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Subject: New TG: Girlfriends by Vickie Tern 5/6
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Girlfriends by Vickie Tern 5/6


"Good for you," I said to my wife.  "You're lucky to have found a
man like that, sweetheart.  What's his cock like?"

She looked at me, unable to tell if I was asking out of girlish
curiosity or bitter jealousy.  "You'll find out soon enough," was
all she replied. 

The third week, Tracy told me, I would have to be a free-lance
full-time woman in every sense of the word, because the interview
was scheduled for the Monday immediately following.  She was
setting up a series of tests I'd have to pass before she'd feel I
was qualified for what I had to do.  She wouldn't tell me what
they'd be.  I told her meanwhile that there should be no "loving
friends" sessions between us that third week -- she would have to
be a man with me in every sense that I was a lady.  She was
delighted that I'd thought of this on my own.  So each night when
she got home -- she was back to long hours again -- she changed to
pants or a sweatshirt and then tried different pickup or seduction
techniques on me.  I'd yield quickly so we could get to bed, where
still in character, Tracy would make gentle or rough love to me,
depending on who she was.

"What does this have to do with being a harassment victim," I asked
her one day, when the answer eluded me?  "I don't feel harassed. 
I feel like an inexperienced girl on a date, or an experienced
woman trying to encourage some shy man into greater intimacies, and
sometimes you get me feeling like a whore with her John."

"That's right," said Tracy.  "That's the key.  You're all of those. 
You're a girl trying to impress or encourage a man, which is what
every girl learns to do before she's out of her teens.  You do that
and all the rest will follow.  We're going out for a few nights
this week, to give you some experience with real men.  You still
don't know what it feels like for a beard to be scratching on your
mouth while you're sucking on some guy's tongue.  I can't be a man
past a certain point.  We're at that point."

So for the rest of the week we dressed in mini skirts, net
stockings, high, high heels, no bras, and bright colored satin
blouses, and went to different discos or bars.  Within a few
minutes there were guys sitting with us, and we jested and joked
and bantered with them while they bought us drinks and from time to
time asked one of us to dance.  Tracy was astonishing.  She could
be ingratiating, open, sincere, tough, vulnerable, sweet, bold,
sprightly, coy, whatever the situation called for, that was what
she was.  Mostly she promised greater intimacy by looking her
partners unwaveringly in the eyes.  They'd look back while the air
thickened between them, and when it seemed unendurable, and neither
of them could breathe, Tracy would say suddenly, "Let's dance!" 
They'd dance plastered to each other, and I noticed that Tracy's
partners usually came back with huge wet areas in the crotches of
their pants -- Tracy had brought them off by rubbing up against
them.  When we went to the Ladies together I commented on it.

Tracy shrugged.  "I learned to do that when I was still in my
teens," she said.  Get them started, and they never pull back. 
Then when they blow their wads they're less keen for you to do
other things with them -- they're not sure they can get it up again
so soon.  You do know, don't you, that when you accepted that
muscle man's drink, Toby's his name?, and then let him drape his
hand over your shoulder and onto your tit,  you guaranteed him a
French kiss, a hand job, or a blow job, whichever he'd settle for?" 
I hadn't known.  "Well, my bar-pickups get to cum in their pants if
I accept their favors, so later I owe them nothing they're able to
collect.  You'd better tend to Toby pretty soon -- bar pickups can
get nasty."

So for the first time in my life, I unzipped a man's fly and took
his cock in my hand, and then slowly jerked him off under the
table, all the while listening to some man opposite me telling some
kind of story.  Toby's cock was stiff, yet softer and warmer than
any of the dildoes I'd gotten used to.  I held tight to it and
moved my hand, and the outer skin slipped back and forth on the
inner like a smooth loose pelt, until he stiffened and I could feel
it throb.  He shot his cum onto the pants of the man sitting
opposite, who suddenly stopped telling his story and got a puzzled
expression on his face.   

I told the girls at work all about it the next day, and we laughed
and giggled about it all through lunch.  We felt so superior!  The
next night I jerked off another guy while he French kissed me
standing together in an alcove near the bar, and then like Tracy,
I made two more cum in their pants while we danced.  It got to be
fun!  Men were so easy!

