Chapter 6

Dinner was a confused memory even while it was happening. I couldn't remember anything Monica wanted me to practice about how ladies dine out. I didn't hear the waiter ask for my order, and then realized I hadn't even read the menu. When I said, flustered, "Oh, just a salad, no dressing, thank you", Monica smiled approval -- she was always after me to look more svelte, and I'd already gone down two dress sizes since she'd begun my full scale feminizing. Several times she grinned mischievously when she saw me staring at Ben's crotch. He had huge shoulders, yet he moved like a dancer.

In fact Ben was the soul of affability, and tried to compliment me on my dress, and my hair, and my perfume, and he asked me with sincere interest how I spend my time now I've retired >from work, his eyes penetrating into mine. I tried to reply politely in my littlest girl voice, because that was all I could muster. Yet, my imagination kept feeling him penetrate my asshole with his prick, his hidden meat burying itself in that very same pristine bottom I was sitting on at that very moment, and I was disconcerted. Monica knew what was happening of course, and was vastly amused. When we left him to go to the ladies, she clutched my arm and barely suppressed her hilarity, and said, "Isn't this fun?" For her it was.

I have to admit it, after we got back to the room, for me it was too. A little. This time I drank very little wine. I wanted to be all there. Both of us took off our dresses and put on our sexiest negligees -- Monica told me to slip into the new one she'd bought me just last week, and I realized she'd bought it for just this purpose. Ben stripped himself naked, and lounged back in a soft chair like a Lord of the Manor accustomed to being served. As indeed he was. He was solidly built, muscular, and looked regal, somehow commanding, fully in charge. As he studied my figure in its flowing, lacy satin, I felt suddenly naked and vulnerable and helpless. All of a sudden I hoped anxiously that I could somehow please him. Monica seemed to know he would have this effect on me. "Isn't he gorgeous?" she asked me. "All right, darling," and she sat down in a chair to watch and curled up her legs, her favorite relaxed position. "My pretty cock sucker darling. Show my man what kind of a woman you are now! Don't worry. He'll be gentle."

He was gentle, as if he knew this was all new to me, my maiden voyage all over again. He suggested that I kneel between his legs and kiss his thighs and just get used to things first, just hold his penis gently, and stroke it, with one hand or both, and kiss it only if the mood took me. I felt very strange, very humble, kneeling in front of this powerful naked God. I gently, timidly took up his soft cock in one hand, and found that it was quite heavy. I needed both hands to grasp it all around, and then it started to grow. After a minute or so I kissed it shyly, and then kissed it again. It got bigger. When it was half-hard I looked up at him, feeling like a very little girl indeed, because its size already worried me. Could I get it into my mouth? He smiled encouragement.

So I began to lick it, ever so daintily, on its very tip. He felt deliciously smooth on my tongue, just as Monica had described it, and his pre-cum tasted like sweet cream. I tried to remember how Monica told me I had blown Eric. I tried to remember what girls had done with my penis in high school, when they wanted me to know they liked me. I tried to remember everything Monica had resurrected about giving head when she was a girl, those old memories she had been so eager to share with me. Was it for this? I slid my tongue down his shaft, and worshipped it with my lips and tongue, and cupped the huge purple head in my lips, opening my jaw wide. I felt my face strain, but finally the entire head was stuffing my mouth, and I started to suck. Now, at this moment, I thought to myself, I am a cock sucker. A true cock sucker. I am just what my wife called me. I am sucking a man's cock. The idea that I was a man sucking another man's cock was intolerable, so I concentrated on feeling myself to be a woman sucking a man's cock. I am a beautiful, desirable woman sucking her man's cock, I repeated to myself. I felt it! My head arched coyly, sinuously, until it pressed into his beautifully muscled abdomen, and I lunged down.

His silky smooth cock head entered my throat, and I tried to swallow it whole, even with his whole body attached. For a moment I gagged, then I felt the whole of him slither freely in and out of my mouth and down and up my throat. Then I lost it. I began to face-fuck him furiously, my arms resting on his thighs and my hands lightly caressing his groin. My saliva slicked his pole as I bobbed my head over him repeatedly, mindlessly,, and felt him begin to swell, then to throb. Then cream poured out of him into my mouth and all over my face, no matter how frantically I tried to suck and lick and swallow it all. I tried to catch my breath, and heard him breathing heavily. Then we both held still for a moment. When he put his hands on either side of my head, pressing his palms on my curls, and turned my face to look up at him, I saw he was satisfied, and I smiled. I felt a delicious warmth in my tummy. I glanced down, and saw his cock still staring up at me, glistening, enormous, like a small baseball bat. It hadn't gone down at all. I'd had that in my mouth and down my throat?

"It's time, little lady," he said to me. Incredibly, with a single bend and twist, he stood and then scooped me up and carried me over to the bed. I felt so utterly helpless! So dependent! I gazed into his eyes, and saw there only tender concern. "How shall I set you down, Andrea dear?" he asked. "Back or tummy?"