Hollie

Hollie by Stephanie Silver (sjtw69@yahoo.com)

Chapter Five -- My Life Changes

The next day, a Saturday, Hollie said she needed to go shopping, and suggested that I come along.

"I wanted to watch the football game," I protested mildly.

She laughed. "That sounds like something a guy would say. Not you. I'll buy you something," she coaxed.

"What?"

"Something," she repeated. "Just come with me. It'll be fun."

In the car - Hollie drove since it was her idea - she said, "Paul asked me to get something sexy to wear next time we have sex."

I wondered how many other husbands ever heard their wives say something like that. I wondered how many other husbands heard it and got turned on by the idea of their wives having sex with another man. "What are you going to get?" I asked.

Hollie pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Well, I thought for sure we'd try Victoria's Secret. They're the best place for getting sexy things. After that we'll try Frederick's of Hollywood. They have sexy stuff, but it's always more expensive. And if we can't find what we're looking for at either of those places, we'll try the Blue Boutique over on State Street."

"What are we looking for? I asked.

She looked at me with a wink and mischievous smile. "I was thinking about getting a garter belt outfit and some stockings."

Something in her look made me think she had more in mind than what she was saying.

It happened that we came to Frederick's first, so we stopped there. "Let's just see what they have," she said. "And then we can compare prices at the next store."

It turned out they didn't have anything Hollie wanted, although I was certainly intrigued. Everything was just so damn sexy and cute. They had bras in dozens of styles, panties in every color and style imaginable, bustiers, sheer nightgowns, and on and on and on. I couldn't help being mesmerized by the metallic silver bra and hot pants on the mannequin in the store window. Hollie noticed and came over with a grin, "You like that?"

I blushed. "Yeah."

"You want it?"

I had other girl clothes of my own by then, but not a lot, so getting something that was specifically mine and not something I had to borrow from Hollie was still a very special moment in my life. "For me?" I asked, hardly daring to imagine that's what she meant. "They probably don't have it in my size."

She chuckled. "You might be surprised." She stepped back and looked me up and down, sizing me in her mind. "I'll bet a large would fit you. You have really narrow hips," she said. "We'd have to measure you for the bra."

She turned to the clerk and I blushed deep red with embarrassment because I knew what she was going to say before the words even came out of her mouth. "Can you measure him for a bra?"

"Sure," said the young, attractive girl at the counter, as if she measured guys for bras every day. I don't know. Maybe she did. She reached in a space below the cabinet and brought out a measuring tape. "You'll need to take your coat off," she said, "And raise your arms up to shoulder height." She made a T-shape with her arms, showing me what she wanted me to do.

A moment later I was standing in the middle of the store with a tape measure around my chest while Hollie and Laurie, the store clerk, figured out what size bra I needed. "Well, his chest is thirty-seven inches but his bustline is thirty-eight and a half," said Laurie, "So he probably wants a 38A, but they usually don't make anything smaller than a B-cup in that size."

Bustline!? Me!?

"You could get him a 38B, and just stuff the cups for him," she went on. "Or a lot of bras have soft cups and those work better for girls with smaller size breasts." She looked at me with an apologetic grin and added. "Or guys."

I didn't know what was more embarrassing - being measured for a bra, or being talked about as if I wasn't there, like some child being taken shopping by his mother. It occurs to me that through most of this story I keep coming across as some kind of wimp, afraid to speak up for himself, but I honestly don't think that's an accurate portrayal of the way I was. There are situations in which I can and do speak up for myself, and this was one of them. It was the part about being ignored that bothered me the most, so I decided to say something, anything, just to let them know I was there. "I'd rather have the soft cups," I said, trying to be forceful.

Okay, well, it didn't quite work, but at least I had tried. And at least I was able to get Laurie to talk to me about the bra I wanted. "This bra doesn't come in soft cups," she said. "It only comes in large, medium, or small. I'd say you need to try the large, and then just do what you can with the cups." Turning to Hollie she explained, "It's really not meant for small-busted girls. Or guys. They expect you to fill it up pretty well."

