Trapped

"Well?," Mrs. Chasterly pressed.

"Oh, all right! Fine!" The eyes zapped us again, and for once my wife looked at me. "Be quiet, Jack. You don't have to watch! "

"Look Hope...," I began.

"I said be quiet!," she snapped, and it was just as well she cut me off since I hadn't figured out what to say beyond those two words. She moved her eyes to herself, the dress she would be modeling in, or not in, probably to decide what she thought of it for this never before considered function. It was a summery cotton thing, light beige with pastel blue and yellow flowers, snug at the waist, billowing to the knees when standing which she was not, and snug again at her breasts. It surprised me that Mrs. Chasterly hadn't embarrassed her by calling attention to the two points pushing against the upper snugness in order to note the example they set for what Sword had yet to achieve. The dress had a shallow scooped neck, no sleeves, straps at the shoulders. It would do.

If it sounds like I was being a picture of calm I couldn't see the picture but I was anything but calm. I was hurt and angry. However, there was a back current to those emotions, Sword's play for my wife and her earlier responses had perversely excited me and the excitement I felt now was much greater. It was off the charts. And then there was Sword's great cock, majestic even when semi erect. I told myself it had to be the grass. I hadn't tried the wine or taken another cookie but the earlier cookies were doing their thing and it was a very nice thing they were doing. The grass of course wasn't the whole answer. I wasn't admitting that to myself but I knew it.

My wife's wine, unlike my own, had had an attentive companion. She drained the last of it and put the glass behind her, out of the way. She had been sitting with her legs under her. The legs came out, feet together. She braced her palms on the floor. I glanced around. She had their undivided attention. When I looked back she was sending her own gaze around. It paused at Sword, his face.

"Do you always have such a hard time becoming hard, Mr. Sword? Maybe you need Viagra, like my father?"

Sword raised a brow. "Aha, with your father, you say. Interesting, Mrs. Branch."

She gave him a fake scowl and turned her bright eyes on me. "He thinks he's so smart. And he is. He is much smarter than me, Jack, so I guess I'm only good for sexual things like helping men's cocks get hard. I mean important men like Mr. Sword who have rare books and big cocks. You don't have those things, Jack, so you better get them don't you think?"

This was her MO. Teasing words delivered in a teasing voice. It could drive me up a wall, make me bone hard, but I saw no rise in Sword's half mast.

"I thought I wasn't supposed to say anything," I said.

"You aren't!" She pivoted, pointed her feet at Sword, and lay back. Her hands, taking their time, went to the bottom of her dress and up it came. Her legs were bare, beautiful, and they were displayed all the way to her white silk panties and above. The layers of the dress piled on her flat tummy did not quite hide her belly button. She propped herself on her elbows. Since I was behind her this impaired my view so I slid my fanny to the left and was now next to Mrs. Chasterly, who gave my knee a pat.

"Isn't this fun?," she whispered.

"Continue," Sword said, meeting my wife's gaze.

"What? You mean my legs being together,?" she purred. "Would your Mr. He like me better this way? I don't know if he would or not." Her legs moved in opposite directions until her left foot was neighborly with Mrs. Chasterly and her right foot was calling on Marcy.

"Yes, better. Thank you," Sword told her. "With your panties stretched like that you almost don't need to take them off."

"He said almost, dear," Mrs. Chasterly said. "You will still have to take them off."

"Hmmmm," Hope hmmmed. She dropped her head back. She closed her eyes and we stared at her spread pose.

"Show us your tits, honey," Marcy blurted.

A smirk crossed Hope's face. It must have been a new experience to hear herself called honey by an eighteen year old.

"Help her with that, Marcy," Sword said, coolly.

Hope's eyes popped wide but her head did not move from the floor. Then Marcy was kneeling over her, grinning. "Let's do this, honey," she said, and slid the shoulder straps onto her arms. Hope lay unresisting, eyes blinking. Marcy yanked the front of the dress and it came down, taking the bra. Hope's tits made their debut for Barnabas Sword.

"Damn!," the important man said after a ten second stare. "Calendar girl tits. Gotta congratulate you, Jack. You definitely have a prize there. Thanks for sharing."

"Forget the thanks, Sword. This was her idea, not mine." I tried to sound tough but it didn't come off that well considering Marcy laughed and Mrs. C. tittered, and especially considering what Sword did which was raise his eyes and bore them into me.

