to him. His tongue came between the soft swellings which were my lips, and pushed in and out. He was mini-fucking me! I tried to clamp my mouth shut, to deny him entry, but the lips were too soft. He seemed to feel my crimping them as passionate nibbling. His tongue flicked between them even faster. Then with both of us breathless, he leaned back. "Our bosses will be busy in there for a while longer," he said quietly. "They have a lot to go over. I think we have time to get to know each other better." His hand was now unabashedly under my skirt and rubbing my cock through my panties, caressing it with exquisite sensitivity. Delicately. Up and down. Despite myself it felt good. Wonderful. Yet a vague sense of dread grew in my stomach. How could I get out of this? "Why don't you take my penis out and play with it? It's yours now, Pattie. Tit for tat." I'd been afraid he'd say that. A moment passed when I did nothing. Still stroking me, he picked up one of my hands and placed it on his fly. "Unzip me, Pattie," he said. "Please." What could I do? I unzipped him. "That's right. That's the girl. See how easy? Now reach in and take it out that wonderful thing I have in there." I did that too. It was already partially firm, not too long but very thick, and once free it grew quickly. It felt warm and slightly moist. I tried to pay no attention to it. I tried to persuade myself that my hand belonged to someone else. He began to squeeze my prick on its base on each down-stroke, and nodded to me. I wrapped my fingers around the whole of his cock and did the same. Tit for tat. "Lovely," he said. And he kissed me yet again. Full on my full lips again. Softly. And for a moment his hand pulsed on my cock through the thin fabric almost the way Tara's cunt gripped it when her orgasms began. "Oh,God!" I moaned to myself. Because what could I do? Break off and pretend indignation? "Now kiss me once more," he said, his eyes closed. I closed my own eyes and leaned forward to kiss him yet again on the mouth. Chastely this time, I decided. It all seemed so natural. So calm. That damned orange juice. "Not on my mouth this time," I heard him say. "There." His hand on the back of neck, began to press my head down. I had to yield to it. To bend way over toward his cock. I smelled its moist musk and some kind of men's talc before my plump lips contacted its rubbery head. Eyes still closed, I delivered a delicate kiss and pulled back, aware of something sticky that had touched my upper lip. Pre-cum. "Yes," he whispered. "Lick it off, honey! And begin to pull me off too while you're at it. In fact, why don't you wrap your lips around it and suck me off!" The pressure of his hand on the back of my head increased, unrelenting as he pushed my mouth toward his cock, and his stroking of my own cock grew more intense. I licked and tasted another drop of salty syrup atop his pee hole. Then finally I opened my mouth wider and he slid into me of his own accord. A man's cock. I closed my lips around that fat, warm, soft tube and it slid out of me again, then into me, then out. "Lick me while you slide on and off," he breathed. "And suck!" I did. Now it's official, I thought to myself. I'm not only a pretend girl, I'm a cock sucker. And an unfaithful husband. My wife is married to a pretend girl who sucks other men's cocks. Up and down. It has pleased her to imagine it whenever we've made love, and now it's my reality. How can I explain this to her? What can I say? I'm sucking this cock so she won't need to suck it? She'd never need to suck it. Jim is gay. Do I need to say anything? It then crossed my mind, did she set me up for this? Did she want this for me? I mean, in actuality, not just to taunt me that I supposedly want it? Would she have arranged for me to do this? Why? Jim pushed into my face yet again, and I firmed my lips around him and began to bob my head in rhythm with his thrusting and stroking of my own cock. This wasn't imaginary, this was real. And my own groin felt good. I was getting close, there in my own half-ignored crotch. Yes, of course Tara would have to know about this sooner or later. This man would be working with us daily for months, in an office attached to our house, and now I'd need to be working there too with nowhere to escape to. He'd be in our laps as it were, mine especially, like his hand right now, maybe daily expecting more reciprocating ... intimacy from me. Not only will I need to dress and look like Tara's secretary while this contract is in force, but my newly blonde and smoothly coiffed head and my pretty puffed lips will now need to bob up and down his lap daily! Did Tara realize this before I