Spin The Bottle

"My turn," Grant was happy to be having his turn having just kissed Christine Baker.

This time it landed on Wendy and everyone froze. It was crunch time. Were they really going to make William Mitchell dressed as Wendy kiss a boy? Wendy looked from face to face and saw lechery on Grant's face, resentment on Steve's and expectation on Christine's.

"Come on Wendy, you agreed to this," Christine niggled her.

"Not really, Christine. I was sort of forced into it," Wendy said defensively.

"Fucking kiss her you tool!" Steve barked at Grant and the room went silent.

Grant stood up and when Wendy struggled to stand in her heels he helped her to her feet. She tottered on her feet and fell awkwardly against him and Grant took the initiative and leaned into Wendy and kissed her.

The kiss was clumsy. He held Wendy by her forearms, their bodies hardly touching, Grant's lips puckered stiffly. Wendy pursed her lips in response. At first she felt silly and embarrassed, then Grant put an arm around her and pulled Wendy a little closer and suddenly Wendy felt quite comfortable... more than that she felt coveted, someone wanted her. The kiss, although chaste, became pleasurable. She closed her eyes and let Grant kiss her softly for the prescribed one minute.

"Ok; time!" Steven called out, the jealousy evident in his voice.

Wendy and Grant disengaged ungainly and Grant pulled out his shirttails and Christine smiled when she saw him trying to hide an erection.

Steve was getting pissed because he hadn't got to kiss a girl yet and when Christine spun and it landed on him he was happy. He took more that the prescribed minute kissing Christine, trying vainly to force his tongue into her mouth while he squeezed her butt. He made no attempt to disguise the erection digging into her belly.

Christine was flattered that Steve became aroused kissing her but she struggled to keep his hands off her ass and his tongue out of her mouth. She was used to struggling with boys who tried to take liberties with her and she gave as good as she got.

"Ok, enough!" she finally broke free of him.

"One of you others are supposed to time us!" she whined petulantly.

The truth was that both Grant and Wendy were getting off a little watching Christine and Steve go at it.

The circle reformed on the floor and they took a quick break for everyone to have a drink. The four teens were well on the way to being intoxicated and still high from Grant's stash of ditch weed.

Steve spun the bottle and the iconic contour-fluted lines of the Coca-Cola bottle spun around and around.

The two teenage boys, one genuine girl and one crossdressed girl watched it eagerly.

It landed firmly and squarely on Wendy and she gasped.

She looked at Steve and saw the look of lechery on his face and she swallowed.

"I invoke the closet rule!" Wendy stammered dryly.

The other three looked at each other inquisitively.

'The closet rule' had been introduced into the game when they were young teens and the girls in particular were embarrassed to kiss a boy in front of the others. The rule allowed the couple to go into the closet and kiss in the dark whilst one of the others timed them and knocked on the door when the minute was up.

"Fuck that," Steve grumbled.

"It's allowed," Christine snapped back.

Wendy was hoping that by invoking the closet rule she would be able to fight off Steve and keep him at arm's length if he tried to feel her up like he had just done to Christine. It would be harder for him to find her in the dark closet with the light off and she only had to endure one minute.

Steve turned to Grant who nodded meekly.

"Christine's right Steve; it's allowed," Grant couldn't meet Steve's gaze.

"Ok. In that case I'm changing the game to seven minutes in heaven," Steve sniggered.

"Hey! You can't change the game halfway through!" Wendy protested.

"And who is going to stop me?" Steve got to his feet and towered over Wendy and held out his hand.

"Ok Steve, I think this has gone far enough," Christine said sharply.

"I'll decide when it has gone far enough. Come on Wendy," Steve reached down and Wendy meekly took his hand.

"You time it Grant and I want my full seven minutes," he called over his shoulder as he led Wendy to the closet.

Steve opened the door and pushed Wendy inside and slammed the door closed.

The closet was used to store old furniture, unused games and cleaning gear. With Steve and Wendy inside there wasn't much room.

Steve groped for Wendy in the dark and found her and pulled her to him. He pressed his lips on hers and kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth. Wendy was so surprised that she didn't fight back initially and as she had no sense of orientation in the dark she clung to him to keep her feet.

