A Gift in Disguise Ch. 04

I awakened Wednesday morning in my cum-soaked bed after wet-dreaming sex with Dr. Jamie Devlin. Like many dreams, this one had some parts that were unclear. Try as I might, I could not force my mind to reveal the missing details of my dream's sexual experience with her. Waking up in a bed with a surprisingly large cold wet spot would have been far more tolerable if my recollection of the dream included how I had experienced sex with her given her physiological anomaly: Dr. Jamie Devlin is a woman with a fully-developed penis rather than a vagina.

I stood naked, stripping the sheets from my bed, and vivid thoughts of sex with Jamie returned. So did my hard-on. Inexplicably, I felt drawn to move in front of the full-length mirror mounted on my closet door. As I walked in front of the mirror and stared at my body's image, an image of Jamie appeared from a swirling mist. Her image in the mirror was fully nude, the figure of a truly sexy and sexual thirty-something woman, made mysteriously even more so because she too displayed her own erect penis.

I had never seen Jamie unclothed, at least not yet, so I could not possibly have known how she would look. Yet, there she was. Her body was unmistakably that of a mature and exceedingly sexy woman, not that of a transsexual woman, a man who has tried to restructure his male body to appear to be the body of a woman. Everything about her, save her genitalia, was unmistakably and naturally woman -- no artificial or surgical enhancements to be seen. Though she is ten years older than I, her image in the mirror did not look it.

Her image was so clear and three-dimensional that it seemingly could not have been my imagination, so I instinctively turned to my left, expecting to see her standing alongside me. Of course, she was not there, but when I turned back to the mirror, there she stood beside me in the mirror, facing me, our bodies offset. Only now she had spread her legs slightly and was beginning to stroke her cock with her right hand. Slowly, sensually, it became harder and longer until she was fully erect. But her image in the mirror was looking back at me, first into my eyes, then her eyes drifted downward on me to my own erection.

As if pulled, commanded really, by her, I began stroking myself with my right hand, matching her strokes with my own. In my mind, I found myself urgently wanting to take her cock and mine in my hand and stroke them both together. I unashamedly wanted to feel the sensation of her hardness growing harder in my hand and then rubbing it against my own cock. It seemed so natural with Jamie.

Her eyes moved slowly up my body until they locked once again on mine. Now I could not just see her in the mirror, I could also hear her breathing becoming more labored. Her breaths were punctuated by an occasional exclamation of audible pleasure. Her face was beginning to redden, and the redness was slowly creeping down over the white mounds of her breasts. My own breathing was ragged, jerky, dry-sounding. I could feel the first twinges of pleasurable pre-orgasmic pain forming inside me, causing me to make some unintelligible sound come forth from my mouth. We were both stroking ourselves faster now, and Jamie was clearly getting very, very close.

She began thrusting her pelvis, fucking her own hand violently. The head on her cock was dark red with a little droplet easing its way out. She broke our gaze, squinting her eyes tightly shut involuntarily as all her muscular force drove the cum from her cock at the same time my own cum eruption began. Her mouth opened in a silent cry. Simultaneously our knees bent under orgasm-induced weakness and loss of muscular control. I put my left hand out to brace myself on the mirror, and from inside the mirror, her own left hand pushed against mine to support herself as well. The room was filled with my deep guttural growl-turned-cry, but my ears heard only her cries of pleasure when our streams of jism exploded from our bodies. I kept stroking, not wanting Jamie's sexual energy to dissipate any more than mine, and perhaps fearing that if I stopped cumming, she would disappear.. Finally, I could expel no more cum. My strength was drained, and I slumped to my knees, dragging my hand down the cum-stained mirror. When I opened my eyes, she was gone. All that remained was a rapidly-vanishing swirl on the back of the mirror.

There had been no denying my sexual attraction for Dr. Jamie Devlin, but within only a few hours I had experienced two auto-erotic events centering on my having sex with her. The more I thought about it, the more I became concerned enough to call Lorraine with questions suitable for her psychological training.

"Hi, Tom. How are you doing?" she asked casually.

