J is for Josie

I reached down to touch it, to stroke it with the tips of my scarlet-nailed fingers. It reacted almost of its own accord though a quietly-hissed 'yes' from Neil told me that it wasn't operating totally in isolation. I looked at his face, he looked expectant, I hadn't really told him what I hoped was going to happen at that stage. I smiled at him.

"Do you like that, Neil? Do you like me stroking your cock, I mean?"

"Oh yes Josie, yes," was his only reply.

I knew very well that if I didn't keep things moving he was liable to become, well, not exactly bored, but rather anxious to be getting on with things. So I kissed him. Not on the cock, on the lips. I touched my own lusciously-sculpted red lips to his, sliding them just a little as I felt his intake of breath.

"And do you like THAT, my darling?"

He didn't reply, he just groaned as my red-nailed fingers continued to caress his cock and to stroke his hardening balls."

"And would you like to fuck me, Neil?"

"Oh yes, Josie, sure, I'd love to - oooooh!"

And this last exclamation was because I'd just squeezed his balls a little causing his cock to stiffen.

"Well my darling. I'm afraid I'm going to have to disappoint you a little. You're not going to be allowed to fuck me, not today at least. Maybe after Friday, after my Mark has been promoted. Maybe I'll let you into me then."

Now in a sense he should have been disappointed. Maybe I half-expected him to subside at the news though I was hoping he wouldn't and he didn't. Really he didn't get the chance to. I could tell he was still receiving a more-than-satisfactory dose of sexual stimulation as I carried on stroking his cock, not quite as gently as previously.

"Still maybe I can help you in some other way right now. I mean, Neil my darling, you don't HAVE to slide your cock into my cunt, do you?"

Yet again - he just groaned. I could tell, he was in turmoil, I recognised the signs of a man in an erotically stimulating experience. You know there is going to be such joy at the final release yet there is still such a sense of well-being on the way that in one sense you don't really want it to arrive. I'd told him the destination wasn't where he'd originally wanted yet he was still having fun on his journey. And I'd noticed a particular reaction as I'd spoken to him.

"Oooooh darling, your gorgeous cock just got extra-excited. Was it when I said 'cunt'? .... oh yes it was. There it goes again, do you like me to talk dirty to you, Neil?"

"Oh yes, Josie, yes."

"Well ask me nicely Neil then?"

He was staring at me, his eyes were glazing over a little.

"Please Josie my love. Talk dirty to me, talk real dirty - oooooh!"

So I did, I asked again whether he'd like to shove his cock up my cunt, if he'd like to slide his cock between my big tits, if his wife ever fondled his cock like I was doing, if he'd like to lick my cunt, to shove his tongue in my cunt, or to slide his fingers into my cunt. He really did like to hear me say that word. Basically I was teasing him, playing with him, my very first taste of the power of being a woman in such a sexual situation.

And I was loving it. But my own journey, enjoyable as it was, had to come to a close. I leaned over and took Neil's cock in my mouth, pressing my lips to it, sliding them along its length until I could feel his gorgeous bulging cock-head in my throat. And the tone of his groaning changed, it became more laboured. I was pushing his restraint to the limit in teasing him and in not really allowing his final release. I realised it was time to do so. I slid my lips away from it and looked him in the eyes again, kissing him once more.

"You want to cum in my mouth, Neil? Want to shoot your sperm into me? Shall I let you do that now?"

"Oh yes, Josie, yes, sure! I need to do it, baby, I need to!!"

So I let him. I slid my lips down his much-thicker shaft for what I hoped would be the final time and gently squeezed his balls in my hand, sucking with my mouth to give him the very final encouragement. And that did it, that drove him over the edge. He climaxed. That beautiful erect cock, deep in my mouth, began to jolt and buck as his semen spurted out in hot sticky pulses. I was surprised by both the heat and the speed of Neil's ejaculation, reflex kicked in and I just swallowed and swallowed the hot cum as it kept on coming in my mouth.

I slid my mouth from Neil's subsiding cock, taking in as much of his remaining cum as I could. I kissed him once more, then I stood up and leaned over to pick up my skirt. I'd done it. My secret was safe, my 'cunt' was intact and I'd just executed fellatio on my husband's boss. Certainly I was happy, I turned again to look at Neil. He was tucking his member away in his pants. He caught my eye, he was happy too. He was bloody deliriously happy. I stepped into my skirt and pulled it up, then began to fasten the zip and the clip at the top.

