by Throne
I was married to Mariel for only three months when I started to notice that something wasn't right. Our love life had dropped off to almost zero. Sex had always been great for me but her responses had dwindled since the honeymoon. I made an extra effort to look good for her. Tried a new hair product. Changed my regimen of skin cleansing and moisturizing. Got two new fitted shirts and a really nice pair of slim-leg jeans. I was getting desperate. Let me be honest and tell you two things straight out. I have a really powerful sex drive. A day or two without release and it becomes all I can think of. And because I wasn't getting what I needed, I had been masturbating on the sly. In fact, doing that had reawakened by old jerk off fantasies about... well... being feminized.
Not having a lot of friends, I had only one person I felt comfortable sharing my marital problem with. That is, the problem of Mariel's waning interest, not that other stuff. I had known Dwayne since high school. There were a lot of Black guys in my class and some of them liked to taunt me because I'm short and slender. My small dick had been a running joke in the locker room. Even though Dwayne joined in, he would always be chummy later on, reassuring me that the somewhat cruel kidding was just something done in their community. Since I'd gotten married, with him as my Best Man, we had been back in touch. He had more experience with girls so it was logical to get his input now. In fact, he dated a lot of white ones, so I figured what he knew would be even more relevant than if he only went out with ones from 'his community'.
Even though I'm not much of a drinker, he suggested we meet at a bar in his neighborhood. It was a dimly lit place. I was uneasy because there were a lot of rough looking Black men sitting at the bar. But Dwayne steered me toward a table in the back. We sat down and an eye-catching waitress came over. She was Black, naturally, and had amazing curves. A big bust, for sure, but hips and thighs that were so large they were out of proportion even with that. My buddy ordered us a pitcher of beer and some jalapeno poppers. He addressed the waitress familiarly as Lawanda. As she turned away, I couldn't help gawking at her ass, which was as wide as those outrageous hips and stuck out so far it was startling.
Dwayne gave me a smile and said, "You like that Black booty, don't you, Andy?"
I lowered my eyes at his blunt evaluation and admitted, "Yeah, I do. It's just that it's so big and round."
"You think about holding it and having it all to yourself. Don't you?"
"Right again," I answered quietly, a bit uneasy to be found out.
"It's okay. I just wanted to show that I know you real well. So I'm the guy to help you with whatever this situation is that you have. Right?"
"I... Sure. You're the one."
"And I'm guessing it has to do with Mariel."
"It does."
I thought about my young bride. Her long blond hair, cute face, slender but shapely figure, and an oversized bust that drew male attention wherever we went. I got a mental picture of her walking into this place and every guy in the room openly ogling her, maybe one of the younger ones even approaching her. I shuddered at the possibility.
Dwayne went on, "So why don't you give me a chance to help you find out what's bothering her. You know, like, you could invite me over for dinner. She likes me. We danced together at the wedding reception. She loved that toast I gave, even when I joked about how you were a nerd back in school."
"But I doubt she'd open up," I pointed out. "Not with me there."
"Right." He got a thoughtful look on his handsome face. "So maybe you could run out before dinner to, I don't know, get a bottle of wine. Make up some excuse, like you think we need just the right type to go with the meal. And then I offer to go with you but you insist that I stay there in case she needs any help in the kitchen or whatever. Okay?"
Somewhere in there I paid Lawanda and left a generous tip. After she left, with me trying not to be so obvious this time about eyeing her butt, Dwayne said that, if I liked her, I should meet her cousin Kenya, who was even curvier than her. He said Kenya was an imaginative woman, with an understanding of the less aggressive sort of guys. I gave him a questioning look. He explained that he meant someone like her could help me open up and explore my feelings. That sounded sensible, in my circumstances, so I thanked him and then forgot about it. My keyed up emotions, along with those jalapeno poppers, were giving me indigestion.
I wasn't entirely happy with his plan but figured it was the best one available. I told him we would try it. It was the middle of the week so I suggested Saturday night and he liked that.
On the way home I thought about Mariel's idea for improving things between us, something she had brought up more than once. She sometimes mentioned spicing up our sex life by having me use my mouth on her, below the waist, if you know what I mean. I suppose I overreacted, because that has always seemed so unpalatable and unmanly to me. When I went into an uncharacteristic rant about not doing it, she really shut down emotionally for the next two days. That had been hard on me, with my need for frequent relief that I referred to. In fact, when she went to bed the second night, I got on the computer and went to a site I remembered from my single days. There were drawings from this amazing artist, Severin (like the character from Venus In Furs) Sicky (as in 'perverted'). They featured little guys being dominated -- and feminized -- by their wives and big Black women. It was pretty heady stuff and I sat there drooling over it and fiddling with my dick. The guys in the images were small down there like me. I guess I related to it in some way. When my wife got up to get a drink of water, and I thought she might catch me, my heart missed a few beats.
Anyway, Mariel went along with Dwayne's idea, which I presented as my own. I just said that a single guy like him would appreciate a home cooked meal and some company. She mentioned that he was quite the lady's man and might be busy, but I said I could invite him anyway, because just being asked would make him feel better. So that's what I did and, as planned, he accepted. My wife decided on boneless, breaded chicken cutlets, with pasta and steamed broccoli. I immediately seized on the angle that the meal lent itself to more than one wine choice. We had a few bottles on a rack in the spare bedroom, where the computer was, but I could check them, find something that wasn't there, and use that as my excuse to run to the store. I even had the brainstorm of insisting that I had to drive to Zelman's Wine Spot, a specialty place in the next town. That would give Dwayne even more time to relax her and get into her more deeply.
When Saturday night arrived, I made sure to wear yet another new shirt I had just added to my wardrobe. My hair was almost down to my collar, but I wanted it to continue looking casual and unaffected, so I just stuck with my usual product, that left it soft and only lightly scented. When Dwayne arrived he looked terrific. A short sleeved shirt showed off his well developed arms. He had worn his snug 'club' pants that fit perfectly, though they also displayed an impressive crotch bulge. Naturally, that effect had noting to do with our purposes, but I told myself that it was just part of his social image and he must have done it without thinking.
For a while we chatted and then I said I'd put some wine in the fridge to chill. It felt naughty to be playacting like that. I came back and said we didn't have any of the pink rose I thought would be appropriate, and volunteered to go get some. I remembered to slip in that I'd be taking time to get to that particular wine shop. Dwayne played his part and offered to go along, but I magnanimously said he should stay in case Mariel need anything reached down off a top shelf or whatever. So off I would go, determined to stretch my errand out to the max. I went to kiss my wife goodbye but she turned her face so that I only was able to give her a peck on the cheek. One more sign that I needed to let Dwayne try to get to the root of our problem.
There was some extra traffic on the roads and I made sure not to sneak through any lights just as they were changing. Took plenty of time in the store. On the way home, wanting to be really certain Dwayne had enough time get into Mariel's issues, I stopped at a menswear shop and checked the latest arrivals. Even treated myself to a crewneck sweater that would show off how trim I was.
I got back and found my wife and good buddy sitting on the sofa side-by-side. Excellent. She suggested that I put the wine in the kitchen. While I was gone I could hear them still talking, in low voices. Wow. She must have really opened up to him. I got back and they both appeared calm and contented. I credited that to Dwayne having success, and my wife unburdening herself. It looked like everything was going even better than I had hoped. The meal was excellent, though Mariel decided that of the wines we'd already had was more appropriate than what I'd bought. She said we could open my bottle on another occasion.
Afterwards we chatted some more and watched a reality show that she likes, which it turned out he enjoyed too. Something about survivalist types being dumped in godforsaken locations and having to get by on their own. I certainly didn't want to see people dealing with swamps, heat, humidity, wildlife, and bugs. I'd made it clear in the past that I had no interest in seeing the program but, on this occasion, feeling as good as I did, I made an exception. They kept talking about being self reliant and what they would do if the two of them were in that situation. I didn't have anything to say about that unlikely scenario.
When Dwayne was ready to leave, I offered to walk him out to his car. I was hoping to get a synopsis of what he'd learned from Mariel. But once we were on the front sidewalk and out of earshot of the house, he grabbed my arm. His face was set into a grim mask.
He said, "Listen man, we have to talk. Let's get together tomorrow night. Eight o'clock. Same place as before."
I tried to ask for information but he waved me off. As he got into his car, I was already being seized by anxiety. What had she told him? Why couldn't he just blurt it out right then? But Dwayne drove away and left me standing there with my mounting concerns.
All through the next day I was on pins and needles. I called Mariel from work and told her I was going to do some overtime and then have a drink with some of my coworkers. I hated lying to her, but what else could I say? Belatedly, I realized that, if she called me where I was, and I had already gone, it would look bad. So I did stay late and clean up some reports, even though the hours hadn't been authorized and I wouldn't get paid for them. I finally left at seven, with an hour to kill. So I ended up wandering around, full of nervous agitation, for most of that time before going back to the parking garage, getting my car, and driving to that bar again.
When I went in I didn't see him anywhere. The table we had occupied before was vacant, so that's where I went. No surprise, I was the only white guy in there. The one good thing for me was that Lawanda was working and came to take my order. I told her Dwayne would be there soon and ordered a pitcher of beer, like last time. When she brought it back I talked to her for a few minutes. Just to be sociable, and to keep her there longer, I mentioned her cousin Kenya.
She said, "Oh, you heard about her?"
"Yeah," I responded. "Dwayne told me. Sounds like she's easy to talk to. Maybe I should have a chat with her."
I was just making small talk but she looked me up and down before saying, "Well, if Dwayne thinks you're okay, I could put you in touch with her."
Was I missing something there? I hadn't gotten the impression that Kenya was a prostitute or anything. So why the cautious attitude? I shrugged it off. Not important. I wasn't actually planning to contact her anyway. I was halfway through my first glass of beer when Dwayne showed up and came straight to the table. He put on an uncertain smile and poured full the second glass that Lawanda had brought. I tried to start him talking but he wanted to do something else first. Turned out he needed to order a stronger drink. He asked Lawanda for a 7 and 7. After she brought it and left us, he pushed it across to me.
"You better start in on that, buddy. I know you're not going to like what I have to tell you. And I'm not going to enjoy saying it."
I took a sip, even though I knew it was going to go straight to my head. I said, "All right. I guess it's better to just get it over with. What did she say?"
"I got her talking, telling her you were worried that you were letting her down in some way. She wanted to know about back when you were in school, and said that you never talked about it. I figured it was better if I was completely honest, and I wanted to get you some sympathy, so I told her about how you got treated in the locker room. About how that one time the guys made you play with yourself to see how much bigger your dick would get. And then when they made you wear panties and how... well, I didn't want to bring it up but she really wanted to know... how you got hard when you put them on."
This time a took a bigger sip. "And did she feel bad for me?"
"Well, I think she felt bad, but not for you. She told me what a disappointment you are in bed, and how she had hoped you would make up for your small dick by eating her pussy. I said I would talk to you about that. But she was stuck on the size issue and said she could see that I was packing a lot. I tried to shrug it off but, you know, we were right next to each other and all of a sudden her hand was on my cock, feeling it through my pants."
"She... did that?"
"Hey, believe me, I didn't encourage her. But yeah, she did that and started stroking it, too. I was trying to slow her down and get her to stop, but she opened my pants, got the zipper down, and had me out in no time. It was like she'd had a hell of a lot of practice. And she really had some skills with her hand, which distracted me and made it hard for me to think straight or find my voice."
"B... but, you're my friend."
"Right. And that's why I was there in the first place. And that's why YOU left us alone together. Remember? So I was finally getting to where I could tell her 'no', and just like that she leans way down and -- WHOA! -- her mouth is on my knob." He shook his head in wonderment. "I mean, talk about 'suck and swirl', that girl should give lessons. And those busy fingers were still on my pole."
"And you let her?"
"Wasn't any stopping her at that point. I mean the mouth and hand were going at the same time. And damn if she didn't swallow the whole thing. All ten inches. Like a pro. Sorry for saying that, but I figure the more you know, the better you'll understand her. And how much you let her down. And how much she's trying to make up for all the bad sex she's had with you."
"Bad s... sex?"