Getting ready to go out Friday night, Tracy said some odd things to
me.  "Honey, we're going out tonight with some of the people I work
with.  They all know me, and we're easily familiar with each other,
so don't be shocked if one of them pats me on the rump, or another
one rubs himself on my tits while we're dancing.  If one of them
should put the make on me, and for the sake of tonight's scenario
I encourage him, what will your response be, girlfriend?"

"Good for you."  

And what will my response be if one of them comes on to you?"

"The same."

"That's right.  Remember that!  Tonight, we're two girls who've put
in a hard week at our offices, and are now looking for a little
fun.  We both know what guys are like and how to enjoy them.  So
lets.  Give them what they want, and get what you want.  But be
sure to stay in control.  That's the most important thing of all."

So made up in our "seductress" modes, we took a cab -- Tracy
pointed out that we'd both be drinking -- to one of the town's
better supper clubs, for dinner and dancing.  There were six or
eight people in our group, and it was remarkable how naturally
vivacious and flirtatious Tracy became as she joined them.  She was
a Queen Bee who immediately seized everyone's attention, laughing
and teasing and telling anecdotes with amused excitement.  I could
see why she came home exhausted, if this was the manner and pace
she maintained all day.  I began to sit down between two of the
women, rather quiet wives it turned out, but before I could pull
out the chair and smile at them and introduce myself a blond man
about my age swept up to me, seized my hand by the wrist, and
deftly twirled me away from the table and toward the dance floor.

"At last!" he said.  "Tracy's famous secret girlfriend, much talked
about and never seen!  It's wonderful she persuaded you to come
tonight!  We must talk!  Never mind these other people, they're all
slow and dull.  Let's go to the bar and get some drinks, and leave
them to bore each other."

We did.  I remembered to keep a sweet smile on my face and to sip,
and nibble, and draw him out.  His name was Ken, and he was
English, some kind of process specialist with Tracy's firm, with a
bantering, easy attitude toward everything.  

I commented that he never seemed to take anything seriously, and he
replied, "Oh, don't be deceived, my dear one, it's the serious
things that especially require a light touch.  'Light' doesn't mean
superficial, just skilled and effortless.  Delicate, like when you
make love -- would you rather sleep with a man who grunts and paws
you, or with a man who seems to dance over you.  And in you of
course."  

I actually blushed at that, and he was charmed.  "You're the first
woman I've seen blushing in the four years I've been in this
country.  How did your maidenly modesty survive your little girl
discovery of what little boys are really good for.  Good heavens,
don't tell me that you haven't...!"

I nodded, and blushed deeper.  

His manner changed.  Subtly, he became more attentive, less
frivolous, more sincere.  He began to behave as if I were a fragile
flower.  When he led me to the dance floor I felt clumsy, but he
moved with such relaxed grace I felt like a decorative doll
floating in his arms.  When he led me back to our cocktail table,
I was delightedly looking into his eyes -- hazel they were -- while
he continued to chat, then to talk.  The main table where Tracy
held sway was full, as was another table for four, so at his
suggestion we settled into a table for two, ordered, and ate while
our tete a tete continued.  

I'd been feminizing myself for Tracy, mainly to please her.  And
I'd learned to play a variety of feminine roles, just as Tracy was
playing a scintillating great lady right now not twenty feet away
from us.  But with Ken I was, simply, pleased to be feminine
because of the pleasure I felt that I could attract and hold this
wonderful man's attention.  By dessert I was doting on him while he
continued to talk hopefully and yet comfortably about his future
expectations, and amusedly about his blunders in the past.  When we
danced between courses, I let him hold me close, and pressed my
cheek against his.  His was indeed scratchy. 

We were laughing delightedly together over some silliness a friend
had committed when Tracy suddenly appeared at our table with a
tall, rather burly man in tow.  He had straight black hair on his
head and curly black hair on his wrists, and he grinned an easy,
confident smile as we were introduced.  He nodded to Ken as they
sat down, and glanced at me now and then while Tracy chatted
animatedly with him about this and that, posturing as she'd shown
me to do, patting up stray hairs on the back of her head, making
little smiling moues at him, dipping her head and looking up at him
through long-lashed eyes so attractive I wanted to seize and kiss
her myself.  I imagined myself posturing seductively to the
dark-haired man, and then imagined it with Ken.  With Ken it came
naturally.  I wondered what kissing Ken would be like.

