Date: Sun, 17 Mar 2002 05:33:16 +0000 (GMT)
From: Justin Silk <pantonius@yahoo.co.uk>
Subject: Paul & Nicole - Part Two. TG

Paul and his French Maid Part Two

Chapter Three: Maid in Heaven

Copyright JustinSilk 2002. All Rights Reserved

"Bonjour, mon homme"

Sunday started as it had not done for many a moon.
I slowly allowed the unfamiliar to permeate my being.

The unfamiliar sound of another's voice.

The unfamiliar scent of a French perfume licentiously
mingling with sweat and spunk.

The unfamiliar squeeze of a soft and sensual hand.

The unfamiliar sense of being loved.

I opened my eyes and found an adoring face smiling at
me.

"G'morning," I lazily sighed and smiled back.
"Aren't you the doll I fucked couple times last
night?" I drawled in my best Sky Masterson Bronxy
voice.

"Five times," breathed Nicole as she took my nose in
her mouth and did extraordinarily erotic things with
her tongue, before letting it drift down over my upper
lip and into my mouth.

I lifted the silk sheet and looked down. No, I hadn't
dreamed it. Nicole had a dick. She liked to call it
her clit, but for me, straight-until-yesterday-boy
Paul, it was a cock, a prick.

"Another stiffy?"

"In my clitty? My clitty h-always like to get stiffy.
Especially now that it have meet your big, hard cock.
Oh, Paul, I have never, ever ad a lover like you. You
are just sooooo sexy."

"Are you a transvestite?" I asked.

"No. I have breasts and I never dress like a man,"
Nicole whispered into my face.  "Would you like to
know my history?"

"Of course, I would. But first I will go and make
coffee."

"But am I not your maid? Am I the maid? If so, I shall
go to make the coffee."

Nicole found croissants in the freezer and returned
with our petit dejourner.

"These are terrible croissants, cheri, but who cares."

We ate our breakfast slowly and sensuously, feeding
each other and sharing kisses between mouthsful of
food.  When we had finished, I reminded Nicole that
she was to tell me about her `history'.

"Ah, yes. Well, I was called Nicolas by my family.
When I was 17 I fell for a boy, Gaston, at the Lycee.
Gaston was one year h'older than me. And, oh, so
`andsome. Usually, I was a very sensible person. But I
had a great passion for Gaston. I must have been
crazy, but one day I told him what I felt.

"Mon Dieu, how stupid.  That night, Gaston and some of
his friends beat me up. It was very terrifying.

Anyway, to be brief, my cousin Chantelle, she heard
what had happened and took pity on me.

"She was 27 and she was a lesbian. She invited me to
her home and asked why I had told Gaston that I wanted
him.

"When I was finished, she said she had guessed that I
was gay, but I protested that I wasn't.  I was born a
boy. I preferred boys more than girls. But ... but ... but
... Any'ow, after a while we worked out that I
worshipped Gaston, not because I was gay and liked --
how you say -- rough trade, but because I thought like
a girl.

"Naturellement, because Chantelle is a lesbian, she
was understanding. She asked if I wanted to be a girl.
She was very protective, knowing that in h'our family
there was not much sympathy for the gay boy. Her
father was brother to my mother. He had a rage against
the homosexual. He had disown Chantelle and she did
not want that I should be badly treated by `im.

"When she was convince that maybe I really knew what I
wanted, she said she would show me how to look like a
pretty girl. How to `ave the operation. How to be a
pretty girl. Etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

"Chantelle and her girl friend - and me -- we had much
fun making me to Nicole. We went shopping in all the
best shops in Paris.

"The funny thing is that I did not want to lose my
penis. I thought I was travesti. And perhaps I was.
Certainly, I would get so hot about being like a girl
and would get so excited just to think about it. I
would buy Elle and Marie Claire and every weekend I
would go to Chantelle's friend's house and change from
Nicolas to Nicole.

"We would go to galleries and theatres and clubs and
bars with me in dresses and make-up. Little by little
my real personality took over and I would have to work
hard at being Nicolas at school.

"Three months later, two weeks after my 18th birthday,
the three of us  decided that I was ready for the
ultimate challenge. The last school dance before I
would go to the Sorbonne I would go as Nicole.

"I was terrified to start with. But I knew I was
gorgeous to look at, en femme or, then, en fillette.