"I'll get to that. But let me assure you, I sure wasn't enjoying what she was doing. No sir. I mean the physical part, having my cock worshipped like that, by a girl with those mad skills, well any guy would respond the way I did. At the same time, in my head, I was feeling sad for her."
"For HER?"
"Exactly. She must have felt like less than a woman, having to let you put your little dick in her all the time, and then she never got anything out of it."
"Are you saying I she never... finished?"
"I'm getting to that. Just let me tell you the rest about that head she was giving me. Your girl gets down on her knees in front of me and gets my pants down and on one ankle. Shorts, too. So she was all sucking and purring and moaning, like a bitch cat in heat. There was this one part where she had me all the way down her throat, not gagging or anything. And then her tongue sneaks out and starts licking my balls, if you can believe that."
"Do you really need to tell me every little detail?"
"I'm trying to give you the whole picture, man. So you can see how much she's affected by being stuck with a guy who has a peanut dick."
"Peanut dick?"
"That's what she said later. But I don't want to get ahead of myself. Because there was this big finish."
He looked at me and gestured to my mixed drink, as if to warn me that I would need more of it before I heard what came next. I picked it up and took a full swallow, making myself cough and sputter.
I told him, "All... all right."
"So just when I'm thinking this is as good as it can possibly get, she backs off until just the knob is in her mouth. Sucking it like she's in love with it, all tender and with her tongue going in slow motion. Then that soft little hand gets to work on my stick, up and down, up and down, in no hurry. Her other hand sneaks in and fondles my balls. Three things going on at once. No girl ever did it that good before."
"Is it really necessary for you to...?"
"Which is when she slides her lips off me, takes a few licks of that real sensitive spot under the head, and starts talking. Mariel sounds all dreamy and she's like, 'It's so big' and 'It feels so wonderful in my mouth' and mostly 'Andy is so small' and 'Andy doesn't have what I need' and 'Andy's could never go down my throat. It wouldn't reach past my tonsils'. Right in the middle of dissing your peanut dick -- like I said, that's her name for it and not mine -- she gets back to business and starts mouthing the end of my Johnson like she's mad at it, with super suction, and pumping my bone faster, and rolling my nuggets on the palm of her warm hand, and then -- BLOOEY! -- she busts my nut and I'm shooting my load onto her tongue and she's all gulping it down and rubbing those big knockers against my legs and making sure her mouth and hand milk out every last drop, like she was starving for it."
I waited to see if there was more. When he didn't go on, I asked, "And what did you do?"
"Tried to catch my breath, brother. I'll tell you, that was the best ever. And after she had me all licked clean, that sweetheart just gets my shorts up, along with the pants, makes sure everything's back in place, up goes my fly, she fastens the button, and it's like nothing ever happened. Well, she did lick her lips a couple times and give me some awfully sexy smiles. But you wanted to know about that other thing. Her not getting what a woman wants in bed." Dwayne let my tension build for a few moments before he went on in a sympathetic tone, "You wife told me how she's never had an orgasm with you. And how she fakes it to make you feel better. And how much she thinks about what she's not getting." He gave a deep shrug. "And that's the story, my man."
"But... I never thought..."
"Oh," he said, "I should also mention, with the way you dress, not exactly macho, she might have some doubts about where your head is, sexuality wise."
"What?"
"You know. Like if maybe you swing both ways."
"But I'm not..."
"Well, I know that. But people can wonder. Even back in school, some of that shit you wore had folks talking."
With the shock of all those revelations, I began to sniffle. And then was seized by spasms of sobbing. I'd never suspected how I'd failed her. Dwayne cautioned me to get a hold of myself, because the men at the bar, along with some couples at other tables, were beginning to notice my breakdown. I glanced around and saw a couple that was a delectable white woman and a tall athletic Black man. A knot formed in my stomach. But I was able to stop those wracking sobs. I sat there hugging myself. My buddy nodded toward the half filled glass and I drained it, followed by a long drink of beer.
My words were slightly slurred as I begged him, "Just, please, don't let that happen again."
"If that's the way you want it, Andy, it's all good. Except for one problem."
I couldn't believe there was still more. I sighed and said, "What?"
"You know Mariel has to get this out of her system. If she does it with me, then you'll know what's what. And I'll be ready to quit once she's back to just wanting you. But if she doesn't have me, she's going to wind up with some pussy-hound, or thug, or maybe even some dude who's on the wrong side of the law. That happens and whoever she's with might not want to let her go when it's time. Might even come after you, to convince you not to be taking her back. Maybe get ugly with you. So...."
He held up his hands, palms uppermost. The thought of her being with Dwayne was unsettling. But those alternatives he had laid out, and the possible repercussions, were worse. I gazed into my half empty beer and shook my head. Then I finished the glass. Dwayne refilled it without saying anything. At last I looked up at him.
"You're right. I'm sorry if I got all accusatory with you. It's just that under the circumstances..."
"I know what you're saying. But I'll do everything I can to just keep it on the talking level with your wife. You know that."
"Yes. I trust you Dwayne. And you made me see that she isn't to blame. Not really. And neither are you."
"That's good. You have to accept responsibility before this can get fixed. And you have to do more. It's like what I saw on TV one time, when this head doctor was talking, she said you have to build a bridge of trust. One way to do that is to satisfy her in bed."
"But you said... she said... with my..."
"With your little dick you can't do it. I'm saying about that other thing. You using your mouth on her." He waited for my reaction.
"I never wanted to do that. It's just so... I don't know... unappetizing."
"Most guys like it. And you want to save your marriage. How about if you tell her you're willing and see what she says back to you."
After another drink of beer I told him, "That's what I'll do." I even managed a smile when I said, "Maybe she won't take me up on the offer."
He smiled back. "And maybe she will. But one last thing. I know some guys from Shelbyville, who were probably in school the same time as Mariel. Let me talk to them and see what else I can find out. Try to get something else you can use to see what she's like inside. And what she needs."
Dwayne finished his beer. He got up and clapped me on the shoulder, saying that everything would work out. Then he headed toward the exit. I sat there feeling sorry for myself, but also resolved to help my wife get past her issues, as well as taking responsibility for my part in what had happened. Lawanda came over and asked me if I wanted anything else. I told her I didn't and she gave me the check. While I was getting cash out of my wallet, she leaned over toward me. It was impossible not to notice her deep cleavage.
"Listen up," she said confidentially. "You ought to talk to my cousin Kenya, like I we talked about. Give me your phone. I'll put her number in it."
Glad to have someone else on my side, I handed her the phone. She entered a number and urged me to use it when I decided the time was right. I paid her, including a more than generous tip. She thanked me sweetly and went over to that other table, the one with the interracial couple. I started to feel alone and rejected, so I drank the remaining beer and left for home.
When I entered our place, Mariel was in the kitchen. I went to her and said hello, getting a critical look instead of a greeting. I sat at the kitchen table and waited.
After a minute I said, "Honey, I know I've been a little bit of a disappointment to you. Dwayne and I have talked. And I want to assure you that I'm going to do everything I can to make it right between us. I... err... was thinking that, next time we're in bed... if you want, I could do that thing for you that you've asked about recently."
She turned and eyed me disdainfully. "You mean eating my pussy? Which I've been doing more than just asking about since longer than just recently. Is that what you mean?"
Surprised by her newfound confidence and forthrightness, I opened and closed my mouth. Then I cleared my throat and told her, "Yes, dear. That. Which you have been -- mentioning -- for a while now."
"I guess that's a start," she allowed, not sounding convinced. "And did Dwayne tell you anything else?"
"He said that you two got... into some personal stuff."
"And that's all he said?"
"More or less."
She tilted her head to the side and gave me an unreadable look. "He might have more to tell you after tomorrow night. I called him before you got back and the two of us are going out."
"For drinks? Or dinner? Or...?"
"Or maybe just coffee. Right now, what I do is none of your business. You can make yourself something for dinner. And I'll find something for me."
I got the cold shoulder for the rest of the evening. The next day when I came home from work she acted more welcoming, but I soon saw that it was because she was going to be leaving me for awhile. I accepted that glumly. Around seven she started to get ready for her -- well, I didn't want to call it a date -- her night out with Dwayne. My wife called me into the bedroom about a half hour later. I had the sudden thought that she might want to reconcile. Instead, she only needed me to zip up her new dress, which was short and showed off her legs. At least it didn't have a low neckline, I thought when I saw that it went up into a high collar. But when she turned around I got an unwelcome surprise. There was a keyhole opening on the bodice that framed and drew attention to her impressive cleavage.
Promptly at eight, Dwayne came to pick her up. I answered the door and saw he was dressed in a pale blue shirt, grey slacks, and a burgundy sport coat. My fashion radar went off because he looked so dapper. It wasn't quite my style but I still wanted to ask him where he'd been shopping. I was about to say something to him when Mariel came up behind me.
"Hello, Dwayne," she said pleasantly. "I love that jacket."
Then she gave me the slightest of glances, as if to say... what? That he dressed better than me? Or just that she was comfortable paying him a compliment in front of me? Or something else? Like what he had said about my wardrobe sending he wrong message. And people guessing I might be sprinkled with fairy dust. As she stepped outside he gave me a small reassuring smile. Well, at least I still had him thinking of my interests. If this one occasion went well, I told myself, my wife and I would have turned a corner and be on the way to where I wanted us to go. I stood there and watched him open the door for her. Then he got in and drove away. How long would they be? Would my bride still be frosty toward me when she returned?
I'll admit that I was pacing the floor for a while. Then, just after 10, Mariel called me. She sounded friendly again, and I was sure I heard a hint of seduction. My wife told me to be naked when she got dropped off. It was like a weight had been lifted off me. Dwayne must be doing his job awfully well. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of having to be nude, but I had decided to do whatever it took to build that 'bridge of trust'. The last thing she needed was me not going along with her playful request. I sat on the sofa with one of the throw pillows on my lap, covering those essential parts. It was strangely exciting. Then, after an hour, it was less exciting. Finally, just past midnight, I had sunk into gloom.
Mariel arrived at last. Her hair was mussed, clothes slightly askew, and she had obviously had a few drinks. She gave me a mischievous smile and came to sit next to me. At her request, I unzipped the dress. The keyhole cut-out was so inviting, but I didn't want to do anything wrong. She took the pillow off me and tossed it aside. Her hand went to my dick and had it hard in seconds. She leaned toward it and I imagined I was going to get one of those incredible BJs like Dwayne had described in way too much detail. But she just blew on my yearning member and giggled.
My bride said, "I'd use my mouth on you, but that little thing might get stuck between my teeth." She used one finger to flick my penis side-to-side. "How about this? She got her thumb and forefinger on the root and gathered some skin between them. "A pinch to grow an inch." Mariel clamped her digits tight. And twisted. And yanked hard.
"No!" I yelped. "Please. Let go."
She did, but then made a sour face and called me, "Spoilsport."
I sat there, wanting to rub the sore spot she'd created, but not wanting to touch myself down there. She might make a joke about me playing with it. She voiced a sympathetic sound and batted my dick kittenishly, lightly, as if making up for her previous hurting. I reminded myself that she was a bit *****.
Then she pressed her body against me, letting me feel those big globes on her chest. I started breathing harder. She gave my bare thigh a squeeze.
"All right," she said, getting up. "Let's hit the sheets, lover boy."
I got to my feet and put a hand on her elbow to steady her. She wriggled her arm free and walked on her own, swaying only a bit. When we got to the bedroom she said she wanted the lights off. I went along with that and got the room dark. She even had me close the door so there was no light from the hall. I could hear her dress hissing as she slithered out of it. Then there was a minute while she must have been ridding herself of her bra and panties. I wished I could be seeing the perfection of her substantial bust. Still, that didn't matter when I heard the bed make the faint but distinctive noise that told me she had gotten onto it.
"Ann-Dee," she sang out to me. "Time for beddy bye." She chuckled. "Can you find me in the dark?"
As I got onto the edge of the bed I reached toward where I estimated her boobs would be, but found an arm thrown across them. As I moved my hand, wanting to touch some part of her, any part, the arm kept deflecting me.