I was feeling very good.  An attractive man was attracted to me. 
For tonight Tracy had chosen for me a long, figure-clinging
dark-red sequinned gown that flowed over my slim hips.  Weeks of
enforced salads and little else for dinner had given me a small
waist, laced in still further, and my breasts were finally showing 
a generous swelling curvature above my ribs.  I held my own in the
conversation, teasing, seemingly vulnerable, sometimes wittily
amused, now and then again blushing at some overly-intimate
comment, but always in control.  I was quite a girl, if I do say
so.  I was in fact so delighted with myself that I didn't register
it at first when the altogether unexpected happened.

Tracy came back from dancing with her large, black-haired man and
picked up her purse.  "Ta ta, darling," she said to me. "I'm off
with Roger here to spend the weekend at his shore estate, for the
swimming and boating and the other pleasures he's promised me."  

She glanced at this Roger from the corners of her eyes and let a
smile linger, exactly as she'd taught me to do when I wanted to say
discreetly to a man in front of everyone, "And I'm going to love
getting fucked royally the whole time."   Roger got the message and
grinned back at her. 

"Have fun dears," she continued.  Then again to me.  "Whatever you
do, sweetie, remember to be home early Monday morning.  We're both
off from work, but there's the Beauty Salon appointment at 10:00 -- 
we've ordered up your Innocent Vamp look --  and then there's our
appointment -- remember it? -- at two.  There'll be no time for
lunch, so your girlish figure will stay girlish enough I'm sure." 

She paused to look at me.  "But it doesn't have to stay virginal. 
Get in all the last minute womanly experiences you can!  I mean
to."  And she was gone.

"She's wonderful, Tracy is!"  I looked up.  It was Ken speaking,
leaning toward me almost as if offering consolation.  "How long
have you known her?"

"I don't know," I replied truthfully, shocked, near tears.  "I'd
thought about six years.  Maybe not at all!"

Suddenly I couldn't take it!  I turned toward this wonderful man
I'd just met, and now had to trust.  "Ken, please take me home!" 
My voice broke, ever so slightly.

"Of course!"

He did.  But to his home, and there followed the most marvelous
weekend of my life.  

I was at first so distracted by that last image of my wife
superbly, breezily, with tantalizing poise, sweeping away on the
arm of another man, that I didn't notice that we were getting out
of the car at the wrong house.  Then Ken invited me in for a drink,
and I went in with him.  We settled on the couch, and he held my
hand, and he looked out of his long-lashed hazel eyes into my eyes. 
In a low, gentle voice, he then told me that he knew the truth
about me, everyone at Tracy's office did, and that he loved that
truth about me because the truth about him was that he was gay.  
He said that he had wanted to make love to me from the moment he
first saw me.

I actually took cheer from his confession.  "You did?" I asked in
a small, surprised voice.  

In reply he kissed me, softly, gently, sweetly.  Then again.  I
closed my eyes and sighed, and my arms folded around his neck, and
I kissed him.  His tongue entered into my mouth, soft and moist,
and playfully wriggly.  I loved it, I kissed it, I worshipped it
with my own tongue, with my lips, and with all my heart.  

An hour later we were blissfully in bed together, and he was inside
me and wrapped all around me, and I felt complete.  Safe.  Then I
felt like many things all through that night, like a blazing
fireplace, like perfume in a breeze, like honey flowing over soft
skin and being licked, like tender spring grass nibbled by fawns. 
I felt loved as no man has ever been loved.  It went on and on. 
Early Monday morning he woke me with a tender kiss and I kissed him
back as sweetly as I could.  We had passed the whole weekend in bed
being as intimate with each other as two people can be, as if we
were one loving being, not two, each of us fountains of joy pouring
and splashing down on each other. Yet I felt wonderfully refreshed. 
Not stretched, not sore, not used up.  Rather, newborn, liberated,
myself completely for the first time.  I drifted into my clothes,
and with a long, loving farewell kiss, went directly to my beauty
parlor appointment.  

end four



                            Five

There I found Tracy waiting for me.  "Well, pretty hubby," she
said.  "I see you haven't been home since Friday night.  That
sequinned dress is lovely, but do you think it's suitable for a
Monday morning?  Did you have a good time?"  She looked at me with
a slight smile, and I saw that her last question was neither casual
nor frivolous.