Steven misread Wendy's actions as active participation and he kissed her passionately, his hands going to her ass, his fingers pawing at the velvet miniskirt, squeezing her buttocks. Wendy could feel his steely erection pressing into her belly and she was so stunned that she just grasped at him in the dark.

Wendy had half expected Steve to deride her and laugh at her or maybe even beat up on her a little. Steve liked to horse around with William and often wrestled with him to belittle him and keep him in his place. Wendy had not expected to be treated this way.

Was he bullying her... yes for sure? Was she somehow secretly enjoying it... possibly?

Wearing the clothes was exciting: the sheer pantyhose clinging to her buttocks and legs, softly caressing her skin whenever she moved, the full-cut satin panties worn over them added a scintilla of decadence that stimulated every nerve in her groin and she had been semi-tumescent ever since she had stepped into them. Then there was the cool soft satin blouse caressing her shoulders, chest and belly and that tight velvet skirt around her waist, buttocks and thighs.

If William could dress a girl any way he wished, she would be wearing exactly what he was wearing now.

Then there was the makeup, perfume, jewellery and high heels. Wearing the makeup was exotic. She could taste her lipstick as Steven kissed her, she could smell her perfume, and those ridiculous heels that kept her tottering just looked so damn good and she felt so sexy wearing them.

Wendy justified putting her arms around Steve as a means of staying on her feet in the dark confines of the closet. Of course he was taking liberties kneading her buttocks but he was keeping her on her feet wasn't he? Those soft lips pressed on hers and his thick tongue invading her mouth was a liberty, but wasn't that was part of the game? Wasn't the whole idea of spin the bottle to kiss the person that the bottle pointed at?

But none of that explained why she felt so excited feeling his hard prodigious rod pressing into her flat belly or why her own cock was uncomfortably erect lying pressed along her perineum or why she felt so feminine and girl-like. It was somehow empowering to be submissive and submit. She wondered if this was how girls felt when boys they liked were pressing their needs on them.

William was used to being the butt of the jokes, the sidekick; the one who always had to run-go-fetch for the bigger boys and for Steven in particular. He was the last one chosen for team sports and games; he was the one that seldom got to kiss the girl. He was the guy who sat with other 'losers' behind the other boys and girls in the cinema watching them make out in the gloom.

But Wendy was desired and wanted. She was Christine's friend and Steve and Grant were jealous of each other when the bottle landed on her. It was empowering and feeling feminine and submissive was not as ghastly and abhorrent as she thought it would be.

In the dark Steve had forgotten all about William Mitchell. William had ceased to exist. He was holding this beautiful sexy young woman in his grasp whom he had deemed to call Wendy and Wendy she was. As their eyesight adjusted to the dark he could see how beautiful she was.

She felt soft. He knew those tits were false but her curves were real, her lips were real, her pretty face was real, her soft buttocks were real and those gorgeous long legs were real. It was all a game. No harm done. But Steve was determined to mine every second of pleasure he could out of Wendy Mitchell.

The booze and the grass had fuelled his desire of that there was no doubt; but it was something else that drove those primal urges. She was just so sexy and fuckable!

She felt so soft and feminine in his arms and she had stopped struggling and become compliant. Had she become more than just passively compliant? Was she actively participating?

Wendy let her mind go blank, driving out all of the doubts, contrivances, fears and speculation and just lived in the moment. She was a beautiful desirable, and yes sexy, young woman and she was in the closet with a hunky jock whom almost every girl at school would drop her panties for.

She draped her arms around Steve's shoulders and returned the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth. She subconsciously kicked her leg back like she had seen girls do when they were kissing and Steve's hand went to her thigh. He stroked it, evoking twinkling wavelets of pleasure as his fingertips caressed the gossamer nylon. Wendy gasped into his mouth and Steve smiled around the kiss.

They kissed more urgently and Wendy pressed her body against him and Steve pulled her tight. In the dark they had forgotten who and where they were. Steve stroked Wendy's thigh, his hand going all the way up her skirt to her pubis where he stroked her satin panties. They felt cool and slinky and his cock throbbed in his jeans.

Wendy was just overcome with the sensuality of it and was enjoying the kissing and caressing, swathed in girl's clothing and presenting enfemme gave her freedom to behave any way she wished and she was unashamedly horny.

