"Pam Is Stan 01 - Pawn takes Queen" by CraigOOL
Fetish - Dick cuckolds Stan by taking Pam
[Author's notes: Warning! This is a bisexual cuckold sex story.
There are strong FemDom themes in this story. There are strong cuckold themes in this story. This story has substantial male/male sexual contact.
This hopefully will be hot enough for the people who like these themes, as it does have a lot of sex in it. For those who don't like these themes please move along. Civil and constructive comments are appreciated, hate speech will be deleted.]
[All characters are eighteen or older at the time any sexual contact in this story takes place.]
PamIsStan is the fictional "country" that Pam and Stan are from. They work together, marketing health care temp workers to small and medium health care facilities. When I first met them, a pair of young hard bodies half my age, they had just started working together, trying to get people jobs at the clinic I do IT work for, but only knew each other as business contacts. Then they showed up as a pair dating at my softball league, assigned to my team. Over the year, I found out a lot more about them. They'd just bought a house together with their big yearly bonuses combined, for instance. Pam was the fastest shortstop in the league, despite having the shortest (but finely sculpted) legs in the league. Stan could practically cover the entire outfield with his long legs. If he cut his long blond shoulder length hair he might look less feminine, despite being built on a six foot three linebacker frame. Stan didn't have a triangular male frame, but a more hourglass shape with a rounded booty that still got glances from all the women. Pam could fit under my armpit, but would drill her stiff pointy nipples into my belly, and they always seemed to be stiff around me. Pam's long black hair, reaching to the bottom of her tits (or the top of her cute round ass) was often tied into a pony tail or coiled up in a bun. There was always a scent to her hair, like patchouli, sandalwood, or gardenias. She is a naturally happy person you just subconsciously want to be around.
Pamisstan was invented to explain how if you had a conversation with one of them, despite the other one being on the other side of the baseball diamond, the other would know the full content of the conversation when they got back. Pam explained this by saying they came from the same country, and everybody was telepathic there, but only with other people from the same country. She would give free "tests" at the bar after our games, and I swear she was always thinking about sucking my cock. The temperature of my skin always climbed and my shorts always got tighter, while her eyes bored into me like the hypnotic gaze of a vampire. But maybe that was just how she looked at me. Or how she had practiced to interrogate people. I always guessed taking a swim at their pool, or flying Stan's ultralight, which always brought a frown. She was very disappointed in me. She knew I knew better. She was pissed I would not give her the answer she wanted. Pam, when set on getting an answer, is very, very persistent. You'd have better luck getting a pit bull off your leg.
What I didn't know was that tall, dark haired older men, graying at the temples but not yet out of shape were her idea of the perfect man. Maybe a little rough, a little handsy, a little bit dominating. Like a softball coach who swats your ass on the way out of the dugout (I did that for everyone). That rapidly flared into a full fledged spanking fantasy and all of a sudden she was down two strikes. She caught the third ball for her trademark solid base hit, but it put an itch in her pussy it would take hours to iron out with her vibrator once she got home.
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Pam's face is one of the most expressive I've ever known. Her heart shape face could have been cruel on other women, but is softened by her turtle shell patterned horn rimmed glasses. It took me two years to figure out her lenses had no prescription at all. Exactly like that were her goofy, fun loving nerdy and dirty expressions, simple props in her human communications game. Stan copied some of them, but that was about all he could master. She gave me a wide variety of lustful looks, almost every time that we were alone. A wry fragment of a smile, teamed with a shifted sideways glance and arched eyebrows that always reminded me of the 'message' in our 'failed' telepathic tests. "When are you going to let me suck your cock, Dick?" she always seemed to be asking me in a million different ways.
Likewise, Pam's body seems to have mastered body language at a doctorate level of knowledge. Her conical breasts, topped by puffy nipples, could communicate flat indifference, pert attention, or cat scratch fever intensity, which she often hummed soto voce while dragging them across my belly. Those nipple scrapings always brought an intense alert from Stan, but I often heard him groan as if he is as turned on by her teasing me as I am. Pam is a hugger, and she would often apparently fly across the dugout to staple her nipples to my belly, as she wraps her arms around my back to prevent my escape.
After the first time, I hugged her back as good as I got. But Pam did not discriminate, and before the end of the season it was a habit ingrained in the entire team with each other. Likewise, 'poses' while adjusting socks reminded me of her doing the same thing adjusting her nylons during the break in business meetings, where only I could see her doing it, pulling up her skirt above her crotch to tease me that she might just show me something more. Her tight rear was frequently displayed for devastating effect, often to distract the other team, so much so most teams thought 'bent over' was the position she played. I began to notice that her business movements were more subtle, but just as effective, mere shadows of her expressing herself in private (except with me). She is continuous seduction, in an seemingly innocuous package. I concluded she must be cool on the street, a freak in the sheets.
Stan of course decoded every movement, every spoken word, and strangely, became more and more friendly to me. Sharing a supposedly single telepathically bonded mind, it seemed as if Pam liked me more, Stan also had to like me more to stay in sync. Pondering this I stumbled on the next telepathic test message, wondering if he too shared the desire to suck my cock, and was so confused I didn't even answer Pam for a good thirty seconds, to chuckles from all our friends. I answered her wanting to kiss me.
"Close, Dick." Pam said, "But no Clinton cigar." to chuckles from all our friends.
Later, Stan got me alone and said "You blew the test Dick. On purpose." Stan grinned at me widely.
I nearly choked on my drink. Pam cackled wildly in the background and the girls all laughed uproariously. Whether at me or Pam's telepathic response to Stan's double entendre I couldn't guess.
"Lost in my own head." I mumbled, as I pretended to be drunker than I was.
A drunk passing by on the way to the restroom mumbled "Get a room." People glancing at Stan and I often made the mistake of thinking we were a boy-girl couple. We were in an embrace, shoulder to shoulder, but I told myself it was no different than the rest of the male bonding going on, but it was different. I am never mistaken for a woman, while it happens to Stan all the time. I am masculine in my movements and speech patterns, while Stan must have some feedback from being bonded to Pam's mind 24/7/365. Plus I tend to be dominant, while Stan tends to be submissive. Which as it turned out, was more or less what he wanted to talk to me about.
"I want to ask Pam to marry me." Stan whispers into my ear, which got eyebrow raises from some of the women over with Pam, mistaking the whisper for a kiss. People will see what they want to see.