"Yes, I did," I said, still feeling a little dreamy.  I hesitated
a moment, then decided to tell her the truth.  "Tracy, it was like
a honeymoon.  It was perfect.  In some ways better than ours, I
think."

"Oh, sweetheart, that's wonderful!  You've finally found yourself
where I'd hoped you'd be!   Good for you!"  I heard no irony in her
voice, and when I looked closely at her, I saw she was genuinely
happy for me.  Maybe my lapse in marital fidelity had made the
burden of hers lighter?  Maybe she just felt happy that I felt
happy?  Maybe somehow, all of my new experiences with men assured
the success of our mission to trap her boss in the act of taking
unfair advantage of a woman?  Maybe all of these things?

Three hours later I left the salon painted up with my "innocent
vamp" look, and a half-hour after that I was off with Tracy for my
interview wearing a cute business suit with a flared jacket and
pencil-thin skirt and a low-cut white silk blouse.  No panties --
I saw Tracy wasn't wearing any, so I saw no reason why I should. 
I was still feeling blissful, the same cute minx, the same lovely
girl I'd been in Ken's arms all weekend.  As we left the house
Tracy told me she was very proud, that I seemed to be fully ready. 
When we arrived at her boss's office I was still clutching my purse
and chatting animatedly with Tracy, and we swept past his secretary
scarcely noticing.  

Then came my first shock.  There was Roger behind her boss's desk!
Tall and dark and formidable.  The man she'd breezed off with to
spend the weekend with was the same man who'd sexually harassed
her? or intimidated her into being unfaithful to me? or dishonored
her?  My mind whirled in confusion!

With a magisterial wave of his hand he motioned me to a chair near
his and finished reading some papers.  Then he set them down and
gave me his full attention, and grinned reassuringly as I sat down
very primly, knees close together and purse in my lap, staring
wide-eyed at him, bewildered.  I noticed that Tracy had settled
herself on the couch, and that she glanced once at a TV camera over
the door aimed at his desk area.

What came next was not expected either, not in any of the scripts
Tracy had worked out for me.

"Well, my dear," he said in a hearty, welcoming voice, "When I saw
you last Friday evening it was so hard to believe you were once a
man that this morning I had to review all the reports we have on
you for myself."  He gestured at the thick folder in front of him. 
"Your wife's done wonders with you!  By the way, you don't mind if
I call her Tracy, do you?  We've been...intimate associates longer
than you've been married.  I interviewed her just before your
wedding, in fact, and when we were finished, I offered her the job
and she accepted it.  You hadn't been in her rear then yet, had
you? It was the tightest, sweetest hole I've ever fucked.  Well,
I'm sure I made it easier for you when you did get there.  I'm one
of the half-dozen executives Tracy services daily, so I know her as
well as anyone here."

He paused.  I nodded as if I understood, still wide-eyed, but
unable to move.  What was I hearing?

"Tracy tells me that you're now at ease sexually with lesbians, and
gay men too, and safely incapable of intercourse with straight
women but otherwise skilled at satisfying them.  I've already seen
for myself that you're lively, attractive, poised, and comfortable
in difficult social settings. I must say, you're remarkably
self-controlled under stress.  I'd wanted simply to slip away with
your wife for the weekend, but Tracy insisted that you'd hear out
what we meant to do without any jealousy, without causing a scene,
and you did.  That was really impressive.   That's exactly the kind
of person we've been looking for!  No confusion of business
obligations with personal needs."   

He leaned forward, reassuringly.  "Now, I'm sure you'll appreciate
that I need to know certain things for certain before we proceed. 
First, would you  mind pulling up your skirt to show me that your
penis is now in fact too small to matter?  I don't like to
embarrass you, but Tracy's told me that neither of you would be
wearing underpants today, so just a glimpse will serve.  I'm sorry
if it distresses your modesty, but it can't be helped."

Well, here was a kind of requested sexual intimacy of sorts, the
kind we'd rehearsed.  But this interview wasn't at all what we'd
predicted!  I glanced at Tracy, who glanced in turn at the TV
camera over the door and then smiled reassuringly at me.  So, I
slowly pulled up my skirt until my cock was just barely visible. 
Tracy had taken to calling it my "teeny weeny" as the hormones
reduced it in size.

