Shiny Pebbles Pt. 02

What I feel is that she's constantly leading me around by my dick, whether in reality, or just mentally. I feel like this can't last forever, because it's so intense, but I might as well go along for the ride.

The clothing and lingerie and female accessories she bought for me during her daring trip to town fit into my Frieda-ness perfectly, and I find myself feeling ever more female.

One day, during play, Frieda pulls out a black strap-on dildo. Oh, of course I knew she had it -- I had gone through all of her belongings long ago. But even though I fantasized her using it on me, I was shy about suggesting it -- because, for one thing, I knew she wouldn't like me pawing through her things.

"Frieda ... Frieda ... look, my dick!" She brings it over and runs her cupped hand suggestively up and down its glistening length. "Wanta fuck? I mean, Frieda wants to be fucked, right? Make you feel even more like a woman?"

She straps it on and it bobs around just like the real thing, and I can't take my eyes off it. Grabbing some ropes, she ties me kneeling over a low coffee table so both my hands and legs are tightly secured to its legs, with my own legs spread apart for easy entry. She lightly sings as she applies some lube to her dick and slides it low past my own, while smoothing my rose-hole with lube.

I have never had my ass penetrated before, even though a gay guy once asked to do it, but I am very ready to lose my Frieda cherry. The dildo is long but fortunately not too thick, and Tamara, still humming and singing, now works it around my little hole, playing with it, and oh, how I love that. Then, just an inch in, then out, then run it up and down between my buns, and back in a little. The tease makes me want more.

I'm wearing a simple bralette without boobs, earrings that jangle around my ears as I move, and my long hair falls nicely around my face. I'm also wearing thigh-high, black patterned nylons. From time to time, Tamara gives my dick or balls a finger-flick, which gets me going even more. My penis is dripping copiously.

Now Tamara proceeds by entering me slowly, saying, "I've only done this with one other person before, the TV anchorwoman!"

She penetrates me more deeply, then withdraws completely again, and applies more lube. Now she's in again, and I feel strangely complete, fulfilled, and one with her. She begins to hold my cock now, and pushes her tool in as far as possible. And stays there.

"Jesus, Frieda, you're so wet with precum."

I say nothing, but push back against her, and I squirm and wiggle to angle her dick around inside me, so I can feel every inch of it. Then she pulls out.

"Oh, please, Tam, stay in. Fuck me, fuck me nice and good."

Which she does, quite slowly and deliciously, still holding on to my big Frieda clit. In and out, back and forth. Filling me ... and owning me.

I have the oddest sensation of building to a climax, but it never quite comes. And then she, almost reading my mind completely, stops thrusting, and runs her clasped hand up and down along my shaft. I come almost immediately in what is probably the most overwhelming climax of my young life.

I collapse onto the table. I'm sweating and breathing heavily. Tam leaves her dick inside for another minute before slowly withdrawing it. I feel thoroughly ... fucked. I've been tied up and taken advantage of ... and now, maybe I understand a little more where Tam comes from.

There's another little episode, or scene, or whatever you might want to call it. Being the writer she is, she cooks up a detailed, scripted, scenario which I am to act out:

As Nathan, after dark, I sneak in the back door of my place with a ski mask on, packing my gun. I spy her sitting on the couch, watching a chick-flick on her laptop. She seems so peaceful and unaware. I silently come up behind her, put my hand over her mouth, and wrestle her to the floor, where I have to fight (only to a point, of course) to secure her wrists quickly behind her with a Teflon tie. I point the gun at her and tell her not to resist. Then, as expected, she cries a little, asking me not to hurt her, even though we both know the tie is already digging into her wrists.

Acting my role to the hilt, I order her to obey me. With the gun in one hand, I force-walk her into the bedroom, push her over onto the top of it, and yank off her pants.

"Please, please don't rape me," she pleads almost convincingly. Then, according to script, I say, "Bitch, you've been asking for this. Your teasing days are over and now you're gonna learn a lesson."

"Oh, I'm so very sorry. I didn't mean to. It's just that I thought I had to be a virgin until marriage."

"Hmmmph," I respond, finding ropes to spread-eagle-tie her legs to the corners of my bed. Then I clip open the Teflon tie and rather forcefully tie each of her wrists to the remaining two corners. She resists only a little. Now she's wide open to me in every which way. I like that.

Still with the ski mask on, I roughly unbutton her blouse and open it wide, exposing her sexy bra, which I slice apart with a knife, letting her beautiful breasts fall into full view. I knead them roughly, and I must admit that my breathing has picked up. Next, I cut her panties off, laying full open her resplendent cunt. As I look at it with interest, she struggles against her ties.

"Please don't. Please don't. I'm still a virgin. I'll do anything ... but that."

"Funny, your pal Roger told me he's had you twice."

Silence.

I let my trousers fall to the floor and my dick's making a big dent in my slinky men's brief, with a wet spot to boot. I pull it down and Tamara sees my organ swinging back and forth.

"Don't hurt me, please!" She pleads. "It's so big, you might hurt me, mister."

But I lay into her, and in it goes, plowing into her very wet and inviting cunt. Her eyes close and flutter, and for a moment I'd swear something's caught in her throat. As I begin to merrily hump away, she struggles against her bondage, and begins to sweat.

"Fuck you, asshole," she cries. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!"