I hadn't really thought through what I was going to say to her on the phone, so even Lorraine's routine greeting threw me off a bit.

"Okay, I guess."

It was quite unusual for me to call Lorraine out of the blue, and she obviously detected something in my response that suggested everything was not okay.

"Really?"

"Well, I had a couple of things happen that are bothering me a little."

"Would you like to come over and talk about it? I'm available after two this afternoon."

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Lorraine. Thank you. Would three be all right with you?"

"Three would be perfect, Tom. See you then."

"Thanks again, Lorraine."

My body attended my Wednesday morning class, but it would be a stretch to say my mind was even half there. I had fantasized about having sex with certain women before, and those fantasies had ended with me jacking off to relieve myself. But my imaginary experiences with Jamie were different, except I didn't know quite how. That was what was troubling me. Why was something usually so pleasurable gnawing at me now?

I showered before going to Lorraine's in hopes it would relax me, but it didn't. In spite of it being a beautiful day, the drive to her office did nothing to relieve my anxiety either.

She answered the door smiling, but her smile instantly disappeared when she first saw me.

"Come in, Tom."

She took me by the arm but instead of taking me to her office, she led me into one of her comfortably furnished "exam" rooms.

"Kick off your shoes, loosen your belt, and lie down here, please." It was a stern command, not even close to an invitation, and she uttered it at the same time she took a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff from a cabinet drawer. Her atypical response did nothing to relieve my concern. Before becoming a practicing psychologist, Lorraine had been and still is a registered nurse. She maintained her RN status, and obviously she had also retained her ability to quickly size up patients presenting medical symptoms.

Without speaking any further, she applied the cuff, then took my pulse rate and measured my blood pressure. After making the measurements, she removed the cuff and set it and the stethoscope aside.

"Your heart rate is elevated and so is your blood pressure. I suspected that when I saw you on the front porch. What's got you so upset?" There was genuine concern in her voice. I started to sit up to answer.

"No, don't get up. Just lie there. Take a few deep breaths and relax before we talk."

It took about twenty minutes for me to give her a detailed account of my two imaginary sexual experiences with Jamie. It seemed to me that I was babbling incoherently throughout. Lorraine listened intently. A few times she asked me to elaborate on something I had said. She did not make any notes. Finally, it seemed to me I had said all there was to say.

Lorraine looked at me for a few seconds before she spoke.

"Tom, do you remember telling me about how your fraternity brothers set you up with a transexual woman -- I think you said her name is Stephanie?" I nodded, but before I could speak, Lorraine continued.

"I'd like you to think back to when you and she were talking in the bar. You danced with her, and you were becoming sexually aroused by her. Eventually you and she left the bar and started kissing out in the parking lot. Do you recall that, Tom?"

"Yeah. She was a really hot kisser, and ..." As I spoke, something I hadn't thought of before interrupted my speaking.

Lorraine just looked at me. Something she had said, or maybe the way she said it, caused a thought to flash through my mind, and she had in turn seen something to key on.

"Go on, Tom," she prompted during my pause. "Tell me more about Stephanie."

"The way she kissed me -- it felt different."

"Different how."

"Just ... different."

"Different from mine?" I nodded.

"Different from Kim's?" Again, I nodded.

"Different from Jamie's?"

"I've only kissed Jamie once or twice," I responded instantly and clearly defensively. "And I've never ..." my voice faded off.

Finally Lorraine let her face relax.

"Tom, when you kissed Stephanie, you got some internal signal that something was off, that she might not be the woman you expected. You didn't clearly recognize it at the time, but very soon after that when you felt his penis you did. But then something unexpected and very remarkable happened: Both you and Stephanie reacted with emotional maturity far beyond your years. I'm guessing your frat brothers were expecting you to blow up and create a scene for their amusement. Instead, you and Stephanie turned the tables on them. You agreed to feign sexual interest in each other that night. Then over time you became close friends, though not sexually intimate.

Both you and Stephanie are incredibly sure of your gender identities and sexual preferences. Well, at least you are based on everything I've seen. But I'm guessing that Stephanie probably is, too."