Hollie looked at me helplessly. "Do you still want to get it?"

I took a long look at the store mannequin. Never before, in all my life, had an article of clothing, men's or women's appealed to me as much as this one did. "Yes," I said, blushing. Was I really in Frederick's of Hollywood saying that I wanted to purchase a very sexy article of women's clothing for myself? It didn't matter. I had to have it. I didn't care if I'd only half-fill the cups. I still wanted it.

"Are you sure?" asked Hollie. "It's not going to fit very well around your chest."

I shrugged. "I know. I don't care. I still want it."

She looked at me, obviously surprised by my forcefulness. I suppose if I could have been that way about something other than a sexy new outfit, it might have actually saved our marriage. As it was, it got me an outfit that was, and has always remained, one of my very favorites.

Next was Victoria's Secret. "That's it," said Hollie as soon as she saw it. Hanging on the back wall was a lavender bustier top with matching panty and garter straps. It was Hollie's signature color.

The top was made of lace with heavy supports to make it into a corset. The panty, I noticed, was a sheer thong. We both touched the fabric, and I suddenly realized that, much like her decision to have sex with Paul a day earlier, the decision to purchase this particular article of clothing had already been made. Touching it and examining it was nothing more than a formality. "What about stockings?" I asked naively. "Won't it be hard to find them in this color?"

Hollie grinned, knowing how much I had to learn about women's clothes. "Just keep watching," she assured.

When the clerk arrived, Hollie told her she wanted the bustier/garter set and stockings. Without being asked, the clerk opened a drawer below the display, sorted through a number of labeled packages until she found what she was looking for. She removed the package and handed it to Hollie who glanced at it to make sure it was right, and then handed it to me. "There you go," she said.

In my hands was a package of sheer stockings that I realized exactly matched the outfit Hollie was buying. And then I heard her say to the clerk four words that literally stunned me. "We're going to need two."

"Two stockings?" asked the clerk.

"Two of everything," said Hollie.

The store clerk glanced at me, somehow figuring out who the second set was for. What amazes me is that she figured it out without needing to be told while I had no idea who the second set was for until I saw the clerk's disapproving glance. In fact I had to glance at Hollie and silently ask, "Me?"

Hollie told the clerk our sizes, "I need the top in a medium. He needs a large. For the panty we both need a medium."

"Do you want the queen-size stockings?" she asked, emphasizing the word queen. "Because if you do we'll have to special order them. We don't normally carry them in this store."

Again, I hated how she ignored me and talked to Hollie, so I interrupted. "I'm okay with regular size stockings," I assured her. Okay, it was a bit of a guess, but I'd already worn some of Hollie's stockings, her older ones of course, but she had never mentioned anything about me needing a special size. I glanced at Hollie as I spoke to make sure she was ready to correct me if I was wrong. She smiled and gave me a reassuring nod as the clerk hesitated briefly and then opened the drawer to get stockings for me.

On our way back to the car, Hollie remarked, "God, Cammie, you were so different in there. When you told that lady in Vcitoria's Secret that you wanted regular size stockings, I saw a part of you I never saw before."

I didn't know if that was a compliment or not. I suppose, like I say, if I could have been that way about something besides lingerie and sexy clothes, it might have changed our marriage. "I just didn't like the way she kept talking about me like I wasn't there," I said.

I knew Hollie was turned on by the way she took my hand and held it as we walked the rest of the way to the car.

I guess I knew I'd be wearing the lavender bustier and garter outfit in front of Hollie sometime soon after we returned home. I sort of expected it to be that night, but Hollie had other plans. When I asked her if I should try it on, she gave it only a moment's thought before saying, "Let's have you wait awhile on that. I've got something in mind I think you'll like."