"Honey," I said, trying to suppress a note of frustration. "I'm glad we're doing this."
"Me too. I've been waiting to collect on your offer. I just wanted to wait until the ideal time. Now slide down and get between my legs. I want your head between my thighs. And your face in position to go to work. It's pussy eating time, Ann-Dee."
That was disappointing but, again, I wanted to do whatever it took to make matters between us right again. I successfully put myself where she had directed me. My face was so close to her womanhood that I was inhaling her female musk. She toyed with my hair briefly.
I said, "I'm ready, dear."
Maybe she would only want a sample, just to prove that I was willing. And then we could progress to what I wanted to do instead. My demanding libido was eager to be satisfied. I brought my face down and forward until my nose bumped against her trimmed pubic bush. My tongue came out, stretched, and found her soft nether lips. I began to lick, startled at how wet, even creamy she was, but credited it to her excitement. Besides, I'd never done that before and didn't know what it was supposed to be like. I lapped steadily until she told me to vary my strokes. Then she directed me to suck her clitoris. That started her moaning. My wife also had me probe inside and slurp up even more of that ooziness that had so caught me off guard.
I was gratified when she started climbing toward a climax. It didn't sound quite like during intercourse. I remembered with a sinking feeling that those other reactions had been faked. This was more authentic and now I could tell the difference. Her hips squirmed. She grabbed my hair and pulled my face firmly against her mound. I concentrated on her clitoris and put her over the top. She bucked her pelvis against my mouth several times before settling down. Mariel whispered to me to keep licking, more slowly and not so forcefully. She drifted through a happy afterglow.
"That wasn't too bad," she allowed, damning me with faint praise. "I'm sure you'll get better with lots of practice."
"Are you ready to... do the rest?"
"The rest of what, sweetie? You cheated me out of orgasms for way too long, and now you have to play catchup. I am going to enjoy this so, so much."
"But aren't we going to...?"
"No we're not. What would be the point? For me to go back to pretending you're getting me off? I don't think so."
"Well, then I guess I'll go clean up. Brush and rinse."
"No, you won't. You made a good start, so let's not ruin it. This is part of paying me back."
"But..."
"But nothing. I got plowed by Dwayne and his gorgeous huge cock. You cleaned up all the spunk he left inside me, soothed my overused puss, and gave me a bonus finish, on top of the magic he worked. So now I want you to have my flavor -- and my lover's -- in your mouth until morning."
"Dwayne? He did that? I was licking up and swallowing his...?"
"Correct on all points. He was magnificent. That man fills me up like you never could. And he can go for an hour, instead of your two minutes or less. Plus, he knows what he's doing and how to make me feel like a woman. He's in and you're out. Until further notice, you're limited to snatch-snacking sex only."
I couldn't believe it. My head was reeling. I sat on the edge of the bed with my feet on the floor. Well, my toes on the floor. My feet don't reach all the way. She laughed softly to herself. I heard her phone open up.
Very soon she said, "Hey, Dwayne. I just wanted to tell you again how incredible you were. I mean, I saw stars. More than once. What? No, peanut-dick is in the other room, sulking," she lied. "Really? You think I should be nice to him? And not keep on seeing you? You did say I have to get this sex bug out of my system. The only way I'll get it out is to get you in -- to my pussy -- at least a few more times. At least." She listened to something he said. "All right, stud. I'll try to be nice to the little twerp. Okay." She made a kissing noise. "See you soon. The sooner the better."
This was impossible. I understood that she might feel she was entitled to even the score she felt existed. But what had just happened was extreme. I sighed and laid back down, that salty taste thick in my mouth, Dwayne's cum on my lips. Things will get better, I promised myself. They have to.
In the morning, before I left to go to the office, Mariel appeared to be silently gloating over her victory and my downfall. Or maybe she was still buzzing from a surfeit of sexual satisfaction. At least, after breakfast, which was ruined by those tastes in my mouth, she allowed me to brush my teeth and wash my face.
My wife joked, "Don't want to send you to work with pussy breath. And cum breath."
I tried to discuss everything but she just shooed me out the door. Mariel had become so sure of herself in such a short time. And so domineering. And condescending. I still wasn't blaming her, but that left the burden of fault on me.
Just before lunch I got an e-mail from Dwayne, telling me to meet him at noon, where we'd gone before. I wasn't in a hurry to see him, after what had happened the night before. Even so, I had to grasp at any hope, no matter how remote, of turning this horrid situation around. I considered what I was wearing, and whether or not it looked too 'metro'. Being made aware that many people thought my look was kind of gay had shaken me up. The probability that all those Black men who congregated in the bar I was going to might think the same made it even more unnerving.
When I arrived the place was packed. The lunchtime crowd was almost exclusively Black. Dwayne was at what now felt like our regular table. He was sitting there with a Black girl who was undeniably hot, with well upholstered curves that had my dick pulsing. It would help a lot if I could get some relief, but as uneasy as I was about everything, I didn't want to masturbate; that would feel like an admission that I didn't expect to get my wife back into bed for more than going 'downtown' on her... and cleaning up after my buddy. And looking at the kind of pictures I liked, after the doubts that had been cast on my manhood, wouldn't be as much fun as it used to. Was something wrong with me? Wasn't the stuff I chose just for a change of pace? Weren't my episodes of dressing all in the past? That was all on my mind as I approached the table. Dwayne ignored me for a long two minutes while he spoke to the young woman. OMG, she was glorious. When she left he gestured me to the seat she had vacated. He was drinking soda but when the waitress, a new one, came over he told her I needed a rum and cola. Him believing I needed to be braced with alcohol didn't bode well. This waitress carried a lot less padding than Lawanda overall, but she did have a bubble butt.
"Hey, Andy," he said with what sounded like advance consolation for pending bad news. "How's it going?"
"How do you think?" I said, sounding as defeated and peevish as I felt. "My wife came home really late. And well used."
"Did she... make you do something for her?"
Before I spoke I made an involuntary strangling sound deep in my throat, a physical reaction to the memory of consuming his spunk. "Yes. What we talked about."
"She said she might. I tried to talk her out of it. And she didn't wash up before you started?"
"Do you really need to know what..."
He held up is hand. "Just tell me."
There was a suggestion of authority in his voice. So now my wife AND my best friend were taking over when they pleased.
I admitted, "No, she didn't clean herself." I added with distaste, " she made me do that."
He took a sip from his glass before telling me, "I tried to talk her out of it. But she was really burning to try it. And then I told her you would refuse. Didn't you at least try to say no? After you saw the mess I left in her? You know, I went off like a damn firehose. Couldn't believe how hard I came."
"I didn't know. The lights were out."
"But you could tell once you got your mouth on it. Right?"
"Dwayne, I'd never done that before. I honestly couldn't tell."
"Or maybe you were lying to yourself. Do you think you're secretly getting turned on by all this? I mean, with you being so keen on dressing the way you do, and all that junk you put on your hair and skin."
"I'm not a sissy," I protested, sounding as unconvincing to myself as I must have to him.
"All right, man. I'm not saying it's true. I just want you to explore all the possibilities. And she called me while you were out of the room. I told her to be nice to you."
"I was in the room," I corrected. "But I could tell from her end of the conversation that you were trying to do the right thing for me. And I appreciate that."
I wanted to defend my manhood further, get back to how I shouldn't be judged by my look, but the waitress returned with my drink. She left it and Dwayne pointed at the glass and pantomimed taking a long swallow, which I did despite my low tolerance for booze.
He said, "Remember how I was going to check with some guys who might have known Mariel back in Shelbyville, in school? Well I did, and they remembered her plenty. You going to be all right when I tell you some not-so-good news?" I have a half shrug and he continued, "Turns out that, being a cheerleader, and shaking everything around those Black football players, it led to more than just being looked at. Seems she took a liking to those boys. When you met her she was just plain Mariel Lewinsky. Back then she was called Mariel the Meat Sucker, and Leg Spreading Lewinsky. See, the first one was because she'd open her mouth wide for any guy with a really long fat..."
"I understand," I said, interrupting. "Too much information, Dwayne."
"Don't mean to make you feel even worse, Andy. It's just that you need to see the full picture. This isn't something new. That girl's been -- excuse the term -- cock crazy for a long time. Which means it might also take a long while to reverse her condition."
"So what are you saying?"
"Maybe you should just follow her lead. Let her do what she needs to, so she can find her way back to you."
"You honestly think that could happen? Her getting over all that and just wanting me?"
"I do. Now that she's gotten you to slurp up my sex sauce, right out of her snatch -- which you did without putting up a fight -- maybe she feels like she's paid you back for being such a letdown. Or at least started to. She wants to see me again on the weekend."
"Again?"
"Like I told you before, if it's not me it could be some guy from the hood. Girls like her, sometimes they want it rough and mean. I'm keeping it on the soft side. Mostly. Sort of. But if you'd rather I back out, I can do that."
"No. I'm sorry." What was I apologizing for? He was banging my bride. "It might work. You can try to keep her from straying any further."
"That's right. And you know what else? You can show her that two can play the game. Why don't you see someone else?"
"I don't know."
"Just to send a message, man. You could come back when Lawanda's working and ask her for her cousin's number."
"Kenya." I hadn't mentioned that I already had the number in my phone, ready to use. Or that I'd been thinking of what he'd said about her being even more full figured than Lawanda. I wouldn't mind being around such a zaftig woman. "I might." Plus, what Lawanda had said suggested that her cousin was very understanding, something I could use. "We'll see."
Matters between my wife and I went on without any more traumas like what had happened after she went to bed with Dwayne. She occasionally made mildly taunting references to it, and to my inadequate penis, but I tried to ignore them. When Friday night came I was ready. I had even selected something to wear. Not wanting to give in to pressure, but also not wanting to present the wrong image, I wore one of my least favorite combinations. My only concession was the jockey shorts, which were powder blue and hugged me front and back. After all, it wasn't like Kenya was going to see them. I didn't anticipate us getting to the no-pants-romance stage.
At around seven, when my wife began getting ready to go out with Dwayne, I made a show of laying out my own clothes. She gave me a questioning look. I felt a tingle of self confidence. I didn't offer any information, so she had to ask.
"Going somewhere, Andy?"
"Yes, I am. You're going to be with Dwayne, so I'm going to see someone."
She acted satisfied with that but I hoped she was secretly irritated. Just a little. To balance the scales somewhat.
While she was still getting ready I recalled that I yet had to contact Kenya. I'd gotten the impression that she was usually at home, so I hadn't been overly concerned about finding her there. At the last minute, however, my anxiety level began to rise. What if she wasn't there and I had to spend the evening alone? Or if I tried to pick up someone else and failed, as I had so often while single? I made the call and was relieved that she answered, even more when she said she had no plans and would like to meet me. It was all moving along so smoothly. Kenya had a lovely voice and, as she gave me her address, it turned sultry and suggestive. Or maybe I was just hearing what I wanted. I decided that it would still be what I had assumed, a nice few hours of chatting, having a sympathetic listener, and maybe sharing a goodnight kiss. In the back of my mind was also aware of how my small dick could turn a possible bedroom romp into a disaster, so I concluded that it would be better with just conversation.
As prompt as before, Dwayne picked Mariel up right on time. I hurried to finish preparing, going back to the bathroom and putting just a touch more product in my hair. Then I got in the car and went to see Kenya. She lived in a brownstone apartment building in a nice neighborhood. I found parking on the street and went to the front door and into the foyer. There were press-buttons for the apartments and I found hers. Her voice came through the speaker, and she told me the lock on the security door was waiting to be repaired and to just come through. I went up in the elevator to the second floor. It was like being single again.
I straightened my jacket and knocked on her door. When she answered I was stunned speechless. Not only was she as full-curved as Lawanda, and then some, but she was wearing a dark body stocking that hid her skin but showed off every inch of her contours. She gave me a winning smile and invited me in. Mildly dazed, I entered and sat on the couch. She offered me a glass of wine which I accepted. As she left the room I couldn't take my eyes off her wide, well rounded bottom. When she returned with two glasses, she handed me one and sat alongside me, setting hers on the coffee table in front of us. Our hips were almost touching. I could smell whatever flowery scent she was wearing, not heavy but not subtle, either.
