Tingles

TINGLES TOO!

By Katharine Sexkitten

How do I describe the feelings? How does anyone encapsulate into mere words the rainbow of emotions and physical sensations a human being can go through during and after an experience like the one I'd just had?

Tingles.

My mom always said you know when you were in love when you tingled, inside and out. I had listened to her tell that to me and my siblings over the years and thought it was silly, inane even, some Hollywood musical expression of the joy that love brings.

I was wrong. She was right. What I didn't know then, and only discovered over the last few hours, was that these tingles she spoke of were of a level I'd never dreamed about, never thought possible. If my good times before were what I thought were tingles, then my definition had just been re-written.

The tingles I had now were unending, overpowering, and the greatest pleasure I'd ever known.

This, this right here, was what I had been looking for, all my life, even though I didn't know I was looking. But now that I'd found it, now that I knew my true role in life, now that I had the knowledge to enlighten my soul to its most natural place, now that I could see and feel what real joy was, there was no way I was ever going back to my old life.

This was where I needed to be. Wanted to be. Had to be. Yearned to be. Desired to be.

Dressed in sexy lingerie, under a man's body, his cock inside me as far and as full as it could go, his weight making me feel breathless and exultant all at once, his breath heavy in my ear, the taste of his lips and tongue and cum still on my taste buds, his cum in my tummy, and in my ass.

Heaven.

It took a few minutes for both of us to calm down. Our shared orgasm was of such intensity that Brad and I just lay there, him on top of me, outstretched like a back-view of Vitruvian man, legs and arms splayed, tan thigh-high stockings on my pale legs, his wife's panties pulled to one side of my lily-white buttocks, my front covered in my own cum, trapped between my belly and the sheets, his cock still inside my ass.

No. Not my ass.

My pussy, now, I thought, which made me smile, and a warmth I'd never dreamed possible spread through me. My pussy. My cross-dressing pussy. Which had just been fucked.

And I could actually feel his cum, inside me, sloshing and moving as our bodies stopped shuddering. Which made me feel elated, and oh so wonderful. I'd never experienced anything like being made love to like that, of being fucked like that, of having a masculine man pierce my very soul with his cock inside me like that.

In my entire life I'd never conceived of ever having homosexual thoughts, or allowing any such thing should I have them to turn into real physical events. It had just never dawned on me. Ever.

But the tingles I felt when Brad kissed me, when he held me in his arms, when he wrapped me in his passion and his masculinity and his power, those were tingles unlike any I'd felt before. And those tingles just multiplied when I took his massive cock into my lips for the first time, feeling his precum touch my taste buds, sending me into an explosive orbit of tingles, and went even higher when I sucked him and slurped him and worshipped him and savoured him and eventually felt his passion boil over like a kettle and finally the tingles went ballistic when he made the most primal of grunts, grabbed the sides of my head so I couldn't move, and started shooting geysers of cum into my wanting mouth.

The richest, tangiest, saltiest, most delicious taste I'd ever encountered sent shivers through my body, as it slowly made its way down my gullet to my tummy. I felt so completely removed from the world, in a space all my own, like a castaway on some remote island where all my needs were met with water, some food, and a never-ending supply of cock and cum.

So you can imagine how much more intense those tingles were when he was ramming into me, his rock-hard cock pounding into me, as I bounced face-down on his marital bed, as he absolutely pile-drove his meat into me. You can imagine how lost I was to meaningless things like other people being in the house nearby, or that I was begging him to "fuck me" in his own bed, while wearing his wife's lingerie. You can imagine how completely unable I was generating any thoughts worrying or caring about social ethics, or morality, or what any other human being thought about what I was doing.

I was doing, I realized, exactly what I wanted to do, more than anything else in the world. Anything else in the universe.

I was fulfilling myself. I was honoring myself. I was becoming a new person, a better person, a person much more aware of his, or to be honest, her needs and wants and desires and passions.

I felt sated. I felt complete.

I felt whole.

His breathing in my ear as his entire weight rested on me slowed down, as he began recovering. He kissed my cheek, softly, and with love. Then he gathered enough strength to speak.