During all of what was going on in my life, I guess my cross-dressing gene got tweaked somewhere, so by the next Friday I was anxious to try on the lavender bustier and garters. I was looking forward to putting on the sheer stockings, and to feel the soft bite of a garter strap stretched tightly across my bum. A few times I considered asking Hollie if I could wear it. Of course, if I had, it would have come across as begging. I don't suppose that's what kept me from asking. Maybe. I don't know. I guess by then it was pretty obvious who really "wore the pants" in our house, and it obviously wasn't me. I could have asked, or begged, but Hollie had made it clear to me when she said she had something in mind for it. There didn't seem to be a point in asking. I just had to wait.

Meanwhile, I was able to wear my silver hot pants and bra outfit. I loved wearing it while I vacuumed. It quickly became my favorite outfit to wear. Partly, I suppose, because it was mine, and whenever I wore it, it made me feel suddenly independent and confident.

I realized, though, that something was missing, and I somehow knew just what that something was - boots. Knee high silver boots with a six-inch heel and a platform sole. Had I seen them somewhere along the way? Probably. I didn't remember seeing them on the store mannequin. Has a store ever put boots on a mannequin to help display an outfit? Not that I could ever recall. But somewhere I'd seen the boots I described, and somehow I knew they were the perfect addition to my outfit.

It was the next Sunday when I finally decided to tell Hollie what I wanted. "Hey, you know what I want?" I asked as we were lying in bed reading the newspaper. I was slowly going through the advertising brochures, lingering on the women's fashion pages, but keeping an eye out for footwear. When I finally found an ad that had boots in it, even though they weren't silver metallic or high-heeled platforms, I held the page open and asked my question.

"What's that, Cammie?" she asked with a sweet, sexy smile.

"I want to make out with you," I said, temporarily forgetting what I wanted to ask.

She gave me a grin. "Okay."

And we did. Right there on top of the scattered newspapers. For... oh, at least twenty minutes. I suppose I would have liked for it to end with sex, the way it used to, before I started wearing women's clothes and Hollie started dating - I mean having sex with other men.

But, as they say, that ship had sailed, and Hollie's pussy was no longer available to me. When we parted, I felt extremely horny and frustrated. "Hollie, I want to have sex again," I cried.

Yes, cried. I think I even had tears in my eyes.

Hollie gave me a sympathetic look, and for awhile I thought she might be considering changing her mind. Finally she said, "You know I don't want to do that with you anymore, Cammie. But, why don't you jerk off in front of me, and tell me what you'd like to do if I let you."

And so, still wearing the nightgown that I slept in, I hiked the skirt up to my waist and pulled my black see-through panties aside. My cock was throbbing as I began to stroke it while Hollie watched. "I want to see your tits and then stick my cock inside your pussy," I said, trying to talk dirty.

Hollie laughed. "I don't think you should call it a 'cock' anymore, Cammie."

I kept stroking, feeling embarrassed, but now afraid to stop without her permission. "Why not?" I asked.

"It's too little to be a cock," she said. "Besides, you're wearing panties and one of my nightgowns. It's really more of an overgrown clitoris. Don't you think?"

If her words were intended to humiliate me, they had the reverse effect. Like I say, somewhere along the way my cross-dressing gene had gotten tweaked, and... Okay, maybe a part of me was already thinking I'd be happier being a woman. So stroking myself, and wearing her clothes, and hearing her describe my erection as being more like a clitoris... well, it just got to me. It aroused me. And I think she knew all along that's what would happen. Because, as strange as it sounds, as much as it might not sound like she did, I think Hollie really did care about me. She loved me. She wanted me to be happy.

And I'll even go one step further and say that at that moment, stroking myself - stroking my boy-clit in front of her while I was wearing panties and a nightgown... Well, it's hard to say it was a turning point in my life because I was already heading that direction. But it was like a milestone. Or a point of no return. Or a signpost telling me where I was headed and that I might as well sit back and enjoy the ride.

I started cumming right away. Hollie had me catch as much of it as I could in my hand, although I missed a few drops that landed on the newspapers, and then had me lick it all off. I'd done that before, of course, so it didn't take a lot of coaxing. Once I had it in my mouth she pulled me closer and kissed me while we exchanged the slippery, gooey mess back and forth several times.