And then suddenly her body arches upward in a powerful climax. She clenches her teeth, shakes her head around violently and makes some crazy animal sounds. And then she lays back, slack and spent.

I continue my push, and a few seconds later I feel myself heading for crescendo. But -- and I've never done this before and I don't know what comes over me -- I withdraw and hand-job my ejaculation all over her chest and face. It's like watering flowers or something.

On five-star rating system, she gives me four. She admits afterward that knowing I was more a Frieda than a Nathan took a little of the edge off the experience, but still: "You're a pretty good actor."

This orgiastic experience marks a turning point for me. I'm finally admitting to myself that I'm moving into Tamara's orbit, as fun as it has often been, while losing the sense of self that brought me here. I've been feeling mixed up about being Frieda, and miss being free and miss the pure pleasures of solitude. I can't picture myself continuing along our present path into the future.

So I finally summon the courage to tell Tam, when I'm in my Frieda persona. She acts like she knew this would happen all along.

"Oh, Frieda. I'm afraid that I've kinda used you for my own ends. Yeah. We've really had fun, though, haven't we? I introduced you to bondage, and you got to like it a little, yeah? And also, you learned that you like to be dominated a little, right?

"But hey, I know you're on a journey, and it doesn't really have anything to do with bondage."

"Well, yes."

"I can see, though, you're telling me you want to be alone; that's it, right? It's time for me to shove off."

"Sorry, but yes."

Tamara moves into Garberville after I give her some grubstake money. She rents a studio apartment, and heads in a new direction as a travel writer. This I learn after having lunch with her one day at the town's sole vegetarian restaurant. I don't probe into her love life, but knowing her, she likely has found someone new to play with.

I don't see her for another six months, but there we are again having lunch after I run into her in the grocery store. Small-town life must be good to her; she looks happier and more relaxed.

"OK, I confess that meeting you today wasn't an accident," she confides. "I know you're a creature of habit and you'd be in shopping today."

"You can always contact me via email."

"Rather have a face-to-face, Frieda."

I hoped that no one else in the restaurant heard that name; I was embarrassed because I was in my Nathan persona. But actually, the restaurant was nearly empty, we were sitting in a booth, and she was keeping her voice low.

"I'm going to advance an idea that I thoroughly expect you to reject, out of hand, Frieda. Call me crazy, call me nutty, but I've dreamed up something that may be of interest." She looks deeply into my eyes and a small, determined smile plays around her lips.

I'm dreading having to disregard her to preserve my life as Frieda, but listen anyway.

"OK, there's something about me I never told you about."

I perk up. "OK."

"When I had my relationship with Juliane, the television woman, I assumed the dominant role. That's what she wanted and needed. There wasn't much bondage involved at all. But slipping into a slightly butch thing with her made me more aware of my male side. I began to dress more masculinely, kept my hair fashionably short, didn't use makeup -- however, I did keep the earrings! My shoes were unsexy and practical, and all that."

"So, why did you split up?"

"She took a job as main news anchor in another market. Too bad, because we had such a nice thing going; we were very compatible, and loved each other. I just didn't want to move; I like California too much."

"So," I say, "I did notice a few things about you. You never style your eyebrows. Your voice is a bit on the husky side. I've never seen you use makeup, up here. You're not a girly girl."

She laughs, "No, Frieda, I'm not a girly girl."

"So, what are you leading up to, Tamara, or Taylor, or Tanner?"

"Very good, that's what Juliane called me, Taylor; one of those nice unisex names. Look, here's my crazy thought. I come to live with you again, as a man, as Taylor. Now I'm not doing this, you know, to cut in on your fortune. I'm doing this because I love the possibilities. I would be your boyfriend, maybe even your husband. I would completely exercise the male in me. I think I would like dressing the part, to be honest."

I'm flabbergasted. This woman is always miles ahead of me, racing, trying to create futures from a tiny speck of an idea.

"And," she adds, "I would definitely take the lead, because I've seen you like to be led -- and not only by your cock!" We both laugh.

"Here's what I think," she adds. "You live as Frieda all the time; even when coming into town here. We would be a couple -- guy and girl."

"Not sure I'd be comfortable with that," I say.

"I've lived here in town for a while," she says. "Practically everyone in town knows you live the two lives, so they wouldn't be very surprised if you gravitated to the one. Besides, people in small towns just need something to talk about."

Leaving that day, I drive home, looking forward to becoming Frieda again. God, why is Tam around to shake things up? I spend three days considering her proposal, and I hate to admit it, but it's the idea of having sex with her as a man that tips the scales toward accepting her proposal.

But only if she/he gives me all the space and time I need to be alone, when I wish to be alone. She/he agrees.

The second night after he moves back in, we're retiring to our bedroom, and there's only the flickering light of a small candle. After I'm in bed in my nightie, Taylor walks in, unbuckles his wide belt, removes his thick levis, work shirt and T-shirt, walks to his dresser, finds his favorite strap-on and slips into it, and then slips into bed. There's the faint odor of men's cologne. I love how his body has slimmed down and muscled out. We kiss, deliciously rub bodies, and he soon enters me. I feel entirely whole, happy and womanly.

I am a very lucky girl. They say that everyone has a perfect partner somewhere, and by some impossible chance, I've found mine.

(end)