"I want to do that again."

My pussy ring involuntarily squeezed down on his shaft, right at the base of his fantastic cock, and we both hummed our pleasure. But for one brief moment, a small voice in the back of my mind stated what should have been really obvious.

That was my first time. There were bound to be actual real physiological reasons why doing it again might be a bad idea.

I realized I was sore, down there. Not anything painful, but sore. I could feel it. It was real.

"Baby," I murmured, "I want that too. More than anything. More than everything." I paused. "But I don't know if I can..." I paused again. "I loved you fucking me, but my pussy is a little sore right this second."

He giggled, loudly, in my ear. "Baby, I'm a year shy of fifty years old. I doubt I could go again right this second anyway."

I squeezed him again.

"Could have fooled me. You're still hard, Brad."

"Which hasn't happened to me, ever. Even with Carol, and I love sex with her. But you..."

I turned my head as much as I could, and I kissed him on the lips. I poured all my emotional joy and happiness into that kiss, for I wanted him to know what he'd done to me. How he'd, in a metaphoric way, given birth to me. He'd made me aware of my true nature, I realized then and there, and I so desperately wanted to thank him.

He broke the kiss off. "But you, you are something else. I am still hard, you're right, and I really want to make love with you again." He paused, and then sighed. "But I understand, of course. That was your first time, wasn't it?"

I nodded, looking up at him, with as much love as I could give.

A look of concern came over his face.

"Did I hurt you?"

"No, baby, no," I whispered, "don't go there. That was the best thing I've ever done. I never want it to stop, ever. But," I added, "I am a little sore, and Carol is somewhere downstairs, and your house is full of people, and you should get back to them."

He nodded. Then he kissed me again, slowly and sensuously, his tongue gently dancing with mine.

"Thank you."

"No," I said, "thank you. A thousand times thank you."

"Can we do this again?"

I smiled.

"I'll be mad at you if we don't do this again."

He smiled.

"A lot."

He laughed, a hearty genuine full-barrelled laugh.

Then he slowly pulled his cock out my pussy.

Which is quite possibly the saddest feeling in the world.

He insisted that I should wear the stockings and panties under my boy clothes. I saw the stain I'd left on his sheets and before I could voice my fears for him about getting caught by Carol he told me not to worry, that he'd take care of that. I dressed, as did he, although he needed new clothes anyway. He led me to the bedroom down the hall and we found my coat. I realized as we were walking down the stairs that I could feel his cum leaking out of my pussy, into my panties, and then onto my pants. I looked down and realized if you looked closely you could see the front of my pants were starting to stain too, from all of my own cum, which was more than I'd ever shot before.

Carrying my coat in front of me loosely, to make sure no one saw anything, he opened up the front door for me, and I walked to an awaiting cab. As I swung my body into the back seat, I looked back at him. He was smiling. He was happy. He was proud.

And I'm the one that made him that way!

By the time I'd gotten home, I was so completely physically and mentally burnt out that I barely had the energy to strip off my outer clothes before falling into bed. In Carol's panties. And stockings.

And cum, some of it dry and some it still wet, all over my lower torso and upper legs. Cum everywhere!

I reached down and found a big drop with the tip of one finger, and brought it to my lips.

Sweeter than any wine, anywhere in the world.

Then I more or less passed out.

I woke up Sunday morning in lingerie, my pussy hole telling me that it had been used recently and was a little bit mad at me. But otherwise, I had never felt better in my life. I was giddy with happiness.

I couldn't wait to do that again.

I couldn't wait to feel all of that again.

I couldn't wait to have a man kiss me again, to hold me again, to caress me again, to arouse me again, to allow me the abject joy of sucking cock again, of swallowing cum again, and then finally I couldn't wait to ride the rapturous wave of elation of being made love to again, being fucked again.

I couldn't wait to slip into lingerie again, too, I realized, which led me to my laptop.