"Thanks for that, my love," I said. "That was good - and very tasty too."

He just stared at me. His gaze was so intense that for a moment I was sure he'd spotted something, something wrong that is, something that had given away me secret. But when he did speak, then I knew I really had got away with it.

"Josie, that was an amazing blow-job. You really are just such a sensational woman."

I glowed. There was no way Neil could possibly know just how much that compliment meant to me. And it set me thinking too. If I really could be a woman in such a situation, what else was within my capabilities? Just how much scope did I really have?

We kissed once more as he left, quite passionately though I guess he was rather tired by then.

"I'll be in touch," he said.

"After Friday my darling. And don't bother sending Mark away again after you've given him the job. I know we can work something out. Bye, my love."

After Friday? OK, so I knew that I'd created a potential problem for myself if Dad really did get the job. But I was so much more confident then, probably just the arrogance of youth. I'd sort it.

I had Thursday to get through at college first, and Dad coming home and telling me about his business trip. And him going on about how well he'd thought he'd done and how positive his line manager had been when he'd called in at the office to give his report. Dad really was chuffed about it, both the satisfaction at being given the responsibility and the good feelings he'd had wielding the power productively in the Ipswich office. He really did think he'd passed any sort of test OK and was well set up for his interview the next day.

With Friday being the last day of term it was a lot easier, we finished early at college. And when I got it there was a message on the machine.

"Hello Joseph. Dad here. I got the job. So celebration tonight. I'm bringing an Italian meal home. Did you hear that? At home. I should be back at seven, we're off for a drink first. See you."

Great. Job done, job got. And Dad was getting an Italian take-away, I couldn't remember the last time we'd done something like that two Fridays in a row. But -- what had he said?

'At home.'

He'd emphasised that. He'd said it twice. No mistakes possible, no going out to a restaurant - in a tight skirt or whatever. A quiet evening at home. Pity really. Yet at the top of the stairs I automatically turned towards my parents' bedroom rather than my own. And opened the wardrobe again and looked in. OK, so we were staying in. But Dad hadn't actually said that I wasn't to dress up at all, had he?

It was the word 'dress' which got me. In all my attempts I'd worn a skirt, after the first jeans attempts I mean. But to really be a woman I'd have to wear a dress, wouldn't I? And if it was to be a celebration it should be one of Mum's party dresses. I reached into the wardrobe and pulled out some hangers, laying three dresses out carefully on the bed.

I really did hesitate. Lots of thoughts had been running through my mind in the previous 48 hours or so ranging from the sublime to the ridiculous. And what I was considering at that moment was definitely a course of action at the extreme end of the ridiculous part of the spectrum. I was pretty sure that, since we would indeed be staying in that evening, Dad would go along with phase one of what I was thinking about. Letting me dress up again as Mum, that is, in fact actually wearing one of her sexy dresses. OK then, if I'd waited for him to come home before suggesting it he'd almost certainly say no. But I didn't plan on waiting. And if he arrived to face a 'fait accompli', like I said I thought he would go along with it.

But phase two? No way would he agree to that, let alone phase three. If he got even an inkling of what I was considering I'd get at the very least a sharp telling off and most probably an urgent referral to some sort of psychiatric treatment.

Phase three was most definitely a phase too far, way out at the outer extremes of 'ridiculous'. However without phase one, the actual dressing up, it couldn't happen. So after I hesitated briefly about it - I did it.

I knew I had a couple of hours before Dad arrived bearing the Italian, so I set about the sort of transformation I'd done the previous week. I knew I had to just stretch things a little by way of more provocative make-up and maybe a little more, maybe even too much, perfume down my cleavage. Oh, and one more thing. Stockings. I'd worn black stockings for my 'date' with Mr Franks, Neil that is, but not for Dad the previous week. So I used the fancier pair I'd not dared wear with Neil, black and sheer and with a patterned seam up the back. And with the ultra-high black stilettos and Mum's indecently short black glitzy party dress - that was the one of the three I'd picked - I thought I looked good. Attractive. Female. And sexy, I specially wanted to look as sexy as I possibly could for my Dad.