did? With other larger contracts at stake and one of her favorite fantasies for me fulfilled under her very eyes, would she mind? No. she'd welcome it. And not only my head and lips were committed. Now and then maybe, probably, how can I doubt it, my rear end would be too. He's gay, after all. That's what gay men do. What had I gotten myself into? I'd signed up to help my wife hustle a contract for a couple of hours. Now here I was giving sex as a woman and committing to do much more. For months. And getting sex too. His hips rose and held themselves up, and I knew what was coming. For me too. "You can let go too now, doll," he muttered between his teeth. "Don't worry about your skirt, I'll catch it in my hand!" His hand released the outline of my cock in my panties, then crept into the wristband and grasped it again by its naked head, his palm cupped. A man's hand was now holding my bare cock. And it all seemed so normal! I clamped my lips onto his tumescent tube just below the head and sealed them tight, and pulled once or twice more on the base. It pulsed, and my mouth filled with salty-tasting syrup. His cum. Not mine this time, not from my Tara's pussy, but his, direct from the source. A man's cum. As I swallowed it and my mouth re-filled with more, his hand pressed deep onto my own crotch and my cock grew rigid and strained and then it too began to pulse. I came too. Gloriously, repeatedly, into his cupped hand, while I moaned in bursts with each spasm. "Ahhh!" he said finally as his own convulsive squeezings stopped. "Perfect, just lovely! You have the most marvelous mouth! It was inspiration, filling out your lips so they'd feel like two pillows when they're pressed on a man's cock! You must have wanted to give head like this for a very long time. We'll do it again very soon, I promise you." He smiled. "But now here's your dessert." He lifted my skirt clear of his cupped hand as he twisted it out from inside by panties and brought it up to my mouth. I was still bending over his crotch, half-paralyzed with shame because a man had made me cum and I'd just made a man cum, and also half-exhausted from my own throbbing climax. "Here you are. All for you." He held his cupped hand to my mouth. I looked in. There were a couple of teaspoons of cloudy fluid pooled at the bottom. I looked up at him. "You have beautiful eyes," he said. "Next time I'll want to look into them the whole time you're blowing me. But for now enjoy your last licks." He held his hand carefully to my mouth. I lapped up my own sperm, then licked his hand clean as if grateful for the favor, like a dog thanking his master. Was this my life from now on? I then sat up straight again, primly closed my thighs and straightened my skirt, looked to see where my purse was, and saw it where I'd left it, there on the coffee table. Jim leaned over and kissed me on my cummy lips. "Jim, I don't think ...," I started to say. "Shhhh," he said, kissing me again. "Nothing needs to be said. The contract is Tara's, just as promised." My brow furrowed at that. "She didn't tell you? Weeks ago! An interior designer she hired outed me to her. He'd told her I was once his lover, and she wanted confirmation. So I confirmed it. She told me she was delighted to learn that I'm gay, because it could make things so much easier for both of us. That was when she told me about the woman who works in her office who was once a man. You. She never told me you were her husband, but she sang your praises, Patricia. And you're everything she told me you'd be. She told me how she wanted this for you as intensely as you've wanted it, so you could feel completed as the woman you've struggled to become." Tara had set me up for this? To do what I'd just done? Knowingly? I tried to feel stunned, but I couldn't. That tranquilizer-laced orange juice, still! "Well, now she'll be happy. I know you're happy -- maybe a little dazed, you poor dear, I can see that in your eyes, but happy. So it's win-win for everyone." I tried to say something, but nothing at all came out. Jim understood. "Oh, Patricia," he said. "We have such wonderful times ahead of us now. Whenever Tara's willing to spare you or share you. Here, lover, let me show you what's at stake." He turned to his computer and a few strokes on the keyboard revealed the terms of agreement Tara and Bill were reviewing in the other room all the while we were otherwise engaged. It was highly favorable to Tara, as far as I could tell. As I read down the lists of specifications and obligations and undertakings I saw two things immediately. One was that Tara's talents were indeed equal to everything the job required -- she deserved