When at last our lips parted, and both of us had swallowed at least part of my cum, she grinned at me and said, "You kind of like eating cum, don't you?"

I blushed. "It's okay," I said.

Hollie laughed. "It's okay if you like it, Cammie. Remember that first time we kissed right after I just finished sucking your dick?"

"Uh, yeah, I guess so," I said. All right, it was a memory I don't think I could ever forget.

"I knew then you were different," she said. "Most guys hate to kiss you right after you suck them. Like it might mean they're gay. But you liked it, I could tell."

I smiled, remembering the moment. "It was sexy," I admitted with a shrug.

She looked at me silently for a long time before asking, "Why was it so sexy?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. It was just sexy kissing you knowing my dick had been in your mouth. It just seemed extra sexy."

"Was it as sexy as kissing me when you knew I'd had Paul's dick in my mouth?"

I thought for a minute, comparing the two kisses. "I don't know," I said finally. Both kisses had been sexy for slightly different reasons. There was no way for me to rate one above the other."

Hollie looked at me some more, suddenly making me very aware of how I was dressed. And suddenly realizing that I liked being dressed the way I was, and would have been unhappy if, for some reason, she had said we'd gone too far, and it was time for me to quit dressing like a girl and go back to acting like a man. And that's when I remembered the boots.

"Hollie, let me show you what I want to buy," I said, surprising myself with my own display of self-confidence.

I searched through the newsprint until I found again the ad for the boots I had held open earlier. "I want some boots," I said, pointing at the picture, making it clear I was talking about boots designed for women and not boots meant for men.

"Like these?" asked Hollie with mild surprise.

"No, I want them to match... my silver hot pants and bra," I said. I said it quickly, before I could chicken out.

Hollie smiled. "Okay."

"With high-heels and a platform sole," I added.

Hollie looked at me with surprise, but also with a touch of admiration. Maybe. I'm really not sure, but possibly for the first time, she realized how much I'd changed. We must have looked in every shoe store in the mall, but we finally found them at Thom McAn, of all places.

The store clerk, Rob, was very helpful. Of course, he thought we wanted the boots for Hollie. When he asked what size we needed, I'm sure I turned a shade of crimson when Hollie said, "You should probably measure him."

Rob gave me a questioning look as I silently nodded that he'd heard correctly. As if the color of my face wasn't enough of an indication. Without a word to make it sound unusual, he had me sit down and take off my shoe while he brought the measuring device over. I noticed he had me sit on the ladies' side of the store, instead of on the men's side. I suspect he did it more from habit than anything else - since the boots I wanted were women's boots, and were on that side of the store, it only made sense for me, the customer, to sit on that side of the store as well. It was only a matter of a few feet, of course, but symbolically it seemed a lot further.

He measured my foot, and said, "Size ten." With some relief he added, "That's good, because we don't normally carry women's shoes in sizes beyond that." I noticed he directed the comment to Hollie, like the other sales people had done in the lingerie stores. I guess it just made them more comfortable to deal with Hollie about women's clothing issues than to deal with me, even though I was the actual customer they were trying to fit.

While we waited for Rob to return with a shoe in my size, another customer came in and began looking at tennis shoes. When it became obvious he was going to be there awhile, I started to wonder what he might think if he looked over and saw me trying on a high-heel platform boot meant for a woman. I glanced at Hollie, who shrugged, knowing what my dilemma was, but offering no solution. If I wanted boots, I'd just have to get used to it.

Because they had such a high heel, I had to put on both boots before I could stand up and make sure they fit correctly. Of course Rob squeezed the toe of the boot as I stood there, watching the other customer, and declared the fit "a little tight, but probably the best you're going to do."

"Walk around in them," Hollie suggested.

I now had the full attention of the other shopper, although he was doing his best to conceal it, as I looked at her doubtfully. "I don't think I can," I said.

"Try it," she said gently.

