[Author's Note: Well, gentle reader, here we are again. I'm fascinated with this story, but it is so far outside of my perfectly heterosexual personality that I am relying on my imagination and reader's feedback to know if I'm hitting the mark. The idea for this storyline grew out of a contact from a reader and I find myself captivated by the relationship between Ron and Nadine. But I don't really know if I'm getting it right. So please help me out. Leave a comment, or contact me through Literotica. I am curious to know how this is working.
Thanks.
And now, let's check in and see how Ronni and Nadine are working through their new relationship status. Word at The Club is that Nadine thinks Ronni is about ready for her coming out.]
She helped me stand then, not "pulling" but helping me keep my balance as I got to my feet.
"I think," she said, looking me up and down, smiling, "that we have plenty of time for some afternoon delight."
I giggled.
I squealed a little when her hand patted and then pinched my ass.
In the bedroom, she stopped, looked me up and down again making me squirm a little under her gaze, and said, "I know what we need."
I watched as she opened her jewelry box and came out with her strand of pearls. Just a simple strand. When she put it around my neck I damn near fainted.
"There," she said, "my beautiful bride."
The kiss that followed had nothing feminine in it. She was claiming me with her mouth and her hands.
And I loved being claimed. There was nothing masculine in my reaction. My nipples got so hard they hurt and the sudden pressure in my belly was so different from the erections I used to feel that I could barely remember those old feelings. I certainly couldn't identify with them.
She turned down the spread and sheet and helped me into bed. Then she kissed me and said, "Hold that thought. Don't start without me."
As I watched her go into the closet I realized how perfectly our roles were reversed. Oh, her body was still beautifully feminine. Her waist was narrow and flared out into broad hips. Her ass was the perfect inverted heart shape that women strive for. The round shape of her
gluteus maximus
muscles would still look beautiful in her bikini or even a buttfloss thong.
But the way she moved, her stride, the swing of her arms, the slightly heavy motion of each step, was more masculine than I ever was.
When she swung the door shut behind her I laid back and just thought for a while. I closed my eyes and tried to remember when it had changed. I suppose it was when I realized that she, figuratively at least, wore the pants in our family. Now that she wore them literally, well, it just felt natural.
I lay there, remembering the little things that had led up to this, and without thinking began caressing my body. I covered the small rise of my breasts with my palms, feeling the hard nipples at their tips. I pinched and shivered at the little electric jolt that ran from my nipples to my little kitty. I spread my legs and slowly ran my palms up the inside of my thigh. When I got to my balls, tiny with the effect of the hormones, held tight to my body by the scrotum, and, of course, that little bump of my kitty, I gasped at the intensity of the sensation.
"I TOLD you not to start without me, Bitch," she said, but she was laughing.
I opened my eyes.
Here's another one of those words you see written down, especially if you like chick lit, which I do.
I almost swooned.
She was standing in the door to the walk-in closet, backlit by the closet light adding dramatic contrast. But what took my breath away, what left me lightheaded, was her erection that showed, in that way only a man can, how much she wanted me.
She was standing, hipshot in the doorway, her left hand up, leaning against the doorframe. And her grin was the grin of a man who has finally bedded the gurl he's been after.
I couldn't look away any more than I could stop my hips from rocking or my legs from spreading, offering myself to her.