this chance and would have no problem surpassing its requirements. The other was that when this regional office work was completed, if she achieved the branch office contracts we would both be rich. We'd always shared our income and pooled our finances. In another year at the most we'd each be able to live as we wished, work or not as we wished, and play as we chose. Wherever we chose. An incredible luxury. I could see now why Tara had schemed to implicate me in this way, why she'd manipulated my consent to assure that the contract she deserved and the luxurious life she desired could become realities. It was obvious why she hadn't consulted me first, why she didn't just ask me please, pretty please, pretend to be a transgendered woman for just a year or so and have an affair with a gay man. After the months of teasing me about her supposed infidelities and my supposed desires and perversions, I'd never for a moment have believed she was serious. Yet those very same months of teasing had subtly conditioned me to accept this ultimate humiliation for a straight man, to suck another man's cock and swallow his cum. Step by step, I'd made my own decisions, acting out of necessity as I saw it. I'd dressed like a woman supposedly to safeguard her virtue, and I'd sucked Jim's cock as the path of least resistance, but also to safeguard her hopes for these Castro contracts. All for her sake, for the love of Tara, because she wanted it. At some risk, too, because I knew that any gratitude she might feel for the man who did these things for her could quickly dwindle into mere appreciation, then condescension, then contempt. Because he'd sacrificed his own self-respect. So it wasn't to keep her love. Nor was it for the money. If I'd done it for the money, I'd be self-defined as a high-priced whore. And awesome as the money might be, I wasn't that. Not yet. Tara had saved me from that, and herself too. She'd wanted the contract and what followed from it, and she wouldn't sell her body to get it, so she'd hoped that like a gentleman I'd offer mine. All she'd done was ask me to accompany her. The rest had been all my doing. I'd decided on my own that I had to use my body and suck Jim's cock simply to make good her story, to preserve her honor. So I'd backed up her tale that I was a genuine transgendered woman interested in a man. And now I was committed to it. With worse to come for at least for four months. And I had to perform, or else sacrifice everything thus far gained for her. For us. I'd have become a transvestite cock sucker for nothing. All by my own choice. I returned my attention to the computer screen. Toward the bottom of the agreement I saw a rather murky non-performance cancellation clause about parties of the second part prior to signature satisfying parties of the first part as specified by way of ratification in validation of good faith. Or something. I asked Jim what it meant. "Don't trouble your head, honey. That's a clincher the legal department always includes for our self-protection, so we can back out at the last minute if need be. It's meaningless, except that Bill always interprets it in his own way. It's his little indulgence. He likes to seal his agreements with a kiss. Many contractors can do the work we want done, at comparable prices too. The one who provides us a little something extra, that's the one with the edge who gets the job. What's wanted is a gesture of appreciation, an expression of gratitude more personal and intimate than a handshake. They may be at that stage right now, your boss and mine. Tara's may be reassuring Bill as only a woman can that he's made all the right decisions. You know." He paused. "Oh of course, you're still married to her, aren't you? Well, I'm sure she's doing nothing you haven't already done. Women are women, aren't they?" Despite the orange juice my stomach sank! I stared at that closed bedroom door. But even as I stared at it, it opened, and Tara came out, a sheaf of papers in one hand. I caught a glimpse within of a desk with curved legs painted ivory and pink blush, of a kind of French provincial boudoir. That was what Bill wanted for all of Castro's offices? Incredible! But achieving that very style tastefully yet functionally was where Tara excelled, I knew. Her hair and clothing didn't seem mussed, but her eyes were glowing. "That was quite a tussle," she reported to me where I sat alongside Jim. "But everything's settled except maybe for one thing." She looked at me. Calculatingly? "Patricia, may I speak to you privately for a minute?" She nodded to Jim, who no doubt already knew what she had in mind, then took me off to a small alcove where