You read a lot in TG stories about how much practice it takes to walk in heels. I won't say I was instantly graceful, but I never got the feeling I was going to fall down or turn an ankle in them. They felt different, but surprisingly comfortable. I knew the other shopper was watching me while he pretended to study a Nike. From the corner of my eye I could sense that if we were to stand back-to-back, or face-to-face, I would tower over him by a couple of inches. I guess it was the bald spot on the top of his head, of which I was now getting a birds-eye view. I mean, I suppose I should have felt humiliated, walking around Thom McAn's in high-heel boots, but instead I felt superior. I felt that sense of empowerment and confidence that I'd felt the first time Paul had seen me in a dress that night.

"How do they feel," asked Hollie.

"They feel nice," I admitted. "They're..." I hesitated, surprised at what I was about to say, "... just what I wanted."

Okay, I started this chapter intending to tell about something else, but got distracted by those silver boots. Let me see if I can get back on track.

It was Friday night. Actually it was Friday morning. "I'm going on a date with Paul this evening," said Hollie.

"Okay, where are you going?" I asked. I realized I was asking the way you might ask a roommate, and not in a defensive, cheated kind of way.

She hesitated just a second before saying, "It's just a workout at the gym and then a quick dinner at some restaurant, and then we're coming back here."

"Here?" I asked, surprised. I hadn't expected that.

She looked at me steadily for a second or two, wordlessly letting me know what their plans were once they got to our apartment. Before I could ask if she wanted me to be somewhere else, she answered that question by saying, "I want you to wear that new outfit tonight. Okay?"

"The purple one?' I asked, knowing that's what she meant. "With the garters?"

"Yes, that one,"

"Should I wear the stockings, too?" I asked, still trying to figure out what she had in mind that involved me wearing that. Of course, I have to add that there was no question in my mind about doing it. That was a given. I only wanted to know why.

"The whole thing," she said, and kissed me softly. On the lips. Pulling away softly, gently, lingering as if she wanted the kiss to continue, but time prevented it.

"The panties, too?" I had to ask.

She nodded.

"Should I wear something over it?" I asked.

"Only if you want to. Just make sure it's something you can take off easy, okay?"

When Paul and Hollie arrived shortly after eight o'clock, I was wearing lavender stockings with the garter, panties and bustier beneath a short black mini-skirt I'd borrowed from Hollie, and one of my white button-front shirts. As I was getting ready, it occurred to me how clothing-challenged I was, and I resolved to start changing that. As an added touch, responding to a whim, I added a liberal amount of Hollie's lilac-scented perfume, which made me feel even more feminine.

Since Paul had seen me wearing a skirt and blouse before, I wasn't quite as nervous as I would have been otherwise. Hollie led him over to the love seat where she sat very close to him and held his hand while we talked about their workout. I had a moment there where I was thinking about how I was watching my wife flirting and holding hands with another man and how that was supposed to make me angry or something, but the feeling went away as quickly as it came. Paul's arm was around Hollie's shoulders and I noticed that her hand was already caressing the inside of Paul's muscular thighs through his jeans, and I suddenly realized she was planning on having sex with him right there in front of me.

I remembered what she had told me before about her first time with Paul, that she knew before the date even started that they were going to have sex. I glanced at Hollie for a moment and caught her eye, wondering if this was the same thing and that she already knew what was about to happen. I can't say that she confirmed my suspicions, but I saw the corners of her mouth kind of turn up in the beginnings of a naughty, lustful smile, and sensed we were both thinking the same thing.

Like I say, I don't know what the proper response is when you know that your wife is about to have sex with another man. I'm pretty sure most guys would be angry. I wasn't. I was... fascinated. I was aroused. I wanted to watch.