"So," she said, "Lawanda tells me you're just my type."
Trying to sound casual, I asked, "What type is that?"
"You know. A good dresser." It sounded like there was some coded meaning behind the term. "Although you aren't showing it much at the moment. She said you usually have style to spare."
"Well." I tried to sound modest. "I do like to look good."
"I know you do. And I'm betting you have something special on tonight, even if I can't see it. So tell me, Andy, what are you hiding under that safe, toned down outfit?"
What was she getting at? I told her it was just my underwear, but did mention the designer brand. She asked about the color and I described that as well.
"You know I have to see them," she told me mischievously. "Just a peek. Get on out of those shoes and pants."
What? Where was this going? I took a drink of wine. As if in a trance, driven by my need to assert myself as something other than just Mariel's husband, trying to win back my marital privileges, I stood up and sheepishly undid my belt, opened my pants, and lowered them to mid-thigh. She reached over to feel the material against my hip. I felt giddy as she next ran her fingers over my nearside buttock.
Kenya wanted to know, "So Andy, these are nice but I know you'd rather be in panties. Right?"
All my TV dressing moments from the past were suddenly crowding my thoughts. I said without meaning to, "Yes, I would."
She smiled up at me. "Then let Kenya help you with that. I've had plenty of boys like you up here. Cute white guys who want to be something else."
All at once, I was confused and tense. "There's been a misunderstanding here," I insisted. "I'm not like that. I mean, I have done it, but now I'm married."
Kenya gently assured me, "Lots of married guys do it. Panties, stockings, a nice garter belt. Wives don't have to find out. And you know you want to."
Well, it would still be a way of me asserting myself. And like she said, Mariel would never know. So what was the harm? It made me see how much I had missed my former secret hobby.
Still not a hundred percent committed, I pointed out, "But I don't have anything like that to get into."
She chuckled. "Honey, I told you I have boys up here. Don't you think I have some pretties for them to slip into? And hey, everything gets laundered after they wear it. In fact, some of them like to do the washing by hand, with a little dishpan, some gentle detergent, and some warm water -- after I put them in a nice frilly apron."
I'd never thought of wearing an apron but her words went right to my heart. And another part of my anatomy. That gave me mixed feelings about my proclivities. I got undressed the rest of the way, down to just my shorts, and folded my outerwear neatly, laying it on a wooden chair. Kenya took me by the hand and led me, like I was an unsure virginal boy, to her bedroom. On the bed there were already an array of items laid out for my delectation. I surrendered to the temptation. It wasn't as if Dwayne was ever going to know about this. I was confident that Kenya would be discrete. And there was even less chance of the Black woman interacting with my wife. If Mariel ever discovered my TV tendencies, who knew how she would react? But that wasn't going to happen.
I went to the bed and began handling the lingerie, though fondling might be a better word. It got me aroused right away. Kenya noticed and said in a soft encouraging way that it was okay for me to shed my shorts. I did it slowly, making a performance of it, my long-sequestered girly side emerging at last. My bottom gave a wiggle and my shoulders went back, thrusting out my smooth hairless chest. I licked my lips as I rubbed a pair of lacy panties against the side of my face. Kenya turned on an overhead light and I saw that it was directly above a full length, oval mirror mounted on a polished wooden stand, between uprights. I wanted to cover up my penis, so it would stop announcing how underhung I was, but also to enhance the illusion of femininity. I took those lacy panties, see-through for the most part, but with an opaque front panel, and slipped into them, at the same time tucking my male parts down and back. The effect was electrifying.
Oblivious for the moment to Kenya's presence, I posed in front of the mirror, hands on hips, chin elevated just a little, and spoke to my reflection. "Look at you. What a sexy girl. What's your name? Is it Andy? No, that's not a girl's name. So it must be Candy. Hello, Candy. I haven't seen you for a long time."
I drifted back to the bed, selected a garter belt and stockings, both in pale rose, and donned them with the ease of past experience. It was so satisfying to be back in women's underthings. I had another exchange with my mirror image, this time daring to play with my nipples and even give myself an air kiss.
"I can tell," I told Candy, "that you are a naughty girl. I bet you like to dress up and strut down the street, just to see the looks you get from guys who think you're a real girl. Maybe you should visit Tooker Street, or like it's usually called, Hooker Street. Hmm? You could hang out with the hoes and pass for one of them. Men would pull their cars up to the curb and talk dirty to you. And you would talk even dirtier back to them."
Amazing. This was further than I'd ever gone with my self-roleplaying. I turned my back to the mirror to admire my backside, hairless cheeks visible through the transparent seat of the panties.
"Look at that ass. It is so perfect. Imagine it in a micro-miniskirt. Or a pair of hot pants. Hooker hot pants. You are such a slut." My voice got louder. "Candy is a dirty tramp, hanging on the corner, making all the guys stare and think filthy thoughts about her. She is a total... whore."
Kenya came over, turned me to the side, and wordlessly began applying make-up to my face. She worked quickly with mascara, liner, shadow, lipstick and gloss. Her fingers combed through my hair and I could tell she was making it fuller. The product I used would support that. When I again faced the mirror a miracle of make-over had taken place. I really was Candy, oh so girly, with a heavy dose of party-girl-for-hire. I wagged my tongue and she wagged hers back. I teased my nipples into prominence and she did the same.
I said, "You are a complete bimbo with nothing on her mind but looking good and turning heads. Aren't you?"
"You certainly are," answered a male voice, but it wasn't mine. And it definitely wasn't Candy's.
I spun around and was facing my wife and Dwayne, dressed for an evening out, who were standing just inside the open door. There was nowhere for me to flee.
Mariel said angrily, "I can't believe this, Andy. I had Dwayne bring me here because he guessed this was where you had come. The door wasn't locked downstairs and the apartment was open. I was ready to kiss and make up, but it looks like you'd rather pretend to be a streetwalker, with guys drooling over you. You are nothing but a pansy faggot. I married a sissy who's in love with his fantasy self instead of me. No wonder you were so lousy in bed. It wasn't just your miniature dick that spoiled it. Your mind was far away, in some lingerie shop or maybe a whorehouse."
My traumatized mind tried to give a response. I babbled, "It wasn't really me. I mean, I was just trying something new." Then I seized on a solution. "It was Kenya. She made me do this. She told me what to wear and say, and how to act."
Dwayne shook his head sadly. "Buddy, we been in the other room for a while now. Heard a whole lot of you talking sissy, but none of Kenya telling you to. It's not nice to lie to your wife. And your best buddy."
Before I could speak again, Kenya got right in front of me, her eyes blazing. "You blaming me, stupid little sissy? With that finger-dick and smooth waxed body? Like you didn't want this all along? Especially how you dress so faggoty when you're pretending you're a real man, faking it for your wife and everybody?"
"She's right," Dwayne agreed. "You absolutely betrayed Mariel."
My wife wasn't done venting, either. She sneered and told me, "You are worthless as a man, you and that peanut between your hairless legs. Ugh. I don't ever want to have sex with you again. I came here to offer you a new start but now I don't want to even see you. Maybe you just shouldn't come home again. It looks like you won't even need to come get your clothes, because you've got plenty of pretty ones right here to wear."
She put her arms around Dwayne and hugged him tightly, her cheek against his chest. He squeezed her protectively to him and gave me a condemning look.
I said weakly, "But I don't have anywhere else to go. That's our home."
"Not after the divorce," my wife fumed. "You'll be out on the street without enough money to buy lunch. Or, in your case, to buy some lovely pink panties, you queer homo."
Dwayne told her, "Don't worry, baby. I won't abandon you like he did. Whatever you need, I'll find a way to make it happen."
"What I need right now," she told him, "is someone I can trust, unlike my little princess of a husband. Would you stay overnight with me?"
She turned her face up to him, closed her eyes, and parted her desirable lips. As I watched with deep jealousy, he kissed her hard on the mouth. His hand slid down her back to caress her bottom. Those breasts I cherished so much were pressed firmly against him. She moved one hand to his inner thigh and fondled the enviable bulge that ran down the top of his long leg. I was devastated.
"Hey now," Kenya offered, "let's not go too fast here. I'm not feeling sorry for Candy girl, not after she wasn't honest with her wife, and didn't tell the truth to her good friend who tried to help her, and then tried to put the blame on me. It's all bad. But listen, sister," she told my wife. "The simpering swish is still yours. Instead of dumping him, why not hang on, let him pay the bills, and make him dress up sweet at home at night and on the weekends. Hell, you can even have Dwayne around to make sure Candy doesn't get out of line or throw a hissy fit or whatever." She looked at me and laughed.
"But I'm not ready to have him with me yet," Mariel reminded her. "It's too soon. I only want my man Dwayne for a while."
"I don't blame you, honey. This sissy's a dud and Dwayne there looks like he won first prize in the man-meat contest. So how about you just leave Candy Kisses here while you two have a sort of honeymoon back at your place. I'll take GOOD care of Miss Liar for you. Some of the sissy boys who come to me like to be treated like naughty misbehaving girls. Get spanked and put in tight leather get-ups and have to be all "Yes, Ma'am" and "May I please kiss your ass, Ms. Kenya?" and maybe some "Please use your big black strap-on cock, like a mean old trucker reaming my tailpipe". Hell, a few nights of that and he'll understand how things got to be when he's with you, from now on."
Mariel's eyes lit up. "He has three weeks of vacation time saved up. And there's his secret savings account that he thinks I don't know about. So how about if he moves in with you. And he gives me his password so I can go on-line and add my name to that account. Then I can start emptying it out and giving all the money to you."
"That sounds just about perfect. When my other sissies come to visit, I could just tie Candy up with wide red ribbons, like a gift package, and leave her in the corner to watch the action. I'm sure she'd enjoy that."
Dwayne contributed, "And we wouldn't even have to bother bringing any of his male clothing around, if he's not going to the office."
Kenya made it even worse by noting, "And everything he arrived in is on that chair in the other room. You could take all that, along with what's in his pants pockets, like his wallet and keys."
"Yes," seconded my bride, getting more fully into the spirit of destroying my manhood. "His wallet. With his cash and credit cards. Even his driver's license. Gee, I hope that without anything to remind him who he is, he doesn't start to turn into candy ass Candy 24/7."
Dwayne suggested, "I can take my car and Mariel can drive theirs. After all, Candy girl won't be going anywhere, anytime soon."
Kenya said, "Especially cause she's going to be all bare assed, except for stockings and not much else. I have some real nice panties, with the pussy area all open, so her funny little dick would be on display. Be a good reminder to the girl that, no matter what, she ain't equipped to go back to trying to pass as a man ever again, where it really matters, like in the bedroom."
"All right," Mariel decided. "Let's do it. I get Dwayne and the sex life I deserve. Dwayne gets me with my legs wrapped around his middle while he slams me every night. He also gets my big boobs, that Andy used to love to slobber all over."
"Ha!" Kenya reacted. "And I get his secret stash, turned into cash. Twenties will be fine. I might even invest some of it in a tight rubber bondage dress for the girl. A pretty red one with no seat in it, so she can stay dressed sexy while I whup her fanny with a sorority paddle I like to use. But mostly I'll keep her just about naked." She finally addressed me. "You ready to let the games begin? You want advanced lessons on how to be a pussy slave and ass kisser? You want to play Candy until she's real, and Andy is just somebody you used to be? You ready for all that, Miss Pretty Lips?" She put on a stern expression and added steel to her voice. "Are you, sissy faggot?"
I surrendered to the inevitable, sank to my stocking-clad knees, and looked up at her, less eager to defend my maleness than to avoid her displeasure. I said, or rather Candy said, in a submissive whisper, "Yes, Ma'am." I took a long slow breath. "Yes, Ms. Kenya." I gazed at the dramatic contours of her dark figure, shown off so well by that body stocking. "I am ready."
Dwayne said, "He sure is." Then to me he added, "Sorry, bro. This fine woman used to be yours but now she's mine. I wanted to help you, except you screwed yourself royally. I mean, it's all your own dumbass fault."
What could I say? I told him, "Yes. I know."
