Tingles

TINGLES FOURTEEN

By Katharine Sexkitten

It was our last night in town, so a bunch of people decided to go out to a sports bar and have a casual relaxed dinner. I didn't want to be completely anti-social, so I joined in.

The food was average, the company was good. People from all over the country, representing different regions, all working together to make things go. There was laughter and jokes and good camaraderie and I had a very nice time.

But there were no big tingles there.

Brad and Peter were at a ball game with a bunch of the execs, and I had no idea where Angie was, so I was on my own.

I sensed some murmuring tingles in the room, which meant there were probably some sexual people somewhere, but none of them ever got close enough to me to register on my meter.

Just after seven I made it back to my hotel room. The red light was blinking on the phone again, as I knew it would be, so I called and they said they'd bring up my new package.

Not ten seconds after I hung up there was a knock on the door.

They can't be that fast, can they?

Just before I opened the door I felt a rise in my tingles, and then Angie breezed in past me, headed for the living room.

"Wow," she said, sighing heavily, "what a day. I didn't think Wolfie was ever going to let us go."

She plopped down onto the sofa, all business-like in her dark brown high-waisted pants, white heels, emerald green blouse, and multi-colored scarf. I noticed her nipples were in a slightly-hard mode, visible barely, but there nonetheless.

I was still standing at the open door. She looked back down the hall at me, and sat up.

"Oh my god, were you expecting someone else? Am I interrupting something?" She looked around the suite. "Are you getting laid again?"

I shook my head. "No."

So I closed the door.

I had just made it into the living room when there was another knock on the door.

Angie looked up at me, seriously.

"You aren't expecting somebody?"

"No. They're dropping off another package for me."

Her eyes shot open, and a huge grin came on her face.

"You got another present?"

"Apparently."

"From the same friend as yesterday?"

"Yes."

"Fucking cool!" she said, jumping up. She breezed past me, down the little hall to the door, and opened it.

I heard her thank the guy, and then close the door. Then I heard the sound of a zipper being slowly undone.

Then I heard Angie ooh and aah.

"Seriously, I need a friend like this," she said as she came back down the hall, holding a garment bag up high in the air. "Jesus, this is beautiful."

I was still standing in the same place. I hadn't moved.

"What is beautiful, exactly?"

"This," she said, and spun the garment bag in her hands, showing me where she'd unzipped it. I didn't get much of a glance to see what Michelle had given me before Angie spun it back towards herself. She oohed again.

"There's a note, in beautiful writing" she said, "can I read it?"

At this point I realized there were no secrets between us, even though I didn't even know her last name, so I said sure.

"Jessica," she read out loud, "Peter mentioned you didn't bring anything for going out on the town, so here is the perfect top coat for you. I guarantee it'll keep you warm and you will look fabulous in it. Plus, I saw a little something in a store window while I was shopping and just knew you'd rock it, you'd look amazing in it, so here is that as well. If it's not your size or style or color then of course wear whatever you want. I know you'll look sexy no matter what you put on. I'll see you at nine o'clock sharp, outside in my limo. Love, Michelle."

She looked up at me, her face a mixture of emotions. She was delighted, and impressed, and a little jealous of the clothes Michelle was giving me. Plus she was her usual sexual self too, all nipply and giggly and flirty.

But there was something else there too.

Confusion? Perhaps. It looked like she was trying to figure something out in her head, and it wasn't all computing.

And then, a few seconds later, it did.

Her demeanour changed, in an instant. She figured it out. Two plus two equals four. Her eyes shot open, her mouth shot open, and her nipples got suddenly massive on her chest, just like that. It was like turning a switch on. One second not much, the next second it looked like two rifle barrels on her chest.

Pointed straight at me.

"Peter?!?!? The VP of corporate security Peter?!?!? OH MY GOD..."

"Never you mind!" I said, playfully.

"Peter AND Brad?!?!? How many corporate VP's are fucking you?"

I looked at her, confused and slightly alarmed.

"Brad? Why do you think I'm having sex with Brad?"

