Meeting Her Pt. 05: Nancy's Mink Date

Now they were more like intimate friends than teacher and student. But they both whispered "what if..." Jane was always right there when we finished a round and wanted to order another. When I paid our bill she said that her husband should tip us, because what would happen to him when she got home went "well beyond" what a good wife does. She did mention she would be thinking of us - both of us.

At about 9:15 Nancy wanted another slow dance the announcer said it was the last before a break. We took our time getting to the dance floor, Nancy was moving slow. She was a little drunk and she was moving slow.

This time we wrapped arms around each other and just stood here, gently rubbing our faces together, almost but not-quite kissing, the entire time. Finally, at the start of the final bar of music, Nancy broke the contact to whisper that this was her best date ever, better than the best of all of her other bast dates put together. Then she said, "When the lights go out, pet the kitty, please?" and she kissed me again, suddenly aggressive with her mouth and tongue.

Most of the lights did go out after the long last note, so I reached down and ran my hand along her pussy quickly, like she asked. She was really wound up, and had the timing right, so as my fingers slid forward along her slit and reached the little nubbin of joy, she came on the spot. It was silent, we were really into the kiss, and she was quick. Then the lights came up again. "Best date ever..." she whispered.

That was when I realized that, when the lights went down, the ground lights, below the waist on the dance floor, just dimmed. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the Jane had caught the whole performance... and she was smiling at me like she would recall the dance later, when she was at home in bed.

At about 9:30 we were done with tapas and the dancing. We decided to skip desert calories in favor of a last round of Cosmos. We were sitting at our table, talking and petting when Nancy spotted somebody come in the door. "My goodness, that looks like Sam Tulip with that climate guy... is it Victor something? Something Spanish? Man, talk about a stuffy prig. I can never keep track of the VIPs in other colleges, but he is a special case of spoiled pork."

I glanced up and confirmed it was "that sorry SOB climate guy."

"Don't you know Jorge from football? You are a local and I thought he was on the college team while you were in high school."

"Before my time... I entered high school after he graduated from here and went off to the graduate prig sty. I did not follow football then... in fact these days I only follow the school team because Der Broom VonHumper has made it compulsory for staff; we have to pass a quiz before we get our new contracts." I had not yet heard that nickname for our tedious leader, or about any quiz.

Nancy voice changed tone as she continued. "Back then, even before high school I was a tennis player and a fan of our college tennis team. Now Dr. Victor's wife... Wow! She could have gone pro, except her dad had ideas that have a lot in common with slave labor. Let me tell you, for her I would be glad to switch sides of the net, serve or receive... yum... service. She was hot then and she is still smoking. She kills me when we play full-speed, I am good but she reacts so fast and is such a great shot I really can't make her work up a sweat. Well, she makes up for it after a match, we wash each other's backs and legs in the showers. Pregnant women need extra care, and I love volunteering. You know, she holds the school and conference record for her collegiate win-to-loss ratio, and actually has more 'team ball' awards than her stuffy husband."

"You sound like a fan. I will take you word for it." I had seen Isabel's collection of team balls, we spent an hour one evening trying to come up with a sexual use for them. Best we could do was piling them and then me having her from behind on the pile, but we kept slipping off. We gave it up for the bed. I admit I may have had too much to drink, Isabel poured two glasses but could not drink hers and I consider it a sin to waste good booze. It was our first "almost" overnight, because I left at 2 in the morning.

-

Chapter 2. Bangkok Knives

I looked more closely where Nancy was pointing. Isabel's oafish husband was standing, holding hands, with a tallish gauntly-thin brunette in a striking blue dress. She had large breasts and a strangely narrow waist. I would have said her striking beauty was "severe" enough for a TV ad about makeup, but something screamed "Flag, illegal formation" to me.

I said something offhand about the woman's looks.

Nancy responded with a snarky giggle, "Uh, that Tulip is no woman. Maybe I should say 'not all woman.' I have personal, first hand, 'inside my special place and spurting' knowledge of the beautiful stalk that resides in those lacy panties. That was a decade ago, but I have recent first-hand evidence that the tulip is still... is this too crude?"

