Georgia

Nicki and Darrell were sitting on Darrell's livingroom couch smooching. Sometimes Darrell's kisses were mere pecks; other times full on the lips and passionate; and sometimes his tongue slid deep into Nicki's mouth, working it. As they necked Darrell's left hand slid up and down Nicki's creamy right thigh. During a break Darrell said:

"You know, I don't normally like pantyhose. Reminds me of my wife. But on you they—"

"What reminds you of your wife?" Georgia said from ten feet away, hands on her thick hips, a designer bag slung over a meaty right shoulder.

"No," Darrell hastened to say, twisting his head toward his wife. "I was just saying...His pantyhose...reminds me of you, darling."

"Huh!" Georgia spat doubtfully. "When's the last time you ever stroked my legs like that?"

"Well, I..."

"This one's in pantyhose," she said, commenting on the obvious. "That's a first for you."

"Not really. Isn't she cute though?" Darrell beamed, hoping to turn the conversation.

"He is," Georgia admitted, albeit disdainfully. "Have fun with him. I'm headed out for a few hours."

At the door Georgia turned back to add, "Be safe."

"Always," Darrell confirmed, to the slammed door.

A petrified Nicki pushed a forward curl of blonde from her ruby lips and said, whispered for some reason, as if the fire-breather were still in the room: "I don't think she likes me."

Darrell pulled away saying, "It's not you. It's me."

"You?"

"How would you like it...?" a rising Darrell posed, after collecting their empty drink glasses. "You're married to a guy for 30 years. One day he comes out as bisexual. Actively bisexual. She catches you in the act a couple of times. She wants to keep the marriage together," Darrell continued on from the kitchen, the granite-topped counter, the bottles of booze, "so she agrees to let you have your fun. Condition being," ice cubes in the short, squat glasses, flavored vodka splashing in, "you have to be completely open about it. She has to know who, where, when. And most importantly what," he added, handing Nicki her cold drink.

"She's always here?" Nicki inquired.

"No, she goes out," Darrell replied, having flopped heavily on the couch next to today's date.

"No. I mean...at first."

"Not necessarily. But she heard I was having somebody new over so...," taking a first sip of his second drink, "...I guess she wanted to see for herself."

"Oh. Well I won't feel special then," a bit of an attitude—resentment—flaring in Nicki's masculine voice.

A smiling Darrell gave Nicki's stockinged thigh a pat and said, "You're special to me. Just not exclusive. Not yet."

"You play around a lot."

"I've had my share. People come and go. Lose interest. Move away...Damn!" Darrell said, abruptly changing course. He was looking down at the relatively flattened fly of his trousers. "I was getting hard there a minute ago..."

"So was I," Nicki admitted. Beneath her nude sheer-to-waist pantyhose Nicki wore a brightly variegated Jockey-brand bikini panty. One it would have been hard for Georgia to have missed before she stormed out the door. One of the dominant colors in panty's swirl was teal, and so too was Nicki's (empty) B-cup bra. Couple all that with the platinum-blonde wig, crimson lipstick (now smeared) and teal eyeshadow and...yes, indeed. Nicki was cute!

Now she leaned a bare shoulder into Darrell and said, "I can get you hard again."

"I know you can. You will," he smiled back. "With that sweet mouth of yours? But there's no rush. She won't be back for hours."

"She have a friend, too?" Nicki's smiling eyes narrowing.

"A friend. Like a...girlfriend?"

"No, a..."

"It's harder for women," Darrell declared. As if he were some kind of expert on the subject. "With men you just...post a few dick pics and...But with women it's gotta be this whole routine. They wanna be wooed step by step and all this shit. Plus they have kids, get fat and ugly..."

"I wouldn't say she's fat."

"Stout. There's not exactly a ton of guys out there looking for a fifty-something gal with baggage."

"Baggage?"

"Well, me for starters," Darrell laughed.

"Revenge," Nicki mused, after a pause. With his right hand Darrell had now gone back to stroking Nicki's long, slender thigh.

"Revenge?"

"A revenge fuck."

"Georgia?" Darrell pulling back. "Her? I don't think so. Not her style. Revenge shopping is more like it. You should see her closet."

"I wouldn't mind seeing her underwear drawer." Then, answering Darrell's point-blank stare: "It's a joke. I was joking."

"Well there's probably plenty enough in there for everybody. Victoria's Secret? She practically lives there."

"Yum."

Nicki brushed more blonde from her powdered cheeks and asked: "So what's in it for her?"

"What?"

"You get to cheat on her with other men..."

"It's not cheating if she knows about it," Darrell sternly advised.

"You know what I mean..."

"A bigger allowance," he replied.

"Allowance?"

Darrell spit an ice cube out of his mouth after draining his glass of 80 proof drink. "I increased her monthly allowance by a grand."

"Your wife gets an allowance?"