*********
I was married to Mariel for only three months when I started to notice that something wasn't right. Our love life had dropped off to almost zero. Sex had always been great for me but her responses had dwindled since the honeymoon. I made an extra effort to look good for her. Tried a new hair product. Changed my regimen of skin cleansing and moisturizing. Got two new fitted shirts and a really nice pair of slim-leg jeans. I was getting desperate. Let me be honest and tell you two things straight out. I have a really powerful sex drive. A day or two without release and it becomes all I can think of. And because I wasn't getting what I needed, I had been masturbating on the sly. In fact, doing that had reawakened by old jerk off fantasies about... well... being feminized.
Not having a lot of friends, I had only one person I felt comfortable sharing my marital problem with. That is, the problem of Mariel's waning interest, not that other stuff. I had known Dwayne since high school. There were a lot of Black guys in my class and some of them liked to taunt me because I'm short and slender. My small dick had been a running joke in the locker room. Even though Dwayne joined in, he would always be chummy later on, reassuring me that the somewhat cruel kidding was just something done in their community. Since I'd gotten married, with him as my Best Man, we had been back in touch. He had more experience with girls so it was logical to get his input now. In fact, he dated a lot of white ones, so I figured what he knew would be even more relevant than if he only went out with ones from 'his community'.
Even though I'm not much of a drinker, he suggested we meet at a bar in his neighborhood. It was a dimly lit place. I was uneasy because there were a lot of rough looking Black men sitting at the bar. But Dwayne steered me toward a table in the back. We sat down and an eye-catching waitress came over. She was Black, naturally, and had amazing curves. A big bust, for sure, but hips and thighs that were so large they were out of proportion even with that. My buddy ordered us a pitcher of beer and some jalapeno poppers. He addressed the waitress familiarly as Lawanda. As she turned away, I couldn't help gawking at her ass, which was as wide as those outrageous hips and stuck out so far it was startling.
Dwayne gave me a smile and said, "You like that Black booty, don't you, Andy?"
I lowered my eyes at his blunt evaluation and admitted, "Yeah, I do. It's just that it's so big and round."
"You think about holding it and having it all to yourself. Don't you?"
"Right again," I answered quietly, a bit uneasy to be found out.
"It's okay. I just wanted to show that I know you real well. So I'm the guy to help you with whatever this situation is that you have. Right?"
"I... Sure. You're the one."
"And I'm guessing it has to do with Mariel."
"It does."
I thought about my young bride. Her long blond hair, cute face, slender but shapely figure, and an oversized bust that drew male attention wherever we went. I got a mental picture of her walking into this place and every guy in the room openly ogling her, maybe one of the younger ones even approaching her. I shuddered at the possibility.
Dwayne went on, "So why don't you give me a chance to help you find out what's bothering her. You know, like, you could invite me over for dinner. She likes me. We danced together at the wedding reception. She loved that toast I gave, even when I joked about how you were a nerd back in school."
"But I doubt she'd open up," I pointed out. "Not with me there."
"Right." He got a thoughtful look on his handsome face. "So maybe you could run out before dinner to, I don't know, get a bottle of wine. Make up some excuse, like you think we need just the right type to go with the meal. And then I offer to go with you but you insist that I stay there in case she needs any help in the kitchen or whatever. Okay?"
Somewhere in there I paid Lawanda and left a generous tip. After she left, with me trying not to be so obvious this time about eyeing her butt, Dwayne said that, if I liked her, I should meet her cousin Kenya, who was even curvier than her. He said Kenya was an imaginative woman, with an understanding of the less aggressive sort of guys. I gave him a questioning look. He explained that he meant someone like her could help me open up and explore my feelings. That sounded sensible, in my circumstances, so I thanked him and then forgot about it. My keyed up emotions, along with those jalapeno poppers, were giving me indigestion.
I wasn't entirely happy with his plan but figured it was the best one available. I told him we would try it. It was the middle of the week so I suggested Saturday night and he liked that.
On the way home I thought about Mariel's idea for improving things between us, something she had brought up more than once. She sometimes mentioned spicing up our sex life by having me use my mouth on her, below the waist, if you know what I mean. I suppose I overreacted, because that has always seemed so unpalatable and unmanly to me. When I went into an uncharacteristic rant about not doing it, she really shut down emotionally for the next two days. That had been hard on me, with my need for frequent relief that I referred to. In fact, when she went to bed the second night, I got on the computer and went to a site I remembered from my single days. There were drawings from this amazing artist, Severin (like the character from Venus In Furs) Sicky (as in 'perverted'). They featured little guys being dominated -- and feminized -- by their wives and big Black women. It was pretty heady stuff and I sat there drooling over it and fiddling with my dick. The guys in the images were small down there like me. I guess I related to it in some way. When my wife got up to get a drink of water, and I thought she might catch me, my heart missed a few beats.
Anyway, Mariel went along with Dwayne's idea, which I presented as my own. I just said that a single guy like him would appreciate a home cooked meal and some company. She mentioned that he was quite the lady's man and might be busy, but I said I could invite him anyway, because just being asked would make him feel better. So that's what I did and, as planned, he accepted. My wife decided on boneless, breaded chicken cutlets, with pasta and steamed broccoli. I immediately seized on the angle that the meal lent itself to more than one wine choice. We had a few bottles on a rack in the spare bedroom, where the computer was, but I could check them, find something that wasn't there, and use that as my excuse to run to the store. I even had the brainstorm of insisting that I had to drive to Zelman's Wine Spot, a specialty place in the next town. That would give Dwayne even more time to relax her and get into her more deeply.
When Saturday night arrived, I made sure to wear yet another new shirt I had just added to my wardrobe. My hair was almost down to my collar, but I wanted it to continue looking casual and unaffected, so I just stuck with my usual product, that left it soft and only lightly scented. When Dwayne arrived he looked terrific. A short sleeved shirt showed off his well developed arms. He had worn his snug 'club' pants that fit perfectly, though they also displayed an impressive crotch bulge. Naturally, that effect had noting to do with our purposes, but I told myself that it was just part of his social image and he must have done it without thinking.
For a while we chatted and then I said I'd put some wine in the fridge to chill. It felt naughty to be playacting like that. I came back and said we didn't have any of the pink rose I thought would be appropriate, and volunteered to go get some. I remembered to slip in that I'd be taking time to get to that particular wine shop. Dwayne played his part and offered to go along, but I magnanimously said he should stay in case Mariel need anything reached down off a top shelf or whatever. So off I would go, determined to stretch my errand out to the max. I went to kiss my wife goodbye but she turned her face so that I only was able to give her a peck on the cheek. One more sign that I needed to let Dwayne try to get to the root of our problem.
There was some extra traffic on the roads and I made sure not to sneak through any lights just as they were changing. Took plenty of time in the store. On the way home, wanting to be really certain Dwayne had enough time get into Mariel's issues, I stopped at a menswear shop and checked the latest arrivals. Even treated myself to a crewneck sweater that would show off how trim I was.
I got back and found my wife and good buddy sitting on the sofa side-by-side. Excellent. She suggested that I put the wine in the kitchen. While I was gone I could hear them still talking, in low voices. Wow. She must have really opened up to him. I got back and they both appeared calm and contented. I credited that to Dwayne having success, and my wife unburdening herself. It looked like everything was going even better than I had hoped. The meal was excellent, though Mariel decided that of the wines we'd already had was more appropriate than what I'd bought. She said we could open my bottle on another occasion.
Afterwards we chatted some more and watched a reality show that she likes, which it turned out he enjoyed too. Something about survivalist types being dumped in godforsaken locations and having to get by on their own. I certainly didn't want to see people dealing with swamps, heat, humidity, wildlife, and bugs. I'd made it clear in the past that I had no interest in seeing the program but, on this occasion, feeling as good as I did, I made an exception. They kept talking about being self reliant and what they would do if the two of them were in that situation. I didn't have anything to say about that unlikely scenario.
When Dwayne was ready to leave, I offered to walk him out to his car. I was hoping to get a synopsis of what he'd learned from Mariel. But once we were on the front sidewalk and out of earshot of the house, he grabbed my arm. His face was set into a grim mask.
He said, "Listen man, we have to talk. Let's get together tomorrow night. Eight o'clock. Same place as before."
I tried to ask for information but he waved me off. As he got into his car, I was already being seized by anxiety. What had she told him? Why couldn't he just blurt it out right then? But Dwayne drove away and left me standing there with my mounting concerns.
All through the next day I was on pins and needles. I called Mariel from work and told her I was going to do some overtime and then have a drink with some of my coworkers. I hated lying to her, but what else could I say? Belatedly, I realized that, if she called me where I was, and I had already gone, it would look bad. So I did stay late and clean up some reports, even though the hours hadn't been authorized and I wouldn't get paid for them. I finally left at seven, with an hour to kill. So I ended up wandering around, full of nervous agitation, for most of that time before going back to the parking garage, getting my car, and driving to that bar again.
When I went in I didn't see him anywhere. The table we had occupied before was vacant, so that's where I went. No surprise, I was the only white guy in there. The one good thing for me was that Lawanda was working and came to take my order. I told her Dwayne would be there soon and ordered a pitcher of beer, like last time. When she brought it back I talked to her for a few minutes. Just to be sociable, and to keep her there longer, I mentioned her cousin Kenya.
She said, "Oh, you heard about her?"
"Yeah," I responded. "Dwayne told me. Sounds like she's easy to talk to. Maybe I should have a chat with her."
I was just making small talk but she looked me up and down before saying, "Well, if Dwayne thinks you're okay, I could put you in touch with her."
Was I missing something there? I hadn't gotten the impression that Kenya was a prostitute or anything. So why the cautious attitude? I shrugged it off. Not important. I wasn't actually planning to contact her anyway. I was halfway through my first glass of beer when Dwayne showed up and came straight to the table. He put on an uncertain smile and poured full the second glass that Lawanda had brought. I tried to start him talking but he wanted to do something else first. Turned out he needed to order a stronger drink. He asked Lawanda for a 7 and 7. After she brought it and left us, he pushed it across to me.
"You better start in on that, buddy. I know you're not going to like what I have to tell you. And I'm not going to enjoy saying it."
I took a sip, even though I knew it was going to go straight to my head. I said, "All right. I guess it's better to just get it over with. What did she say?"
"I got her talking, telling her you were worried that you were letting her down in some way. She wanted to know about back when you were in school, and said that you never talked about it. I figured it was better if I was completely honest, and I wanted to get you some sympathy, so I told her about how you got treated in the locker room. About how that one time the guys made you play with yourself to see how much bigger your dick would get. And then when they made you wear panties and how... well, I didn't want to bring it up but she really wanted to know... how you got hard when you put them on."
This time a took a bigger sip. "And did she feel bad for me?"
"Well, I think she felt bad, but not for you. She told me what a disappointment you are in bed, and how she had hoped you would make up for your small dick by eating her pussy. I said I would talk to you about that. But she was stuck on the size issue and said she could see that I was packing a lot. I tried to shrug it off but, you know, we were right next to each other and all of a sudden her hand was on my cock, feeling it through my pants."
"She... did that?"
"Hey, believe me, I didn't encourage her. But yeah, she did that and started stroking it, too. I was trying to slow her down and get her to stop, but she opened my pants, got the zipper down, and had me out in no time. It was like she'd had a hell of a lot of practice. And she really had some skills with her hand, which distracted me and made it hard for me to think straight or find my voice."
"B... but, you're my friend."
"Right. And that's why I was there in the first place. And that's why YOU left us alone together. Remember? So I was finally getting to where I could tell her 'no', and just like that she leans way down and -- WHOA! -- her mouth is on my knob." He shook his head in wonderment. "I mean, talk about 'suck and swirl', that girl should give lessons. And those busy fingers were still on my pole."
"And you let her?"
"Wasn't any stopping her at that point. I mean the mouth and hand were going at the same time. And damn if she didn't swallow the whole thing. All ten inches. Like a pro. Sorry for saying that, but I figure the more you know, the better you'll understand her. And how much you let her down. And how much she's trying to make up for all the bad sex she's had with you."
"Bad s... sex?"