A few hours later, I'd put nearly three thousand dollars on my credit card. I'd been to a dozen or so different websites, researching and then buying everything my new feminine soul wanted...panties by the dozens, garters, stockings, pantyhose, bras, corsets, corselets, slips, half-slips, camisoles, blouses, skirts, dresses, evening gowns, slutty wear, and ten different pairs of shoes. The smallest heel on any of them was three inches. The biggest was six.

I also bought make up kits, and jewelry, and purses, and four different wigs, because I just felt like I'd want options on any given day based on how I was feeling. One day I might be feeling slutty, the next coy and playful. Who knew? I bought butt plugs and dildos and a giant bottle of lube. I did some research and bought a kit to clean myself out.

With luck, I'd have my new wardrobe and toys in two days' time!

Then I logged onto my VPN and checked my work email. That was the first normal thing I'd done all day! There were the usual couple of dozen that appeared every morning, from all over the country, and I replied to a few as necessary and ignored the ones I could. Then I saw one from the VP of Human Resources, from head office.

Addressed to me.

And was shocked to read it. The header said "Congratulations and Well Done!"

Then she proceeded to talk about some of the work I'd done lately, and how I had just been promoted to the National Team, with the appropriate commensurate raise in pay. She had CC'd a few dozen names, most of which I knew.

Including Brad.

Then there were a bunch of responses that followed from people, congratulating me and wishing me well and the like. Then there was one from Brad.

His response was very corporate, and CC'd to everybody, which was SOP and completely normal.

His email said, "Well deserved and can't wait to work more closely with you in the future."

I read an awful lot of sexy things into that.

Then I realized I was hungry, and needed to go out to get some groceries. A shower, where I shaved my legs and groin and arms and chest, led me to putting clothes on, but two things made me sad. One, I was putting boy clothes on, which was disheartening. And two, that I had no panties to wear. Carol's were stained and crusty and needed washing. And I didn't have anything to replace the stockings either, which were also cum-coated, and one had a small run in it. So I had to go out commando.

The mall led me to some fast food, which helped my energy levels, followed by the big-box grocery store, where I loaded up on food and had multiple bags to carry to my car. Then I went back into the mall, and headed for the Victoria's Secret shop. I walked proudly inside, and smiled at the signs displaying their "Buy Three Panties Get the Fourth One Free!" sales event.

Eight pairs seemed a good amount, paying only for six of course. I added some thigh-high stockings in three different shades to the cart, as well as a complete bra/panty/garter belt/stocking set in the softest silky material and in the most amazing shade of dark grey, rolled up to the counter and paid for everything. The sales girl said I was being a great boyfriend.

If she only knew.

I spent the rest of the day at my condo, wearing panties and thigh-highs and surfing porn on the Interwebby. Cross-dressing stories, cross-dressing vids, cross-dressing chat rooms and cross-dressing fetish sites. I joined all of them, more or less. I crafted an on-line persona. Pics I would add later, when I got my clothes and wigs and makeup.

I called myself Jessica, or Jessie for short, because my middle name is actually Jesse. I was named after my paternal grandfather, who was a rough-and-tough man if family lore was correct and I was therefore nothing like him. His rep was one of poor education, heavy alcoholism, and an honest attempt at taking care of his family with what little tools and resources he had. A man's man, in many ways. The kind that probably forced himself on women, when he found the chance.

An alpha type.

Which made me, his descendant, and a clear check in the "Beta" box. He forced himself on women. I dressed like women and wanted men to fuck me. He probably had about a dozen or so conquests in his life.

I planned on having many more than that. I planned on shattering his number in a manner of weeks.

My whole life had changed. Just like that. Because of my tingles, which led to my experience with Brad, my feelings of fulfillment and joy that came from wearing lingerie and having sex with a man. I was a completely new person. I felt free, of society's constraints about sex and love, and free of expectations placed on all of us by the religious and moral criticisms of others. I knew, in my heart of hearts, that I was letting go of propriety, and jumping into the ocean of sexuality and perhaps even promiscuity, and both of those were just fine with me.

Jessie was born!