Like the previous week I sorted all the dining arrangements, the best crockery and so on, even though on that earlier occasion we hadn't actually used them. I'd had to put them all away on the Saturday morning.

And then, with everything in place including the bottle of champagne I'd bought for Mum and Dad on their previous anniversary and which had never been opened - that was the day when Mum and Dad had begun to drift apart just before she left - I was ready. I checked the contents of my handbag - everything I'd need was there - and had a final inspection in the big upstairs mirror.

I heard Dad's car in the drive. I heard him come in and go into the kitchen, some brief rattling as he sorted the oven and so on. I heard the dining room door - which had always creaked a little, I think I heard a slightly surprised and excited gasp. Then Dad called up the stairs.

"OK Joseph? Well done, the champagne's a great idea. Shall I open it now do you think?"

I paused. The entrance had to be good. Still moving down the stairs gingerly on the 6" high stilettos, I descended and moved through into the dining room.

"I think that would be a good idea, Mark. You deserve a celebration. Well done."

And Dad simultaneously popped the cork and turned to look. I was ready. Because he froze. The champagne didn't, as he stood there I quickly helped him by holding the champagne glasses in place to minimise the spillage on the floor. Then I took the bottle from him and set it down, passing over one of the two glasses.

"Josie!"

Yes! He'd got the name right, I'd just hoped it would come automatically when he saw me.

"Streuth!! You look - stunning!!"

I was glad I'd said 'Mark' when he first saw me. OK so I'd done a lot of 'darling' with Neil - had that only been two nights earlier - but it would maybe have disturbed Dad if I'd said that first off. But now was the time. I moved closer to my father, letting him have a full view of the 'woman' in front of him. I held up my champagne glass deliberately in my left hand so he could see my wedding ring glistening in the candlelight.

"Thank you, darling. But it's you who should be congratulated. Regional manager, well done."

And I clinked his glass and sipped my champagne, aware that he was staring at my bright red lips over the rim of the glass, and hoping he would recognise that I was wearing 'my' wedding ring. Josie's, that is. His wife Josie's.

And as we lowered our glasses I moved closer and slid my other hand round his waist.

"I'm so proud of you, Mark, really."

And I kissed him. Not on the lips, just on the cheek, close to the mouth, but a little more than a fleeting kiss. I knew I had to let him speak, I sipped my champagne again.

"Joseph -- er - Josie. Wow, you really do look sensational. I really didn't expect - well, you know, that's why I made sure you knew I'd be bringing the meals home tonight. So you wouldn't - you know."

"Well, since we're not going out I thought it would be all right. I thought you might like to see me in this dress. What do you think?"

I put my glass down and turned round slowly, making sure he was able to get a good eyeful of the figure - I was so proud of how tight I'd got the basque, and the legs and the heels and all the make-up, in fact the whole package.

"As I said, Josie, you look stunning. That dress - wow, it really does show your gorgeous figure. I'm amazed."

"Good. And I'm hungry, so sit down please, Mark my darling, while your wife treats you as you deserve to be treated and serves your dinner for you."

I didn't wait for a reply, just pushed my 'husband' down onto a chair and disappeared into the kitchen. Mark had indeed got Italian take-aways, very quickly I was able to return and serve us both and we were able to get on with the meal. I knew if I gave him the chance he'd start talking about the way I'd dressed and maybe questioning whether or not it was a good idea so I didn't give him the chance. I was playing the faithful wife now.

"So, Mark my darling, how was the interview? Was Mr Franks there? Did he give you a tough time? I want to know all about it."

And I kept the conversation along those lines, with only slight detours into other topics, through the meal and through the dessert. OK so we'd often played at fancy meals before but we've never gone as far as coffee and brandy at the end. That always seemed to be going too far especially when I was younger. But just sometimes Mum and Dad had a small brandy at the end of the meal. Again I didn't want to go too far but I was there with a little brandy in the bottom of a brandy glass as we stood up after the meal.

"You need this now, Mark, I think, this has been one hell of a day for you."

And, almost exactly as I had done with Neil Franks after getting his coffee, I sat on the end of the sofa and crossed my legs to allow the hem of my dress to rise and show off my heels and thighs. I lit one of Mum's cigarettes, hoping just again that the effect would be to make me seem older, more like my mother.