"Chantelle had had the difficulty to keep her hands
from me when she made me up for the dance. Even
before, men in the clubs and bars had never guessed I
was a boy. Some of them knew me, but never realised
that I was Nicolas. Only one, a neighbour, did say
that I reminded him of somebody, but he couldn't say
who it was.

"Any'ow, at the school dance it was essential that
nobody recognise me.  But if they did not recognise
me, they would wonder `who is this beautiful girl and
why is she here? You can't just turn up at a school
dance just like that.

"It was a problem, bien sure.

"It would have been impossible without an escort.

"One other boy knew I was not like the rest. Jacques
Lebouteiller was his name. Jacques was gay. He made
the camping with the scout boys so he could be close
to Gaston, the boy I desired. Jacques was sensitive,
like me, but more sensible. He knew to be careful
about Gaston. In fact, he was much friendly with
Gaston and Gaston had no idea Jacques was gay. I was
the only one he had told -- after I had been beaten by
Gaston and his friends. In fact, he was the one who
found me and took me home."

As she whispered this histoire to me, Nicole started
to stroke my cock. I felt sure she wouldn't finish her
story before I once again had to fuck her. And it
wasn't long before the urgency of my need for her
overtook my fascination with her story.

My cock stroking her prostate and my hands her clitty,
I was falling deeper and deeper in love with Nicole.
And her response told me that, without doubt, her
feelings for me were just as intense. We came
together, my chest and six-pack spreading her semen
over her stomach. Kissing and cuddling, we lay
contentedly in each other's arms. Eventually, I said
"You were saying before I so rudely interrupted you?."

Nicole chuckled. "Your intrusion was very welcome.
Any'ow, where was I?"

"You were telling me about Jacques and Gaston."

"Ah yes. Just before the day of the dance Jacques told
me that `e was scared that Gaston and his friends were
beginning to guess his secret. Gaston keeped on asking
Jacques why he have no girl-friend. Almost every boy
had the girl-friend and every one would take a girl to
the dance. So I say to Jacques that he should take me
to the dance."

Nicole exploded into a peal of piercing laughter. "Of
course, he was horrified.

"`You are crazy,' he said. `If I shall go with you,
they will know that I am gay. They will kill us, tous
les deux ... both of us.'

"So I showed to Jacques some pictures of me en femme.
The look of surprisedness of his face was wonderful to
see."

`This is you? Quoi d'extraordinaire. You can make
yourself to look like this?'

"Certainly I did not have desire of Jacques, but I
liked the idea to go to the dance as Nicole and this
would solve the problem. I suggest to Jacques that he
tell to Gaston that he have met this bad, bad girl at
a bar in Montmartre. I give to Jacques the
photographie and say he will show it to Gaston and say
that he is bringing this girl to the dance."

Nicole's story was intriguing and I could well
understand that men had never guessed her secret.
After all, it had taken me a full hour and a half.

"So on the night of the dance, Jacques comes in a taxi
and brings me to the school from my cousin's home. And
all the boys are looking at me. Perhaps it is rude to
say it, but I was the most beautiful girl at the
dance. How funny that the girl who excite the most
boys has the big cock.

"Jacques and I danced quite a lot, but then, suddenly,
he says that he is not feeling so good. We go outside
for the air and he is very sick. He apologise and asks
if I will mind if he goes home. We call a taxi and I
ask if he wants me to come with him. He says he will
be OK and that I should stay.

"Of course, I am now very scared. Gaston and his
friends keep looking at me. I wonder if they know who
I am. But, of course, they did not.

"Any'ow, now that Jacques is not there I am asked to
dance by many, many, many boys. At last, Gaston was
one of them."

"Did you dance with him?"

"Of course. But can you imagine what it is like to be,
excuse me, beautiful and afraid and to want the most
gorgeous man in the room? I felt so sick."

"And?"

"I teased him mercilessly. I rubbed my thigh into his
crotch. Which I could feel made him very, very `orny.
Me, too. I was frightened that my cock would jump from
my panties or that he would feel it and I would soon
be dead. But you don't want to hear about my
schooldays. Fuck me again mon grand amour."

I thought I did want to hear about her clearly sexy
schooldays, but  since she was coaxing my hand to her
sacred cloister I was reluctant to press her to finish
the story. We returned to the present for the seventh
time in the past eighteen and a half hours.



Chapter Four :  Maid in Heaven

WE spent a lazy day that first Sunday and I lost track
of how many times we made love.