She laughed. "I looked out my peephole last night, idiot. I saw him coming out of the elevator and knocking on your door. Don't worry, I won't tell anybody."

I didn't know what to say. Discretion was telling me not to comment, like an A-list movie star accused of sleeping with their co-star or something. Say nothing and hope it goes away. True or not.

"Angie..."

"Uh uh, not now gurl, not after last night. No secrets, Miss Jessica the Slut."

We just stared at each other.

Finally, she spoke. Her voice was quieter, more serious.

"He really fucked you good, didn't he? I heard it, which you know. What you don't know is I crept out on the deck half naked and ended up fingering myself listening to you two."

I was again impressed with her boldness. Her lack of embarrassment or candor. She was a very naughty lady.

"And did you cum out there on the balcony?

She nodded.

"A little one."

I smiled.

"But not as good as when you made me cum."

I smiled again, wider.

"That," she said, with emphasis in her voice, "was the best cum I've had in years."

I beamed. "It was fun."

"Fun? You made me gush! I haven't squirted like that in god knows how long."

Her nipples were huge now, and were dominating my view.

She looked at my eyes, saw where they were looking, and then she gazed down at her own tits.

"You like my tits, don't you?"

"Oh god, Angie," I sighed, "they're the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen." Then I thought about that. "Well, the most beautiful breasts I've actually never seen."

"Does Jessica want boobies of her own?"

I nodded my head up and down.

"More and more, the last few days, I've thought about it a lot. And every time I ask myself the same question, over and over again.

Do I want breasts? The answer keeps coming back to me, yes."

"You'd look great with a nice set," she said.

"Like yours."

She giggled. "They're pretty nice, huh? My girls? But let me tell you, they can get you into trouble sometimes. And they can make my back ache too."

Which I hadn't considered before. I guess they must be a strain, the bigger they get.

"Still," she said somewhat wistfully, "you could have it done, and then the difference between us is that over time my boobs would sag, but yours wouldn't."

I just stared at her breasts. Their shape, their roundness, the swell of her curves, thrusting out at her blouse. Her gigantic nipples, pushing at the limits of stretch in her bra.

To have breasts. The thought was consuming me. The epitome of femininity, the symbol of womanhood, the givers of life and milk.

I wanted them!

Then reason took over a little bit.

"But at the same time, I think about how much of a drastic change it would be, for my entire life. How could I go to work? I couldn't be in boy mode after getting a boob job!"

She nodded. "But it's the twenty-first century, sweetie, and you and I do work for a progressive company. HR would walk you through the process, I'm sure, whether you stayed in guy mode most of the time or whether you went for all the surgeries and did the total transformation thing. But you're right. It would change everything in your life, for sure. You'd need a whole new wardrobe for starters. And good bras ain't cheap. But they say coming out is the best thing for you, once you get over the initial shock of it, and everybody in your life gets on with it."

"Coming out?"

"Yeah," she replied, "coming out. Telling everyone that you're, you know, gay. That you're a gay cross-dresser."

"But I really don't think I can be defined by the word `gay'."

She looked at me kind of funny. "I spent over a half hour last night sitting on the floor of my freezing cold patio deck fingering myself listening to you get absolutely fucking pounded by a man. Right? Pounded. I heard it all. I could hear him thumping against you, every time he drilled you with his cock."

Then she looked at me differently, as if a new thought had taken over.

"What position did he fuck you in?"

I smiled. "That time? From behind, standing up. I had my hands against the sliding glass door. I didn't take my heels off. They made me the perfect height."

"That time?" she asked immediately.

I smiled even more. "Just after midnight he fucked me again. Even harder. It was awesome!"

Surprising me, her nipples got even harder. I don't have x-ray vision, but to my imagination they were so full of blood they would look like plump berries, dark red to match her horniness, which I could see was getting higher by the minute.

"Anyway. I mean, fuck, I did your makeup for Christ sake, remember?. You're getting sex from at least two corporate VP's, both of them men. Men. As in the only human beings who have cocks. Hello? That's more or less most people's definition of gay. So coming out is the thing to do, for gay guys, right?"

