Ron And Nadine Ch 02

I woke early, as I always do now. Since I became the one who gets the girls up and ready for school, I no longer need an alarm clock.

As I always do after one of Nadine's date nights, I just watched her sleep for a while. I used the word beautiful to describe Nadine, but that's not true in everyone's eyes. It's true enough that she's pretty, with a high forehead, wide-set brown eyes, small ears, a straight nose, and a generous mouth.

But she's also a messy sleeper. I love watching her sleep. She looks almost childlike with her mouth open slightly and a line of drool pooling under her cheek, her nose running and blowing cute little snot bubbles. So I just watched her sleep for a while, wishing my worthless cock would respond so I could wake her with love like I used to.

But nothing happened and so I rolled, very carefully, out of bed so I wouldn't wake her. In the walk-in closet, I took off the athletic cup and put it in its special box, out of the girls' sight, and put on my pajamas, flannel and shapeless.

I tiptoed into the bathroom, sat, and peed, a habit I developed since the hormones she has me on seem to be making my never-anything-to-write-home-about cock even smaller. I had given up trying to aim while standing after I had to clean the toilet and the wall a few times.

In the kitchen, I took my Ortho-Novum 1/50 pill, the highest dose of estrogen and progesterone commercially available, and two of the Domperidone 10mg pills, prolactin to stimulate lactation. The prescription bottles had Nadine's name, of course, but she had started me on, them about a year ago, when it was clear that our lifestyle had changed dramatically. I ate a Hawaiin Roll to give my stomach something to work on and ease the brief, mild nausea that accompanied my morning pills.

Then I went downstairs and closed and locked the bathroom door of our third bathroom. I reached up to the top shelf, above kids' reach, and pulled down the hard plastic case that contained my breast pump. I unbuttoned the pajama top and opened it, looking, as I did every morning, at myself in the mirror. My nipples were clearly bigger than they had been last year and my breasts were starting to develop as my vestigial mammary glands reacted to the hormones and daily pumping. I lifted them, thinking of an album cover I had seen one time for some rock group famous back in the 1960s. On the cover, a girl, obviously just in puberty, had very slightly puffy nipples showing on the first small roundness that would become her breasts. That's what I looked like and I shivered when I touched my nipple and lifted my breast. I didn't need a training bra yet, but I didn't think it would be long.

As I went through the ritual of getting ready, I felt that little stir in my groin I always did. I pulled the drawstring and let the pants fall. The hormones were working down there too. My cock was never big, and it seemed smaller now. It twitched, as I used my finger to coat the nipple cup with Vaseline to ensure a good contact, but that was all. Once again I had that image, so clear I could almost feel it, of the quick cut that would take my balls and leave my dick to be the slightly oversize clitoris it seemed to be.

But the fantasy passed and I pressed the nipple cups against my nipples, set the timer for 15 minutes, and pushed the switch. The soft whirr/whoosh/sigh of the machine as it latched on was soporific, and I settled back for my quiet time in the morning. As it always did, the sensation brought my dick to as close to erection as it ever gets anymore. And I sat there, on the toilet seat, I played with it as the breast pump did its work. I didn't masturbate, I just rolled it, playing with it like I would with a clitoris.

My tears in the morning, as they always are, were tears of pleasure and desire, not sorrow for what was gone.

And suddenly I had a thought that DID make my dick get hard, if only for a few seconds.

It was so clear, and so powerful, that as I closed my eyes I could see it in my mind's eye.

What if Nadine got pregnant? She could, of course. She was still having periods although she was missing as many as she was having. If she did, would I be the family wet nurse?

I moaned and leaned back against the cold porcelain of the toilet tank and began masturbating then, but not as a man masturbates. My finger was pressing against the base of my little dick and rubbing. I was surprised, but I suppose I shouldn't have been, to hear myself say, "God, I wish these stupid balls were gone. They're just in the way."

And I came, but not as a man cums. I didn't squirt messily. My body clenched with the pure ecstasy that I had always been denied before. My breasts ached, my nipples were so hard, and I couldn't breathe as wave after wave of that visit to paradise lingered while my finger pressed and moved gently, making my time in Nirvana last.

I suppose I would have stayed like that, gasping and shuddering, but the timer on the breast pump cut it off and I was jerked back to reality.