Darrell nodded. "Why not? She's always gotten an allowance. I was the bread-winner all those years. Still am with my investments. She raised the kids, I gave her a monthly allowance. After my first marriage I vowed never to have a joint anything anymore."

"Oh," Nicki acknowledged, blinking back the disbelief. "I guess that's one way of doing it..."

"And I upped her cut of the inheritance ten percent. You know how it is. Us old guys always kick the bucket first. Our kids get the rest.

"I said to her...," Darrell decided to go on, "...'you're stealing from Peter to pay Paul' but...she said it would all go to them eventually anyway. I see her point."

"I guess," Nicki ventured, "it's the least you can do."

"She deserves it, yes. No question."

And with that Darrell blasted off the couch in awkward pursuit of two refills. "One more drink, hon, then I'll let you go to work on my cock. And I hope you're good at it 'cause these days, even with the little blue pill, I need a lot of work."

"Can't wait!" Nicki smiled, crossing then recrossing her shimmery legs.

"The only thing about pantyhose," a naked and fairly erect Darrell said, "is you have to pull 'em down to get at your ass. Or a pussy. Or in your case," he laughed, "your man-pussy."

"I can take 'em off if you—"

"No, stay put. I kinda like you like this. Stockings and panties down around your knees?"

Darrell had already reamed Nicki's hole with a lubed middle finger, declaring that his date was obviously no virgin. Now he put the head of his cock to her stretched anus and pushed in.

"Can you feel it?" he asked, insecurely.

"Oh yeah," Nicki assured him, wishing all the while her fuck-mate were a bit stiffer. Thickness and lengthwise he was fine. A real mouthful. Delicious flesh!

"So you say she's caught you a couple of times?" Nicki recalled.

"No, it's all out in the open," his cock now having slid all the way in, after an extra encouraging push or two.

"No I mean before that."

"Oh yeah, right. That sealed the deal," Darrell beginning his tentative motion. "That's what brought it to a...head. She said... 'If you're gonna have sex with other men at least do it when I'm not around.' And I said, 'But I didn't expect you back!' And she got an attitude on and said, 'No, why would you? I just live here!' Can you feel me in you OK?"

"Fine. Fuck me."

"I am."

"I love it."

"My cock?"

"Your cock in me, darling."

"Darling? I love it."

"Fuck me harder."

"I'm going as fast as I can right now, hon. Give me a chance. Anyway...," a somewhat already winded Darrell prepared to go on, picking up the previous thread. "She said 'If you're gonna have sex with other men in our house—anywhere...a) you've gotta get the vaccine, b) I've gotta know about it first, when, where, who...and c) if you're gonna have sex with me you gotta wear a rubber.'

"And I said even if I get the vaccine? And she said, 'Fuck, yeah!' Not that we really ever have sex anymore anyway. Part of the reason I turned to guys like you. Girl I mean, sorry."

"It's OK."

"I do like the look of your little balls hangin' down, hon...Cute!"

"I used to stretch 'em."

"Stretch?"

"Hang weights from 'em," Nicki, on elbows and knees, her roomy rectum being reamed, explained. "I always wanted low-hangers," she went on.

Laughter bubbled—literally—to Darrell's lips. It threw his rhythm off.

"What?" Nicki wondered.

"I don't know...seems weird that's all. A man who wants to be a woman but wants his manhood to hang low. Lower. Seems like you'd want to—"

"I enjoy being both," Nicki informed her latest fuckmate. "I like dressing fem, being fem, but I also enjoy having a cock and balls."

"I enjoy it, too. It's...hot, baby! I'm gonna cum in you y'know."

"That's OK."

"I'm not asking your permission. It's just gonna...that's the way it is."

"Fine. Shoot your load in me, hon, when you're ready. I want your sperm inside me when I get home."

Darrell sounded mildly alarmed: "You can't stick around afterwards?"

"If...you want me to."

"I was hoping we could have another drinky-poo. I'm not one of those guys who, you know, loses interest the minute his dick wilts."

"That would be...great."

Darrell was rising to the task—even though his penis was horizontal. The longer he fucked, it seemed, the stiffer he got. Or maybe it was just the Viagra at last fully kicking in. For Nicki the fuck was getting downright pleasurable now. Orgasmic in the internal, female sense of the word. Leading Nicki to utter a silent:

Oh!

"You're getting tighter."

"You're getting bigger!"

"Am I?"

Nicki, mouth open and susceptible to a drool, nodded her hanging blonde head.

"You have a sweet ass, Nicki," her fuckmate praised. "I normally like someone with a little more meat on their bones, but..."

Nicki regained her bearings in time to say, "So...she never watches?"

"Who? Georgia?"

Another below-parallel nod.

"Fuck no. Aside from those times she caught me in the act? No. She wants to know in advance who's coming over, and she wants to know afterwards what we did. 'He sucked my cock.'"