Nancy had spread her legs for a lot of guys she thought she loved at the time. She used to hesitate to refer to them but I said there was no reason to hide it, lots of girls tried a lot of guys, that was life today. I saw how her bad and good experiences benefitted me. So she was open, but sometimes fell into old habits about such things.

With my approval Nancy continued. "Sammy and I did a little rub-and-tickle in high school. He got the big score - his first and second, actually - and bless him he even rang my bell a couple of times. Those were the days. He... She... Hmmm... I am not sure which to use about somebody with bigger breasts than me who pulled their spent dick out of my messy pussy? Tulip was a local before she tripped to the non-binary side by way of Bangkok knives."

Because of Jorge that got my attention. "What do you mean by that?"

"I grew up here. High school freshman year that very same person was Mr. Sam The T, the star slot-back on the football team. Hell of a chip blocker, he could catch anything close and his routes sent a lot of D-backs crying to their mama after being made the fool in front of everybody who mattered. He and I dated a few times, kids stuff, we both liked air hockey and tongue hockey so our dates included both. The problem was, Sam lacked confidence in EVERYTHING because as a freshman he had a small dick. I mean it was real small, 'belongs in diapers' small... or so I have been told. I did not have first-hand knowledge at that age. Sophomore year was the big change, Samantha added three inches in height and had made a transition which included a new name and identity as a woman. No more gym class or football, with hormones the tits had sprouted. Under make-up and a wig the guys did not have a clue. The girls who knew, like me, got a lecture on tolerance, understanding and discretion. Samantha and I were cool, we stayed friends. She was invited to all-girl sleepovers and sock hops where she fit right in. Junior year was smoother, there had been some fine facial surgery over the summer to go with two more inches of height. She and I were known to hold hands in private, that and chaste kisses; neither of us were up for tongue kisses with each other, but we still were more than friends. We talked honestly about the changes. She would not let any boy touch her, she still had solid muscles and guy reflexes. Jimmy Pickle, the clueless freshman quarterback, got his nose busted when his hand slipped. She would have broken the wrist, but he was a quarterback.

"Senior year Sam went retro: doctors orders. Mr. Sam was back as a guy again, over the summer he got facial hair and his growth spurt was confined to one part of his anatomy, and believe me, it was quite long and beautiful. Indecision time, the docs said he needed to live as a guy to see what he really wanted. His folks were 120% supportive, they even insisted that he had to have sex as a guy. We all talked, I was legal and no virgin. His old air hockey friend was first in line when he was ready. A week after his 18th birthday, when I was already 18 and had some experience, he scored his first touchdown with little Miss Where-Are-Those-Panties here. Sam's parents were on board so we made a big deal of it, exploring naked, making sure he got the whole tour, giving me a chance to make a case. It was fascinating to look at his face and larger-than-me tits while he was... you know, fucking in me like... never mind. I got the very first test drive of his male equipment, right after I gave him his first BJ and he licked me real good. He wanted to try it all - he even brought a toy for me to use on him in back... not my best moment that. He talk me into... that was a first for me. Anyway, looking up at those tits while his cock was in my mouth and then my puss... that was a trip. We liked each other so we took the trip again the next weekend, just to be sure it wasn't the excitement... I was okay with it but emotionally he was not feeling it. He stayed in character until graduation, wearing my stained panties under his jeans and a chest thing. I helped him keep his cover, but the real feelings between us were more junior year instead of those naked weekends."

"It sounds like you were very mature about his switching over and back," I said.

"I knew both sides of the truth, his tulip had blossomed to be one of the longest and most beautiful in the school. But there was still no gym class and no more football, and we agreed, he licked good but there was no naked magic. Plus he had taken years of hormones so he also had a lot of his own breast tissue - more then me - to hide. Painfully. He liked his tits. He was confused. I was sympathetic. We hung out in his room naked, we cuddled and touch but just friends. His folks encouraged us. The yearbook has a picture of us kissing. Tongues showing, it was a last hurrah. Towards the end, when I had some other experiences, we were both horny so we put things together one more time, but that got him more confused so we stopped. He had the stamina to go long, nobody matched that, so I got mine and again. But he left an eye-dropper climax and, this was a first for me, we didn't feel satisfied after... no matter what. It wasn't in him to enjoy doing me. I was faced with my first sexual failure. After graduation he flew west to the Far East. Surgical knives in Bangkok. I cried at what I thought was lost, that lovely tulip stalk and flower."