"I'll get to that. But let me assure you, I sure wasn't enjoying what she was doing. No sir. I mean the physical part, having my cock worshipped like that, by a girl with those mad skills, well any guy would respond the way I did. At the same time, in my head, I was feeling sad for her."
"For HER?"
"Exactly. She must have felt like less than a woman, having to let you put your little dick in her all the time, and then she never got anything out of it."
"Are you saying I she never... finished?"
"I'm getting to that. Just let me tell you the rest about that head she was giving me. Your girl gets down on her knees in front of me and gets my pants down and on one ankle. Shorts, too. So she was all sucking and purring and moaning, like a bitch cat in heat. There was this one part where she had me all the way down her throat, not gagging or anything. And then her tongue sneaks out and starts licking my balls, if you can believe that."
"Do you really need to tell me every little detail?"
"I'm trying to give you the whole picture, man. So you can see how much she's affected by being stuck with a guy who has a peanut dick."
"Peanut dick?"
"That's what she said later. But I don't want to get ahead of myself. Because there was this big finish."
He looked at me and gestured to my mixed drink, as if to warn me that I would need more of it before I heard what came next. I picked it up and took a full swallow, making myself cough and sputter.
I told him, "All... all right."
"So just when I'm thinking this is as good as it can possibly get, she backs off until just the knob is in her mouth. Sucking it like she's in love with it, all tender and with her tongue going in slow motion. Then that soft little hand gets to work on my stick, up and down, up and down, in no hurry. Her other hand sneaks in and fondles my balls. Three things going on at once. No girl ever did it that good before."
"Is it really necessary for you to...?"
"Which is when she slides her lips off me, takes a few licks of that real sensitive spot under the head, and starts talking. Mariel sounds all dreamy and she's like, 'It's so big' and 'It feels so wonderful in my mouth' and mostly 'Andy is so small' and 'Andy doesn't have what I need' and 'Andy's could never go down my throat. It wouldn't reach past my tonsils'. Right in the middle of dissing your peanut dick -- like I said, that's her name for it and not mine -- she gets back to business and starts mouthing the end of my Johnson like she's mad at it, with super suction, and pumping my bone faster, and rolling my nuggets on the palm of her warm hand, and then -- BLOOEY! -- she busts my nut and I'm shooting my load onto her tongue and she's all gulping it down and rubbing those big knockers against my legs and making sure her mouth and hand milk out every last drop, like she was starving for it."
I waited to see if there was more. When he didn't go on, I asked, "And what did you do?"
"Tried to catch my breath, brother. I'll tell you, that was the best ever. And after she had me all licked clean, that sweetheart just gets my shorts up, along with the pants, makes sure everything's back in place, up goes my fly, she fastens the button, and it's like nothing ever happened. Well, she did lick her lips a couple times and give me some awfully sexy smiles. But you wanted to know about that other thing. Her not getting what a woman wants in bed." Dwayne let my tension build for a few moments before he went on in a sympathetic tone, "You wife told me how she's never had an orgasm with you. And how she fakes it to make you feel better. And how much she thinks about what she's not getting." He gave a deep shrug. "And that's the story, my man."
"But... I never thought..."
"Oh," he said, "I should also mention, with the way you dress, not exactly macho, she might have some doubts about where your head is, sexuality wise."
"What?"
"You know. Like if maybe you swing both ways."
"But I'm not..."
"Well, I know that. But people can wonder. Even back in school, some of that shit you wore had folks talking."
With the shock of all those revelations, I began to sniffle. And then was seized by spasms of sobbing. I'd never suspected how I'd failed her. Dwayne cautioned me to get a hold of myself, because the men at the bar, along with some couples at other tables, were beginning to notice my breakdown. I glanced around and saw a couple that was a delectable white woman and a tall athletic Black man. A knot formed in my stomach. But I was able to stop those wracking sobs. I sat there hugging myself. My buddy nodded toward the half filled glass and I drained it, followed by a long drink of beer.
My words were slightly slurred as I begged him, "Just, please, don't let that happen again."
"If that's the way you want it, Andy, it's all good. Except for one problem."
I couldn't believe there was still more. I sighed and said, "What?"
"You know Mariel has to get this out of her system. If she does it with me, then you'll know what's what. And I'll be ready to quit once she's back to just wanting you. But if she doesn't have me, she's going to wind up with some pussy-hound, or thug, or maybe even some dude who's on the wrong side of the law. That happens and whoever she's with might not want to let her go when it's time. Might even come after you, to convince you not to be taking her back. Maybe get ugly with you. So...."
He held up his hands, palms uppermost. The thought of her being with Dwayne was unsettling. But those alternatives he had laid out, and the possible repercussions, were worse. I gazed into my half empty beer and shook my head. Then I finished the glass. Dwayne refilled it without saying anything. At last I looked up at him.
"You're right. I'm sorry if I got all accusatory with you. It's just that under the circumstances..."
"I know what you're saying. But I'll do everything I can to just keep it on the talking level with your wife. You know that."
"Yes. I trust you Dwayne. And you made me see that she isn't to blame. Not really. And neither are you."
"That's good. You have to accept responsibility before this can get fixed. And you have to do more. It's like what I saw on TV one time, when this head doctor was talking, she said you have to build a bridge of trust. One way to do that is to satisfy her in bed."
"But you said... she said... with my..."
"With your little dick you can't do it. I'm saying about that other thing. You using your mouth on her." He waited for my reaction.
"I never wanted to do that. It's just so... I don't know... unappetizing."
"Most guys like it. And you want to save your marriage. How about if you tell her you're willing and see what she says back to you."
After another drink of beer I told him, "That's what I'll do." I even managed a smile when I said, "Maybe she won't take me up on the offer."
He smiled back. "And maybe she will. But one last thing. I know some guys from Shelbyville, who were probably in school the same time as Mariel. Let me talk to them and see what else I can find out. Try to get something else you can use to see what she's like inside. And what she needs."
Dwayne finished his beer. He got up and clapped me on the shoulder, saying that everything would work out. Then he headed toward the exit. I sat there feeling sorry for myself, but also resolved to help my wife get past her issues, as well as taking responsibility for my part in what had happened. Lawanda came over and asked me if I wanted anything else. I told her I didn't and she gave me the check. While I was getting cash out of my wallet, she leaned over toward me. It was impossible not to notice her deep cleavage.
"Listen up," she said confidentially. "You ought to talk to my cousin Kenya, like I we talked about. Give me your phone. I'll put her number in it."
Glad to have someone else on my side, I handed her the phone. She entered a number and urged me to use it when I decided the time was right. I paid her, including a more than generous tip. She thanked me sweetly and went over to that other table, the one with the interracial couple. I started to feel alone and rejected, so I drank the remaining beer and left for home.
When I entered our place, Mariel was in the kitchen. I went to her and said hello, getting a critical look instead of a greeting. I sat at the kitchen table and waited.
After a minute I said, "Honey, I know I've been a little bit of a disappointment to you. Dwayne and I have talked. And I want to assure you that I'm going to do everything I can to make it right between us. I... err... was thinking that, next time we're in bed... if you want, I could do that thing for you that you've asked about recently."
She turned and eyed me disdainfully. "You mean eating my pussy? Which I've been doing more than just asking about since longer than just recently. Is that what you mean?"
Surprised by her newfound confidence and forthrightness, I opened and closed my mouth. Then I cleared my throat and told her, "Yes, dear. That. Which you have been -- mentioning -- for a while now."
"I guess that's a start," she allowed, not sounding convinced. "And did Dwayne tell you anything else?"
"He said that you two got... into some personal stuff."
"And that's all he said?"
"More or less."
She tilted her head to the side and gave me an unreadable look. "He might have more to tell you after tomorrow night. I called him before you got back and the two of us are going out."
"For drinks? Or dinner? Or...?"
"Or maybe just coffee. Right now, what I do is none of your business. You can make yourself something for dinner. And I'll find something for me."
I got the cold shoulder for the rest of the evening. The next day when I came home from work she acted more welcoming, but I soon saw that it was because she was going to be leaving me for awhile. I accepted that glumly. Around seven she started to get ready for her -- well, I didn't want to call it a date -- her night out with Dwayne. My wife called me into the bedroom about a half hour later. I had the sudden thought that she might want to reconcile. Instead, she only needed me to zip up her new dress, which was short and showed off her legs. At least it didn't have a low neckline, I thought when I saw that it went up into a high collar. But when she turned around I got an unwelcome surprise. There was a keyhole opening on the bodice that framed and drew attention to her impressive cleavage.
Promptly at eight, Dwayne came to pick her up. I answered the door and saw he was dressed in a pale blue shirt, grey slacks, and a burgundy sport coat. My fashion radar went off because he looked so dapper. It wasn't quite my style but I still wanted to ask him where he'd been shopping. I was about to say something to him when Mariel came up behind me.
"Hello, Dwayne," she said pleasantly. "I love that jacket."
Then she gave me the slightest of glances, as if to say... what? That he dressed better than me? Or just that she was comfortable paying him a compliment in front of me? Or something else? Like what he had said about my wardrobe sending he wrong message. And people guessing I might be sprinkled with fairy dust. As she stepped outside he gave me a small reassuring smile. Well, at least I still had him thinking of my interests. If this one occasion went well, I told myself, my wife and I would have turned a corner and be on the way to where I wanted us to go. I stood there and watched him open the door for her. Then he got in and drove away. How long would they be? Would my bride still be frosty toward me when she returned?
I'll admit that I was pacing the floor for a while. Then, just after 10, Mariel called me. She sounded friendly again, and I was sure I heard a hint of seduction. My wife told me to be naked when she got dropped off. It was like a weight had been lifted off me. Dwayne must be doing his job awfully well. I wasn't thrilled with the idea of having to be nude, but I had decided to do whatever it took to build that 'bridge of trust'. The last thing she needed was me not going along with her playful request. I sat on the sofa with one of the throw pillows on my lap, covering those essential parts. It was strangely exciting. Then, after an hour, it was less exciting. Finally, just past midnight, I had sunk into gloom.
Mariel arrived at last. Her hair was mussed, clothes slightly askew, and she had obviously had a few drinks. She gave me a mischievous smile and came to sit next to me. At her request, I unzipped the dress. The keyhole cut-out was so inviting, but I didn't want to do anything wrong. She took the pillow off me and tossed it aside. Her hand went to my dick and had it hard in seconds. She leaned toward it and I imagined I was going to get one of those incredible BJs like Dwayne had described in way too much detail. But she just blew on my yearning member and giggled.
My bride said, "I'd use my mouth on you, but that little thing might get stuck between my teeth." She used one finger to flick my penis side-to-side. "How about this? She got her thumb and forefinger on the root and gathered some skin between them. "A pinch to grow an inch." Mariel clamped her digits tight. And twisted. And yanked hard.
"No!" I yelped. "Please. Let go."
She did, but then made a sour face and called me, "Spoilsport."
I sat there, wanting to rub the sore spot she'd created, but not wanting to touch myself down there. She might make a joke about me playing with it. She voiced a sympathetic sound and batted my dick kittenishly, lightly, as if making up for her previous hurting. I reminded myself that she was a bit *****.
Then she pressed her body against me, letting me feel those big globes on her chest. I started breathing harder. She gave my bare thigh a squeeze.
"All right," she said, getting up. "Let's hit the sheets, lover boy."
I got to my feet and put a hand on her elbow to steady her. She wriggled her arm free and walked on her own, swaying only a bit. When we got to the bedroom she said she wanted the lights off. I went along with that and got the room dark. She even had me close the door so there was no light from the hall. I could hear her dress hissing as she slithered out of it. Then there was a minute while she must have been ridding herself of her bra and panties. I wished I could be seeing the perfection of her substantial bust. Still, that didn't matter when I heard the bed make the faint but distinctive noise that told me she had gotten onto it.
"Ann-Dee," she sang out to me. "Time for beddy bye." She chuckled. "Can you find me in the dark?"
As I got onto the edge of the bed I reached toward where I estimated her boobs would be, but found an arm thrown across them. As I moved my hand, wanting to touch some part of her, any part, the arm kept deflecting me.