I nodded. "But before all that, I ate your pussy and made you gush, remember? That's not something a gay guy typically does."

"True," she admitted, "you're right. Okay. So you need to come out to everyone as mostly gay, but partly bi. But still, come out as the tranny that you are. And that way, you can get some tits. Although it'll cost you."

"How so?"

"I hear they're like ten grand a boob now, those operations. Do you have that kind of money?"

"Not right at this second, but yes, I could raise it."

She smiled. "Then you may have to rely on generous friends. But we already know you have at least one of those, judging by the gifts you keep getting. I mean, sweet lord, this coat has fur lining, around the sleeves and neck. It probably cost more than I make in a week, and I make a lot of money, darlin."

I almost laughed at the world `darlin".

If she only knew.

"Plus," she continued, "there's also a fucking gorgeous dress in here, you little slut."

"There is?"

She let the garment bag drop, and I could see two hangars. One held a woman's winter coat, a gorgeous dark grey with sparkly tufts and a beautiful white faux fur trim on the sleeves and lapel. I could see it was thick and had padded shoulders, and would be knee-length on me, keeping me warm but still showing off my legs.

At least I hoped it was faux fur. For the humanitarian reasons, of course, but also because I knew if it was real fur then Michelle had spent a whack of money on me. Again. Which made me feel warm and loved and yet slightly guilty all at the same time.

Then Angie placed the heavy coat on the sofa and turned the other garment to me, in the plastic wrapping. It was slinky. That was the only word to describe it. Fully sleeved, with a plunging neckline, it was a cocktail dress that stressed the `cock' syllable.

I knew instantly that wearing it would make most cocks within eyesight of me get very very hard.

She looked at me. "Your friend said she'll see you at nine. In her limo. Are you going out tonight? As in, out? Outside? In public?"

My reaction was natural. I giggled, with pride.

"First time?" she asked.

I nodded yes. "We're going to a tranny night at some gay club she knows."

"Oooh honey," she cooed, and I could see her squeezing her thighs together, "can I watch?"

"Watch?"

"I'll sit in the lobby, totally casual. I just want to see you walking through, from the elevators to the front door. With that wicked hip swish of yours. Please?"

Of course I said yes.

Then I studied the dress again.

It looked like the softest leather I'd ever seen. It smelled new. It was periwinkle blue. Under the bust it was gathered, all the way to the hips, giving it the appearance of an hourglass shape naturally, and then it flowed down to a gathered hem. It was gorgeous. It just screamed out FEMININE!

And it looked way too small for me.

"I don't think that's my size," I sighed.

"It'll fit," she said, "it's lycra. It's stretchy! It's meant to be that way. It'll literally be form-fitting and you will look like a sexy feminine slut."

Then she looked at it more closely.

"It's a fucking Prada! Oh my god," she spat out, "it's a fucking Prada! Do you have any idea how expensive this is?"

I shook my head.

Then we just stared at each other. Me in my boy clothes with my panties and thigh-highs, her in her professional pant-suit office attire. Both of us breathing heavier. I could see her nostrils flaring slightly. Her magnificent chest was rising up and down faster too.

A look passed over her face.

"I am so wet right now."

I didn't say anything.

"Could you make me gush again?"

I so wanted to say yes.

But I said no.

Right after checking my wrist-watch and seeing that it was twenty minutes to eight and I had to meet a limo at nine o'clock.

"We don't have time."

She looked at her watch, a dainty little strap on her lovely wrist. Then she nodded to herself.

"Fuck. You're right. Okay," she continued, "same as last night. Give me your key card, and then you jump in the shower and get clean inside and out."

"Yes ma'am," I replied.

So I did.

By the time I was out of the shower, freshly shaved, douched and washed, she had a whole bunch of stuff all over the counter. The little bit of makeup I had brought with me, plus a pile of hers.

Plus a plastic drug store bag.