"If he flew to Bangkok, why come back here, where people knew him the other way."

"He didn't right away, but eventually it was what he wanted. Five years after the surgery, Sam Tulip returns from California. I'm her first call, she asked to borrow a cup of lube to see if I recognized her. She's Samantha now, those breasts are no longer hiding, as you can see they went nuclear. All home grown too, no scars. We talked. He showed. I looked but didn't touch, it wasn't the same. The good news: she is female in that way... except she has not had the big fella or his two round buddies removed; with the right drugs the man parts all work like a starter pistol - cock it and they shoot blanks when you pull the trigger..." For a moment Nancy looked embarrassed and disgusted all at once. "I can testify to that. Okay, I touched, hands not lips, he said that somebody had to. I had to see. It was still beautiful, to cry for. But no thrills. We both agreed that once was enough, we had better memories."

She shook her head and shivered at a memory, then went on.

"The big secret in her panties is an experimental naughty don't-tell-anybody not-FDA-approved pussy to go with the other fun parts. It seems they sewed his sack into a hot-dog shaped pocket, then put that pocket inside his body between some muscles. There is a faceable slit with a tight entrance - plastic implant - between his cock and his ass. His 'taint' ain't there. The balls were relocated inside. They did a very attractive job, actually. Penetration from the front or back rubs on his prostrate real good. Now she is all-in. I looked at the pocket but declined to put a finger in. It even lubricates natural fluid - yuck! She can masturbate that way. I don't think the hole is deep enough to fully take in a long nasty like yours. She is earning a living by looking hot and fucking guys and dolls who want to play a little queer out beyond the forbidden zone. Boy-and-Girl parts to enjoy, it feels like a mortal sin to just talk about it. It is a pricey unique trip that can get sick, or so I am told. Well, to each their own."

I said, "I am surprised she can earn a living in a small place like this."

"Yeah, that is part of the deal. She signed up with the cops and the hospital. In town she lives as a woman but can't get paid. All income is 100% from out-of-town contracts, a weekend or longer, big bucks - fly to Bermuda bucks - for the whole special package. Cops monitor the local bank accounts but not the foreign ones. Most of the jobs are groups, three to eight sickos who want to get crazy with the full package. Front and rear entrances plus mouth sex, and if the customer bends over Sam gives a long gong gay fuck. The internet is a wonderful thing. We are still friends, but I have to say it is discouraging to have a former boyfriend-with-benefits looking hotter with bigger boobs... he really is a sweet beautiful soul on a slick path."

I had to interject, to say something nice. "Your nipples are way hotter than her big'uns... like hot pokers."

Nancy blushed so nicely, she knew I wasn't lying as I looked down her dress. It was so nice to hear, Nancy's life included a lot of guys but very few compliments.

She continued. "Sammy's big score came last year when she was gone all year on one contract. She sailed around the world on a yacht chartered by two horny Silicon Valley couples, one couple was two gay guys and the second couple was straight. Sam told me she was a sex toy on call 24/7, she fucked them all, giving and getting with every hole in play, including the straight wife. Sammy's normal contract says she didn't have to do women, but the wife was hot so she took all her turns on the Tulip, going long-time too. The wifey loved getting screwed for hours, in every hole. Plus, watching the wife get off again and again tuned all the guys up to do Sammy every fucking way once wifey was exhausted. Hot swapping they called it. The crew also held Tulip-bangs where the wife donned a strap on and stood in line for her turn. He saw a lot of multiples. The whole voyage Sam was passed around like a toy during the week and shared on the weekends. It paid really well, like a five grand a week plus a really nice tip - over 30% - when they got back in August. In town Sam lives as a frugal student taking classes in botany, she says 'Plants don't judge' and wants to buy a flower shop."

I could see Nancy's pain about her friend and lover, so I spent the next few minutes using my best bedroom eyes while saying how lovely Nancy was, how I appreciated her 100% natural beauty plus her not being messed up with drugs or surgery like so many "other think-they-are-hot girls." She saw through that, but still purred at my focused attention. I tickled her brain as I tickled her kitty, I said she was the best teacher and the sharpest woman in the B-school, and I was lucky to have her as a co-author. That she knew was sincere, she is the only one in the college who had taken real education courses before she got wise and switched from K-12 education to business. Then in grad school she took a few PhD courses that taught her the lingo.