Monday I was back at work, back in the tower downtown. We had multiple floors. Everything was as usual, in every way. Except, of course, the bra, panties and thigh-highs underneath my suit and tie. Office attire, corporate and boring, would be met, but I had to be true to my newfound freedoms and desires. I wore a light sweater over my shirt and tie, owing to the weather outside, but mostly so no one would notice my bra straps. I couldn't believe how exhilarating it was walking downtown and around the offices dressed like a sexy feminine slut underneath, and how nobody knew, but with the intensity of the slight fear that someone might figure it out.

At one point a couple of hours into my working day a group of people came up the hall and passed by my office door, with what sounded like a handful of different conversations going on at once. One of the crowd was Brad.

He stopped at my door, so several people behind him stopped too. He spoke in his normal manner, if not perhaps just a teeny bit louder, so everyone could hear.

"Hey congrats on the National Team! Mary Lou was right to add you!"

I thanked him, my eyes boring into his, trying to make him understand just how much he'd changed me, how much he'd affected me, and how much he meant to me for everything that had happened.

And how much my tingles were raging again, seeing him, imagining him naked, his big cock hard and throbbing for me, dripping with tangy precum. And then him fucking me again, over and over again, soft and romantic at first and then building to a crescendo of pounding and rutting and grunting and fucking.

OH MY.

THOSE TINGLES, THEY'RE ZOOMING NOW!!!!!

Then he more or less moved everyone into my little office, so we could get my opinion on something or other they'd been discussing. All very normal. I had some words to say about a couple of points and the impromptu meeting lasted for almost half an hour. Salient points were raised, new ideas were suggested, and further discussion was warranted.

As he was leaving, he looked back at me and asked me to see him later, early afternoon-ish, in his office, if I could, about something I was vaguely involved in. So it all seemed perfectly normal to anyone within earshot.

I promised him I would. How could I refuse, with that seriously sexy glint in his eye?

At lunch, I went to the staffroom on the lowest of our three floors, like I did from time to time. There were a few people inside, at various stages of the eating lunch routine.

Sitting by herself, at one table in the corner, was Sunita, her head in a paperback novel of some sort. I weaved through the room and plopped my smooth sexy panty-covered ass into the chair next to her.

"Hi," I smiled.

"Hey yourself," she replied.

"Did you have fun at the party?" I asked.

She smiled, her face beaming and her teeth white against her ruby-red lipstick.

"You know I did," she answered, "how about you?"

I nodded. "I had the very best night of my life, bar none."

"Really?" she asked, a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes, "how come?"

"Well," I whispered, almost conspiratorially, "I got to make out with this gorgeous Indian chick, for one."

She nodded and grinned.

"Did you like it?"

"Oh Sunita," I went on, "I fucking loved it! And I'm pretty sure she did too!"

It took her a second or two, but the wall of PC propriety disappeared and after she glanced around to make sure no one could hear us, she smiled again, a huge beaming smile.

"She loved it too!" she cooed, trying to appear proud and coy all at the same time.

"And you know what else?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"She made me an offer," I said, and watched her memory blast back into her consciousness, making her very aware of what that offer was, before adding, "and I really want to take her up on that offer."

My tingles were racing again, like the fastest driver at the Indy 500. In control, but right on the edge.

She drew her breath in, almost gasping.

"Are you serious?"

I grinned from ear to ear, and nodded until my neck hurt.

"As a heart attack."

She smiled, and then grinned, and then started to giggle, which turned into a full out throaty laugh, her eyes alive with electricity and her skin radiating a glow that was unmistakable. Like the two giant lumps now showing in her satin blouse. Her nipples were like thimbles, hard and tapered and solid.

"Honey, are you crazy?"

I felt confused. "What do you mean?"

Her voice got whispery again. "I told you, right, that it could only be with my husband, and that he is hung like a horse and he'd want to destroy your little white ass? Right? I told you all that?"

I nodded again, and smiled.

"Sign me up!"

She couldn't think of anything to say, I guess. She just sat there and looked at me, quizzically.

"I'm not kidding," I said, "in case that's worrying you. The thing is, I had a great time at the party, which included you, but also included other moments. And I learned things about myself. Things that have opened my eyes to life, and what I want from life."

"Is that right?" she said.