"My remark was gratuitous, Jack. Did not call for a response. Moreover, you are under instruction not to talk. Remember that, please. However, if you do find occasion to speak to me, and you wish to use my last name, preface it with Mr., as in Mr. Sword. All right, buddy?"

"Yeah, right," I mumbled, aiming for muted sarcasm.

"He broke the rules," Marcy told Sword. What was she talking about? I wanted to smack her.

"He'll mind his manners, Marcy."

Marcy eyed me with mock seriousness. "If he does it again we should spank him."

"Sure. Now look, our model could use your assistance. Be a good girl and rub her tits. Those nipples must hurt and her arms seem rather immobilized."

It was true about Hope's arms. The pulled over shoulder straps had tangled with the bra and the top of the dress and turned the whole thing into a makeshift straitjacket beneath her tits, pinning her arms to her sides. Sword's other observation likely also was true. Hope's nipples drive her nuts when they stiffen.

So, on my wife's program for getting Sword erect we had done dress raising with its pantied treat, dress lowering and its two out in the open treats, and next would be sex with a teenage tart. Hope's face was tight. She was blinking like she had soap in her eyes. Otherwise she wasn't reacting. She had the excuse that her arms were stuck but to say she was helpless would be seriously overstating the case. Which brings up the question, what was my excuse? None, but I had a limit. Sword, when he went for her, would be stopped. By me. Admittedly the man had my number and the idea of him getting down on the floor with her and finishing what Marcy had started gave me shivers of excitement, but with those caveats I had a plan.

Marcy got set. She licked her lips, ogling her twin assignments. Then she bent over Hope and kissed her.

"Oh, my," Mrs. Chasterly said. She got up and hurried behind one of the screens, emerging almost immediately with a video camera screwed into a five foot tripod, ready to go for as soon as she set it down and put her face to it, a red light came on. We were on candid camera, or at least Hope and Marcy were since Mrs. C. had it aimed at them. Hope's eyes were closed, her mouth opened by Marcy's mouth and the girls were French kissing.

"Use your hands, Marcy," Sword reminded.

Marcy's hands went to work, one on each of the calendar girl tits. The teenager kneaded the soft hills. She tweaked the nipples and rubbed them with her thumbs. Hope moaned, the sound partly muffled by Marcy's mouth. She twisted and moaned some more until Marcy broke the kiss.

"Say cheese girls," Mrs. Chasterly told them, and they looked at her, at the camera, a pair of video-sluts with faces flushed, breathing hard.

"Oh, God," Hope moaned, taking in the camera

Marcy switched her gaze to Sword. "Uncle Barnabas, he's like the same. How come? He always gets hard. Do you want me to suck him?"

"Thank you, but not now. I suspect I know what's bothering him. We'll see. Go ahead, take off her panties."

Hope sat up with her strapped arms. "Nooo, please. This has gone far enough, too far enough!"

Marcy laughed. She pushed her down and kissed her and while she kissed she moved her right hand to the panties. Teenage fingers slipped beneath the band.

Hope jerked, forcing Marcy to break the kiss. With her free hand, the teenager pushed back Hope's head.

"Don't fight it, honey. Lift up," Marcy said.

Hope's eyes were squeezed shut. She lifted. The fingers came out from inside the panties, grasped them and began taking them off. Hope brought her legs together and the panties journeyed down and over knees, over ankles and feet and were gone. Marcy gave Hope's right knee a nudge and the legs reopened. It was silent for thirty seconds or so while Sword and Mrs. C. and Marcy studied my wife's cunt. They saw the blonde tuft at the top, the silky strands at the sides, the pink wet slit with its petal lips.

Marcy shook her head. "Boy what a nice cunt she has. I'm jealous."

"Your uncle thinks your cunt is perfect, dear," Mrs. C. reassured her. "But what about him, for goodness sake? It seems all our efforts have been in vain."

We looked with her at the subject of the efforts, Hope included who raised up on her elbows to gaze at the resting king.

"What on earth is the matter, Barnabas?," Mrs. C. persisted.

Sword shrugged. "He's a bit put off, I think, by a male in our little party. He likes females only. Another male besides him in the mix annoys him, causes him to lose interest. I confess it's a bit of a problem."

"Hmmmmm," Mrs. C. said, rubbing her chin. "Suppose Jack was, what do you call them, a trap, a dick girl. Would that make him female enough for you?"

Sword perked up. "Expand on that, Louise."