"So what does that have to do with my dream sex and masturbation with Jamie in the mirror?"

"There's a really straightforward answer to that, Tom. You very much want to have sex with Jamie. You're alarmed that you've already become very comfortable with her being a woman yet having a penis, because your upbringing is screaming at you that you're supposed to feel differently. Growing up you were taught that only boys have a penis, and boys don't touch each others penis. You don't even look at another boy's cock in the showers at school. And you certainly don't think about what it would be like to have sex with someone with a penis. In short, Tom, for nearly all your life you've been conditioned to feel guilty, or at least conflicted, about your present sexual attraction to Jamie. If Jamie had a clit and vagina, we wouldn't even be having this conversation.

You see, Tom, what you're perceiving as a problem isn't really a problem at all. You're sexually secure in your gender. You're a male. Jamie is sexually secure in her gender. She's a female. There is absolutely nothing either of you could do to change that even if you wanted to, and neither of you want to."

She paused to see if I had any comment. Evidently she took my silence as not fully understanding what she had said, so she continued.

"Let me try putting it another way.

You've had sex with both me and Kim when we were wearing our prototype phallus Jamie made for us. Did Kim's or my wearing the phallus in any way make you think either of us were anything but women?"

This time she didn't wait for me to answer, because she already knew it.

"No, of course it didn't. And judging from your reaction to both of us, I don't think our having a cock in any way interfered with your enjoyment of the sex -- or with ours for that matter. You knew in the deepest recesses of your mind that we are women. You know that Jamie is, too.

You know, Tom, I have to admit something to you. When Jamie first suggested I wear the phallus and have sex with Kim to try and help her orgasm, I was completely turned off by the idea, but I went along hoping it would help Kim. And when Jamie gave Kim her own phallus to try and help her the same way, I wasn't really into it. Oh, it's true that Kim did bring me to orgasm when she was fucking me with her phallus, but a person can orgasm without really experiencing much sexual pleasure from it. You've experienced less fulfilling orgasms yourself. Well, that's what happened with me.

But when I wore the phallus and walked into the room to have sex with you, something was dramatically different than when I wore it with Kim. In fact, I started feeling the change even before I put the phallus on. Instead of being just a sexual accessory, a sex toy, it felt completely natural, as if it was really becoming a part of me in my sexual experience with you.

Just then, in anticipation of having admittedly mysterious sex with you, Jamie's prosthetic phallus became my own cock. I was actually very excited by it and eager to see what effect it would have on you. And when you saw it on me and your own cock visibly responded to what you saw on me, I almost had to stop walking toward you so I didn't cum too soon. That's how completely it had become not just part of my body but part of my sexual psyche. That I was able to turn you on even more by wearing it intensified my own pleasure immensely.

Believe me, Tom, when I laid down on top of you and started rubbing it against you, it was almost every bit as good as the feeling when you fuck me and make me cum. When I finally came with you, I experienced an orgasm in a way and with an intensity I had never expected. The phallus didn't change that I am a woman in any way, but wearing it while having sex with you did give me a more rewarding and satisfying sexual experience than I ever would have expected.

Remember the girl from high school -- Linda I think you said her name was? She wouldn't let you fuck her, but you and she obviously enjoyed your mutual masturbation sessions. Whether you realize it or not, Tom, you learned a valuable lesson from her: Masturbation and mutual masturbation with a partner can be every bit as satisfying as penetrating your partner with your penis. Maybe even more satisfying, because with no chance of pregnancy and almost no chance of STDs, you and your partner experience the precoital relaxation that more often than not leads to great sex.

What I'm getting at, Tom, is that if you and Jamie are sexually attracted to each other, believe me when I tell you that both of you will find a way to make sex mutually enjoyable. In other words, don't let her cock come between you."

I didn't even try to stifle my laugh after Lorraine delivered that last line, and judging from her own immediate laughter, I think she knew exactly what she was saying.

"So now you're only interested in having sex with me if you're wearing your cock?" I asked, teasingly.

"No, Tom, not at all. There's a time and place for everything. Right now, you're still wound up tight light a steel spring. We've got to get you to relax a little."

