The Birthday Gift

The Birthday Gift

(Part 3)

Warning: This story is a work of fiction and contains descriptions of explicit homosexual acts between women and men.  If this type of

content offends you or you are under the age of 18 do not read it.

Author's Note: This story is the property of the author. It can be

downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending

to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at your

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Copyright 2008 Dec, All Rights Reserved.

I had taken the memory of my recent, and locked it deep away in the darkest recess of my mind. Maybe if I tried to forget the events, then they would go away? A month had slid by, nothing further had happened and the knot in my stomach wasn’t quite so ever present. There were mornings when I would wake, and my mind would not replay those images. But then there were the dark hour, when I would lay in our bed and my body would betray the thrill I had felt that day, then a wetness and arousal would make my fingers itch.  I would lay there in the dark, my fingers immersed deep into that torrent, and the humiliation being replayed as I came alive to the lustful events that I had taken part in.

My husband, Pete, and I had agreed a silent truce on the events. We carried on as before my birthday. We had little or no contact with Mary and John. We went to work, came home, ate, and talked about the dull stuff that marriage is comprised of. Our sex life was nonexistent. We both sensed that to fuck would force us to face up to our humiliations. If we didn’t talk about it then hell maybe it never happened. The red dress was dropped into one of those charity sacks that drop through letter boxes, and was now off to Africa, where it would be worn by someone else.

The working week had been the same as usual and Saturday morning arrived with relief. A leisurely breakfast, then off to the supermarket. Pete had made coffee and was sat reading the days newspaper, while I read the supplements. There were days when life wasn’t so bad.

Pete looked up as the door bell rang, and then looked across at me. His expression asked me to make the effort, reminding me of what a lazy sod he can be at times. I threw him a scathing look, and made my way to the front door.

I was faced by two people, about our ages. The male was holding a small case, and was well dressed in a smart suit and tie. He was not bad looking, but his companion was a vision. She to wore a business suit, a short skirt and long nylon encased legs ran down to some expensive looking high heals. “Good Morning” she smiled as she spoke. God bible bashers! Hardly a charitable thought, but it was the last thing I wanted. “I am sorry but…” I replied, smiling and making to close the door in their faces. “I think maybe…” but the closing door shut the words off, or it would have if it manage to fully close it. I looked down to see what the obstruction was. An expensive high heal was between the door and frame, preventing its closure.

“John and Mary say hello. They wondered how rent boy and whore are doing” My face reddened, and the dark recesses where the memories been locked away, now sent those taboo thoughts rushing to the fore. A hand pushed at the door and it swung open, my resistance being token and futile. My two bible bashers stepped though, making me step back into the sitting room. The front door was closed and followed me in.

Pete looked up from his paper. “Morning?” he asked, a puzzled look on his face. “Pete, these…” my words were cut off, by a raised voice telling us to “shut the fuck up”. My ‘macho’ husband raised himself from the chair, letting his paper drop down on to the coffee table. His mouth opened to voice a protest, but the words “how’s rent boy?” made his face reddened, a redness that matched my own. His mouth open to speak, but no words were coming out.

“We can do this two ways.” Our female guest informed us. “You can been silly and we leave. But I would have the pleasure of some nice You Tube viewing later on, or you can strip and obey. Simple choice and your last free one to make”. Our guests looked us over and waited for our answer. My mind ran various scenarios though, but no matter how I played it, I could see now way out. Resistance was futile. Pete’s mind seemed to have run a similar chain of thoughts, as he was the first to start undressing. He reluctantly lifted his polo shirt over his head and his hands unfastened his trousers belt. My fingers shook as they removed my own clothing, and goose bumps covered my skin. Not from cold, but from a sense of excitement, an excitement that was mixed with sheer panic at what lay head.

Peter stood next to me, naked as the day he was born. He never was the hairiest of men, and his man hood was to say the least, small. I had always been proud of my body and over the years had fought to retain some of my figure. The female bible basher looked me over, her eyes taking every detail of my shaven mound, of my small but well formed breasts and of my nipples. My arousal was to clearly betrayed by their first signs swelling. Her eyes were no longer innocent, but gave stares of pure lust and intent.

“Pete says you give a fine blow job sissy boy” her companion said, as he opened the suit case. He removed a small tripod, erected it and then mounted a camcorder on to it. “It would be so nice to have a photographic record of today” she said laughing. “Both of you kneel” she added. We barely hesitated, as we dropped to our knees. “Now darling” she said looking over at me, “remove my panties”. Part of me wanted to get up and walk out, but a larger part made my shaking hands seek the flimsy material beneath her skirt. I eased them down over hear smooth stocking encased legs. They were thin, almost transparent and white. “Stand up boy” Pete was commanded and he lifted up self up to stand beside me. “Now please darling, help sissy boy to step into her new panties”. I looked at the thin material of the gusset, took in the stains that hinted at how long they had encased her pussy, and arse hole. I held the leg holes open as Pete made to step into them. I looked straight ahead, his pathetic man hood showing the first signs of arousal, as I dressed my husband in a strangers soiled and stained panties.