My heart hadn't stopped but it was thinking about it. Mrs. C reminded Sword what a dick girl is. She explained why she felt I was a reasonable candidate for the position and while she explained I worked at keeping my bearings. It wasn't easy. Hope sat up and looked at me. Marcy was looking at me. Sword was looking at me. I saw amusement in their faces, my wife's not excluded although her eyes had other reasons to be shining, and I saw something besides amusement in Sword's expression. It made me look back at him, and he winked. I couldn't bring myself to return the wink, I didn't dare. My pulse rate on the other hand was unrestrained.

Mrs. C. announced she had anticipated something like this would occur and had stored a few things behind one of the screens to make me over into a pretty dick girl.

I had no husbandly reservations to refuse this invitation after my wife's performance, and my exchange of glances with Sword, including his wink, were all the incentive I needed. Wait till he sees me, I thought dizzily as Mrs. C. took my arm. Hazily, I wondered what Hope was thinking. Mrs. C brought me behind one of the larger screens, and there were the goodies: a miniskirt, panties, cute top with sewed in falsies, blonde wig, makeup kit, etc. Marcy came to help but Mrs. C. shooed her away. She would do me by herself, she said.

"You are so easy!," she whispered when she "shaved" my legs, using not a razor but a cream that quickly did the trick. Same with my arms. My chest didn't need it. My pubic area did need it but it was easy there too.

"I think Barnabas likes you," she whispered when she was putting on my lipstick.

"He's probably going to laugh at me."

"Sweetie, he's probably going to fuck you."

I didn't know what to say to that! I had been hearing muffled sounds so instead I said, "What are they doing?"

She peeked over the screen. "Marcy is kissing her."

"Oh."

"She changed your wife's outfit. A skirt like yours instead of the dress. No top. No panties either, how nice. Marcy is holding the skirt up while she kisses her, letting Barnabas see her cunt. Isn't that cute? I imagine the little minx is going to finger fuck her if she hasn't already."

I ran the sounds I had heard back through my mind and decided she had already. "Mrs. Chasterly did you plan this?"

"No questions, Jackie. Dick girls don't have the privilege. Is dick girl the right term? I thought dick girls were supposed to have tits. What are the other words they use?, sissyboy and trap, I believe. So much nomenclature. It's confusing. Anyway, no questions for you, dear."

I had just asked a question which she answered, but I didn't argue. I didn't clarify the terminology for her either. I wasn't sure of it myself, actually.

A minute later my makeup was done, which included nail polish. She gave my blonde curls a final brush, whispered, "Have fun," and returned to the others to announce me.

I stepped out from the screen.

"Oh, my God!," Marcy blurted, and I knew the small mirror I had used hadn't lied.

From bottom to top my revised self was as follows: My toe nails were bright red. I was barefoot. "Footwear at this point is utterly superfluous", Mrs. C. had observed. My skirt was purple. It flared at the waist and covered my panties with an inch or two to spare when I was standing still, which at the moment I was. My bikini silk panties, as yet unseen, were pink with red lace at the edges and had a slit in the front to let out a dick and a slit in the back to let one in. The cotton top was reddish purple, cut off above my naval, scooped at the neck, with ruffle sleeves, and padded to give the impression of small but pretty tits. In big bright pink letters across the tits was, "I LUV COCK." I had on red lipstick, a little rouge and fake eye lashes. The blonde wig that topped me off had curls that fell to my shoulders.

They gawked except for Sword who gazed. I gazed at him. And before my very eyes, his cock which, if anything, had snoozed a deeper nap while I was away, began to swell and straighten and stiffen. It lifted from its black resting place and angled outward, poised in readiness. My knees thought about fainting. Marcy had known whereof she spoke about the beauty of Sword's manhood. It, pardon me, "he" was beyond handsome. Big, yes; fearsome, yes; strikingly handsome, yes indeed; straight as a rocket, pure of form, a satin pink head to die for, bluish veins that coursed like rivers against the creamy white, in all a mouth watering glory of nature.

"My goodness. Look girls!," Mrs. C. declared. They did. My wife's mouth fell open like mine. She seemed a bit shell shocked from what Marcy had done to her. Her hair was messed up, eyes shot, but I can't say she didn't look tasty, topless in her little purple skirt.

"Hmmm, that didn't take long, Uncle Barnabas," Marcy teased.

Sword ignored her. He stood up. "Good work," he said. "I like girls who tell the truth."

I didn't know what he meant. "Are you talking to me?" I have a girlish voice I can make and I used it.