I stepped from the roomy shower completely naked, my smooth milky-white body shining with moisture as I dried myself. I was as hard as I get, which is hard, no question, but not very big.

She turned and looked at me, and then down to my cock.

Then she smiled.

"Want me to take care of that?"

I laughed. "Slut!"

She laughed back. "Says the bi tranny getting ready to go to some gay nightclub for who knows what kind of debauchery!"

I belly-laughed at that. "Debauchery?"

She held up my butt plug in her hand.

"Yes?"

I nodded. Of course. A no-brainer.

Then I watched her pour a huge blob of lube on the plug, and spread it around with her fingers. Then she did the whirly thing with one hand, and I turned and pointed my ass at her.

She poured another blob of lube right onto the opening of my pussy, freshly shaved and cleansed inside, and wriggled the plug around my hole. Spreading the lube.

"Ready?" she asked.

I groaned my answer.

She applied a little pressure, and the tip of the plug sank into me. With her left hand, she began caressing my left bum cheek.

"Open up, sweetie," she whispered.

So I did. My brain sent the message to my pussy, and it opened, and the plug slid into me, making a little thud as it bottomed out in me.

I had cock in me again. Sort of cock.

Good enough for now! YUMMY!

"Good gurl," she said, and I heard her washing her hand while I closed my eyes and enjoyed the plug up inside me.

"Now," she said, back to her commanding voice, "are you ready?"

"For what?" I asked.

"For looking like a total fucking babe."

From my limited wardrobe, she'd picked a panty and bra set for me. They were from Victoria's Secret, and black with lace trim. The a-cup bra perfectly made my little man boobs sit up, and gave me a handful, with real cleavage. I loved it! Plus, the panties matched, and were a G-string, which she insisted I had to wear because the dress would be so form-fitting that anything other than a G-string would show panty lines, and not be slutty enough.

Her words.

Then she did my make up. I thought after a while that she might be overdoing it, but she kept telling me to trust her. Then she giggled and told me that she was loving this, helping with clothes and make-up.

"You're like the little sister I never had," she laughed.

Then she laughed again. "Well, really more like the little gay brother I never had. All three of my brothers are the exact opposite of you."

"Really?" I asked.

"Uh huh. Come to think of it, I bet all three of my brothers would take one look at you and get an instant chubby."

Now I laughed.

Then her face got serious. "Hey, don't think I'm joking, gurl. All three of them are hung like horses. Believe me! I've seen them, around the pool or at the cabin by the lake."

At one point she grabbed the drug store plastic bag off the counter.

"What's that?" I asked.

"This is your lucky night for presents, Jessie-poo. I stopped on my way back to the hotel for a couple of things, and decided to get a couple of things for you too. My treat."

She had bought me glue-on fingernails, in a glowing neon white. Then she showed me how to put them on, and more importantly, how to take them off at the end of the night.

"Presuming you want to," she added.

She did the same instructions with my next present, which were false eyelashes. Then she asked me if she could "just tweeze out a couple of hairs" from my eyebrows, which is way less fun than it sounds, and promised me that I could still go in guy mode and no one would care.

Her last gift to me was a pair of hoop earrings. Clip ons.

"You should get your ears pierced. Lots of guys do it now."

Then I put my Farrah wig on, and got dressed.

A few last minute adjustments later, she finally let me look in the mirror.

My hair was dirty blonde and curvy, my eyes glowed, with thick lashes and a soft lilac eye shadow, my cheeks shone and stood out, and my lips were full and slick and inviting in a neon fire-engine red. My neck was covered with my slut choker, of course. The cocktail dress fit me like a glove. It hugged me. The material was as smooth as silk on my skin, and caressed me like a gentle breeze. The silky quality extended to my thigh-highs as well, which were fresh out of the plastic and a brand I'd never tried before. I'd be trying them a whole lot, based on the way they made my legs shimmer.

I had gorgeous small breasts, and hips, and long slim legs, and sexy three inch heels on. I had a small-banded silver watch on my left wrist, and three silver bangles on my right wrist.