"That's what you're gonna tell her...about us?"

"No. I'm just giving an...example. She already met you. She knows you're a transgender type, a—"

"Crossdresser."

"Crossdresser, exactly. We sat on the couch for a little while, you sucked my cock, we fucked..."

"You'll tell her that?"

"Not in detail, but..."

"But she saw us kissing..."

"Kissing is OK. Just none of the hot and heavy stuff while she's still in the house."

"She's really, you know, from your perspective, our perspective...a kind of saint."

"She is. I agree. One in a million...Who could ask for more? I mean really? Given my...

"I'm cumming," Darrell quietly announced.

"I can feel it."

"I'm cumming in you," Darrell repeated, his motion gone erratic.

"Let it go, darling. Pump it in me. Every drop!"

"I...am."

Darrell pulled out. It was over. Just...like...that. No screams or shouts, no drama. No windows rattled.

"Oooof," Darrell exhaled. Something to that effect, his cock drooping.

"I'll get a towel," Nicki gaily volunteered.

"OK but not one of the—"

"I'll get it," a voice from behind said. And Georgia, taking long strides, semi-goose-stepped from bedroom doorway to bathroom, returning with a damp hand towel. "Here," she tossed—at the revolving Nicki.

"Don't sit down on my sheets with that dirty ass of yours," the wife advised her husband's lover.

"No, I..."

"It's not dirty," Darrell protested. "Clean as a—"

"I don't want lube all over my sheets, Darrell."

"Oh."

"Wipe your ass and then wipe his cock off," she directed.

"Yes ma'am. I—"

"Don't call me ma'am. Underneath that wig and makeup you're probably old as I am."

"I..."

As Darrell was getting his cock gently wiped he said, "Darling, what are you—"

"Don't darling me," Georgia back in the doorway now, hands on her hips.

"Doing home so early?"

"A bomb threat. They evacuated the mall. Plus...I wanted to see what you're getting up to these days. This one, with his panties and pantyhose and all."

"Well, I—"

"Where'd you dig him up?"

"His—her name is Nicki, darling. Meet Nicki. She answered my ad."

It was Georgia's turn to exclaim something doubtful like "Oooof! Whatever. Are there any tits in that bra?"

"No," Nicki replied.

"Uh, no," Darrell replied.

"Then she's not a she. And she's definitely not a she with"—pointing, downward, Nicki's panties and hose still halfway down her thighs—"those little things dangling."

"He used to stretch 'em," Darrell offered, for no reason in particular.

Georgia frowned. "You get weirder by the hour. Both of you."

"What've I got to do with it?" a self-martyred Darrell asked.

"You invited him over didn't you!"

"I...I'll get going now," Nicki offered, pulling her underwear up.

"Why? Don't leave on my account."

Darrell had been slumping. Standing slumped, his penis clean however. He thrust his shoulders back now and smiled. "I know! Let's all sit down and have a drink. The three of us! Get to know each other better..."

"You're dreaming, right? I don't want to know him/her better. I've just seen everything I need to know about you two. I'm going in the guest bedroom," emphasis on guest, "and watch my program. You two...can do whatever gay men do after they...whatever."

"I'm not gay!" Darrell protested, as his wife turned heel and departed.

"I'll leave."

"That was weird."

"Give me a minute to change into my street clothes and..."

"She's never done that before. You think there was really a bomb threat?"

Nicki shrugged. "There's bomb threats everywhere these days."

"True." Darrell thought a short moment before suggesting, "Let's go have that drink..."

"You're kidding, right? After what just happened?"

"What happened? She saw what she already knew about. She's going to her room. She sleeps in there anyways these days. Think," Darrell asked, looking pointedly at Nicki in her alluring wig, "we still sleep together? Let's go have that drink. I think, I'm just sayin...I may've found something here."

"Something?" a confused, conflicted Nicki inquired, as Darrell put his guiding arm around her bare waist.

"The woman I've always wanted."

"Me?"

"Obedient. Subservient. And most importantly...not a bitch."

Nicki laughed as Darrell guided her slender, freshly inseminated body to the granite counter, the booze.

"What?"

"Oh," Nicki started to explain, wondering if she should. "There's a line in Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises."

"Yeah?"

"'Not being a bitch...it's sort of what we have instead of God.'"

"Who said that?"

"Uh..."

"You saying my wife's a bitch?"

"No, I—"

"She's certainly not God, is she?"

"Well..."

Nicki, again pushing her bob's forward curl of blonde from smeary red lips, watched as Darrell plopped a pair of runny cubes into the square glasses and followed with a healthy splash each of flavored vodka. Darrell toasted:

"To new beginnings."

"You want me back?"

"Fuck yeah, hon!"

"Good!"

"You?"

"Of course! Any time!"

"And the good thing is," Darrell advised after taking a sip. "Georgia likes you. I can tell."