"Thank you, dear.  Tracy is right, you are certainly no stud.  But
we have plenty of people who are, so it doesn't matter.  You'll
meet them soon enough.  It'll make a nice clit when you get
yourself fully qualified.  But let me tell you what we have in
mind."  

He leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk in front of him. 
Was that thick file there really mine?  What's been going on!?

"What we've needed is a personnel service specialist like Tracy
here, to be brought in whenever deals need closing, or people feel
injured and need to feel appreciated, whenever lots of things."  
He pronounced the word the way Tracy did, "personal".  "This person
needs to be attractive of course, and comfortable with gay or
bisexual men, an area where Tracy has no natural expertise.  Also,
impotence is an advantage, so women can get their cunts serviced
without feeling threatened, and without feeling tempted afterward
to extort money from us by crying 'Rape!'  Yet this person will
also need to service straight men like me when Tracy's
unavailable."  

"I must say, you came through our preliminary tests this week very
well.  And as for your ability to satisfy gay men, Ken reports that
you are absolutely top drawer, satisfying in every respect, though
he adds" -- Roger picked up a paper from near the top of the pile
-- "he adds that you'll need to seem better satisfied by whoever
you're with  -- it seems that no matter what he did, you always
wanted more of it!"  He grinned reassuringly at me, to let me know
that this was no defect at all.

I was baffled!  My mouth hung open as he continued to talk!  What
was this?  Had I been set up somehow?  Ken had kissed and told?  I
looked over to Tracy again in my confusion, but she just looked
back at me and smiled.  She dipped her head a moment as if in
sympathy.

"One more test now, and I'll be glad to welcome you aboard!  I need
to know two things.  The first is that from the moment we hire you,
you'll have the good of the company in mind at all times, that
management's needs will always dominate your personal feelings."

"Tracy certainly feels that way.  She saw the need for someone like
you years ago, when she first arrived.  All this time she could
have had a much easier time of it, especially since we've been
understaffed, if we'd simply taken on Temps, hired whatever
prostitutes and call girls or escorts we've needed.  But she wanted
you for her assistant and no one else, and she didn't want to
jeopardize the slot reserved for you."  

"It seems she's been training you for this job for the whole of
your marriage, practically.  Making a perfectly decent husband I
must say, from my early reports here, into a highly skilled
transgendered sex partner of men, women, or gay men.  I hear that
this past week you've managed to persuade yourself to remain a
woman, that you now have a real woman's desires.  That you've now
had sex with men and love it.  Well, I need to know that too for
certain.

"So now, would you come here" -- he indicated a space on the floor
between his spread knees -- "and show me this fabulous deep throat
technique Tracy says is the equal of hers?  I'll be the best judge
of that!"  He looked straight into my eyes, confident, dominating,
self-assured, head cocked slightly back, and waited.  

This was what Tracy and I had trained for together.  But something
wasn't right in this interview!  Something in fact was all wrong! 
I couldn't think, so I went with the closest scenario at hand.  I
put on a sultry smile, said "Of course I will, if you think it's
part of my job," dipped forward out of my chair. hiked up my skirt,
and knelt before his crotch as if preparing to pray to some phallic
god.  My stockings seemed safe enough on the soft carpet.  "Now?"
I asked him, trying to sound as if a six course gourmet dinner
awaited me behind his zipper?"  

"Whenever you're ready," he said.  So I reached for his fly with my
now bright red, elongated, delicate, highly polished fingertips,
and unzipped him.  Immediately the largest cock I have ever seen
rose through the space in his pants like a genie emerging from a
bottle, then hovered huge over his crotch.

It looked familiar.  It was familiar!  My mouth and my ass
immediately recognized every curve, every vein, and my ass began to
quiver.  There in the flesh, swollen up before my own eyes, was
"the Emperor" itself!  

It was the Emperor all right, from the familiar pink and purple
shading of its immense crown, past the pock marks and veins
buttressing its towering shank, down to the huge hairy balls I
could see still half-hidden inside his pants!  I was shocked!  I
looked again at Tracy in amazement!  Unperturbed, again she smiled,
but this time her face registered the special pleasure of a mother
who has just watched her child unwrap a wondrous Christmas present. 
Awed and a bit frightened now, I looked back up into Roger's face. 
He put his hand on my cheek.

