Teasing Five She waited. This was going to be a dialogue. Women who make love to each other also talk to each other? "Yes, I thought I was," I replied. "Do you ever miss it? Being with a man?" How to answer her? "Sometimes," I replied. She wriggled her hips again. My cock was squeezed between our bellies, and now started to grow. She felt it, and writhed provocatively. "I do too. But I can do some things better than a man," she whispered. "You'll see." I guess I will, I thought. But I didn't reply at all. "Take my breasts in your hands. Hold them!" she said, suddenly sitting up and straddling my waist. I reached up and took them into my hands, feeling their soft heaviness where they protruded inside her satin babydoll. And she reached toward mine, under my smooth nightie. And began to rub my nipples through the fabric with just her thumbs and her forefingers. I'd never felt anything like it! Tense, glorious pleasure. I did the same with her nipples, and the strange satiny smoothness seeming to multiply sensation for her too. She clenched her thighs on me. "Oh," she said suddenly. "Is that a dildo you're wearing?" My cock was now erect. I nodded, distracted because my nipples had also hardened, and the most delicious feelings were emerging from them. Tara was flicking them ever so lightly. Then she bent and exposed one and suckled it. Her mouth was warm and wet and even more delicious. I tried to pull her up toward me so I could reciprocate, but she resisted. "Just tuck that fake cock into me, sweet Patricia, do me, my little flower, and then I'll do you!" She lifted herself up, then lowered herself onto my bursting penis, which sank deep inside her. "Oh, nice," she said. "You're so very wonderful, Pattie honey. So very thoughtful to wear this marvelous thing to bed. I'll just ...." And she rotated her pelvis a few times and then stiffened and came! That quickly! Held her breath and sat perfectly rigid, stiff, for perhaps half a minute, or longer. Then relaxed. A moan escaped her. I began to thrust, wanting to join her in an ecstatic orgasm of my own. "No, darling girl, wait," she said. She dismounted me and then lay on her back, and lifted her legs high up, pulling her knees to her shoulders. "Fucking men as often as I do keeps me limber," she said. "Especially when I'm having my period or my cunt is sore, but they're insistent, those guys, so I sometimes let them fuck my ass. You know how men can be! That's how I want my girl now! Mount me, Pattie honey! Please! Push that dildo into me there! I want my ass to be yours exclusively from now on! Men can come and go in my pussy, but my ass will be forever faithful to you. To my own girlfriend! Make love to it!" I crawled over her and lay down on the undersides of her upraised thighs. She grasped my prick and slathered something slick onto it, I suppose from her bed stand, I hadn't noticed, then whispered "Now!" I had never been inside Tara's rear end. Not even a finger -- she'd seemed to shy away from any invasion, and I could respect that. I'd felt the same way. But on her signal, when I felt that her hand was pressing the head of my cock against something in her crotch, I thrust. And sank in altogether all at once! Hot, velvety, slick, and so very tight! I felt her anus pulse on on me once I had sunk deep into her. She was deliberately tightening her hole, then loosening and tightening it. And those were serious muscles! She was milking me! Milking me! Pulling on me! Squeezing me! Rolling her opening along my whole length, up and back! I rose, and swelled up, and the feeling concentrated, then peaked out of control and held itself aloft and immoveable! "Ahhhhh, Gaaaaahd!" I shrieked as I pulsed and pulsed, cramming myself deep, deep, deep into her pillowing buttocks, pumping my sperm into her guts. And then I collapsed onto her. She'd spread her legs wide as if to suck me altogether into her. We rested that way until my breathing and hers became regular again. I'd seen blinding light as I squirted, and she'd come too, apparently, without my noticing. Again! "You darling girl," she whispered to me. "You sweet, lovely, darling girl!" She kissed a cheek softly. "Don't you feel like a sweet, lovely, darling girl?" I felt very strange. Spent, but satisfied. "Yes, I guess," I said. "That was just like in high school," she said. "Do you remember those days? When you'd let your special fella fuck your ass so you could remain a virgin? Or you gave him a hand job? Or you'd blow him, whatever, anything to take