I wept as I carefully took the nipple cups off, cleaned them with shaky fingers, and put it all up, out of the way.

I washed my face carefully and, after carefully checking that the door was locked, very carefully put on some makeup. Nothing radical. Nothing my girls would even notice. Just something to, well, make me a little pretty.

In the mirror, I looked down at my body and my breath caught. My nipples were still swollen, they had been staying puffy and engorged like that for a couple of weeks now after I pumped. But this morning, and I couldn't believe it but there it was, I saw a tiny drop on the tip of my right nipple.

"Oh, God," I moaned softly, "It's happening."

I used my thumbs and forefingers to work my nipple and breast, massaging and tugging and watching carefully.

"Yessss," I hissed as that little drop grew.

I worked my nipple and breast more until it was painful, but that was all I could express.

I touched that precious drop with my fingertip and then touched my tongue. It was watery but there was a faint taste of milk.

I ruined my makeup with my tears and had to start over again after I got myself under control.

Finally, dressed in my pajamas and ready to face the day, I went upstairs and made coffee.

I was just finishing when I heard Nadine pad up behind me in bare feet. She put her hands on my hips and pulled me to her, her breasts against my back, her hands slipping under my pajama tops and up finding my breasts and playing with my nipples.

"How's my favorite gurl this morning?" she breathed in my ear.

I giggled and squirmed around to face her, liking that her hands were still on my skin, and enjoying our little pre-girls-getting-up intimacy.

"Lactating," I said and I could feel the smile spreading across my face.

Her eyes got big. "Really?" she said, her smile matching mine.

I kissed her.

"Nobody will confuse me with Elsie the Cow," I said, "but yes. I tasted my first drop this morning."

She frowned then.

"What?" I asked, my knees getting weak. I don't like to displease Nadine.

"Oh, I just wish you had saved it for me," she said.

I giggled.

"It was just a drop," I said.

"But it's a start," she said, her hands slipping down to my hips, squeezing where I was storing fat these days.

"My pretty gurl," she added, kissing me quickly and then walking into the front room.

"Coffee, Baby," she said, over her shoulder.

I poured two cups, black for her, sweet and light for me, and joined her on the couch where she had

Fox and Friends, Weekend

on the television. She smiled a quick "Thank you" to me as I handed her the cup, climbed up onto the couch, and curled my feet under me as I sat back in that position a woman automatically assumes but I had to practice to make comfortable.

"Plans tonight?" I asked when there was a break in the television action.

"Actually, yes," she said, drawing out the suspense by taking a sip from her coffee, "The girls are out for the weekend and I have plans for us."

"Oh?" I asked, feeling that rush deep in my belly.

"Yep," she said. "Alicia is at a sleepover at Brenda's. Well, actually, a two-day event I guess you'd say. We need to shag her out of bed pretty soon and then run her over. And Mom and Dad want to take a whole passel of grandkids to WaterWorld and then out to the farm for the weekend. They'll be by for Mary later this morning."

She took another drink from the coffee and went on.

"And then, my pretty gurl, we're going shopping because you and I have a date night scheduled," she said, putting her best simper on her face.

"Just you and me?" I asked, surprised by the, well, the attention.

She smiled then, that sort of almost predatory smile I saw more and more these days.

"Yes, Baby, just you and me. I joined a new Club and I'm anxious to show you off," she said, and then looked away, taking a drink of coffee and turning to the television, signifying that the conversation was over for now. I didn't pursue it. Nadine's spankings hurt and the time the girls had walked in and caught me turned over her knee was the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to me. So I'm careful to not press too hard when she has made it clear she's done with the topic.

I watched for a while, learning who was dating whom, and who we were at war with today, that odd mixture of fluff and news that is the morning news show whether you watch Fox or MSNBC.

Then, about 9:00, quiet time ended when Alicia got up, surprising me that we didn't need to practically drag her out of bed, full of teenage angst and attitude. Nadine and I said our good mornings and she grumbled something unintelligible, went to the kitchen, and poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Damn, Dad," she said, "this tastes like crap. How about a fresh pot?"

So I got up obediently, Nadine patting my ass as I did so, and made a fresh pot of coffee.

Since I was in the kitchen anyway, I got out the mixing bowl, pancake mix, and round flat griddle and started making pancake batter.