When I was done massaging her self-image Nancy was ready to give me a BJ there in the booth, with her naked butt hanging in the breeze. I urged her to wait, why spoil her appetite? Not to mention making other people jealous. Plus I bet she had another Cosmo coming. She agreed to wait until we were in the car.

I slipped away and called Isabel. I told her where I was, said I was looking at Jorge, and if he was with his girlfriend then he wasn't with his girlfriend but it was even more disgusting and I would have a real story for her next Tuesday. Twice Isabel had glimpsed a woman she suspected could be her husband's girlfriend and the description fit. My wording aroused her curiosity.

It was almost 10. As we talked I saw Jorge try his phone so I mentioned he was calling somebody. Isabel said he was calling her to give her an excuse not to come home on time - he would claim a meeting that would keep him out after midnight so she should not wait up. He apparently dialed her cell first, which was busy with me. Isabel quickly killed the answering machine hooked to their landline before he dialed again. This messed him up, he expected her to be available for the cell and even if she wasn't he expected the machine on the landline to take his message. I watched him dial several times in a panic, then it looked like he gave up and had to cut his disgusting evening plans with Sam down to a minimum.

Part of Jorge's court-approved deal was that he had to call in by 10 if he was going to be home late. Failure was a violation of his release terms, and Isabel would not lie for him. Since he could not call home, whatever the pair planned for tonight wasn't happening. I told this to Isabel, she got a good laugh. I said I would try to get pictures.

-

Chapter 3. Something Queer

When I got back to the table I asked Nancy, "can you get Sam to dance with you? Maybe get a feel of just how she does things with that Prof? If they are regulars? I assure you, I mean to do nothing good with the information. You know Isabel is pregnant, don't you?" She did, they still played tennis when they could. Nancy grinned at that suggestion, she was curious herself and Isabel was her buddy. Sammy would talk to Nancy... after all, she knew his climax face.

I would take care of our bill, Nancy would be solo when she made her approach. I suggested that, to fortify ourselves at home, I would get a 6-pack of Cosmos to go, we could drink naked and relaxed. The Mink only did that if you knew just who and how to ask. Delivery in back. I knew the drill.

"Good plan!" Nancy said. She was a little bit shaky standing up.

I watched as Nancy moved across the room, bumped into Tulip and said hi. Tulip was very pleased to see so much of her body, looking hot in that tiny excuse for a dress. They got to chatting in front of Jorge, pissing him off by taking up his limited time. Sam didn't care, he told Jorge he really liked Nancy so they had to chat. Did she want to sit down? With Jorge giving off bad vibes table side Sam and Nancy decided on a friendly slow dance instead. That stretched into two dances and they were starting a third when a very upset Jorge cut in with a "spoiled child in tantrum" act. He complaining to Sam that time tonight was limited because he "could not connect."

As they left Sam promised to call Nancy on Sunday so they could dish properly. Then a very agitated Jorge left with Sam to do disgusting things in the parking lot, since that was all the time Jorge had tonight and he had to do his disgusting... whatever.

I felt like a spy as I waiting outside.

The Tulip-Mobile (beautiful artwork proclaimed) was in back, close to a light. I used my cell to get some pictures from the shadows. Then I remembered the old Sony infrared camera with the monster Zeiss lens I still had in the trunk. I used to drive at night and take pictures as a hobby to unwind the brain, when I was well-paid working in finance trading dollars. It was still a great camera in low light.

This was disgusting stuff, I feared for the camera's memory banks. Jorge dropped his pants, then he sucked the Tulip limp stalk while Sam injected (!) at the base of his cock. Seeing that hurt. The stalk firmed up quickly. Jorge bent over the hood of Sam's neat VW Beetle convertible. Oh, the humanity! Sam stuck his Tulip stalk into Jorge's dark hole. It went in easy like he was lubed, and did not take long. It looked like they both finished by making a mess. It seemed Jorge had to lick his spew off the cute car.