we couldn't be overheard. "So was I a big help, coming here to help safeguard your virtue from your Mr. Macho?" I asked her a little resentfully. "Honey, I'm not teasing you now, this is serious. Nothing's happened with Mr. Macho yet, we've been talking business. But now he's insistent, and it's worse than I'd anticipated. You won't believe this, but he wants to close the deal with ... an intimate act with one of us. At the very least a blow job. He's made other demands too but I've bargained him down that far, and there's no getting around that much." I raised my eyebrows as if surprised. "I see. So what do we do now? Leap onto our high horses and leave?" She did not appreciate my sarcasm. "Honey, I want this contract. You came here to save me from something just like this, and here it is. He's ruthless and determined. I hate to say it, but before we leave here that man is going to get his cock sucked." "By Jim?" I asked. Not a chance, I was thinking. But it was my way of letting her know I also knew Jim was gay, and that I might even know what she'd told him about me. She paused. I remained silent. I wasn't sure she'd heard me. "I got you into this," she continued. "And I see that you're under enough stress already. So I should be the one to do it, I think, not you. You can watch if you wish, to see that nothing much else happens. The way you like watch me and my imaginary lovers during the little games we play together in bed. Only this time for real." She paused again, and then added, "Who knows, maybe you'll get off on it the way you usually do." I ignored that last jibe. What was it she'd said? That she "should be the one to do it"? As if I were also a candidate, an alternative cock sucker also available for the purpose? Well, wasn't I? "Of course that would change our relationship," she went on. "Once you knew for certain that I've actually had sex with another man, there'd be no more teasing, would there, only plausible confessions. The excitement would be gone from our lovemaking, all that deliciously agonizing uncertainty you seem to enjoy. I might even feel I might as well go all the way with him after that. And then with others. There'd be no reason not to, would there?" She stared intently at me, saw no response in my face, and went further. "And it's possible that once I've had other men you won't seem nearly as appealing to me sexually. Maybe because they're better than you are. Maybe because now that I've seen you like this, I'll always remember you as a woman, not as a man at all. Well, look at you. Not very manly, are you?" "I hope not," was all I could say confusedly in my own defense. She paused, then went on. "I know, I'm being terribly unfair. I did get you into this, and it's my fault, and I know you did it for me, and that was lovely of you. But you've got to admit it, right now you aren't the man I married. You're a girl. And that must change how I feel about you sexually, it's unavoidable. My only consolation is that you did agree to help me out of a loving desire to spare me possible embarrassment, and I'll always remember that." She looked at me sorrowfully. "We've both given up too much to back down now. So one of us is going to have to do it. Shall I leave it up to you which one of us? Let you decide?" She looked at me hopefully. I said nothing. "You've tasted so much cum by now it must seem pretty ordinary. What's it like?" "Not too bad," I replied. "Different men taste different, of course. You know that too, don't you?" "Do I?" she asked. Then her eyes widened slightly. Did she realize that her scheme for me to win Jim's approval of the contract had worked out even sooner than expected? Had she caught the implication that I've now tasted semen other than my own? She looked at me intently, trying to decide whether I was teasing her. She couldn't decide. I wasn't altogether sure about her either. Was she again sandbagging me into dispensing sexual favors? Or was she merely asking me to rescue her from a situation that had gone out of control? It was plausible enough, I'd seen that last clause, and Jim had explained it. If Tara was in fact a faithful wife, and she'd been faithful to me all this time, her discomfort at this moment was genuine. And she did seem near tears. It did seem genuine. I made up my mind. I was already a cock sucker and would be for life, even though she didn't yet know it for sure. And as they say, a slice off a cut cake is never missed. I'll be her white knight one more time, I decided. Maybe it was the orange juice talking, but dispensing sexual favors to men, doing what women do as women, it didn't seem that bad. It seemed almost ... natural.