When the coffee was done I went into the front room, retrieved Alicia's coffee cup, emptied it, and poured a fresh cup, black like her mother took it, and took it to her.

She looked up at me with the disdain only a teenager can summon.

"Practicing for your next career?" she asked.

I laughed softly and said, "Yep."

"Welllll," she said, deliberately looking me up and down, "You'll make a good waitress."

My bowels suddenly got hot and watery.

Oh God," I thought, "How much has Nadine told her?"

I looked over and Nadine was smiling at me, but it wasn't a pleasant smile.

I smiled and dropped a curtsy, wanting to treat it as a joke.

"Good gurl," she said.

I couldn't stop the tears as I quickly turned away and went into the bathroom.

In the bathroom, I threw up.

I hung on the edge of the toilet, crying, heaving, and farting, hoping I wouldn't wet my pajamas or, worse yet, shit myself before I got under control.

Finally, it passed. I stood and rinsed my mouth with water and then Listerine, and then scrubbed my face with a washcloth. There was no way I could fix my makeup in the state I was in, so I just settled for washing with cool water.

I took a deep breath and went back to face the day.

I didn't say anything. I just finished getting the batter ready and then went in and woke MaryLouise.

My 13-year-old is a vision of cute with that coltish post-puberty awkwardness as her body is growing practically daily. She smiled sleepily as I shook her shoulder gently and said, "Micky Mouse Pancakes if you get up, sleepy butt."

She giggled, smiled, and rolled out of bed.

I got the women, well, the woman and the girls, in my life fed and Nadine got them dressed, ready, and headed out to deliver Alicia to her event.

It was awkward, as it always is when Nadine's parents showed up and Nadine wasn't there to buffer. Her father, Chester, is big and bluff, my physical opposite, and her mother, Cleo (NOT CHLOE as she had told me loudly the first time we met) was one of those 60-something women you see at Wal-Mart who looks like a normal grandmother redrawn at about 150 percent of normal size. Her hair, a big cloud around a big head, was a ridiculous flaming red this time, it seemed to change every time I saw her, and about an acre of overtanned skin showed between a crop top that barely held immense udders in place and Daisy Duke cutoffs that almost let that ass get away from them. Not for the first time I imagined two walruses fucking when these two were in bed. But I was polite as we chatted for a couple of minutes while MaryLouise got her little duffle and then danced from foot to foot, ready to go on her adventure weekend.

As soon as they were out the door, I waved, closed it, and leaned against it, sobbing. I was aware of how much I looked like a scene out of some old black-and-white movie when the wife was left alone, but I didn't care.

"She knows, God, she knows," was all I could say, over and over.

When Nadine got home after delivering the girls I was lying on the bed, curled on my side, crying.

"What's all of this?" she asked, her fingers lightly brushing my sweat and tear-damp hair away from my face.

"You TOLD HER," I wailed, turning over to face her, knowing how awful I must look but not caring. I'm not a pretty crier.

She smiled, stroking my hair back very gently.

"No, honey, I didn't

tell

her," she said, her smile gentle and loving, "she asked."

"Wh-wh-wh-what?" I managed, getting my sobbing under control.

"Ronni," she said and the subtle inflection in her voice made it sound like she was using a shortened form of "Veronica" rather than "Ronald," "She was joking one morning," and as she was talking she was unbuttoning the top of my pajamas, "and said she thought her old training bras might fit you."

She was playing with my still puffy nipples by then, making me catch my breath as little electric shocks passed between my nipples and my clitoris. I was having trouble thinking of my penis as a "dick" or a "cock" anymore.

"We'll either have to tell both of them or start binding these," she said and bent and kissed my nipples making me squirm.

I was crying and my nose was running badly making the kiss she gave me slick and snotty.

"Should I get it?" she asked, nuzzling my neck now, her tongue driving me a little crazy.

"Please," I said, feeling excited and humiliated all at once.

'Hold that thought," she said, giggling, a happy sound.

I watched her walk out of the bedroom, knowing what was coming but still enjoying watching as she walked out of the room in those tight jeans designed by someone who understood that women are built differently than men.

While she was gone I got out of my pajamas, striking what I hoped was a fetching pose, one knee bent, the other leg straight, my back twisted enough that my ass, like my titties bigger now that the hormones had taken hold, was displayed.

