Hell Has No Fury Like A Drag Queen

The Morning After:

Scott slowly awoke to his cock being stroked. Relishing the smooth skin pressed to his back, the silky leg thrown over his, and the lips nibbling at the nape of his neck, he was surprised that his wife was this amorous in the morning. Susan was no prude, but she also was not the sexual aggressor in their marriage. Indeed, their first sexual encounter was more date rape than seduction. As he pressed back against the body behind him he realized that it was not his wife, but Ruth. Ruth! The sudden revelation caused him to stiffen bodily.

"Good morning, Scott," Ruth said matter-of-factly, her fist firmly gripping Scott's rampant manhood.

"Don't tell me you're having morning after regrets." The question came from Phyllis, Ruth's wife. She was sitting in the bedside chair, watching.

Regrets Scott was having, in spades. Even more now that he realized that Ruth not only had her leg over his and her hand around his cock, but her rather impressive cock was firmly up his backside. He closed his eyes and relived the events of the last twenty-four hours.

The Day Before:

"Do you want me to shave you?" Susan asked, leaning against the door jamb to the bathroom. Scott had just stepped out of the shower, and was preparing to shave.

"I think I can handle this," he smiled. Early in their marriage he had let Susan shave him—one of those cutesy things newlyweds do. It turned out she gave a very professional shave, and on more than one occasion when he was due in court or had to meet with important clients he had let her shave him. In fact, whenever they had to have dinner with a senior partner or a client, Susan always performed the honors. But today's court appearance was not important. At least not to him. Just arguments over some procedural matter. The only people who would be in the courtroom would be other lawyers, the judge, the court reporter and the judge's staff. Scott lathered his face and began shaving.

"O.K., honey," she replied. "But you know you're going up against Ruth." Scott flinched from both the mention of Ruth's name and the nick it had just produced. Scott detected a certain smugness on his wife's reflection in the mirror as the small bubble of blood formed. As he looked for the styptic pencil, she turned and disappeared. From their bedroom he heard her call out. "I've laid out your dark blue pinstripe, honey. When you look good, you do good." Scott cringed at the homily, nearly cutting himself again. That was one of his mother's favorite sayings, and his wife had acquired it along with a variety of his mother's other habits and sayings.

"You gonna take all day? Breakfast is ready!" Susan yelled as Scott was dressing. What's gotten into her, he thought. A nagging wife Susan wasn't. A Stepford wife she wasn't either. Wanting to make sure he was close shaven, laying out his clothing, even selecting the suit he was to wear, fixing breakfast when usually he only had juice and a pastry. Now that he thought about it, she had awakened him a half-hour early. When he reached the dining room, he was greeted with the full Monty: juice, coffee, toast, butter, jam, eggs, ham, hashbrowns.

"This is just a motions hearing, not the O. J. trial," he said, indicating the spread on the table.

"You're going against Ruth, remember? I don't want you getting light-headed in the middle of an argument."

"Ruth Kranmeyer is very good, but she is not Clarence Darrow. She can be beaten." Scott was beginning to get angry with Susan.

"Well, you've never done it," his wife said. Scott shot her a dirty look. "We're having Ruth and Phyllis over for dinner tonight, and for once I'd like to be serving a meal without crow for the entree and humble pie for dessert."

"Ruth and Phyllis never acted that way," Scott protested. In fact, Ruth always been gracious in victory. Why not. Show me a gracious loser, and I'll show you a loser, they say. Besides, he and Susan were Ruth and Phyllis' best friends—some would say their only friends. Ruth had been a partner at Hume, Goethe, Marlowe when Scott arrived fresh out of law school. She had immediately taken to Scott, and had proven the perfect mentor. Scott played the grateful and loyal protégé, even maintaining an open friendship after Ruth left the firm. Ruth and Phyllis had been very grateful for that. Scott inherited Ruth's clients, and Ruth was always willing to provide insights on each one to Scott. Phyllis had been the perfect lawyer's wife—beautiful, gracious, excellent taste in clothes, a sparkling conversationalist, and most important to the wife of a young associate, never catty or imperious. Phyllis had taken to Susan as readily as Ruth had taken to Phil. Naturally this led to vicious gossip about the two couples' relationship. Especially when one considers the circumstances of Ruth leaving Hume, Goethe, Marlowe.

"Sorry," Susan responded, somewhat contritely. "It's just that Phyllis and I got a little bet on the outcome of today's hearing, and I don't want you to lose."

"What sort of bet?"

"You'll find out tonight," she smiled.