"Honey," I said, trying to suppress a note of frustration. "I'm glad we're doing this."
"Me too. I've been waiting to collect on your offer. I just wanted to wait until the ideal time. Now slide down and get between my legs. I want your head between my thighs. And your face in position to go to work. It's pussy eating time, Ann-Dee."
That was disappointing but, again, I wanted to do whatever it took to make matters between us right again. I successfully put myself where she had directed me. My face was so close to her womanhood that I was inhaling her female musk. She toyed with my hair briefly.
I said, "I'm ready, dear."
Maybe she would only want a sample, just to prove that I was willing. And then we could progress to what I wanted to do instead. My demanding libido was eager to be satisfied. I brought my face down and forward until my nose bumped against her trimmed pubic bush. My tongue came out, stretched, and found her soft nether lips. I began to lick, startled at how wet, even creamy she was, but credited it to her excitement. Besides, I'd never done that before and didn't know what it was supposed to be like. I lapped steadily until she told me to vary my strokes. Then she directed me to suck her clitoris. That started her moaning. My wife also had me probe inside and slurp up even more of that ooziness that had so caught me off guard.
I was gratified when she started climbing toward a climax. It didn't sound quite like during intercourse. I remembered with a sinking feeling that those other reactions had been faked. This was more authentic and now I could tell the difference. Her hips squirmed. She grabbed my hair and pulled my face firmly against her mound. I concentrated on her clitoris and put her over the top. She bucked her pelvis against my mouth several times before settling down. Mariel whispered to me to keep licking, more slowly and not so forcefully. She drifted through a happy afterglow.
"That wasn't too bad," she allowed, damning me with faint praise. "I'm sure you'll get better with lots of practice."
"Are you ready to... do the rest?"
"The rest of what, sweetie? You cheated me out of orgasms for way too long, and now you have to play catchup. I am going to enjoy this so, so much."
"But aren't we going to...?"
"No we're not. What would be the point? For me to go back to pretending you're getting me off? I don't think so."
"Well, then I guess I'll go clean up. Brush and rinse."
"No, you won't. You made a good start, so let's not ruin it. This is part of paying me back."
"But..."
"But nothing. I got plowed by Dwayne and his gorgeous huge cock. You cleaned up all the spunk he left inside me, soothed my overused puss, and gave me a bonus finish, on top of the magic he worked. So now I want you to have my flavor -- and my lover's -- in your mouth until morning."
"Dwayne? He did that? I was licking up and swallowing his...?"
"Correct on all points. He was magnificent. That man fills me up like you never could. And he can go for an hour, instead of your two minutes or less. Plus, he knows what he's doing and how to make me feel like a woman. He's in and you're out. Until further notice, you're limited to snatch-snacking sex only."
I couldn't believe it. My head was reeling. I sat on the edge of the bed with my feet on the floor. Well, my toes on the floor. My feet don't reach all the way. She laughed softly to herself. I heard her phone open up.
Very soon she said, "Hey, Dwayne. I just wanted to tell you again how incredible you were. I mean, I saw stars. More than once. What? No, peanut-dick is in the other room, sulking," she lied. "Really? You think I should be nice to him? And not keep on seeing you? You did say I have to get this sex bug out of my system. The only way I'll get it out is to get you in -- to my pussy -- at least a few more times. At least." She listened to something he said. "All right, stud. I'll try to be nice to the little twerp. Okay." She made a kissing noise. "See you soon. The sooner the better."
This was impossible. I understood that she might feel she was entitled to even the score she felt existed. But what had just happened was extreme. I sighed and laid back down, that salty taste thick in my mouth, Dwayne's cum on my lips. Things will get better, I promised myself. They have to.
In the morning, before I left to go to the office, Mariel appeared to be silently gloating over her victory and my downfall. Or maybe she was still buzzing from a surfeit of sexual satisfaction. At least, after breakfast, which was ruined by those tastes in my mouth, she allowed me to brush my teeth and wash my face.
My wife joked, "Don't want to send you to work with pussy breath. And cum breath."
I tried to discuss everything but she just shooed me out the door. Mariel had become so sure of herself in such a short time. And so domineering. And condescending. I still wasn't blaming her, but that left the burden of fault on me.
Just before lunch I got an e-mail from Dwayne, telling me to meet him at noon, where we'd gone before. I wasn't in a hurry to see him, after what had happened the night before. Even so, I had to grasp at any hope, no matter how remote, of turning this horrid situation around. I considered what I was wearing, and whether or not it looked too 'metro'. Being made aware that many people thought my look was kind of gay had shaken me up. The probability that all those Black men who congregated in the bar I was going to might think the same made it even more unnerving.
When I arrived the place was packed. The lunchtime crowd was almost exclusively Black. Dwayne was at what now felt like our regular table. He was sitting there with a Black girl who was undeniably hot, with well upholstered curves that had my dick pulsing. It would help a lot if I could get some relief, but as uneasy as I was about everything, I didn't want to masturbate; that would feel like an admission that I didn't expect to get my wife back into bed for more than going 'downtown' on her... and cleaning up after my buddy. And looking at the kind of pictures I liked, after the doubts that had been cast on my manhood, wouldn't be as much fun as it used to. Was something wrong with me? Wasn't the stuff I chose just for a change of pace? Weren't my episodes of dressing all in the past? That was all on my mind as I approached the table. Dwayne ignored me for a long two minutes while he spoke to the young woman. OMG, she was glorious. When she left he gestured me to the seat she had vacated. He was drinking soda but when the waitress, a new one, came over he told her I needed a rum and cola. Him believing I needed to be braced with alcohol didn't bode well. This waitress carried a lot less padding than Lawanda overall, but she did have a bubble butt.
"Hey, Andy," he said with what sounded like advance consolation for pending bad news. "How's it going?"
"How do you think?" I said, sounding as defeated and peevish as I felt. "My wife came home really late. And well used."
"Did she... make you do something for her?"
Before I spoke I made an involuntary strangling sound deep in my throat, a physical reaction to the memory of consuming his spunk. "Yes. What we talked about."
"She said she might. I tried to talk her out of it. And she didn't wash up before you started?"
"Do you really need to know what..."
He held up is hand. "Just tell me."
There was a suggestion of authority in his voice. So now my wife AND my best friend were taking over when they pleased.
I admitted, "No, she didn't clean herself." I added with distaste, " she made me do that."
He took a sip from his glass before telling me, "I tried to talk her out of it. But she was really burning to try it. And then I told her you would refuse. Didn't you at least try to say no? After you saw the mess I left in her? You know, I went off like a damn firehose. Couldn't believe how hard I came."
"I didn't know. The lights were out."
"But you could tell once you got your mouth on it. Right?"
"Dwayne, I'd never done that before. I honestly couldn't tell."
"Or maybe you were lying to yourself. Do you think you're secretly getting turned on by all this? I mean, with you being so keen on dressing the way you do, and all that junk you put on your hair and skin."
"I'm not a sissy," I protested, sounding as unconvincing to myself as I must have to him.
"All right, man. I'm not saying it's true. I just want you to explore all the possibilities. And she called me while you were out of the room. I told her to be nice to you."
"I was in the room," I corrected. "But I could tell from her end of the conversation that you were trying to do the right thing for me. And I appreciate that."
I wanted to defend my manhood further, get back to how I shouldn't be judged by my look, but the waitress returned with my drink. She left it and Dwayne pointed at the glass and pantomimed taking a long swallow, which I did despite my low tolerance for booze.
He said, "Remember how I was going to check with some guys who might have known Mariel back in Shelbyville, in school? Well I did, and they remembered her plenty. You going to be all right when I tell you some not-so-good news?" I have a half shrug and he continued, "Turns out that, being a cheerleader, and shaking everything around those Black football players, it led to more than just being looked at. Seems she took a liking to those boys. When you met her she was just plain Mariel Lewinsky. Back then she was called Mariel the Meat Sucker, and Leg Spreading Lewinsky. See, the first one was because she'd open her mouth wide for any guy with a really long fat..."
"I understand," I said, interrupting. "Too much information, Dwayne."
"Don't mean to make you feel even worse, Andy. It's just that you need to see the full picture. This isn't something new. That girl's been -- excuse the term -- cock crazy for a long time. Which means it might also take a long while to reverse her condition."
"So what are you saying?"
"Maybe you should just follow her lead. Let her do what she needs to, so she can find her way back to you."
"You honestly think that could happen? Her getting over all that and just wanting me?"
"I do. Now that she's gotten you to slurp up my sex sauce, right out of her snatch -- which you did without putting up a fight -- maybe she feels like she's paid you back for being such a letdown. Or at least started to. She wants to see me again on the weekend."
"Again?"
"Like I told you before, if it's not me it could be some guy from the hood. Girls like her, sometimes they want it rough and mean. I'm keeping it on the soft side. Mostly. Sort of. But if you'd rather I back out, I can do that."
"No. I'm sorry." What was I apologizing for? He was banging my bride. "It might work. You can try to keep her from straying any further."
"That's right. And you know what else? You can show her that two can play the game. Why don't you see someone else?"
"I don't know."
"Just to send a message, man. You could come back when Lawanda's working and ask her for her cousin's number."
"Kenya." I hadn't mentioned that I already had the number in my phone, ready to use. Or that I'd been thinking of what he'd said about her being even more full figured than Lawanda. I wouldn't mind being around such a zaftig woman. "I might." Plus, what Lawanda had said suggested that her cousin was very understanding, something I could use. "We'll see."
Matters between my wife and I went on without any more traumas like what had happened after she went to bed with Dwayne. She occasionally made mildly taunting references to it, and to my inadequate penis, but I tried to ignore them. When Friday night came I was ready. I had even selected something to wear. Not wanting to give in to pressure, but also not wanting to present the wrong image, I wore one of my least favorite combinations. My only concession was the jockey shorts, which were powder blue and hugged me front and back. After all, it wasn't like Kenya was going to see them. I didn't anticipate us getting to the no-pants-romance stage.
At around seven, when my wife began getting ready to go out with Dwayne, I made a show of laying out my own clothes. She gave me a questioning look. I felt a tingle of self confidence. I didn't offer any information, so she had to ask.
"Going somewhere, Andy?"
"Yes, I am. You're going to be with Dwayne, so I'm going to see someone."
She acted satisfied with that but I hoped she was secretly irritated. Just a little. To balance the scales somewhat.
While she was still getting ready I recalled that I yet had to contact Kenya. I'd gotten the impression that she was usually at home, so I hadn't been overly concerned about finding her there. At the last minute, however, my anxiety level began to rise. What if she wasn't there and I had to spend the evening alone? Or if I tried to pick up someone else and failed, as I had so often while single? I made the call and was relieved that she answered, even more when she said she had no plans and would like to meet me. It was all moving along so smoothly. Kenya had a lovely voice and, as she gave me her address, it turned sultry and suggestive. Or maybe I was just hearing what I wanted. I decided that it would still be what I had assumed, a nice few hours of chatting, having a sympathetic listener, and maybe sharing a goodnight kiss. In the back of my mind was also aware of how my small dick could turn a possible bedroom romp into a disaster, so I concluded that it would be better with just conversation.
As prompt as before, Dwayne picked Mariel up right on time. I hurried to finish preparing, going back to the bathroom and putting just a touch more product in my hair. Then I got in the car and went to see Kenya. She lived in a brownstone apartment building in a nice neighborhood. I found parking on the street and went to the front door and into the foyer. There were press-buttons for the apartments and I found hers. Her voice came through the speaker, and she told me the lock on the security door was waiting to be repaired and to just come through. I went up in the elevator to the second floor. It was like being single again.
I straightened my jacket and knocked on her door. When she answered I was stunned speechless. Not only was she as full-curved as Lawanda, and then some, but she was wearing a dark body stocking that hid her skin but showed off every inch of her contours. She gave me a winning smile and invited me in. Mildly dazed, I entered and sat on the couch. She offered me a glass of wine which I accepted. As she left the room I couldn't take my eyes off her wide, well rounded bottom. When she returned with two glasses, she handed me one and sat alongside me, setting hers on the coffee table in front of us. Our hips were almost touching. I could smell whatever flowery scent she was wearing, not heavy but not subtle, either.