During the afternoon Nicole took a taxi home to `get
some clean knickaires, as she charmingly pronounced
the word, and I took the opportunity to do a few
officey things that I should have done earlier.

Needless to say, I couldn't keep my mind off Nicole.
Particularly that I had made love to a creature with a
cock. Did that make me gay?

As I  sat in my study I considered what lust had
prevented me thinking about during the preceding
hours. Having spent the night with a penissed woman
was, I reflected, slightly alarming, but I couldn't
get away from the fact that the past few hours with
the extraordinary Nicole had been the most satisfying
of my life.

Nicole was every inch a woman. Except that she had a
good eight inch start on most women who look as good
as she.

She was, in fact, a man with silicone breast implants.
Fully-dressed, she looked like a woman. She sounded
like a woman.  And smelled like one, too, except for
the few most intimate minutes when the aroma was
positively male.

On balance and to all intents and purposes, she was a
woman as far as I was concerned.

Not that I was, in the least, for the present anyway,
concerned.

For a few minutes I drifted off into a mental debate
about how you define such things as gender. She hadn't
set out to fool me or take me in. I guessed that she
had given up such delights as gender deception soon
after the school dance she'd told me about.

In her mind she had been a woman for years. I
recalled, probably not exactly, a quotation I'd
learned in childhood. "There is nothing either good or
bad, but thinking makes it so"  As Shakespeare had
written in Hamlet, the mind determines all.

All our perceptions, all our desires, all our fears,
all our `understanding' are formed entirely in our
minds. Most particularly, our prejudices. Our
pre-judgments. And we're all inclined to prejudge,
based on `ideas' that have formed and hard-wired
themselves into our brains, often without even the
briefest thought.

Prejudice is rarely premeditated. How many of us
believe, perhaps in good faith, that our `convictions'
are based on logical observation?

It was likely, therefore, I mused, that Nicole would,
over the coming hours, days, weeks, reveal some of her
own prejudices. Yet so far as her femininity was
concerned, I was sure that it was her instincts, her
courage and her intelligence more than any deviousness
which helped her navigate through life.

I wondered if she wanted to become a full woman. And
it was quite a shock to realise that the last thing I
wanted was for that to happen.

But there was very little chance of Nicole wishing
that.

She had told me, during one of those post-coital
interludes when secrets are shared, how, during her
teens and after she had revealed her desires to
Chantelle, her greatest wish had been to achieve
breasts. "'aving only my chests was limiting. I would
buy some gorgeous clothes and be very excited to wear
them, but my chests spoiled the look. And I did not at
all like the false soutien-gorges. I loved to `ave the
orgasmes from my penis, so I did not wish to fuck
around with the `ormones. Then one day I meet a
danceuse from The Crazy Horse -- she was lover to
Chantelle -and she tell me about the implants. Et
voila!"

I still worried about being gay. Unimaginably, I had
that morning taken her very impressive prick in my
mouth. I had eaten her to climax and although the
first load of her semen had made me gag, I had
swallowed almost all of it. I had certainly liked
having that pulsing stem in my mouth.

It was too early to say that it was `love', but there
was a fair chance that it was full-blooded,
heart-charging, stick-stiffening lust. You can
generally be certain of that.

Tired from the exertions of this new involvement, I
dozed off and it was dark when I was awakened by the
insistent ringing of the intercom.

It took a second or two for the significance of this
to dawn on me. When it did I leapt to my feet and
rushed to the door phone.

"You don't want me h'any more?" whined a voice through
the wires.

"Come on up," I replied.

"Will you please come down and `elp me wiz my
knickaires?"

"Of course. How many are there?" I replied, charmed as
always by her voice and intrigued by the fantasy her
request created.

Grabbing my keys, I slipped on some shoes and went
down to the lobby.

Nicole was wearing a stunning fur coat, under which,
so far as I could tell, she could be naked.

"I have brought my camion."

I  could see no lorry or truck. Outside, by the kerb,
was parked a little Nissan Escargo van.

"Your truck?" I asked. "Where?"

"My snail truck," said Nicole. "The little Nissan
truck."

It was so very Nicole, the unexpected. I would have
guessed at a Citroen 2CV, my own favourite car, had
they still been easily available. Here, I recognised
was a genuine eccentric. A very beautiful eccentric,
to be sure. But an eccentric nonetheless.
Opening the back doors, Nicole revealed that she had
been joking only a little when she had asked for help
with her knickers.  Two garment racks stood side by
side inside. Every manner of clothes hung from them,
including some panties and bras and chemises (as I
think my American friends call slips).