***

Ruth was just about to enter the courthouse when she spotted Scott at the foot of the courthouse steps; she waited as he climbed. Halfway up the steps, Scott recognized his former mentor. She was wearing a tan gabardine skirt suit with a medium blue shell, stockings and low-heeled pumps, looking more like a legal secretary than a lawyer. This evidently was not a high-priority hearing for her. Only the briefcase and the heavy-duty leather shoulder bag indicated her true status. "Morning, Scott," she said, extending her hand.

"Morning, Ruth," he answered, shaking her hand then holding the door open for her.

"I understand Phyllis and I are dining at your place tonight?" Ruth said, more a question than a statement.

"Susan sprung that on me this morning." Scott replied as the two strolled toward the courtroom.

"I didn't know you didn't know about this, Scott," Ruth responded. "We can postpone it, if you like?"

"No, no, Ruth," Scott replied. "It seems the girls got some sort of bet going on this hearing."

"Well, I hope Susan's a good loser," Ruth said as they entered the courtroom.

***

"As usual, an excellent meal, Susan," complimented Phyllis as they repaired to the living room for drinks, followed by Ruth and Scott.

"Thank you, Phyllis," Susan cooed insincerely. "I wanted Ruth to have a full stomach when she paid the bet."

"But Sue, the judge decided in favor of Ruth's client." Phyllis rejoined, with an equally insincere pleasantness.

"What are you ladies talking about?" Ruth interrupted. This cattiness between these two women was unnatural, and she was very disturbed by it.

"Drinks, anyone?" Scott joined in. Like Ruth, he too was surprised and unnerved by the interchange between Susan and Phyllis.

"The usual," said Phyllis. Susan indicated the same, followed by Ruth. Scott made the drinks and handed them out. By now all three were seated, leaving Scott standing. There was an awkward silence, broken by Ruth.

"Ok, ladies, what's up?"

"Well, we ..." "We bet ..." both Susan and Phyllis spoke at the same time. They stopped, then Phyllis spoke. "Well, Susan, this started with your remark, and you lost the bet, maybe you should explain."

All eyes turned to Susan, who fidgeted in her chair. "Well, ... two weeks ago Phyllis and I were shopping, and I was trying on this dress that I really wanted. When I got ready to buy it, Phyllis asked if they had it in larger sizes. When the salesclerk said yes, Phyllis asked for it in a size that I knew was meant for Ruth. Well, ... I tossed my dress on the counter and blurted out that I wouldn't be seen dead in a dress a drag queen was going to wear."

At this both Ruth and Scott looked at Susan, dumbfounded by her confession. Ruth stood and walked around the room, ending up at the bar. Ruth was born Harlan Kranmeyer and it was as Harlan Kranmeyer that he had become a partner at Hume, Goethe, Marlowe. It was his decision to live his life as a woman that had caused the firm to fire him.

"So that's how you think of me, a drag queen?" Ruth harumpfed. Turning to Scott, "You too?"

"I think drag queen is too strong a phrase," Scott said apologetically. Of all the partners and associates, only Scott had remained a friend. Of all the wives, Susan and a few of the senior partner's wives had still befriended Phyllis, but these soon also disappeared, except for Susan and two others whose husbands were in the closet.

"Gentlemen," Phyllis interjected, "Sue is not quite finished."

All eyes again turned on Susan. "Well ... I was really sorry for what I said. Phyllis walked out of the store, and wouldn't accept my calls for a week. When she did, she wouldn't accept my apology. We finally agreed to have lunch last Saturday to talk things out ... and ... and ... well, it didn't work out."

The silence was deafening. Phyllis had had a difficult time, but was rebuilding her social life around herself rather than her husband's career. She knew that Scott's friendship meant a lot to her husband, now Ruth, and she valued Susan's seemingly sincere friendship toward her. And she knew her husband was no drag queen! So she was extremely hurt by Susan's remark.

"Ruth," Phyllis broke the silence. "I told Susan that you're man enough to kick her husband's ass in court every time you oppose each other, and that you're man enough to satisfy both her, me, and every woman at Hume, Goethe, Marlowe anytime. And to prove it, when you won your next court bout with Scott, you would get to fuck both me and her, with Scott watching but not joining. ... By the way, Ruth is wearing the dress Susan wouldn't be caught dead in."

The dress was a cowl-collared, long-sleeve cream print, with bold abstract slashes of color, belted at the waist, reaching to just below Ruth's knees. Scott and Ruth looked at the women, then at each other, then back at the women. Ruth recognized how bitter Phyllis was and knew that there would never be any reconciliation between her and Susan. This was their last dinner together.