But, before any of that could happen, Hollie needed to go change, leaving me alone with Paul for a few minutes. "How was dinner?" I asked. As I listened to his reply, smiling and doing my best to look cute and sexy and pretty and feminine, I suddenly realized that I was actually more comfortable talking to him dressed as a girl than I would have been talking to him dressed as a guy. It had to do with that sense of empowerment. Or a feeling that, if we were both dressed as guys that I'd feel like we were competing in some way. Or something. And maybe that's where knowing that he had already once had sex with Hollie and was about to have sex with her again right in front of me in my very own house gave me a feeling of inferiority if I thought of myself as another man. But dressed as I was, I just didn't see myself as a man, and I didn't see Paul as my competition, for Hollie or anything else, and I guess it's that feeling that allowed me to feel

completely comfortable and at ease with him.

For the briefest of moments, as those thoughts were going through my mind, I entertained the idea of asking, "So, are you going to fuck the hell out of my wife?" Just to see his reaction. Just for the fun of it. Just to demonstrate my ability to not feel threatened by it. The moment passed without my comment, though, and Paul continued telling me about dinner.

Hollie returned. She was dressed as much like me as she could manage -- with a short black skirt and a white blouse. The important thing, I noticed, was that she was wearing purple stockings, and I knew that underneath our skirts and blouses we were dressed exactly alike.

She took her seat next to Paul again, her hand returning to its original position tucked intimately between his thighs. Paul put his arm around her again, confidently I noticed, inhaled deeply and said, "Mmmm, you smell nice."

"It's Lilac," said Hollie, glancing at me with a soft smile. I knew she had smelled the same perfume on me.

Paul's confidence surprised me a little. I guess he had felt something similar to what I had felt when I sensed that lack of competition between us. Hollie was all his and it seemed we both knew that.

Hollie and Paul started touching each other more intimately, feeling one another and somehow moving even closer together if that was at all possible. And then they were kissing. One soft, tender kiss, and then hungry, passionate, open-mouthed kisses. I saw Hollie's hand caressing the bulge in Paul's pants. That huge bulge. Even with his pants still on, I knew he was bigger than anything I ever imagined.

I shifted a little uncomfortably, not sure what my role was. Did she want me to just watch? Part of me felt I should give them privacy. A small part. The rest of me knew that's exactly what Hollie wanted. It was the reason I was dressed the way I was. And it occurred to me then that when Hollie's skirt and blouse came off, mine would do the same, for she intended that we look alike that evening.

And when Paul's hand began caressing Hollie's butt, and I saw his fingers searching for the hem of her skirt just inches away, I knew Hollie's clothes were going to be coming off before the night was over. I felt my dick, my over-sized clit, growing harder. I wanted to help him. Show him where the hem of her skirt was so he could lift it up. I felt my breath slow, to the point where it felt like I was barely breathing. At the same time my heart was pounding with excitement and I could feel the excitement in my chest. I willed his fingers lower.

As if in response, his hand dipped, grabbed the hem of Hollie's skirt and pulled it up. One inch. No take it off! I wanted to scream. Instead his hand dove beneath the dark fabric and began caressing the straps holding her stockings up. The same straps I was wearing. I closed my eyes, suddenly wishing it was the straps of my stockings that were being caressed.

Paul's hand traced the strap all the way from the top of Hollie's stocking to her hip, lifting her skirt up in the process. I could see the muscles of her butt working and flexing as she writhed against him, forcing her tongue deep into his mouth and urging him with quiet moans to go further.

Paul's strong arms literally pulled Hollie onto his lap, where she straddled him, her skirt no longer doing anything to cover her. I could see her luscious, panty-clad ass plainly. "Unzip me," Hollie urged, taking her lips from his just long enough to get the words out.

I thrilled to the sound of her zipper coming down. With a look that can only be described as pure lust, she stepped off and let her skirt fall to the floor at Paul's feet. At the same time I quietly unzipped my own skirt and slid it to the floor as well.

Hollie was half-standing, half-sitting on Paul's legs, her breasts thrust toward him. "Help me get my blouse off," she said.

Paul's hands quickly moved to undo the buttons of her blouse, while mine did the same with the buttons on mine. With the last button undone, Hollie and I shrugged off our blouses at the same time.