pressure off his need to get into your pants and your pussy? Remember?" "I never did those things, Tara," I said. "I guess I was deprived." It was interesting that Tara now wanted to share reminiscences with me, if that was what they were. With her new girlfriend. With her old administrative secretary. "Oh, you poor dear," she replied immediately. "You never did? You gave in to boys right away? Let them slosh their stuff into your quim whenever they wanted? Wasn't that a little slutty of you?" "No," I said, reaching for a kind of moral superiority. "I was a virgin and I stayed that way." Then to cut back what might seem boastful, I added. "I guess that's why I was never very popular." "Are you still a virgin?" she asked in a small, disbelieving voice, as if any of this conversation were real. "Yes," I said. I didn't know where she was taking me with these questions, so I decided to answer minimally. "You do love me, don't you, Patricia honey?" She sounded so very earnest, so very sincerely concerned, it was as if I actually were "Patricia" and not "Patrick." 'Yes, Tara, I do," I replied. "More than anything!" I was sincere. "I really do!" I added. I did! Tears came into my eyes. "Dear, darling sweet girl," she said, overcome. Both arms came around my neck and she hugged me close. "Enough to give to me tonight the greatest gift any girl can give to any of her lovers?" "Yes, of course," I said. Then I realized what she was asking me. Oh, God! But I'd committed, I had to go through with it. "Yes, even that!" She understood. "That's what I want. Your virginity. Your first time. Then we'll be as bonded as two people can be." I swallowed hard. But she'd just given me the gift of her ass. How could I refuse her the same blessing? This new game, being girls together, was turning complicated. Was this what lesbians did with each other? No reason why not, I considered. Especially if one of them lacks a real pussy. "All right," I said. "Anything, Tara." My voice quavered. "Sweetheart," she said. "Let me up. I'll be right back. Sit here and wait for me. Don't go away." So that's what I did. I rolled off her, and she twisted out of bed and somewhere into our closet. At one point she turned on the closet light, then switched it off again, as if looking for something she had to identify by sight. Again I sat on the edge of the bed and waited for her. It was dark. I couldn't resume my reading of "Modern Woman" I realized, there wasn't even a night light. I heard her go "Uhhh!" -- a satisfied-sounding grunt, and wondered what she was doing. Then she returned to me. Her night light snapped on, momentarily too bright. "Now, sweetie," she said. "Pretend I'm the most marvelous man you know. Satisfy me, lover girl! Then believe me, I'll satisfy you!" I heard those words, and opened my eyes, and tried to make out what I could see as my eyes reaccustomed themselves. Tara was standing directly in front of me, legs slightly apart. Obscenely, at my waist level, out of her bush projected a huge, curved penis. As my eyes got accustomed to the light, I could see it was flesh-colored, with veins running up the bottom, and with a purple crowned head. I saw no straps, and it was certainly not gripped by her thighs alone -- how was she holding it there? By her pussy, I realized! Unseen, a steeply curved half of it must be buried in her most intimate place, holding her erect cock in position for me. For me to what? She stood there and waited, and said nothing. She put her hands on her hips, and waited some more, patiently. There was no way to avoid it. In fact, now that I knew that Tara could feel any kind of movement or pressure on it deep inside her, it was unloving of me not to accommodate her. I felt a pang at that realization -- another cock was inside my Tara at this very moment, as if it were another man's, and I had to help it bring her pleasure. To help it cuckold me. To help it fuck me too. Willingly, eagerly. I bent forward and kissed the tip. It felt faintly rubbery, though it smelled of gardenia. Even so, it was a man-shaped penis. I thrust that out of my mind and stuck my tongue way out and licked the veined underside. Really slurped it!. Then again! Tara sighed, she did feel it! Then I took the whole rubbery head into my mouth and ran my lips down it as far as I could, maybe a third of the way, then up again, then began to suck. She felt that too, a little. Her crotch came up toward my mouth, ever so slightly, and she began to pump her prick into me, ever so