Steve stroked and squeezed her buttocks through her panties and then slipped his hand inside the leg of her panties and squeezed her ass through her pantyhose, a finger slipping into the crevice between her buttocks. This gave Wendy cause to become alarmed but Steve kissed her harder and held her tighter and she couldn't deny that she liked what he was doing and his finger exploring the cleft of buttocks was dangerously evocative.

When he took her hand and put it on his cock she froze.

She could feel the heat and the girth of it though the denim. It felt wicked and dangerous and she knew that if she allowed him to go much further they would be crossing a line but she couldn't help but imagine her long fingers with those red-painted fingernails gripping that pink turgid flesh for a fleeting second.

Almost instinctively she squeezed the organ through the denim and Steve gasped into her mouth and squeezed her buttocks.

Wendy knew that she was going too far and that a line had been crossed and she was bewildered as to what to do next.

Wendy was saved by a hammering on the door.

"Time's up people. Get your asses out here!" Grant called through the door.

Christine pushed Grant out of the way and snatched the door open hoping to find Steve and Wendy flagrante delicto but she was disappointed.

Steve had pushed Wendy away from him when Grant hammered on the door and she had fallen back against an old writing desk and had just managed to pull down her skirt when the door flew open.

"What have you two been up to?" Christine smiled inquisitively.

"We don't kiss and tell," Steve pushed past her and went and poured himself another drink.

Christine had seen the bulge in Steve's pants, the red lipstick on his lips and Wendy's lipstick smeared around her mouth.

Wendy adjusted her skirt and straightened her blouse; she squeezed past Christine her face blushing crimson.

"Slut," Christine whispered in Wendy's ear as she passed.

Wendy couldn't help but smile. Was Christine actually jealous or was she just teasing her?

"So how was it?" Christine sidled up to Wendy.

"We kissed. It was ok," Wendy was still blushing and she strode purposely to the temporary bar where Steve was throwing ice cubes into a plastic cup.

"Will you make me a drink too please," Wendy asked Steve who still had his back to her.

Steve shrugged and pulled another cup off the stack and began to throw ice into it.

"You were in there for seven minutes and all you did was kiss?" Christine continued to needle Wendy.

"Yep. That's all we did. He didn't want to really but we agreed to the game so we thought we had to," Wendy said indignantly.

Christine let out a loud guffaw.

Steve turned around and offered Wendy her JD and Coke and glared at her as if to say 'keep your mouth shut'.

"Steven Townsend is no gentleman and I've never seen him make a drink for William Mitchell ever. He must be sweet on you or you have something on him," Christine continued to grill Wendy.

"Don't be silly!" Wendy sipped her drink and made her way back to her place in the circle.

"Wendy and Steven sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G," Christine sang quietly into Wendy's ear and Wendy pushed her away playfully.

"Stop it!" Wendy giggled.

She couldn't stay mad at Christine. Something had changed between them. They had bonded somehow when Christine had transformed William into Wendy. Christine had always stuck for up Will and had a soft spot for him but now it was like they were sisters.

With fresh drinks beside them they were ready to play another round and this time it was Christine's turn.

Steven and Grant watched the bottle spin, both hoping it would land on them. Christine could sense their eagerness. The mood had changed. Spin the bottle was no longer a silly kissing game, suppressed sexual longing was bubbling to the surface and it was all because of Wendy Mitchell.

Turning William into Wendy may have started as a prank but it had become something else. There was a feeling of guilty salaciousness attached to it. Christine had created Wendy and she could easily have complied with the implied objective of turning Will into a pathetic caricature of a girl: an ugly, sexless wraith whom the boys could tease, ridicule and bully but instead she had created a beautiful sexy young woman. She had done this as a form protest but it had become something else entirely. Wendy was her invention; a sister and her friend but she was something else too. She was an expression of pent-up and suppressed sexuality.

Steve and Grant were also complicit. Instead of mocking Will they had lusted over Wendy and had both kissed her, validating her femininity.