"And I want to be with you and your husband. I want to kiss you again, make out with you again, because when we did it Saturday night it was FANTASTIC!"

She smiled again. "Yeah, it was."

"So being with you even more would be even more fantastic. And being with your husband too would also be fantastic, I'm sure."

She looked at me again, again with the quizzical look.

"Are you gay?" she whispered.

"Nope," I replied, "no labels. I'm sexual, is all. Very sexual. Just very bisexual, actually, and very horny, and very into things that make me tingle, things that make me feel alive. And you wanted me to eat that sweet pussy of yours while your husband fucks my lily-white ass, as I recall. Correct?"

She nodded, a look of awe and amazement on her face now.

"Three words," I stated.

"Bring. It. On."

We made a date for Wednesday evening, after dinner time. Their kids would be at a relatives place for a sleep-over. She'd make sure Iqbal, her husband, was home and showered and ready. She told me that he had had a few male lovers in his life-time, and sometimes lamented that he missed that aspect of sex, especially if they were little white sissy boys. I told her I'd be the most feminine sissy boy he ever had.

She said that when she'd made out with me and felt her own version of tingles, and got the idea to drop his bisexual desires into the conversation to see where it led. And that she was shocked, although wonderfully so, to find out her fishing expedition had worked. So I again told her if Iqbal enjoyed men dressed in sexy lingerie that he would absolutely adore me, with a big enough smile on my face to make sure she knew I was serious and completely turned on by it.

She said she'd see if she could change some plans for Tuesday night.

I said my schedule was open.

After lunch, I worked for about an hour and then grabbed a coffee and went to see Brad.

He was in his office, head down, studying something very seriously. I rapped on the door frame to get his attention, and he looked up and smiled. Then he jumped up and came to the door and welcomed me in, pointing at the chair opposite his desk.

Then he closed his office door.

Ours was an organization that frowned on closed-door meetings, unless they were absolutely necessary. They felt that promoted an openness as a culture, which would lead to better employee relations.

I thought that my relations with Brad were way beyond anything the corporation ever thought possible.

He sat back down in his chair, and pushed some papers aside.

Then he fixed his eyes on mine. My tingles started ramping up again. I crossed my legs, in what I felt was a natural way now but a way which I'm sure to him looked feminine. I meant to do that. I was hoping he's spot the gap between the hem at the bottom of my trouser legs and the top of my shoe. Where my appropriately-colored sock should be.

Where instead he would see fishnet stockings.

If he saw it, he didn't show it. He just kept staring at me. So I stared back at him, trying to make him understand just how much I needed to thank him for Saturday night. And how much I'd enjoyed it. And how much I wanted it to happen again.

A lot.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, a smile on his lips.

Those lips that kissed me so magnificently, so wonderfully, so passionately.

"I've never been better in my entire life," I answered.

His grin was enormous. "Me too."

"You're sure?"

He nodded, and whispered to me.

"That was the best night of my life. The best fuck of my life."

It was my turn to smile now, broadly and proudly. Part of me was worried that his passion was fleeting, that he'd be regretful, or that he'd blow it off as a one-time thing, that he wasn't gay, or any or all of that kind of stuff.

"Me too."

We just sat there, smiling at each other, for a couple of minutes.

Then he spoke.

"So, it sounds like we both want more."

I nodded.

"I want you to kiss me and hold me and fuck me right here and right now, actually," I said, "but I don't think that would be good for either of our corporate careers."

"God, though, I would absolutely love to fuck you again, right here, right now. It's all I've been thinking about, all I've been wanting since Saturday night. I've never felt so alive, so full of passion and so fucking horny for anyone like that," he paused, "even Carol, and I love her more than anything."

I was worried for him. He was in a difficult situation, of course, one far different than mine. I was single and unbeholden to anyone or any promise, whereas he was married and in a committed relationship.

"It's okay, Brad, I understand."

"What do you mean?"

"Look, you're married, and you're a stand-up man. I know that. I've dealt with you in the business world, as have everybody else here, and you've always treated everyone with respect and dignity and so obviously you're that kind of person. You made a promise to Carol, of course, and I have no right..."