I had my CD SLUT ankle bracelet on too.

Watching the clock, she stood behind me as I turned and twirled in front of the full-length mirror. I was gobsmacked. The dress was fabulous, and you could see a hint of my black lace bra underneath, as well as the triangle front panel of my panties.

But you couldn't see any lines on my curved ass. Angie was right.

G-string it is!

Then she helped me into my new winter coat, marvelling again at the fur trim, and then handed me my clutch purse.

"Inside is your phone, the key-card to your room, that little vial of perfume that just about made me cum, your little tube of lube, a couple of condoms, and your credit card. I found your wallet and stuck the MasterCard in there, just in case you have to make your own way home."

I nodded. "And so I can buy drinks, too."

"Oh honey," she said, breathy, like a proud sister, "you won't have to buy a single thing looking like you do, dressed like that. They'll be falling all over themselves to get at you. Even some of the lezzies."

I looked at her, studying her.

"Have you ever..."

Before I could finish my sentence she laughed and nodded and said yes.

"A few times, years ago. My first husband, Huey, was an animal in bed, and he pushed for a threesome right from the get go. So we found other women, time to time, to bring home to bed."

"And?"

"And it was always fun, yeah. Girls are soft, and smell nice, and smooth, usually, and yes, I like pussy."

"So why don't you come with me? I bet there'd be some ladies who would love to make you gush!"

She shook her head. "That doesn't happen all that often to me, Jessica. Even back then. What you did last night, well, shit, I haven't cum like that in forever."

"So..."

Angie laughed, in that throaty kind of way. "No, babe, you go, you have fun. I have reports to read anyway."

Then I hugged her and she whispered into my ear.

"Have fun, Jessica. Be a good gurl."

Then I let her go, and gave her a five minute head start. She insisted on watching me traipse through the lobby. In public.

For the very first time.

Well, other than two mornings of strutting down the hotel hallway from Peter's room, doing the early-morning slut walk. That's how I met Angie, on the second morning. But while titillating and thrilling, I knew it wouldn't even compare to actually being `out there'. Around people, of all shapes and sizes, doing whatever other people do. Going through their lives. Probably understanding that there are people like me in the world, but quite possibly never having seen one, or ever expecting to see one.

They were going to see one tonight.

Five minutes later, I was in the elevator.

At the sixth floor it stopped, and a hotel cleaning woman got on with me.

She smiled, and nodded courteously.

Then she looked at my fur coat, and I saw her eyelids flex a little.

"Going out for the evening, Miss?" she asked.

I breathed the word "yes".

"It's chilly out. That coat looks like it will keep you warm."

I nodded, agreeing with her. The truth is I didn't know.

Then we landed and the doors opened and I walked out, into an atrium area, which at this time of night was darkened glass, but some early stars were visible. It was a large area, between the huge concierge station and the front desk and two different lounges filled with luxurious furniture for sitting around in, so I had a fair distance to get to the doors.

I was nervous, beyond anything I'd ever experienced before. And yet, at the same time, I felt comfortable. Natural. Because this was the real me, I reasoned. I know that for a few moments my brain was just screaming "HOLY FUCKING SHIT YOU'RE DRESSED LIKE A FEMININE SEXY SLUTTY SPECIAL WOMAN AND THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD CAN SEE YOU AND THEY'RE ALL GOING TO START POINTING AND LAUGHING AND YOU'LL BE EMBARRASSED AND...

But then my rational brain kicked in, and I knew I was wrong. I didn't stick out like a sore thumb. I was doing fine. I saw the occasional head turn, men and women, but that would happen anywhere, to anyone. Nobody freaked out, or even made the slightest hint that I'd been made.

My heels made a clacking sound on the tiles of the floor, which sounded like rifle shots, and I wondered if that would make people look up who wouldn't have otherwise. Then I realized it didn't matter.

If they looked up, they see what they see.

If they don't like it, that's their problem.

I am Jessica Kurva.

My hips swayed, in a gentle way. I didn't want to overplay it, and besides, at the languorous pace I was strolling a gentle roll was perfect. I felt natural, and feminine, and womanly, and sexy.