"Hey, limey, how ya goin'?"

The voice was unmistakably that of Harvey my
neighbour. Beside him stood Sharee, breasts fighting
off the attentions of a white satin dress through
which her nipples were thrusting. "Hi," said a little
noise emanating from a scarlet hole just north of her
chin.

"Hello, Harvey ... Denni ... I'd like you to meet your
newest neighbour. Nicole may I present Harvey and
Sharee, our next door neighbours. I employed,
following your good advice, Nicole as my maid
yesterday."

"Plusieurs fois," grinned Nicole, guessing, I suppose,
that Harvey might not have a great deal of French. He
didn't have all that much English either, if one was
frank.

"Excuse me?" asked Harve.

"Nothing, Harve. Just a French joke. Nicole is from
Paris. France."

"Nice to meet you," smarmed Harvey.

I hoped that my new buddy hadn't re-discovered a
long-forgotten penchant for drop-dead gorgeous French
transsexual university lecturers. He did have a slight
resemblance to Tom Crueez. Glancing at Sharee, I
noticed that she too had reservations about the
friendliness of her lover's welcome for Nicole. I
thought I heard her say "Shit". Quite a mouthful for
Sharee.

"Hey, Paul, need a hand helping mamselle move in?"

"Non. Merci." Nicole answered on my behalf.
Sharee and I smiled.

As the neighbours drove away, Nicole and I started to
unload the van.

"I'll take this up and you can wait here, cherie."

"I don't like that `Arvey. And his girl friend, she is
neanderthal, no?. Oooops, excuse-moi, mon amour. Keep
your mouth closed, Nicole. Paul, embrasse-moi."

I needed little prompting to kiss her.

As we embraced the clothes rack began rolling out into
the road. A pair of very expensive silk french
knickers fell from it and as I grabbed the speeding
rack a nattily-dressed man in his sixties picked up
the transparent garment and gave it to me. With his
silver-topped cane.

"What exquisite taste in underwear you have young
man." I think he was being ironic.

Across the road, I saw Michel watching from Aerobleu.
As I caught his eye, he waved. He looked sad, I
thought.



That night Nicole made dinner while I worked.

When I emerged from my study at about eight, Nicole
was setting the table in the dining room.

The room was rather large for a man who couldn't cook
and didn't know enough people in his new city to fill
the twelve seat table.

Two places were set. One at either end of the table.
Candles had been lit at the silver candlesticks I'd
bought in, of all places, Melbourne in Australia.
Guessing that Nicole wanted this to be a surprise, I
was glad that she had her back to me and I tiptoed
down the corridor to the en suite bathroom where I had
a shower.

Towelling myself, I heard Nicole calling.

"Paul. Ten minutes for dinner."

"I'm in the bathroom," I called back, pulling on a
black silk yukata or kimono. (I'm never sure which is
which or why).

Entering the bedroom I whistled. Nicole was changing.
She jumped and covering her naked body with the white
silk slip she was about to put on, she grinned and
then, looking very stern, said, very convincingly,
"You startle me, monsieur. Please, a lady must have
the privacy in her boudoir."
I played along. In my worst French accent.

"Forgive me, miss, I have not the idea that the
beautiful room is not empty."

Laughing, Nicole shot back, "Monsieur Paul, va-t'on."
So I va-t'onned back into the bathroom.

Through the door Nicole asked if I had a d.j. [or
Tuxedo as I was learning to say.]

"Of course."

"Please wear it for dinner. I will go to another
bedroom to change. I have already been dressed, but I
`ave change the mind. Cinq minutes."

Five minutes was all I needed to slip into my satin
briefs, dress shirt and freshly-cleaned and pressed
tux. As I tied the bow-tie, I concluded that I was
actually quite good-looking. It was a pleasant
feeling.
Nicole and I emerged from our separate rooms at the
same moment. We both whistled our approval of the
other.

As we walked towards each other, we were both smiling
our approval. Nicole looked simply gorgeous. She was
wearing a knee-length white silk evening dress, a
cashmere stole draped around her shoulders and on her
silk-stockinged feet, high -- very high -- heeled shoes
which matched the soft pink of the stole.

"You look sensational my darling," I said quietly.

"Thank you. You too."