"Yes dear, I know it's huge," he said.  "Women often seem unsure of
themselves when they first see it.  And after all those training
sessions with the facsimile, you must be feeling especially
privileged now to be in the presence of the real thing.  All the
more reason for you to do what a woman should do when she meets a
cock like this one face to face, or rather, head to head."

He leaned back and waited.  I closed my eyes and leaned forward as
if kneeling before that rubber dildo Tracy had strapped to the
chair in our bedroom.  I kissed the tip, and wet the whole prick
down with well-accustomed skill, opened my mouth so wide my jaw
felt unhinged, and then in one lunge I took that huge tube into my
mouth and down into my throat, and bobbed my head.

Roger groaned.  

I swallowed, and he groaned again.  I swallowed yet again.  It was
just as Tracy had said, I was in charge, and he was helpless at
that moment.  I tantalized him a few times with small head
movements, then settled into sliding it in and out, in and out,
swallowing on the extreme edge of each down stroke, until I heard
him deliver a deep, gutteral 'Yip" sound, and I felt it stiffen and
then pump gout after gout of semen down into me somewhere.  

I waited until his thrusting and pumping ceased, then raised my
head.  He was leaning far back on his chair, almost helpless, eyes
tight shut, trying to catch his breath.  As the tip slipped out of
my face I took note that his semen was a lot sweeter than Gatorade,
but not as creamy in my mouth as Ken's.  I thought of Ken for a
moment.  Why did I feel sad now, thinking about Ken?              
                                                        

"Wonderful!" Roger said, still recovering his breath.  "Tracy, he's
even better than you are I think!  More practice lately I suppose." 
He turned back toward me. "I'd love to fuck you too, but I'm afraid
I can only cum one more time this afternoon after this past weekend
with Tracy -- she's a tiger when she gets going! --  and I still
need to test your potential for company loyalty.  I already know
anyhow from these reports that you're a good lay, devoted to your
lovers' pleasure, and that your ass is now as well stretched as
Tracy's.  Remember the time you first fucked her in her ass, just
before she began converting yours into a pussy?  She told me you
slid right in so fast she could barely feel you.  Some men here do
prefer Tracy's rear end to her vagina, I suppose that's why.  I
can't blame her for not letting you use my model cock on her --
enough was already enough.  I'll take her word that you have a
usable pussy.  Ken agrees enthusiastically enough!  You might want
to get a real one soon, anyhow, now that your penis is useless. 
Tracy thinks you'll need one to do your job well, and she should
know."

"So only one other test.  Please, just stay where you are between
my legs, and begin sucking on me until I've recovered my erection,
then we'll begin.  It shouldn't be long."

It was a magnificent cock, and I tried to feel honored to be
worshipping it, just as Tracy had urged.  I did feel privileged, a
little.  But mainly uneasy.  Was it jealousy?  I didn't think so,
there was something else.  Annoyance?  Male competitiveness?  But
I kissed the tip avidly, and licked and sucked it until it had
reached its full fat dimensions again.

"Good!  Now just stay where you are please.  Tracy, would you come
over here to help me complete this interview?  Your husband is
doing as well as you did when you first came to work for us.  Of
course you're a natural woman, and he's had to be trained first. 
"She" I suppose I should say now."

Tracy smiled once again at me, and came over and stood next to us. 
Then without a word she hiked up her skirt to her waist and tucked
it in, then lifted and swung her leg wide over my head to stand on
her high heels straddling Roger's lap, facing him, her naked ass
not six inches from my upraised face.  He looked up at her almost
worshipfully and she looked down at him well-pleased, with superior
satisfaction.  She was doing what he wanted, and he was doing what
she wanted.  She waited a moment.  His hands reached toward her
breasts and caressed them gently, and he began to feel for their
tips.  Then slowly, slowly, Tracy lowered herself onto Carl's cock. 
I saw the pink tip of that monster cock, that royal head nearly the
size of a teacup, topped by a pearl drop of pre-cum, touch, kiss,
and enter my darling's pink inner lips, then disappear into the
velvety softness within.

end 5/6
Vickie Tern@AOL.COM

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