She stopped in the doorway, smiling, and whistled.

"Such a beautiful gurl," she said, moving to the side of the bed and gently pushing on my bent knee, rolling me gently onto my back.

"Hold this," she said, "while I get ready."

The old-fashioned ice bag was cold as she laid it on my groin, and I held it there, shivering, and feeling my balls retreat from the cold, the skin of my scrotum tightening, and my clitoris shrinking away from the cold.

God, she looked SO good as she walked out of our walk-in closet. She was naked, her breasts sagging and her nipples hard. But the most obvious thing was the strap-on, a pale pink flesh tone held on by flesh tone straps making it look like a perfectly natural erection, slightly oversized but not ridiculous.

I felt my own nipples get hard in response, and that pressure, deep in my belly, was different from what I used to feel. It was a need to be, well, filled, a void that was terrible, a need that drove everything else out.

She crawled onto the bed, her knees between mine, and she parted my legs more, her hands on my ankles now, pushing them apart as she scooted forward slowly.

She gently lifted the ice pack and dropped it onto the floor. My balls were pretty much completely back where they came from, and my clitoris was a little bump as she guided the tip of her cock to my tight little asshole.

"I love you, Ronni," she said, kissing me as she gently penetrated, that first rush of not-quite pain as I was stretched to accept her, and then that wonderful, exquisite full feeling as her full length entered me.

"And I love you, Nadine," I said, pulling my knees back farther until they almost touched my aching nipples, my heels digging into her ass, wanting to pull her deeper.

That slow movement, slowly in and out and back in again, the tip of her cock touching the floor of my rectum, stimulating my shrunken prostate gland along the way, left me gasping for breath, and the orgasm she gave me, not a man's ejaculation but a woman's more gentle, more pure flight to ecstasy, was as beautiful as always.

She held still while I came, looking down at me. I knew she enjoyed what she called my cumface, but it's not like I could have done anything else at that point. I knew my mouth was wide open in a silent scream, my forehead was scrunched up into four distinct lines, my eyes were squeezed tightly shut, and my nose was running freely. She had taken pictures and giggled when I said, "God, I look demented." But she liked it, liked the obvious way she had taken me to that special place.

"Do I make you happy, Ronni?" she asked.

"Yessssssssss," I hissed softly, lost in the sensations she was giving me.

"Good," she said, "Because I'm taking you shopping and tonight I'm showing you off."

"Showing me off?" I asked, feeling a rush of panic deep in my belly, "To Diego?" I finished, mentioning the name of her lover.

She smiled and kissed me, still deep inside of me, and said, "No. He's still not ready for that. I'm taking you to the WIVES club."

"The wives club?" I asked.

She giggled and kissed the tip of my nose as she started pulling out of me very slowly.

"The Women Investigating Varied Eroticism Society," she said with a giggle, "I'm showing off my favorite gurl tonight."

"Will I be humiliated?" I asked, hating the tears that were starting to overflow my eyes and the way my nose kept running.

"Not unless you're ashamed of us," she said, smiling. "I'm proud of you, Honey. I know it was hard for you at first," she bent and kissed my breasts, giving me a shiver, "But just look how far you've come. Hell, your skinny butt is even filling out nicely."

I squirmed at the compliment.

I shivered and whimpered as she pulled free of me and then rolled out of bed quickly.

"Come on, Sweety," she said, the strapon bobbing in front of her like a conductor's baton, "Let's shower and then we're going shopping."

I always enjoy showering with her afterward. I like the way she washes my hair and my titties and my ass after she takes me. And I LOVE washing her beautiful body, helping her out of the harness, and hanging her strapon to dry. When we're clean, I absolutely adore the way she towels my hair, worn much longer now than ever before, dry and then brushes it.

Today, though, she seemed in a hurry so I couldn't linger over her breasts or her beautiful pussy as much as I like to.

She lingered in the closet and surprised me by handing me one of her silk blouses, very thin material, and a pair of my jeans cut off Daisy Duke style along with my new white tennis shoes.

She watched as I put on the blouse, confused by the backward arrangement of the buttons until I got the hang of them, wiggled into the too-tight cut-offs, and put on the white shoes. The silk material had my nipples hard almost instantly and she moved behind me as I looked in the mirror, put her hands on my belly, and pulled me to her.