THE TINGLES WERE EXPLODING WITHIN ME. RIBBONS AND STREAMS OF TINGLES WERE THRASHING AROUND INSIDE ME, CAROMING AND ZOOMING AND SPIRALING AND BURSTING.

As I strutted, I tried to appear casual, but I delicately looked around, to spot Angie.

I didn't see her.

As I got to the front glass doors, the two outside doormen opened them for me, each of them tipping their top hats, looking regal in their long formal coats. There was a black sleek limousine, long and shiny, just pulling into the front. I began carefully walking down the six elongated tiers to street level, watching as a slim fit Latino man in a suit and cap came around from the driver's seat and scooted up two stairs to meet me, extending his hand out. So I placed my right hand in his and he led me down the remaining way to the car, opening the door for me and gently guiding me inside.

To where Michelle sat, regally sprawled back on the massive soft smooth leather bench seat. As I turned my head, the first thing I saw was her legs and heels, black pumps and fishnet stockings. Very sexy. Scanning up to see her own winter coat, and under that was a sexy dress, knee-length, fuscia, with as deep a plunging neckline as mine. Her hair, her natural grey, was short, and styled to make her look very much like Helen Mirren. Her lips were glimmering, in a sparkly pink.

She looked sexy as fuck!

As the driver closed my door, I sat down and leaned over across the seat and kissed her, softly and gently, holding my lips to hers, lightly moving against her pulsing mouth. We didn't touch tongues yet, but each of us had opened our lips slightly, in anticipation.

Then I felt the vehicle rock, as the driver got back in the car. I realized he could easily see what was happening, so I broke the kiss off, sadly, and looked towards him.

Michelle saw what I was looking at.

"Jessica, don't worry about Jimmy. He's a professional, through and through, entirely respectful and discrete and unfortunately undeniably as heterosexual as they come. Lord knows I've tried to convince him of his foolishness, but he's stood firm in his boring straightness so far. Isn't that right, Jimmy?"

I saw the back of his head move up and down, and then his voice, saying "Yes Ma'am."

Then reaching one arm around me to pull me back to her, she hugged me close.

"Besides, Jimmy has seen everything back here anyway. We couldn't possibly do anything he hasn't witnessed. Nothing to worry about, right Jimmy?"

"That's right, Ma'am."

Just before she began kissing me again, she said, quietly and with determination, "Jimmy, the screen please."

I heard the electric motor buzzing, and the privacy screen working its way up from inside the front bench. I didn't see it, because I was kissing Michelle and both of us had our eyes closed and both of us were breathing really fiercely through our noses and both of us were sucking each other's tongue and both of us were caressing each other and both of us were delicately squeezing each other's tits and both of us began grinding our bodies together as both of us slid into a much more laying down position, with me on top of her, and then both of us started sternly rubbing our hard little cocks together through our dresses, as both of us shared copious amounts of saliva.

This woman had made me feel so loved, so grateful and so special in the last three days, that I had to show her my love.

So reluctantly, I broke off our kiss, and stared at her eyes. We were both panting, our chests rising and falling like professional athletes in a championship game. But this game was different.

In this game, all the players win.

I looked at her. At her smile, at her mature eyes, with the little crinkles, the crow's feet. She was beautiful.

"Michelle, you are so lovely, and you've been such a friend to me since we met, and you've been so generous to me, and..."

"Jessica," she admonished, "I haven't done anything that I wouldn't do for any other lovely sexy new friend and lover."

"I know," I said, "but right here, and right now, I get to give you a present."

She smiled. "Ooooh, yummy! I love presents! What did you get me?"

"This," I said, as my right hand slid up her leg, under her dress, and right onto her pantied cock. She was hard as nails, and I could feel a little wet spot too, which meant pre-cum, which made my mouth water.

"Mmm," she whispered, "that's my favorite kind of present!"

I smiled. "It gets much better!"

I LOVE MY TINGLES!!!

The End.