Showered and toweled off, Allen rummaged through his own drawers and closet to put together an outfit with a mix of Jen's migrated clothes and his own. He found a pair of her panties in the back of his own underwear drawer and, clean or dirty, was about to slip them on when he found one of her skirts peeking out from the bottom of a pile of clean laundry, and decided on the spot that he was going to dinner commando, dammit, just because he felt an urge to be naughty.
He slipped the skirt on and adjusted it, then - bonus! - he came across that pair of stockings she'd worn last week and left at his place after a torrid night. They were a dark, smoky gray and subtly striped; a thick seam ran up the back of them He was surprised how easily they slipped on and settled into place.
He found one of her casual but sexy bras and committed himself to stuffing his boobs into it to maximize his cleavage. It took some work, but he'd seen her dress countless times and after a couple tries, he had the boob holster applied mostly correctly. After some tugging and shifting, he had his new rack nicely displayed.
Over the top he threw a striped Oxford from his own wardrobe, with the top three buttons undone to show off his cleavage.
Shoes presented a problem. He examined and rejected a pair of "fuck me" pumps that Jen had cast off in his room a couple weeks ago. He settled for a pair of low canvas espadrilles that didn't quite work with the outfit but wouldn't kill him when he tried to walk in them.
Done, he checked himself in the mirror. Not bad! He quickly laid out some trousers, a tee shirt, cardigan, and underwear to save Jen the trouble of finding things to wear, and went to the kitchen to get another glass of juice. Even after sucking down half a pitcher of lemonade, he was still fucking parched!
Some minutes later, Jen joined him in the kitchen, dressed mostly in what he'd laid out. She'd added one of her own scarves as a foulard that made her look like a fop, but Allen raised no objection. It was actually kind of cute. Her hands clasped behind her back, Jen swiveled left and right on her hips, showing her outfit off as she eyed him from head to toe.
"Fuck! You look hot, Baby," she purred. Then her eyes fell on his feet and she '
tsk
'd sadly. "I was afraid you'd have a problem there. Here, put these on," she said, pulling the "fuck-me" heels out from behind her back.
"I'll fucking fall to my fucking death from those," Allen protested.
She closed the gap between them and bent over slightly to kiss him. "Shh," she soothed, "do it for
me
, Baby! You'll look so fucking
hot
in these! I'll help you. Here!" She got down on one knee and pulled one foot up, removing the frumpy canvas footgear and slipping on the dark, shiny leather high heel.
It
did
feel sexy against his foot. He just didn't know...
She set his foot down carefully. "Now: Use the counter. Get up on that foot and balance."
He did. It didn't seem too unsafe but he was just standing, not trying to walk yet.
Jen took his other foot and swapped shoes, then returned it to the floor. "There. Now just keep yourself centered and stand up!"
Allen pushed off the counter and tottered a moment, then found his balance atop the surprisingly sexy-feeling but still strange and uncomfortable footwear.
"Now walk to me, one foot in front of the other, just like this..." She pivoted and took six measures steps away from him, demonstrating. Allen followed her example, wobbling only once. Apparently, Jen's body was well conditioned to walking in heels. Jen motioned for him to turn around and walk back. He did, successfully.
"See? Easy," she remarked, moving to join him at the kitchen island. "Now," she said, placing one hand on the counter either side of his waist and leaning in to nuzzle her lips against his earlobe, "you look hot as fuck! ...and - fuck! The fucking hormones!...and fuck-knows what other shit you've left me to deal with here! For some reason, I'd like nothing better right now than to bend your hot ass over this counter and fuck the living shit out of you! But we're not going to do that. Not yet. Not now.
Now, I'm gonna take you out to a nice, safe, public place where we can't just smash our naked parts together at every whim, and we're gonna have a nice meal, and a nice chat about just what the ever-loving fuck is going on here! Ok?"
"Ok," he demurs. Then, being just a bit catty, "should I go first so you can see how fucking hot these heels make my gorgeous ass look..."
A beat while she stares into his eyes, then, "Yes! Fuck! Go show that hot ass off you fucking tramp!" Allen sashays out of the kitchen on his 'new' heels without looking back.
She drives them to their favorite spot; a little bistro on the north side with a simple but elegant menu, a well-stocked bar and a deep wine cellar. She orders a double martini, dirty. He orders a Campari spritz. When the drinks arrive, they trade glasses and gulp them down before trading back the empties. They place their meal orders and get refills on their drinks on top of ordering a choice favorite wine to compliment both of their meals. They're Uber-ing home at this point, but to this point they've kept everything normal.
Their orders in, Jen slumps in her chair and flips a hand across the table. Allen takes it tenderly. Tears glisten in her eyes. "Allen? What the fuck!?"
I don't know, Baby! I don't. Maybe... just... We're okay," he says.
"Okay!? Allen! I have a cock! And it's yours! And it's driving me fucking crazy horny!" Her outburst draws attention from the wait staff who subtly alter their trajectories around the house.
"Is this...," she starts. "How long... What if..."
"Jen! Jen! It's okay!"
"Maybe you should start calling me 'Allen' in public, yeah?"
"Honey," he concedes, trying to placate, "Look. We're... This is some pretty fucking weird, fucked-up shit, yeah. But we're in this together, right!?"
"Yeah," she sniffles and smiles at him, "Yeah! We are!"
"Okay, then. Let's count that a win. We've... today has been... well, I for one..." Allen senses he's not getting where he wants to be. She grips his hand and it centers him. He starts again. "Up side," he offers, "I've had some very enlightening insights today that I think have helped me... helped us... grow and become closer, yeah?"
"Allen. I fucked your brains out with your own cock," she says, deadpan. "How... oh. Ok. Yeah, maybe." He gives here time to work out whatever's racing through her mind. Whatever it is slowly slides from her face and she looks at him with new-found resolve. "Ok: Together. As long as that's true I promise not to panic anymore, okay?"
"Okay," he smiles. Their second order of drinks arrive and they sip more measuredly this time.
"So," Allen begins, setting his martini down carefully, "let's assume that this may or may not be a permanent thing, but for right now it's our new reality, with me?"
She nods.
"Okay. Positives?"
"We're in this together," she smiles at him.
"Damned right," he agrees. "What else?"
"Well..." she hesitates.
"Go on," he coaches.
She grins sheepishly at him. "I kinda
did
always wonder what it would feel like to have a cock, I guess..."
"Okay. So. Good..."
"And you," she asks with an expectant burst of empathy, "I can't imagine... how are you... what's it been like for you... Pussies are so fucking complicated. Thank goodness I just got done my period. Hey... that's another plus, maybe! This shit goes on long enough, you'll get to have some real empathy for what that fucking shit is like."
Allen rolled his eyes and groans.
"Okay, so how's it going so far for you," she redirects.
"Well," he allows, "if you hadn't texted when you did, I'd still be playing with these!" He cups her - his hot rack for emphasis, "and diddling myself with the water jets in the shower!"
She giggles. "Damn! You're a fast learner! Took me almost sixteen years to figure
that
one out, you horny cockslut!"
They both chuckle. Then Allen adds, "
Horny
is a mild fucking word for it. Seriously, Jen. Are you... You know how my - your cock won't stay down? This huhu is the same. I'm wet constantly. And I can't stop thinking about cock! Was it like this when you had it?"
"Hmm," Jen thinks. A little maybe? Maybe you're just getting used to it. Maybe we both are and it's just so intense because it's new. Like a second puberty or something."
"I was never
this
constantly horny when I was a teenager. And I was a fucking