She walked over to me while I was still lying on the bed. I had already unbuckled my belt and unbuttoned the button on my jeans when she ordered me to lie down so she could take my BP. Without breaking the hypnotic stare with which she engaged my eyes, she effortlessly and slowly unzipped my trousers. Then she went to the foot of the bed, grasped the hem of each leg, and pulled. I lifted my legs to bend my lower torso upward slightly so she could more easily pull off my pants.

She walked back toward me and unbuttoned my shirt, then helped pull it off. I laid on my back, now wearing only my undershorts. I had been completely flaccid, but her eye contact and help removing my clothing were beginning to change that.

She looked at the increasing bulge in my undershorts and said, "That's a good sign. But for now, I want you to roll over onto your front so I can work some of the tension out of you."

I did as she ordered, then heard her say, "Extend your arms out from your sides, close your eyes, and take three or four deep breaths, and try to relax."

As I did that, I heard her return the blood pressure cuff and stethoscope to the drawer, followed by some brief rustling sounds. Moments later I felt the warmth and weight of Lorraine's body straddling the backs of my legs on the exam bed. Then I felt her hands working their way up my back to my neck and shoulders, delivering a gentle and intensely relaxing massage. Under her magic touch and after several minutes of massage, I could almost feel my muscular tension draining from my body and being absorbed into the bed under me.

"Very good, Tom," she murmured. "Just a little more and I'm sure you'll feel much, much better."

Though her massage was not explicitly sexual, I could not help but notice that my partial erection had not subsided. As the anxiety and tension left me, I became more acutely aware of the warmth of her legs against and alongside mine and the movement of her ass as she sat on the backs of my upper thighs to deliver her magic massage.

After some amount of time had elapsed, I didn't really know or even care how much, I felt her lift herself off of the backs of my legs. Still, she kept her hands in contact with my back and sides.

"Turn over, Tom, and I'll work on your front." Her voice had become more suggestive and less commanding. I had never felt as relaxed as I did at that moment. For no particular reason other than that, I kept my eyes closed when I rolled over. It felt more as if I was floating over rather than turning over on a bed.

"Please extend your arms upward above your head, Tom, and just stay relaxed. I'll do everything."

I did as she instructed, but there was something in her voice that caused me to open my eyes at the same time she was lowering herself onto me again.

She was now wearing nothing except a bikini brief that covered her pussy, but it did little to contain the black hair growing all around it.

Perhaps my ultra-relaxed state had cleared my mind and removed the psycho-visual filters that mind clutter engenders. Whatever the reason, my eyes and my mind now saw the more youthful Lorraine that she and Kim had described experiencing. Oh, she was clearly the same mature woman that so awakened and aroused my sexual appetites, yet it was almost as if I only now could clearly see her smoother, tighter skin, the uplifting of her breasts, the clearness of her eyes, and the overall firmness of her body.

Her barely-covered mound was in direct contact with my cock, though it now seemed as if some sensual force dissolved her and my briefs and allowed us to feel each others sexual desire in spite of them. Her heat melded into mine.

My arms remained above my head even though I desperately wanted to reach up and touch her.

She leaned over me and put her hands on each of my wrists. Then she slowly dragged her fingertips from my wrists to my armpits, allowing her fingernails to slightly scrape into my skin the entire way. The feeling was more exotically sexual than painful. My breathing quickened and I felt the blood surging to my cock, particularly when she repeatedly used her fingernails to sensually scratch my own armpits. Never had anyone done that to me before, and with everything else she was doing and saying, the feeling was indescribably arousing. My utterances and the movement of my cock against her reinforced her digital manipulations, and she smiled tightly as my hardening cock pushed against her own clitoral emergence.

Aside from the swelling of my cock, I was hardly moving, yet her face and neck and chest and breasts began to redden with her own arousal.

As she began to slowly sit upright again, she raked her fingernails from my armpits to my own nipples. I'd never found touching or pinching or pulling my own nipples to be particularly arousing, but when she did it while she was straddling me, I couldn't help but acknowledge her skills with a brief cry combining surprise and remarkable pleasure.