Slipping an arm through mine, she steered me gently
towards the dining room.

"I love you," I said, almost to my surprise.

"And I adore you, Paul. Very, very much. I would like
you to make love to me right at the moment. But the
dinner will be destroyed. Can you wait?"

I took her in my arms and looked down into her
beautiful eyes. "Yes. If we eat quickly. And just one
course."

Giggling, Nicole squeezed my crotch and felt my
stiffening cock.

"I think half of one course." She said `half' in that
adorably French way that includes the `l'. Why is it
the French add aitches when they're not there, but
drop them when they are? I understand that no more
than I do the Japanese muddling up ls and rs, both of
which they can pronounce, but often in the wrong
order. I once had a friend in London who loved a
particular Rebonese Lestaulant. We used to raugh a rot
at that. Thankfully, he never commented on my japanese
vocabulary not having progressed beyond two words.
Nicole's `hallf' was of a different nature, of course.
I was never in love with Taki.

It might have been fun eating our formal dinner rather
as I imagined the aristocracy would do, at opposite
ends of a very long table. It was partly a game, I
realised, and partly a way of Nicole establishing our
relationship beyond the bedroom. But I was too horny
to eat much.

To say that she was an accomplished cook, would be
inadequate. She was the veritable French chef.
Nevertheless, a few mouthsful into the meal, I had to
move closer to her. It probably spoiled the game. But
it improved our moods. We had been together, hard
though it was to believe, just over twenty-four hours.
Hardly long enough to be playing such an elaborate
charade. Both of us would rather having been fucking
the other silly, but I had no wish to disappoint
Nicole after she had taken so much trouble to prepare
such a wonderful meal.

Looking at Nicole's beautiful cleavage, I found myself
wondering what it must have been like at the school
dance to see this lovely creature arrive with a geeky
gayboy. I tried to imagine the homophobic Gaston's
reaction.

"Hello. Paul. Are you still `ere?"

"I was just thinking how stunningly beautiful you are.
And I was trying to imagine the effect you must have
had on all those horny schoolboys at the school dance
you were telling me about,"  I said, looking deep into
her eyes.

"How did you feel?" I asked.

"Do you really want to hear? You won't be jealous?
That was the most daring thing I had ever done. For
years I had known that en femme or en fillette as I
was then, I was very  ... what is the word? ..."

"Convincing?"

"Yes, convincing. But I had never test how convincing.
I was very frightened. Very frightened. These boys
were my school friends. Perhaps they would not think
about it, but they know the way I walked as a boy.
They know my laugh. They know the way I say things. If
I am not careful, they put this thing with this thing,
et voila, c'est finis .. je suis mort."

"Neanmoins," I said, softly.

"How do you know I would say neanmoins?"

"Nevertheless, I was right, yes?"

"Yes, yes. You are right. Clever boy. Any'ow, even
though I am frighten, I know that it is the right
thing for me. So I am also most excited. Especially
when I  dance with Gaston the first time."

"How many times did you dance with him?"

"Many times. Please let me tell the story."

"Sorry. Please go on."

"You see, Gaston, as I told you, he is very `andsome.
Like you. And I think about him all the times. I watch
him in the class. I see him in the street. He talks
always about how he fuck this girl and that girl. One
day I hear him tell Jacques about this girl, a very
beautiful girl, she is called Jacqueline. He tells
Jacques how he make love to her ten times during the
weekend. Then I think how could it be? Because this
Jacqueline is friend to my cousin  ... Chantelle. So I
have met her many times.

"One weekend, chez Chantelle, Jacqueline tell me that
she is amoureuse to Chantelle. They are still lovers.
She tell me that she like me very much, because I am
more like a girl.  She says she does not like most
men. She love only girls. And that was the weekend of
her `affair`with Gaston. I knew that Jacqueline was
all the time with Chantelle.

"After I heard Gaston tell about his weekend of love
with Jacqueline, I met her in the street and we went
for a coffee. She laugh when I say that Gaston was her
lover. Then she gets angry. She says that he is too
`andsome and too arrogant and that she thinks he is
frightened of girls. Also he is bully and beat up her
brother Pierre because he is too quiet. Not gay, just
quiet.

"So, although I am frightened when I dance with
Gaston, I ask which is his girl friend. He says sadly
she is sick. I ask if it is Jacqueline and he say too
quick `yes'. I tell him he is very handsome and he
dance well.