Hollie sank to her knees between Paul's legs, pushing his knees apart as she began tugging at the belt holding up Paul's pants. "I want to suck your dick," she said hungrily.

"I want that too, baby," breathed Paul as he sat back and let Hollie take over for awhile.

He glanced at me, as if only then noticing that I was there, and dismissing me just as quickly. I watched Hollie quickly and expertly open up his pants, exposing his rigid member, and suddenly realized Hollie's true plan. Not only were we dressed the same, I was also going to be doing the same things she did. I was going to get my first taste of cock.

I looked back at Paul, wondering if he knew. How could he know? He was a man. And men are always the last to know what's really going on.

Hollie started, drawing Paul's length slowly into her mouth, eliciting a groan of pleasure from him in the process. When Paul's head tilted back and his eyes closed, I knew just what to do. I quickly got up and moved to Paul's side as if seeking a better view. Paul opened his eyes with a small amount of surprise. He probably thought I was going to join them. Okay, that's exactly what I was going to do. But not yet. Timing is everything, and I knew it wasn't time. At least not yet.

I watched Paul's massive cock slide in and out of Hollie's lips. The look on her face was one of pure delight. Was it really that pleasurable to have a man's cock in your mouth?

I looked back at Paul, whose eyes were now closed. It was obvious from this angle that he was enjoying himself. From personal experience I knew he was.

Hollie sucked for at least a full minute before stopping and coaxing me closer for a deep passionate kiss. She shoved her tongue into my mouth as I pushed my tongue into hers. I felt the same erotic excitement I'd felt that very first time she'd kissed me after sucking my dick. I couldn't actually taste anything that I could positively define as the taste of Paul's cock, but it was the very idea that his cock had been in her mouth just moments earlier that was so arousing to me.

She continued sucking, and I moved closer. This time she stopped sucking after only a half a minute or so, and we kissed deeply again. We repeated that again and again, each time with me getting closer to where Hollie, and I, wanted me to be.

Eventually we were kissing just inches away from Paul's throbbing cock. I could literally see it pulsating with each beat of his heart. This time, as our lips began to part, Hollie seemed to pull me over so that my lips just brushed the tip of his cock as we separated. On the next kiss, she merely stopped sucking and opened her mouth leaving it right there next to the head of Paul's cock so that the head of his cock became involved in our kiss.

She sucked some more very briefly, and then opened her mouth again for my kiss, this time a little further down on the shaft. I tried to put my lips on hers but it was impossible to avoid the mass of flesh between us. Instead we ended up licking the shaft of his cock as our tongues searched out trying to find each other.

Hollie slowly moved her mouth and frolicking tongue, upward so that we were doing the same thing at the tip of Paul's cock. I knew I was actually licking the tip of his cock now and then because I could feel the slit. Hollie slowly pulled her lips away, and mine naturally seemed to follow. Until they were too far away to reach and the only thing left for me to do was kiss the hard, rigid cock beneath me.

"What the hell," I thought, and slowly parted my lips wider, letting his cock slide inside.

Hollie let me suck for a couple of seconds and then insisted on another kiss. After each kiss, she let me go back to what I was doing until I was sucking Paul's dick as naturally as could be.

With a naughty giggle she asked, "Do you like that, Cammie?"

"Mmm hmm," I moaned, not wanting to interrupt what I was doing.

I busied myself sucking Paul's dick while Hollie busied herself kissing his lips and letting him fondle her breasts. As he got closer to orgasm, he exclaimed, "I'm getting ready to cum, baby. Maybe you better warn your husband."

Hollie took over at that point, bringing Paul to his climax. I was close enough to see the quick double thrust that marked his climax and told me he was shooting his load into her mouth. I could see the vein beneath his shaft swell with each spurt. I can only say that it was the most incredible thing I'd ever witnessed to that point.

With her mouth still tasting of Paul's cum, Hollie pulled me close again for another kiss. This time I could definitely taste the presence of another man there. The taste was much stronger than it had been the week before when I'd licked his cum from her pussy. And infinitely more arousing.