slightly, then more. She was headfucking me. I slid down on it until the tip hit the back of my throat, then up again, and sucked on it some more, sealing the vacuum with my lips. With my softened, tinted lips, it occurred to me, my pink girly lips that would never rub off. I bobbed my head way forward and stifled a gag reflex, and buried my nose in her flowery bush, then slid my lips up again. I was now taking her deep into my throat! And again, again, again! "Oh, you sweet cock sucker," she said. "You darling! I knew you'd love it, once you tried it! I just knew it! Look at you! You sweetheart!" Who was she talking to? Patrick? Patricia? Pattie? Her husband? Her administrative secretary, now administering to her desires? Whoever, there was at the moment no doubt that hers was the cock and I was the cock sucker pleasuring her cock. I did my best, and as I heard her breathing grow shorter, I bobbed up and down on her prick more rapidly, and she thrust herself into my mouth more and more forcefully. Until finally she seized my head with both hands and pushed it close down onto her cock as it slid deep into my throat and closed off all breathing. She firmly pushed her groin up at me, and as my nose disappeared into her gardenia-bush, she came with a rush! Then eased off and withdrew, and I could breathe again. "No wonder they love this," she whispered half to herself -- I couldn't tell. "No wonder they love for us to suck their cocks. You were born to do this, baby!" Then before her own heavy breathing could recover she pushed me onto my back. "Lift your legs up, honey, as high as they'll go," she said. "Your turn to enter heaven!" I did that, just what I was told to do, and suddenly came aware that my virgin asshole was now fully exposed to the head of a rubber penis dripping with my saliva and poking at the entrance. The knob touched my asshole. Then with a single thrust of Tara's hips she entered me. "Ahhhh!" I cried! And I was no longer a virgin. It felt strange, peculiar! I'd read that a penetration like this one could be terribly painful, and that's what I'd braced to expect. But it wasn't. Mainly, I just felt full. Crammed, loaded. As if I were attempting and failing to expel an enormous turd already half-out of my anus. I lay there helpless, terribly vulnerable, my open asshole at Tara's mercy. Tara just crouched forward over me, leaning into me, and braced her hands on the bed, then began to thrust into me. I felt the dildo slide all the way in, then all the way out, full, empty, full, empty. The feeling became filled, incomplete, filled, then yearning, then deeply satisfied, then yearning again, then desiring, wanting, wanting, yearning in a delicious desire for more. And on her next thrust my desire grew. Stronger! The yearning became intense! "Oh, Tara," I cried out, exalted! "Tara, Tara, darling Tara, fuck me, fuck me!" She did now, slowly, steadily, increasing the pace, her eyes never leaving mine, moving her prick in and out of me. She watched my face express longing, then craving, then painful need, reaching, and finally as my whole belly rose up in joyous celebration, bliss. I don't know when it was that she came. Maybe many times. She fell on top of me and we came down from our post-orgasmic ecstasies together. I closed my legs around her to clamp that wonderful cock of hers deeper into my ass, hold it there for as long as possible. It stayed firm. It felt good. I moaned. For once, I suddenly realized, it had been me she was fucking, not one of her lovers. If there ever were any other lovers. I wrapped my arms around her and couldn't stop hugging her. That great cock still filled and stretched my asshole. My cup runneth over, I was thinking. "Darling Patricia," Tara said affectionately, understandingly. And then I realized no, it had not been me she was fucking. Or not me exactly. It was her girlfriend she was fucking. But wasn't that also me? I'd loved it! "Sweetheart," Tara said quietly. "I think you just lost your virginity." "All of it," I replied. I couldn't stop smiling. I had to kiss the tip of her nose, so I did. "Is this what women feel? Such overwhelming love for their lovers? My heart is so full now!" "If that's what you feel, Patricia, then yes. My heart is full too. That's what women feel. You're all right for tomorrow then? Being a woman I mean?" "Bring it on," I said. "Whatever." I'd never felt Tara's love for me more strongly than that moment. I would do anything for her. I was her woman! She grinned. "Now I'm going to