Marion Turns Me On Ch. 02

I was silent. My rear throbbed deliciously beneath my red dream angel lace boyshort panty.

"Mmm. Well, I think it's time for a reward. Would you like that? A reward?" I nodded my head and my hair swished and my earrings swayed and my cock twitched.

Marion tossed a pillow on the floor in front of me. She kneeled before me, between my legs, looking stunning in her avocado colored pleated tank sweater-dress. She leaned in and pecked my lips. She lifted the hem of my red halter dress, rolled it so it would stay out of the way. She peeled the front of my red lacy panties down and freed me and left the hem of the panty tucked behind my smooth, hairless balls. She touched the head of my cock, scooped precum with a finger. My lips closed around her finger and I was warmed by her smile.

Marion's head dropped and her mouth was hot and wet and soft and firm and I moaned as her tongue worked me and her head went down and up. Her lips were loose, tight, she let her teeth scrape me gently and I moaned. She cupped my balls and sucked my cock and worked my sensitive glans and I moaned and my head flew back and I clenched and Marion took my seed into her glorious mouth.

Marion climbed onto the couch, straddled me, pulled her thong aside. She leaned over me, her head over mine, my face tilted up to hers like a little bird awaiting a kiss. She descended onto me and as I pierced her our lips met, our mouths opened and we kissed and she gave me my cum and I moaned and my cock throbbed and thickened in her tight cunt.

My cock was deep inside of Marion. She rocked her hips and talked, her voice husky. "Did you like that? Did you like me sucking your cock, then kissing you while your cum was in my mouth. I think you did. I think you like snowballing, baby, you don't mind cum at all, do you. Don't worry; I'll help you enjoy the things you like. I'm not at all judgmental. I like it that you like what we're doing." I moaned as she snapped her hips.

I was tongue tied at moments like this, never knowing how to respond to her words. Thoughts pinwheeled through my mind, swirling and racing alongside the feelings I had while Marion rode me to orgasm. This was the beginning of the second weekend with Marion and I was in a dress. I'd told her I'd shave my legs, my underarms. What the hell was going on and why the hell was I going along?

These and more flashed through my mind and were gone as quickly as they arrived as Marion snapped and swiveled her hips rode to orgasm on my lap, as she fucked me in my red halter dress. She reached into my dress and twisted and tortured my nipples and I liked it as she ground against me in her lovely avocado pleated tank sweater-dress. I grabbed her hips and thrust and moaned and she swiveled and snapped and ground her hips and we cried out and we came and she slumped against me and made cooing sounds as I softened inside of her.

Dressed like a pretty woman all day Saturday, that night found me on my knees, head down, my lacy robin egg blue teddy unsnapped, matching thigh highs enwrapping my legs, Marion behind me, doing things to me.

I moaned as she worked me back there, my nerves back there so tender, so sensitive, so eager. Marion had relaxed me, had opened me. She showed me the thin vibrator she was going to use on me, in me. She turned it on and I heard the soft hum and my heart beat faster. She touched it to my cock and I hitched and moaned.

"You know, every time I hear the hum of a vibrator I get wet. Every woman does, baby, every woman gets wet when she hears a vibrator. We're conditioned. Some men might react, too. Who knows, maybe you'll learn to get hard when you hear one, knowing how it feels on your skin, how it feels inside of you."

Marion placed the tip of the vibrator at my entrance, pressed in a bit and I shivered and moaned at the sheer pleasure of the vibrations on my sensitive opening. Marion pushed further in and I felt myself spread, open, and I moaned. It felt so big but I knew it was not and she pushed it in and out, she fucked me with it and I moaned and shifted and felt my earrings tug and my hair kiss my cheek.

Oh, god it felt so good as she pumped it in and out of me, stroked my cock, more and more and more and finally I hitched and moaned and came while that vibrator pleasured my rear.

Marion gently removed it and gently pulled me around by my hair and, for her, I did it again. I licked my cum from the sheets.

"Mmm, that was good, wasn't it. I love seeing your pleasure. Love seeing you do what you enjoy. And you do enjoy it, don't you, baby. Now let me get you hard so you can fuck me."

More of the same on Sunday and before I left she ran a tape measure around my chest. I thought maybe I knew why, but wasn't completely sure. As I crawled into bed and pulled the covers over me thoughts I'd had off and on all weekend swirled in my head, thoughts about how I'd always felt like an outsider, like I never really belonged, never felt quite good enough. Was that a result of being orphaned at an early age and growing up with an assortment of relative's and in foster homes? Was I really that submissive or just horny and thinking with my cock?

I knew my sexuality was fluid and I was okay with that. I'd had sexual contact with a football player in college. And a drunken, mostly blackout memory of sex with a guy in grad school resurfaced in the past week, though about all I could remember was waking up naked with him. A couple of times. So, obviously, I was attracted to women, but just as obviously I could be attracted to a man as well, though figured it was more of a ninety percent, ten percent thing. I never really thought about it, but maybe I should.

I touched myself and drifted off to sleep and dreamed of Marion.

The following weekend Marion presented me with a box of my own panties and bras. And a pair of high heels that she taught me to walk in. She said putting one foot in front of the other, the way models do on the runway, was the best way to give the right sway to woman's hips.

As the weeks rolled into months Marion introduced increasingly larger toys, more fingers, expanding and opening me. Glorious lingerie and dresses. Bangly bracelets and dangly earrings. Silks and satins and cashmere and chiffon. And shoes!

A cock ring attached to a curved rod. A steel ball attached to the rod. Oh, god, how it felt in my ass, pressing my prostate as I fucked Marion in my teal baby doll nightie and black high heels. And I was rocking back onto her dildos and vibrators with enthusiasm now.