"Stop right there," he whispered.

"What?"

"Let me explain, please?"

I nodded. Of course.

"I met Carol in high school. We started dating as seniors, and we've been together ever since. She's the only woman I've ever loved, and only the third woman I've ever had sex with. And the other two were both one-timers. Awkward teenage fumbling, really. Anyway, she's the love of my life. I knew it when I met her, and I know it now. I've never cheated on her. Ever. Until you."

I felt tears beginning to form in my eyes. I thought for sure that I was about to be dumped.

"Anyway, the thing is, and not too many people know this, but after a couple of dates I knew she was the one, and she told me she knew I was the one for her too. It was great. Then she dropped the bomb on me."

"What bomb?" I asked.

"She wanted to be honest with me, up front with me. She told me on our fourth date, after we'd slept together for the first time, that she loved me and wanted to marry me and have children with me and spend the rest of her life with me. I was happier than a pig in shit. Then she looked me in the eyes and told me that none of that would happen unless I was cool with one thing. I asked her what that was. She told me."

I was a bit on tenterhooks at this point.

"She told me that she was bisexual. That she occasionally enjoyed spending time with other women, for companionship and also for sex. She told me that she loved sex with me, and by the way still tells me that to this day, but that sex with another woman for her was different than with a man, and in its own way better than men. She told me that in her opinion every single person ever born was bisexual, but only a few people throughout history ever found the courage to act on it. Anyway, she told me flat out that she wanted to be my loving, adoring wife, and be faithful to me forever, except that she'd also have the occasional female lover. She told me that she'd never share with me, that she wasn't interested in a threesome and not to ask her for one. This was something she needed and wanted to do, for her. Not for me.

"I will admit it took me a few days to think it over. But the answer was pretty obvious, I realized. I loved her and she loved me, and her girlfriends have actually made her happier, which makes me happy. Our sex life has never been bad, or slowed down. She loves sex with me, and we enjoy it often. But she has some dates from time to time. And in all honesty, it's made my life really great too.

"And Carol has said often over the years that if I ever had sex with another woman she'd cut my balls off and feed them to me, make me eat them."

My eyes went wide with shock.

He smiled. "I believe her too."

I gulped.

"But she's also always told me that if I ever wanted to explore my sexuality with another man, she'd welcome it. She rationalized that she couldn't demand the freedom to pursue her same-sex feelings and not allow me that same freedom, if I ever had any same-sex feelings. Which, up until Saturday night, I never had."

His stare at me became intense.

"Then came you."

I giggled as I spoke.

"Literally and figuratively."

He smiled. "So after the party was over and all the guests were safely in cabs, and the catering team had cleaned up and gone away, I told her." He waited for my reaction, which to be honest was with some sense of dread. "I told her everything. I took her up to the bedroom and showed her the sheets, still wet with your cum. I told her that I had experienced with you something I didn't know existed in me, and that I was forever her man and loved her more than anything, but that like her I was going to explore this part of me that I now know exists."

"What did she say about that?" I asked.

"She laughed and jumped up and down and threw herself into my arms and we giggled like school kids. She was so happy for me."

"Wow," I said, "that's a very enlightened human being."

"She is," he answered. "Plus, as it turns out, at about the same time I was blasting my load inside your sexy ass, she was in the laundry room having her pussy eaten out by Hazel."

I sat up straight in my chair. "Hazel from admin? The black Jamaican woman?"

Brad nodded. "One and the same. Carol says Hazel eats pussy better than anyone she's ever had, and she's had more than a few!"

We laughed together.

Then his look got serious.

"So now that I know that I'm bisexual, and now that I know what it's like to make love with someone like you, I want to explore it more and more."

I nodded, with glee. "Me too."

"Because I want to hold you again, I want to kiss you again, feel your silky-smooth body again, go through the exquisite joy of having my cock sucked by you again, and then, more than anything, I want to fuck you again, make love to you again, spend as much time as possible with my cock in your pussy. So Carol and I are better than ever before. She can play with as many women as she likes. I get to have you."