Shaving my own legs had always been a chore, but one a girl is expected to undertake. But I had never foreseen the day when I would be ordered to shave my husbands. I had always joked he had better legs then mine, but as the razor cut through the shaving foam, I realised how true the jibe was. Her legs looked smooth and silky when free of their fair hair, and her arm pits were also treated to the same process. Shaving round his sad penis was a new experience for me, but one I completed with no nicks or cuts. Next he shaved his own face twice and now we stood once again before the bible bashers, both of us naked, both smooth skinned, he never had boasted a hairy chest, and wearing identical panties. Mine had come, compliments of the suit case they had brought with them. My husband’s panties boasted a small bulge of arousal, and I had to confess to butterflies of excitement within my own stomach. The next task was bright red nail varnish which we were ordered to apply to each other. Like two lesbian lovers, we knelt in turn and painted each others nails with the shinny red gloss. As I knelt I could not help but watch as the bulge in sissy boys panties strained at the thin white material of her panties

The suit case next yielded two pairs of barely black hold ups and once each was handed to sissy boy and to me. The next step was all too obvious and we both sat down side by side on the sofa, sliding our arms into the first of the hold ups. Then scrunching then up, we slid our toes into the opening, before we slid the sheer material up our smooth legs. Like two sisters we watched each other as we straightened the creases out and ensured all was smooth and even. Then we repeated the process with the second hold up.

The case next yielded a bra to match our panties and silicon breasts moulds for sissy. Their skin tone seemed to have been selected with care to complement his own skin, and the adhesive backing made for a smooth and even edge where the silicon touched his skin.

I could not help but think how amazing she looked, the she that had been my husband. My own arousal was less obvious but it was something I could no longer deny to myself. I was so turned, on watching him becoming 'she', becoming my twin sister.  Two short black dresses that barely covered our hold up lace up tops were next, and we took turns to zip each other up. How they had found black 6” heals to fit her I know not, but she soon stood there beside me, dressed from the neck down identically to me. From our shiny PVC high heals, and barely black legs that vanished under the dresses short black hem. The plunging neck line, which served to highlight our cleavages. The only difference was my sister’s arousal, while not full, was noticeable.

“Something is missing” the lady bible basher muttered as she reached into the case. I should not have been surprised that the wig would be one identical to my own hairs long style, and the make up I applied to her was carefully selected to reflect my own. He, or she looked beautiful and it had not failed to dawn on me that if she did, then so did I.

From outside came a car horn, and bible basher laughed as he said “your rides here”. Ride? They didn’t think for one minute that we would take one step through that door. It was erotic to play sisters in the privacy of our own four walls, but…. There was no way I could see sis taking that step, but then the camcorder was there to record all and I knew we had no real choice.

“You have been booked for a private party at the Clarendon. You’re expected to be there in an hour, so don’t be late. But first…” the bible basher laughed as he walked up to my sister.  He slid his zip down, and from within his trousers he removed his own fully erect cock. “Before you go however, you must show how grateful you are” he smiled, as he traced his fingers along sister’s smooth lips. I turned and saw that his girl friend was sat on the sofa. Her own smooth hair free mound exposed, as she parted her legs to display the wet folds of her lips. Hinting at what was expected of me.

He sat beside her, his cock erect , wet and glistening. Sis and I looked at each other, knowing where each of us was expected to serve. I dropped to my knees, and placed my hands on each of her legs. Sis copied my actions, resting his hands on bible basher’s suited knees. Before each of us was a wet glistening sight of arousal. Both of us no longer felt shame as we eased into wards our heavily scented goals. My tongue sneaked out, my nostrils full of her scent. Sis opened his own mouth, as his lip sank over the hard erect cock, and slowly slid down its length. Sucking it into her pussy mouth like it was the sweetest of lollys. Once the moist head touched the back of her throat, sis started to suck, feeling the trickle of pre cum on her taste buds.

My own tongue traced a line along the wet enflamed lips with its tip, taking the juices into my own mouth. There we knelt, sis with hard flesh deep in her mouth, flesh that twitched to her mouths touch, and me, juices filling my nostrils, sucking each of her lips in turn into my mouth as if they too were two small cocks. I felt her shudder as I brought her to climax, and I could hear a similar reaction by the work of my sister’s tongue. It seemed our two clients climaxed within seconds of each other, and each of us had our heads held in place, while we swallowed the torrent of juices, that had been our result for our service. I looked across at sis, and could see traces of spunk on her chin, and I knew my own face glistened from the honey of pussy juices.

We sat side by side in the taxi that was making its way through the traffic. Our clients had led us to the taxi door, and watched as we climbed into the back seat. Sis struggled with the shortness of her skirt, and the height of her heels. Both new experiences for her, but I noticed how she kept her knees together and sat with her legs at a lady like angle. She would do just fine. The Clarendon awaited us, where we were to entertain. What that comprised I had no clear notion, but I had some interesting ideas.

Feed back is welcome, but please not this is not written as an entry for the Booker prize, so don’t bother to point out spelling, grammar of inconsistency in the plot. It’s purely written as sexual fun. All that said if you take the time to email me I will always reply. Enjoy.

Sharon x