And then there was Wendy herself. William Mitchell was used to being the butt of the jokes and would do almost anything to be accepted by the group. He was meek and weak-willed but he could easily have just said no. He could have refused to dress enfemme and he certainly could have objected more strenuously when Steve insisted on going ahead with the kissing game. Wendy had endured seven minutes in heaven in that closet and only she and Steven knew what had happened in there but Grant and Christine had witnessed no cries for help.

When they played spin the bottle as kids they swore to keep it a secret, mainly from their parents, but they were all adults now. But there was no doubt in Christine's mind that they would also be keeping this a secret.

The bottle stopped spinning.

It was pointing at Wendy Mitchell.

"Shake hands?" Wendy breathed a sigh of relief.

"Fuck no! I want to see you two kiss," Steve interjected.

"You know the rules Steve. If the bottle lands on someone of the same sex as the spinner they shake hands," Wendy said.

"But you're not the same sex, are you?" Steve sniped.

Wendy didn't know why the comment offended her but it did.

"For the purpose of the game I'm a girl. Christine bitched about being the only girl so we spun the bottle to decide who was going to be a girl and I lost and now I'm a girl," Wendy said defiantly.

Wendy was so indignant that she didn't realise the implications of what she was saying. She was basically telling the group that she was a girl and should be treated that way.

"I say we put it to vote," Grant Mitchell interjected.

"Good idea. I vote kiss," Steven grinned

"As do I," Grant high-fived Steve.

They turned to Christine and looked at her expectantly but knowing she would veto the vote and the two girls would shake hands.

"Kiss," Christine whispered so softly that the others barely caught it.

Wendy was shocked but delighted as were the boys. Wendy had invoked the right to shake hands with Christine because she thought it was the right thing to do, because that's what the rules dictated but Will had been longing to kiss Christine and now he had his chance. But it would Wendy kissing Christine not Will.

A few months ago Christine had kissed another girl at summer camp where she had been a camp councillor. Ostensibly it had been to congratulate the girl on her eighteenth birthday because Christine had also turned eighteen the week before but it had gotten a little hot. The girl had turned her cheek at the last second and they had ended up kissing mouth to mouth. Then they didn't break the kiss. Then they opened their mouths. Then they used a little tongue. Then they did a little over the tank-top breast fondling which turned into inside the tank-top nipple tweaking before they were disturbed.

Nothing else happened but Christine rubbed one out at least once a week thinking about kissing that teenage girl. It was so different to kissing a boy. The kiss was soft and sensual, their bodies were supple, breasts pressed together. There was a sweet tenderness to it with an undercurrent of lust.

Christine and Wendy got to their feet and approached each other nervously. They stood at arm's length, puckered up and tentatively leaned into each other and pressed their lips together.

Wendy was immediately aware of Christine's perfume, the sweetness of her breath and the softness of her lips. The kiss brought back memories of the fleeting sexless kisses they had endured when playing the game when they were younger. Christine recalled the girl at summer camp but this was girl was more exotic. She was wearing perfume and makeup and her hair wasn't sweaty and underneath all those sexy clothes she had boy-bits but because they were unobtrusive it made it more bohemian and captivating.

Then there was also the fact Christine had 'made' Wendy. She was a creation of Christine's artisanship and she felt a special bond with her.

Wendy felt so sensual as she kissed Christine. She was very aware that she was kissing a beautiful girl but she was a beautiful girl herself. She was intensely aware of her clothing especially her nylons and panties, the hem of her skirt fluttering against her thighs, the satin blouse caressing her torso, her teased hair and her heels.

The two girls put their arms around each other and drew their bodies together and the kiss became fervid as they opened their mouths and introduced their tongues. Their bodies pressed together and Wendy could feel Christine's pert breasts pressing into her. They both kicked back a leg and standing one-legged their kisses became more intense.

They ground against each other. Christine could feel herself becoming wet. She was no longer thinking about the girl from summer camp dressed in her khaki shorts, tank-top and sneakers; her sweaty hair cinched in a ponytail. The girl she was kissing was dressed in eighties chic and very feminine and there was something special under her skirt.

The two young women pressed themselves together harder, Wendy rubbed a leg against Christine's and it felt like a thousand butterfly wings were caressing her flesh as their pantyhose hissed. Christine's hand slipped under Wendy's skirt and she stroked her thighs and Wendy did the same. They were oblivious to the audience who were watching them slack-jawed with awe.