I didn't know what to say.

"But only if you want me, too. And with the understanding that for both of our careers sake, nothing can ever happen at work. Ever."

I nodded.

"I understand."

He smiled. "Evenings and weekends?"

"Agreed."

Then his face changed, like an idea just struck him.

"Wait a minute!" he exclaimed.

"What?"

"You're on the National team now."

"Yes. So?"

"So? So? Don't you see? You'll be travelling at times. I'll be on some of those trips. National headquarters, regional headquarters, site visits, trips like that. We always stay in the best places, travel first class, eat and enjoy ourselves while we're travelling. This means that we'll get to spend time together in hotel suites. We are going to get to have the best times, on the road!"

It was slowly dawning on me that he was right. I wouldn't be on every single trip that he was on, I was sure. He's a far bigger mucky-muck than I am. But I would be travelling now as part of the National team, and the idea of sexy good times in other cities was starting to make me tingle again.

I giggled. "I can't wait to go on my first trip! I can't wait to kiss and feel you, to suck your cock again over and over, and I seriously can't wait until you're back where you belong, between my legs, slamming that incredible fucking cock of yours into my pussy, over and over and over and over..."

His facial expression changed, and I stopped talking. I turned as I heard the knock on his door. As it opened, I saw the VP of Corporate Security, Peter Evanston, poking his head in.

"Can I interrupt for one second?"

Brad said of course.

As Peter looked from me to Brad, his eyes seemed to scan down my body slowly, seated as I was. Then he looked Brad in the eyes. "Have you both got time to join a few of us in the board room upstairs? A quick national team meeting regarding some changes to the east-coast acquisition we were contemplating?"

Brad and I both said yes, and told Peter we'd be there in a moment.

Peter seemed to take slightly longer than a normal person would to say "Great, see you both upstairs." Then he looked back from Brad to me, his eyes taking me in again. I felt like I was being investigated somehow, which made sense in some ways, since the man was a thirty year cop, with the feds, with several years of corporate work following in some big corporations. His department covered physical security of all of our sites and workplaces, of course, but they were also responsible for the safety and security of all the intellectual property as well. High tech stuff.

He was a physically-imposing man. About six-five, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, ramrod-straight, in-shape, who always wore expensive and form-fitting suits and who obviously still worked out a lot, and yet someone who, in my dealing with him, was always soft-spoken, respectful and dignified.

When he was out of earshot, I asked Brad when I could see him next.

He told me Friday night was his first chance. I was a little disappointed. But I had Sunita and Iqbal coming up on Wednesday, so Friday would be my next date after that. With Brad, my first lover.

Then I told him, as we both stood up to go upstairs to the boardroom, that he should pat me on the back like any normal guy would for another. His quizzical look only lasted a few seconds, and then he came over to me and congratulated me by patting and rubbing on my back. The look on his face, the surprise and delight he showed when he felt my obvious bra strap made my day rock.

And the tingles were gushing now.

"Is that a...?"

"A bra strap?"

He nodded, while continuing to softly rub.

"Yes, it is. I'm also wearing panties, and thigh-highs too. I spent almost three grand yesterday on gurly clothes and shoes and jewelry and toys!"

His face registered his shock.

"Three grand?"

I nodded, a proud smile on my face.

"I'm going to be the sexiest most feminine gurly-boy sissy CD slut you've ever seen."

His lower lip trembled.

"You don't know how much I want to take you in my arms right now and kiss you."

My look to him was dreamy-eyed, I'm sure.

"Soon, babe," I whispered. "Soon."

We just stared at each other's eyes. We both knew what we wanted; we both knew what the two of us were capable of. The sexual and sensual worlds we created when joined together, his gorgeous massive cock buried fully inside me, his cum coating my insides. We both wanted it now, here, and forever.

"Are you full of tingles again?" he asked, just about to say my first name.

"Jessie, or Jessica," I interrupted.

"Jessica, I love it! A feminine name for my feminine lover."

"Mmmmmmm," I hummed.

The tingles amplified. Again. To a whole new level.

I can't wait for Wednesday!!!!

The end.