pull out of you, honey. Don't go into a post-partum depression." And slowly, she withdrew. I felt empty. She twisted around and grasped the dildo and pulled the other end out of her own pussy. I supposed now that we both felt empty. I gave her a consoling kiss, and she returned it. Then we settled in to sleep, snuggling into each other. "This is how women make love?" I asked her? It seemed to me that we'd done less oral sex than usual, that mainly what we'd done was head and pelvis fucking. I'd thought lesbians did oral more than anything else. "Some of us. This is how men who are women sometimes make love to women, yes," she replied. "And how women who are already women sometimes make love to other women, including men who are women." "I'm a woman, you're saying?" I told her. "That's what you agreed. Remember?" A gleam came into her eye and then disappeared. "Now fix your nightie and let's try to get some sleep." I pulled my satin babydoll down from where it had bunched up on my chest, and just lay there. I suppose I'm a woman for her for now, I thought. Tomorrow I'll help Tara land her contract, and she'll be happy, and that'll be that. I'm glad to help. I love her. But at the same time I felt sad, and quickly realized why. Because for the first time in a long time, we'd made love, just the two of us, as ourselves. More or less. Not with Tara teasing me by pretending that I'm one or another of her lovers, teasing my jealousies, or pretending that I'm her wimp cuckolded husband and putting me down as less than a man because I lick her pussy. This was Tara sincerely making love to me as one woman to another. Though I wasn't a woman. I thought about that a moment. So we were still play-acting. In a way what we'd done this time wasn't really any different. Even so, it felt different. I couldn't tell why at first, then realized why. It was because Tara wasn't teasing me. She really and truly meant it. She had to believe in my womanhood, just as I did. She'd followed her own advice to me, and persuaded herself that I was a woman now, or near enough, in order to help me persuade myself. Well, for the moment, I was nearly persuaded. My asshole felt sore, but somehow good -- I liked what we'd done. I hadn't yet seen myself in lipstick, if that was the word for the paint Tara had applied to my mouth, but maybe that effect had persuaded her? I opened my eyes. There was Tara, looking across at me, beaming her affection. "Honey, drink this and get dressed and let's go. Our business appointment is for three this afternoon, and your beauty appointment is for practically now!" I opened my eyes. There standing over me was Tara holding a glass of orange juice. She was fully dressed -- a gray business suit with a purple silk blouse visible under her severely tailored jacket. Gray pumps, and her face and hair already impeccable. Though she'd taken to wearing this year's fashionable "mussed" look, I knew that every hair was impeccably mussed, exactly in place. I sat up and took the orange juice. "How long have you been up?" I asked. "Hours," she said. "You looked so sweet lying there I decided to let you sleep as long as possible. It's really remarkable. Even now, just as when you were asleep, you have a well-fucked look. A kind of dazed, satisfied expression. How's your not-quite-virginal vagina this morning? A little sore?" I remembered that full feeling from the night before, and realized I was still sensitive down there. "Maybe a little stretched," I said. "But good. I'll survive." "Stretched is good. Drink up and turn over," she said. She was stripping paper from something that looked like an anal fever thermometer, or maybe a ballpoint pen. I did. The orange juice was bitter. I rolled over and propped myself on my elbows, then looked back at her. She poked at my anus, and whatever that thing was slid right into me. "There," she said. "Wait a moment for it to melt, and then get up. We have a lot to do now." "What was that?" I asked. "And is that a new brand of orange juice you just gave me?" "No, the old kind, but I mixed in a little something to help you get through today with less stress. And as for the suppository, it's a woman thing, a little morning-after assurance that what we did last night won't make you pregnant." She grinned when I looked at her narrowly. "I'm joking, baby. Yes, it does have birth control hormones, and others too, but mainly it contains different soothing and conditioning ointments for your delicate membranes. Most vaginas are designed