"Scott, Susan," she began in sorrow, "I'm sorry about this. I thought you two understood." Looking at Phyllis, he continued. "Phyllis, honey, ... I am truly sorry. I did not know how hurt you've been by all this. If you want a divorce ...."

"Divorce!" Phyllis shouted. "If I wanted a divorce I would have filed the first time I caught you cheating! I love you as you are—panties and all. But these false friends of ours!" By now Phyllis was in tears—tears of anger—and Susan could only stare at her own feet.

"I won't hold you two to this silly bet," Ruth continued, looking first at Scott then at Susan. "Phyllis will have to do without her pound of flesh."

"Let's think about that, Ruth," Scott interjected. The other three looked at him. "Well ... I've seen you as Harlan in the buff ... I don't think Susan ever had anyone but me ... Have you Sue?" At this Susan shook her head in the negative, incredulous at what her husband was suggesting. His face was somewhat flush, and his breathing was becoming irregular. "Maybe you should ... you know .... claim your prize."

Ruth and Susan looked at Scott in shock and surprise; Phyllis smiled in understanding. Standing, she went over to Ruth and unzipped the back of her dress. Phyllis pushed the dress off Ruth's shoulders and down her body, letting it pool at Ruth's feet. There had been much speculation at Hume, Goethe, Marlowe about what Ruth wore underneath her dresses. Tonight she wore a full satin slip, in peach. Phillis lifted the slip, revealing a waist cincher garter belt and full cut control front brief panties, also in peach. Phyllis unhooked the waist cincher and pushed it and the panties down until they was pooled at Ruth's ankles with the dress, revealing a flaccid eight-inch cock. Phyllis reached around Ruth and fisted her cock, bringing it into semi-erection. Looking straight at Scott, Phyllis invited him: "Wouldn't you like to help Ruth get ready to fuck your wife?"

Scott had been watching the disrobing of Ruth zombie-like, not really aware of himself or his surroundings. The only difference between Harlan's body and Ruth's that he could see was the complete hairlessness of Ruth, and the seeming softness of her skin. The cock held in Phyllis' hands drew him like a magnet and without thinking he was soon on his knees with his mouth open as Phyllis guided her husband's cock into his mouth. As Ruth's cock grew to full hardness, Phyllis stepped away and watched. Turning to Susan, who was watching all of this with mouth agape, Phyllis sneered, "My husband's a drag queen? Your husband's a cocksucker!"

Susan looked at the men. If she didn't know better, she would have thought her husband was eating another woman. From the neck up Ruth presented the vision of a reasonably attractive middle-aged woman: arched eyebrows, eye shadow, false eyelashes, mascara, make-up, lipstick, all tastefully done. Ruth's hair ended in a curl just above her shoulders. Below the neck, Susan saw the outline of Ruth's longline bra beneath the lacy bodice of the slip, giving her a full bosom. The lacy hem of the slip was draped over Scott's shoulders and back, his head shrouded in its satin folds. Only Ruth's mannish hands, incongruously red tipped, gripping Scott's head beneath the slip, and Scott's movements, indicated that Scott was giving head to a man, not a woman.

***

"Think you can handle the drag queen?" Phyllis hissed. Susan looked at her in shock. Surely Phyllis didn't expect her to go through with the bet! But the look of hatred on her former friend's face told her Phyllis did! Susan looked at the men again. Ruth had pulled her now fully rampant dick from Scott's mouth and was extricating her feet from the clothing and shoes gathered around her ankles. Her feet free, Ruth stepped back and looked at the women. Scott was still on his knees, his face inches from Ruth's cock, looking back at Susan sheepishly. Susan saw an all too familiar look of sexual expectation on Scott's face.

"Oh, what the hell!" she said, reaching behind her to unfasten her dress. She let the dress fall to her feet and walked toward the bedroom, followed by Ruth, Phyllis and Scott. All noticed the sway of Susan's nylon-encased hips as she walked angrily to the bedroom. Her beauty was no small asset to Scott's career. Reaching the bedroom, she removed her bra revealing a perfect pair of c-cups. She sat on the bed and removed her pantyhose and panties, then positioned herself in the middle of the bed, legs spread. She glared defiantly at the trio. Without ceremony or comment, Ruth climbed between her legs and positioned herself above her. Phyllis sat on the bed and opened the lips of Susan's pussy with one hand while guiding her husband's cock into the young woman with the other. Ruth sank into her to her balls, the lack of lubrication causing discomfort to both of them. As he looked down at Susan, Ruth saw the difficulty she was having.