"Don't worry, darling, this is nearly the last. I'm going to quit. Well, Mark, what do you think of your wife's performance tonight?"

I had to back off. I knew that. Give my father room to think and ponder what had been going on, give him the chance to consider my role-play and to comment on it. That, I knew was necessary. Phase one had been just about 100% successful, there had to be a break before phase two.

"Well, Josie....."

He grinned in amusement at the continuing use of my 'female name'. But I was thrilled, with only one exception he'd called me 'Josie' all evening and I'd called him 'Mark'. Or even 'darling' once or twice, surely he must have noticed that. He must have begun to realise just what I was feeling.

"I was very surprised at first. But - heck - you really do look so much like your mother, you know. She was very young when we first met, lots of people were not too happy about that. I mean, me, an older guy, with a much younger girl, and with the problems of ..... It wasn't totally approved of. But you look a lot like she did then, maybe a bit older."

I smiled again at him. I knew what I wanted to say, the topic I needed to get round to but really he had to say it. But I had to do the teasing, the taunting, I had maybe to lead him in that direction.

"And what about the dress? Does it suit me, do you think? How do I look?"

OK so I was fishing for compliments but there was another purpose to this.

"The dress is gorgeous on you, really, your mother only got it a few weeks before she left. I never even saw her in it."

This was going too slowly. I stood up and strolled as sensuously as I could towards Dad, sitting down right next to him and sipping my brandy once more.

"So I really look OK?"

"Josie, really, you look incredibly sexy, honest."

Sexy! He'd said it. That was just what I'd wanted, it gave me the excuse I needed. I kissed him on the cheek again, he looked a little uncomfortable.

"Mark, you remember last week, at the end of the evening...."

He looked at me. He seemed worried. He remembered. I moved closer again and just touched my lips to his.

"Josie, really, we shouldn't."

I knew damn well we shouldn't, and so did he. His voice was saying 'no' but his body language, even the words he was using, he was still calling me 'Josie', to some extent he was thinking 'maybe' or even 'yes'.

"It was such an - exciting - moment, Mark, when we kissed. I'd really so like to do that again."

And with these words I moved right into the middle of phase two, leaning across to touch his lips again with mine and this time to slide one of my hands round his body, to turn it just a little more towards me and squeeze.

"Really Josie, I don't think this is a good idea."

"I do, darling," I whispered.

I went into full attack mode, kissing again and opening his mouth with my tongue. And this time he definitely responded. He pulled me towards him and joined in the kiss for a few seconds. When we separated he looked me straight in the eyes.

"Josie. Look, we're getting into dangerous territory here. It's one thing you pretending to be my wife but I'm not sure what you're really after. So. What's all this really about?"

I sat back and sipped the last of my brandy.

"Mark, this is all new to me too but it feels so lovely. Such a good feeling, being dressed like this, the nice meal, wine, soft lights. And you did say I look sexy after all. I know we shouldn't really be kissing like this but tell me, do you enjoy it? I know I do."

"Well, maybe. It is rather nice in a way But ..."

'Rather nice?' Well, that would do.

"Mark, my darling, where's the harm..."

And I broke off my sentence to move in on him again. I was determined this time. I hugged him firmly and kissed him open-mouthed, wriggling round to slide my leg across his thighs. As we began to become just a little unstable he had to grab my thigh to stay balanced and, at the same moment I felt his lips part under mine.

"Oh Mark, that is so good."

And I groped, and he groped. His hand slid up my thigh under my skirt and gripped my thigh just below my stocking tops. And we kissed, we heavy-petted for about five minutes. Just as I felt his resolve weakening I moved away.

"I think I'd better do my wifely duty now, Mark my love. I should load the dish-washer, it's getting late."

I had hoped just to see a glimpse of disappointment in Dad's eyes as I stood up. I slid my hands seductively down my dress from the waist to smooth it out and went off into the kitchen. Very quickly indeed I packed the dishwasher and locked the outside door, then turned the light off.

Back in the living room Dad was just finishing another drink. I smiled at him.

"I enjoyed myself tonight, darling, it's fun being your wife."

And I gave him one more very brief kiss on the lips. As I went up the stairs in front of him I turned.

"Are you looking up my dress?" I asked, laughing. He smiled.