to take any amount of pounding and stretching, but yours is more delicate. So we want to keep it supple with hormonal creams and emollients. Feel soothed?" I nodded, noticing as I swung my legs over and sat on the edge of the bed that my babydoll was just barely long enough to protect my modesty. My cock was flaccid. "Hormonal creams?" I asked her. "Don't worry about it," she replied. "So your pussy stays fresh and ready for anything. Now that you know what it's like to be taken and used like a woman, I know you'll want more. Am I wrong?" I remembered how ecstatic I'd felt, how I'd cried out to Tara for more and more of it, more craving and more satisfaction. More fucking. If Tara meant to add dildo-play to our repertoire, I couldn't object. "No," I said. "You're not wrong." She looked satisfied. "Wonderful. C'mon, honey. Astrid's secretary left you her nicest office outfit yesterday. That's what you'll wear this afternoon -- you're just her size, it should fit perfectly. I've always thought she dressed a little kitteny for a tall girl like her, a little too cutesy girlie. But for our purposes it's perfect. I'll wear what I'm wearing and be severe and sensible, and you'll wear something just flouncy enough to suggest that you aren't making your way through life by brain power alone. It'll deflect any suspicion about you do something nice girls don't do like sit with your legs apart. It'll emphasize that whatever else, behind your breasts and inside your panties you're all girl." This was depressing. "Breasts?" I asked. But I realized instantly that of course I would have to have breasts. And there was a bigger issue at stake here, my reputation. "Astrid's secretary knows about this ... thing we're doing?" I asked her, worried. Apparently she knew yesterday before even I knew it! "Who else knows?" Tara suddenly frowned, and her voice edged toward severity. "I don't think a secretary should be concerned with questions like that," she said. "And I certainly don't intend to answer any of them. This afternoon's conference remains confidential so the competition won't know that there are plans and profits to be made, not until it's too late! So Patrick's lapse from a supposed masculinity won't be discussed by anyone. More important, it's Patricia's plausibility as a woman that matters now. I asked Astrid as a friend to help make my secretary presentable, and she gave me that help as a friend with no questions asked. As I've asked you for help as a friend but now also as my employee, no questions asked. I expect employees to help when I ask for help. I'm in charge. Is that understood?" I was chastened. I should have realized that Tara always knows what she's doing. "Yes, it is." "Yes, it is, what, Patricia?" she asked me. I understood what she wanted. "Yes, I understand, ma'am," I replied. "I'm sorry for asking, ma'am." She was right. A secretary needs to show respect for her boss. "That's sounds just lovely, sweetie," Tara responded unexpectedly, breaking her pose and grinning. "Maybe I'll ask you to call me "ma'am" from now on. 'Shall I bring you the Blackburn account files, ma'am?' Or 'Shall I lick his cum out of your pussy now, ma'am, or shall I wait until after your next appointment?' You'll make me such a marvelous secretary, Pattie! No wonder I've kept you on for five years already despite your deficiencies!" She'd cheered up again. Relaxing, I decided to play along "Deficiencies? Why, what might those be, ma'am?" I asked her, batting my eyes innocently. "I hope I've given satisfaction!" This was fun! She was right about that orange juice reducing stress. And my butt was beginning to feel so ... comfy! An odd feeling. "Well, honey, you've been altogether satisfactory, and I do love you. But just look down below the hem of your babydoll! Do you see a quite adequate prick or a really extraordinary clit? Think about your answer." The answer was obvious. Today I was a girl. "A clit, of course," I replied. "That's nice. And I'm glad you said that, not me. So its days as a prick are no more, isn't that true?" I should have felt shocked at that, but in fact I was feeling increasingly congenial as our conversation continued. And my asshole now felt -- well -- cozy, snug, even a little erotic. No trace of soreness. That was quite a suppository! "Mmmmm," I replied to her question, non-committally. "Mmmmm," she replied, as if I had confirmed her previous statement. I had no prick. I felt completely comfortable now, and a moment of contented silence passed.