God help me, I sensed that it soothed me to please Marion, that pleasing her and wearing women's clothes eased something in me I didn't understand, felt right in a way that I couldn't explain. It felt safe to let her lead the way, to guide, to have control.

One Wednesday Marion cornered me in an office, shut the door, unzipped my jeans, reached in and smiled. "That's my good boy. I'm so glad you're wearing my gifts to you. I haven't caught you wearing your silk boxers once, have I?" I shook my and she said, "Mmm, I'm so proud of you. Somebody is going to get a big reward this weekend."

On Saturday night I lay on my back on Marion's king sized bed, the thousand thread count sheets soft and elegant beneath me. I wore a sheer black bra with maroon accents, matching wide band garter, the bottom hem grazed the base of my cock and it felt marvelous. Sheer black stockings. Strappy high heels.

My earrings tugged as I gazed up at Marion kneeling between my spread legs. She wore a cobalt blue corset, matching sheer stockings. High heels. Long gloves. I was hard.

I raised a manicured hand, my nails a delightful maroon shade, the color of my lipstick, and caressed her cheek. My nails, Marion insisted I grow them one eighth of an inch past my fingertips for the perfect balance of feminine grace and utility.

Marion was stroking her cock, a realistic feeling strapon. It rode low on her mound so she could come when she fucked me. It looked huge, but I knew I could take it. "I'm going to fuck you, baby, it's time," she said softly. "It's time for me to fuck your sweet ass and make you come on my cock. Would you like that? Would you like to be my little slut? My little cum slut?"

I moaned as she stroked my cock with a satin gloved hand and strange feelings stirred, not unfamiliar, not unwelcome, but not yet understood. "I can help you, baby. I can help if you want to be my little cum slut. Mmm, you think about it? I'm going to fuck you now." She smiled a wicked smile and said, "Don't forget to point your toes. I'd hate to have to stop and punish you again."

My lean, long legs spread wide and high, I pointed my toes to the ceiling. Marion felt it was very important for a woman get the visuals correct because men are so visual, and painted pointed toes went a long way toward keeping a man aroused. Maybe it shouldn't and maybe I should feel worried, but it aroused me to hear her talk this way.

I felt the blunt tip of her thick cock press against me, felt the slow, deliberate pressure, relentless and invading, and I moaned as the sensitive nerves fired and my rings released and spread to take her in and she was in and our hips touched and I moaned my pleasure as she slowly withdrew, empty suction then fullness over and over and over and over.

Marion loomed over me, slowly rocking in and out, in and out. "Do you like this? Do you like taking my big cock into your wet little pussy?" I nodded. "Mmm, do you ever wish it were real? When you're sucking my cock, do ever wish it were real so you could make it come in your mouth?" She drove into me a little harder, a little faster and I moaned. "I think you'd like it. I think you'd like a man's big hard cock in your mouth, baby. I think you'd like to make a man's big hard cock come with your pussy, wouldn't you. I can help you, you know. I can help you get cock. I'm good at it, at getting cock. It's easy." I groaned and moaned and grunted and Marion fucked me and fucked me and fucked me, oh god, she fucked me.

Marion put me on my hands and knees and I felt her cock push into me and possess me as she knelt behind me and fucked me and I moaned and heard her say, "Head up, baby, keep your head up."

I raised my head and felt my earrings sway and my hair flowed and flicked back and forth across my skin in rhythm to Marion's thrusts. My thick, silky hair was one and one-half inches below my shoulder at the ear, the perfect length to sense my femininity as it flicked back and forth with the rhythm of cock and I imagined myself as a woman getting fucked by her lover, so receptive and vulnerable and loving.

Marion grabbed my hair and pulled hard and I welcomed it and hissed, "Yes," and she fucked me. Marion pulled my hair in rhythm to her thrusts and drove me onto her and her into me. She let go of my hair and took hold of my arms, pulled them back toward her and held my torso off the bed and pounded her cock into my willing ass and I moaned and moaned as I tried to keep my head up and feel my hair flicking and earrings swaying.

Marion put me on my back again, her hands under my stockinged knees, pinning them to the bed. She rocked into me, punched into me with a staccato beat and feminine fabric rustled and I was almost there and she was almost there and she fucked me and I shouted and arched and she shivered and thrust and I came on her cock and we came together and my soul opened and my heart soared.

Marion lay on me, her cock in me, my arms around her, my stockinged legs wrapped around her and whispering against hers and I held her tightly and breathed her in. Marion's mouth by my ear, mine at hers. Our breathing slowed. My feelings were immense and I felt so open and vulnerable and connected. I said, "I love you," and instantly regretted it and was instantly terrified and I wanted to take it back and I almost wept with relief and joy when she said, so very softly, "I love you, too."

Three little words. Three little words that weighed so very much, that carried such immense power, that held such great promise.

I moved in with Marion. People at work were happy for us, if not more than a little puzzled. People looked at me with a new appreciation, but wondered how a skinny, androgynous looking geek like me snagged a beauty like Marion. Sometimes I did, too, but I never doubted her love.

Only one person asked about my longer nails and I simply said, "Guitar" and they shrugged and that was that. Code-boys had their quirks. If anyone noticed my hair was a little longer, was better styled and had highlights, they didn't mention it to me.

Crawling into bed one night I felt such a feeling of peace wash over me. I was a little afraid of what was happening, of what Marion's plan was, if she even had a plan, and of where she was leading me, us. It felt good being dressed as a woman, it had a soothing effect on me. I had no idea why, really, just knew it felt right.

I also a felt deep contentment, that I finally belonged, that finally someone wanted me; and not just because they had to. That someone loved me.

I snuggled my lime green tap pant clad rear against Marion, spooning me, and she "Mmm-ed" and tossed an arm around me and I fell asleep wondering what was next for us, what Marion would conjure for us next.

*****

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