"She needs to get use to me," she said to her wife, laying on top of Susan, not moving.

Phyllis looked with disdain at Susan. "Does that feel like a drag queen between your legs, Susan? You think some macho man with an eight inch dick would be concerned with your getting use to him? My husband in a dress is more man than any man you'll ever have in a jock strap, especially this cocksucking husband of yours." Phyllis then gave Ruth a very juicy French kiss.

Phyllis' constantly calling him a cocksucker was beginning to tell on Scott. He didn't know why he had sucked Ruth's cock, but he knew he would do it again if presented with the opportunity. Did that mean he was queer? Was the real reason he had remained friends with Ruth was that he wanted to have sex with her? Susan had never had to get used to him being inside her. Could he satisfy her now that she had experienced a bigger cock?

Phyllis' words also affected Susan. More their tone, really. She had not realized how she had hurt her friend by calling her husband a drag queen. And she had not realized how vindictive Phyllis could be. Of all the wives or other women with Hume, Goethe, Marlowe, Susan would have said Phyllis was the least catty, the least vengeful. But that was before Ruth came out. The past year and a half had not been pleasant, and Phyllis developed an inner hardness belied by her soft facade. What had hurt Phyllis most were how the other wives—women she had counted as friends—had turned on them so quickly. Only those wives who were in the same position—with cross-dressing husbands—stood by her. And they stood by mainly because they needed support too. So Susan's outburst was seen as a deep betrayal, her friendship a sham. It shattered Phyllis' last reed of decency toward those she believed betrayed her and Ruth. Phyllis wanted revenge. She wanted to hurt those who had hurt her. And she would start with the falsest of friends—Susan!

Susan had been shocked when Phyllis made the suggestion that the loser would have to watch another man fuck his wife, and to orally service him too. She realized that the rupture between her and Phyllis would also sever the relationship between their husbands, and Scott would not be happy with that. But she was desperate; if she could stall for time, maybe Phyllis would relent by time they met for dinner. And the dinner had gone so well! Not once did Phyllis mention the bet. Not even a hint! And then the bombshell in the living room. And Scott! Willing to have another man fuck his wife! Not only willing to let it happen, but wanting to watch! And dropping to his knees to suck cock! The same cock that was now stretching her pussy.

Susan felt less stretched now, and realized that she was adjusting to Ruth's girth. Ruth was laying on top of her, but still supporting the bulk of her weight on her forearms, which framed Susan's head, and her knees. Susan noticed that the feel of Ruth's smooth skin on hers was much different than Scott's. Not that Scott was hairy. But Susan had only known Scott as a lover, and never thought about skin texture as a sexual experience. She was not displeased with the differences. As she began to accommodate more of Ruth, Susan wrapped her legs around her waist. Her body was thicker than Scott's, so Susan could not lock her ankles as she did with her husband. She settled for digging her heels into Ruth's butt cheeks.

Susan's heels on her ass signaled to Ruth that she could begin some movement. She started to pull out slowly, but realized Susan had not loosened enough for ease of movement. She settled back into the saddle of Susan's hips. Susan wiggled her hips, seating Ruth properly. None of this was missed by Phyllis.

"You like being fucked by a drag queen, Susan? You like having your cunt stretched so that you can't move? Just wait until you loosen up enough for Ruth to really fuck you. You might be needing the divorce lawyer when Ruth's through with you. I don't think you'll ever be satisfied with Scott after tonight."

Scott was standing at the edge of the bed, watching, transfixed at seeing Ruth's cock enter his wife. His own dick was now stretching his pants. He knew that soon he would be fucking his wife, and that idea excited him more than anything. Phyllis' words intrigued him: how would Susan's cunt feel after being stretched by Ruth.

Susan was feeling something different. As she adjusted to Ruth's size, then the feel of Ruth's skin, Susan realized that the smell of Ruth's perfume was more appealing than the smell of a man's cologne. And Ruth did have excellent taste—in scents as well as everything else feminine she wore—and the money to buy the best. She wondered whether Ruth selected her own perfume, or Phyllis. The scent was not Phyllis', Susan noted. Ruth began sliding her cock in and out of Susan, about a half-inch at a time. Susan began to lubricate and Ruth began a more forceful movement. Soon she was stroking Susan fully, pulling out until just the head was in, plunging until her balls smashed into Susan's firmly soft ass. Susan wrapped her arms around Ruth and dug her heels into Ruth's ass. Susan had not felt so full since she lost her virginity.