"So," she said, "Lawanda tells me you're just my type."
Trying to sound casual, I asked, "What type is that?"
"You know. A good dresser." It sounded like there was some coded meaning behind the term. "Although you aren't showing it much at the moment. She said you usually have style to spare."
"Well." I tried to sound modest. "I do like to look good."
"I know you do. And I'm betting you have something special on tonight, even if I can't see it. So tell me, Andy, what are you hiding under that safe, toned down outfit?"
What was she getting at? I told her it was just my underwear, but did mention the designer brand. She asked about the color and I described that as well.
"You know I have to see them," she told me mischievously. "Just a peek. Get on out of those shoes and pants."
What? Where was this going? I took a drink of wine. As if in a trance, driven by my need to assert myself as something other than just Mariel's husband, trying to win back my marital privileges, I stood up and sheepishly undid my belt, opened my pants, and lowered them to mid-thigh. She reached over to feel the material against my hip. I felt giddy as she next ran her fingers over my nearside buttock.
Kenya wanted to know, "So Andy, these are nice but I know you'd rather be in panties. Right?"
All my TV dressing moments from the past were suddenly crowding my thoughts. I said without meaning to, "Yes, I would."
She smiled up at me. "Then let Kenya help you with that. I've had plenty of boys like you up here. Cute white guys who want to be something else."
All at once, I was confused and tense. "There's been a misunderstanding here," I insisted. "I'm not like that. I mean, I have done it, but now I'm married."
Kenya gently assured me, "Lots of married guys do it. Panties, stockings, a nice garter belt. Wives don't have to find out. And you know you want to."
Well, it would still be a way of me asserting myself. And like she said, Mariel would never know. So what was the harm? It made me see how much I had missed my former secret hobby.
Still not a hundred percent committed, I pointed out, "But I don't have anything like that to get into."
She chuckled. "Honey, I told you I have boys up here. Don't you think I have some pretties for them to slip into? And hey, everything gets laundered after they wear it. In fact, some of them like to do the washing by hand, with a little dishpan, some gentle detergent, and some warm water -- after I put them in a nice frilly apron."
I'd never thought of wearing an apron but her words went right to my heart. And another part of my anatomy. That gave me mixed feelings about my proclivities. I got undressed the rest of the way, down to just my shorts, and folded my outerwear neatly, laying it on a wooden chair. Kenya took me by the hand and led me, like I was an unsure virginal boy, to her bedroom. On the bed there were already an array of items laid out for my delectation. I surrendered to the temptation. It wasn't as if Dwayne was ever going to know about this. I was confident that Kenya would be discrete. And there was even less chance of the Black woman interacting with my wife. If Mariel ever discovered my TV tendencies, who knew how she would react? But that wasn't going to happen.
I went to the bed and began handling the lingerie, though fondling might be a better word. It got me aroused right away. Kenya noticed and said in a soft encouraging way that it was okay for me to shed my shorts. I did it slowly, making a performance of it, my long-sequestered girly side emerging at last. My bottom gave a wiggle and my shoulders went back, thrusting out my smooth hairless chest. I licked my lips as I rubbed a pair of lacy panties against the side of my face. Kenya turned on an overhead light and I saw that it was directly above a full length, oval mirror mounted on a polished wooden stand, between uprights. I wanted to cover up my penis, so it would stop announcing how underhung I was, but also to enhance the illusion of femininity. I took those lacy panties, see-through for the most part, but with an opaque front panel, and slipped into them, at the same time tucking my male parts down and back. The effect was electrifying.
Oblivious for the moment to Kenya's presence, I posed in front of the mirror, hands on hips, chin elevated just a little, and spoke to my reflection. "Look at you. What a sexy girl. What's your name? Is it Andy? No, that's not a girl's name. So it must be Candy. Hello, Candy. I haven't seen you for a long time."
I drifted back to the bed, selected a garter belt and stockings, both in pale rose, and donned them with the ease of past experience. It was so satisfying to be back in women's underthings. I had another exchange with my mirror image, this time daring to play with my nipples and even give myself an air kiss.
"I can tell," I told Candy, "that you are a naughty girl. I bet you like to dress up and strut down the street, just to see the looks you get from guys who think you're a real girl. Maybe you should visit Tooker Street, or like it's usually called, Hooker Street. Hmm? You could hang out with the hoes and pass for one of them. Men would pull their cars up to the curb and talk dirty to you. And you would talk even dirtier back to them."
Amazing. This was further than I'd ever gone with my self-roleplaying. I turned my back to the mirror to admire my backside, hairless cheeks visible through the transparent seat of the panties.
"Look at that ass. It is so perfect. Imagine it in a micro-miniskirt. Or a pair of hot pants. Hooker hot pants. You are such a slut." My voice got louder. "Candy is a dirty tramp, hanging on the corner, making all the guys stare and think filthy thoughts about her. She is a total... whore."
Kenya came over, turned me to the side, and wordlessly began applying make-up to my face. She worked quickly with mascara, liner, shadow, lipstick and gloss. Her fingers combed through my hair and I could tell she was making it fuller. The product I used would support that. When I again faced the mirror a miracle of make-over had taken place. I really was Candy, oh so girly, with a heavy dose of party-girl-for-hire. I wagged my tongue and she wagged hers back. I teased my nipples into prominence and she did the same.
I said, "You are a complete bimbo with nothing on her mind but looking good and turning heads. Aren't you?"
"You certainly are," answered a male voice, but it wasn't mine. And it definitely wasn't Candy's.
I spun around and was facing my wife and Dwayne, dressed for an evening out, who were standing just inside the open door. There was nowhere for me to flee.
Mariel said angrily, "I can't believe this, Andy. I had Dwayne bring me here because he guessed this was where you had come. The door wasn't locked downstairs and the apartment was open. I was ready to kiss and make up, but it looks like you'd rather pretend to be a streetwalker, with guys drooling over you. You are nothing but a pansy faggot. I married a sissy who's in love with his fantasy self instead of me. No wonder you were so lousy in bed. It wasn't just your miniature dick that spoiled it. Your mind was far away, in some lingerie shop or maybe a whorehouse."
My traumatized mind tried to give a response. I babbled, "It wasn't really me. I mean, I was just trying something new." Then I seized on a solution. "It was Kenya. She made me do this. She told me what to wear and say, and how to act."
Dwayne shook his head sadly. "Buddy, we been in the other room for a while now. Heard a whole lot of you talking sissy, but none of Kenya telling you to. It's not nice to lie to your wife. And your best buddy."
Before I could speak again, Kenya got right in front of me, her eyes blazing. "You blaming me, stupid little sissy? With that finger-dick and smooth waxed body? Like you didn't want this all along? Especially how you dress so faggoty when you're pretending you're a real man, faking it for your wife and everybody?"
"She's right," Dwayne agreed. "You absolutely betrayed Mariel."
My wife wasn't done venting, either. She sneered and told me, "You are worthless as a man, you and that peanut between your hairless legs. Ugh. I don't ever want to have sex with you again. I came here to offer you a new start but now I don't want to even see you. Maybe you just shouldn't come home again. It looks like you won't even need to come get your clothes, because you've got plenty of pretty ones right here to wear."
She put her arms around Dwayne and hugged him tightly, her cheek against his chest. He squeezed her protectively to him and gave me a condemning look.
I said weakly, "But I don't have anywhere else to go. That's our home."
"Not after the divorce," my wife fumed. "You'll be out on the street without enough money to buy lunch. Or, in your case, to buy some lovely pink panties, you queer homo."
Dwayne told her, "Don't worry, baby. I won't abandon you like he did. Whatever you need, I'll find a way to make it happen."
"What I need right now," she told him, "is someone I can trust, unlike my little princess of a husband. Would you stay overnight with me?"
She turned her face up to him, closed her eyes, and parted her desirable lips. As I watched with deep jealousy, he kissed her hard on the mouth. His hand slid down her back to caress her bottom. Those breasts I cherished so much were pressed firmly against him. She moved one hand to his inner thigh and fondled the enviable bulge that ran down the top of his long leg. I was devastated.
"Hey now," Kenya offered, "let's not go too fast here. I'm not feeling sorry for Candy girl, not after she wasn't honest with her wife, and didn't tell the truth to her good friend who tried to help her, and then tried to put the blame on me. It's all bad. But listen, sister," she told my wife. "The simpering swish is still yours. Instead of dumping him, why not hang on, let him pay the bills, and make him dress up sweet at home at night and on the weekends. Hell, you can even have Dwayne around to make sure Candy doesn't get out of line or throw a hissy fit or whatever." She looked at me and laughed.
"But I'm not ready to have him with me yet," Mariel reminded her. "It's too soon. I only want my man Dwayne for a while."
"I don't blame you, honey. This sissy's a dud and Dwayne there looks like he won first prize in the man-meat contest. So how about you just leave Candy Kisses here while you two have a sort of honeymoon back at your place. I'll take GOOD care of Miss Liar for you. Some of the sissy boys who come to me like to be treated like naughty misbehaving girls. Get spanked and put in tight leather get-ups and have to be all "Yes, Ma'am" and "May I please kiss your ass, Ms. Kenya?" and maybe some "Please use your big black strap-on cock, like a mean old trucker reaming my tailpipe". Hell, a few nights of that and he'll understand how things got to be when he's with you, from now on."
Mariel's eyes lit up. "He has three weeks of vacation time saved up. And there's his secret savings account that he thinks I don't know about. So how about if he moves in with you. And he gives me his password so I can go on-line and add my name to that account. Then I can start emptying it out and giving all the money to you."
"That sounds just about perfect. When my other sissies come to visit, I could just tie Candy up with wide red ribbons, like a gift package, and leave her in the corner to watch the action. I'm sure she'd enjoy that."
Dwayne contributed, "And we wouldn't even have to bother bringing any of his male clothing around, if he's not going to the office."
Kenya made it even worse by noting, "And everything he arrived in is on that chair in the other room. You could take all that, along with what's in his pants pockets, like his wallet and keys."
"Yes," seconded my bride, getting more fully into the spirit of destroying my manhood. "His wallet. With his cash and credit cards. Even his driver's license. Gee, I hope that without anything to remind him who he is, he doesn't start to turn into candy ass Candy 24/7."
Dwayne suggested, "I can take my car and Mariel can drive theirs. After all, Candy girl won't be going anywhere, anytime soon."
Kenya said, "Especially cause she's going to be all bare assed, except for stockings and not much else. I have some real nice panties, with the pussy area all open, so her funny little dick would be on display. Be a good reminder to the girl that, no matter what, she ain't equipped to go back to trying to pass as a man ever again, where it really matters, like in the bedroom."
"All right," Mariel decided. "Let's do it. I get Dwayne and the sex life I deserve. Dwayne gets me with my legs wrapped around his middle while he slams me every night. He also gets my big boobs, that Andy used to love to slobber all over."
"Ha!" Kenya reacted. "And I get his secret stash, turned into cash. Twenties will be fine. I might even invest some of it in a tight rubber bondage dress for the girl. A pretty red one with no seat in it, so she can stay dressed sexy while I whup her fanny with a sorority paddle I like to use. But mostly I'll keep her just about naked." She finally addressed me. "You ready to let the games begin? You want advanced lessons on how to be a pussy slave and ass kisser? You want to play Candy until she's real, and Andy is just somebody you used to be? You ready for all that, Miss Pretty Lips?" She put on a stern expression and added steel to her voice. "Are you, sissy faggot?"
I surrendered to the inevitable, sank to my stocking-clad knees, and looked up at her, less eager to defend my maleness than to avoid her displeasure. I said, or rather Candy said, in a submissive whisper, "Yes, Ma'am." I took a long slow breath. "Yes, Ms. Kenya." I gazed at the dramatic contours of her dark figure, shown off so well by that body stocking. "I am ready."
Dwayne said, "He sure is." Then to me he added, "Sorry, bro. This fine woman used to be yours but now she's mine. I wanted to help you, except you screwed yourself royally. I mean, it's all your own dumbass fault."
What could I say? I told him, "Yes. I know."
*********