"Address me as 'Sir' or 'Mr. Sword', Jackie. Yes, I'm talking to you. I suspect the confession on the blouse you are wearing is an honest one. Is it?"

I had forgotten what my top said. I looked down at it. "Oh!"

"So?"

I giggled. "Of course, sir!"

"Pull up your skirt, please."

I lifted my skirt. My panties were sticking out thanks to my five and a half inch stiffy. Fortunately, it was just missing the slit in my panties or it would have been out for everyone to see and to compare.

"Turn around. Show me your pretty bottom."

I turned around and showed everyone my pretty bottom. After half a minute, with no one saying anything to let me know if my bottom passed inspection, Sword told me to turn back and I did. I glanced at Hope, wondering what she thought. I was not reassured. Her eyes had cleared and she was watching me with an amused expression. Fine, let her be amused, I thought. What right did she have to be critical after what she had done and was STILL doing?

"You are one fine dick girl, Jackie. I'm most impressed," Sword said, smiling at me.

"Thank you...Sir," I said. Evidently, my bottom was acceptable.

"You're welcome. Come and meet him."

I heard myself titter. Meet him? What did that mean? I went up to Sword. I looked at "him", questioningly.

"If you're unsure, Jackie, the way you meet him is to shake. Put your hand around him and give him a few strokes. That's how a sweet trap shakes hands with a cock."

"Oh." Now I was a trap.

My heart was off to the races. I looked down at "him". I put my right hand around "him" and gripped, not hard. I stroked Barnabas Sword!

Suddenly, Hope was there. "Can I help?

Sword looked surprised. "It depends. Go ahead. We'll see."

She put her right hand over mine and together we pumped Sword's cock a few times until i felt her other hand on my left shoulder. The hand pressed. I took the hint and, letting the cock go, I sank to me knees. The cock was in front of my face.

"Open your mouth, Jack," she said, gently.

I swayed a little in my excitement. I steadied myself and opened my mouth. Hope took the cock and guided it between my lips. I pushed my head forward. "He" went deep in. I began to suck. I closed my eyes and sucked, and sucked, and sucked. I heard them talking but I had no idea what they were saying; it was sound without meaning. The meaning was in my mouth. Hope's hand shifted from my shoulder to the top of my now blonde head and she kept it there, her wifely command for her me not to stop, to keep sucking the heroic cock. I didn't stop and as I was sucking she whispered in my ear. "You're doing so good, Jack. Make him cum. Make him cum and swallow it. You have to swallow it."

Oh, I wanted to swallow it. I was dying for the chance to swallow it but I didn't get the chance. Sword stopped me. He pulled out. He came in a minute or less but not in me. It was Hope he wanted. She fell back at his push and then her legs were around his back and he was fucking her. I watched it. I heard him shout. I saw his cum as he kept fucking her, a white seepage around her crammed hole. Afterward they lay side by side on their backs panting while Mrs. C. videoed the aftermath including yours truly sitting on the floor by himself, a foolish dick girl-trap-sissyboy nursing his hurt feelings at not getting all the candy he wanted and feeling sorry for himself because he would never appeal to a hunk like Sword the way his wife could.

In the car going home we didn't talk, not a word, until we were ten minutes from the apartment. I was driving.

"It was an aberration," I said. "The grass got to us, the way they set us up and everything. We just gotta put it behind us."

She sighed. "It wasn't an aberration, Jack. You better put that idea behind you. What came out tonight was the real you. And by the way, the real me. Um, remember Mr. Finley's bodyguard? He thinks you're cute. He and Mr. Finley were there the whole time. One of the screens was actually a one-way see through thing and they were watching us. Isn't that funny? Anyway, Barnabas wants you to be a girl for Mr. Finley who apparently has a major thing for dickgirls - it was the reason for what happened tonight, and his bodyguard.....he'll be there also, you know, to do you too. It's going to be next Saturday. Kind of a party."

I managed to keep driving. After a couple of minutes I said,

"You knew all this?"

"No, of course not. I was as fooled as you were. Barnabas told me when you were changing. It took you long enough. That's when I saw Mr. Finley and his bodyguard and he told me how cute you are. They were just leaving."

Horatio Finley had stared at me in my bathing suit at the Orchestra picnic, I remembered. "I didn't say I would do it."

"I want you to, Jack."

More silence.

"I see. Well. Quite a situation." I paused. "And the party, Barnabas won't be there?"

"Mr. Sword to you."

"Mr. Sword."

I felt her grin. "Sure, he'll be there. So will I."