"After the dance is finish I ask to him if he will
take me home to my cousin's house. He has a car, a old
Citroen DS.  He seems frightened, perhaps to be alone
with me. But he says 'OK'.

"We do not say one word in the car and when we get to
Chantelle's house he says `good night'. Chantelle sees
me in the car from the window of her house and comes
out to `protect' me. She kisses me and says to Gaston
to come in. He hesitate, but I still feel very horny
for him and think that, maybe, .... well, you know.

"Any'ow, when we go inside, surprise, surprise -- and I
did not know this -- there is Jacqueline. Of course, he
does not know that Jacqueline and Chantelle are
lovers, but she is wearing only a bra and panties, so
perhaps even Gaston could work that out. You should
have seen his face.

"He did not know that we all knew about his boast how
he fuck Jacqueline ten times. But he knows in his head
that he is uncovered.

"Jacqueline is a very intelligent girl. `Ah, bonsoir
Nicole cherie, et quelle surprise, c'est Gaston ... mon
amour,' Jacqueline says with sarcasm.

"I say, `Jacqueline, I was hoping you would be at the
Lycee tonight. Gaston says you were sick. Are you
feeling better?'

"'Much better than Gaston seems to be. Sit down
handsome. I will get you a cognac.'

"Gaston says that he must go home, but Chantelle puts
an arm around him and says that surely he would like
to spend some more time with me -- Nicole -- and guides
him to the banquette.

"Jacqueline comes back with cognac for us all and
Gaston is so embarrassed. Now, Paul, my darling, I
think I should stop. In just one day I `ave fallen in
love with you. I don't think I should tell you what
happened next."

What a clever woman my Nicole is. I'm quite turned on
by her story, trying to imagine if and how these three
girls would humiliate Gaston. Like most bullies,
Gaston was obviously very insecure.

Who wouldn't want to know more? But right then, what I
wanted more of was the beautiful woman sitting beside
me. The rest of the story could wait and be
transformed into a serial.

"My darling," I said, reaching out and pulling her
close enough so we could kiss, "I imagine this all
took place at least a couple of years ago and, since
you clearly cannot resist me now you have found me, I
insist you tell me the end of the story. Then I shall
punish you for being unfaithful before we met by
having you on this table."

Nicole laughed. "I look forward to the punishment. But
two years? You are too kind. I wish."

I popped a grape I had picked up from the cheese board
into my mouth and pulled Nicole's lips to mine.

We played the grape with our tongues, each trying to
push it into the other's mouth.

I slipped a hand into the decollete of Nicole's dress
and caressed the pure silk satin of the slip she had
held up to cover her nakedness earlier.

It felt wonderful.

Especially when the nipple it covered made its
presence felt.

Nicole swallowed the grape and almost choked, causing
her to break the kiss and sit up suddenly, trapping my
hand and toppling me from my chair.

As I fell, Nicole burst into a paroxysm of
uncontrolled coughing and laughter. The grape hit me
on the nose as it canonned from her mouth.

"Are you okay, darling?" We both spoke together as I
started to push myself up from the thick carpet.

Nicole signalled that I should stay where I was.

"Don't get up. DInner is over."

Standing over me, Nicole slowly lowered herself until
I felt the silken hem of her dress brush my nose.

As she descended, the hem stayed where it was until
her white silk panties, obviously matching the slip,
touched my lips.

"Punish me now," I heard her whisper as my lips closed
over the silky hardness.

With my teeth I pulled the panties down, using my nose
to help free her cock.

It sprang erect.

Being a gentleman -- and now horny as hell -- I took it
in my mouth. In spite of the delicious dinner,
Nicole's hard shaft was the best thing I'd tasted in
hours.

I tongued it.

And toothed it.

And lipped it.

I loved the rim of its head stroking of my palate.

For a second or two I once again wondered at my
sucking on a penis.

But the pleasure spreading through my body and the
growing stiffness of my own leaking prick almost
instantly put such musings aside.

Instead, I lowered Nicole to the floor, momentarily
withdrawing my mouth from  her rampant organ as I
unzipped the dress and slipped it over her head. I
started to remove the slip, but Nicole stopped me.

"Take me as I am."

I shucked off my pants and satin briefs and ordered
Nicole to lean over the end of the table and spread
her legs as far apart as possible.

I tore her little silk panties roughly from her with
one hand, spreading precum over my gleaming cockhead
with the other.

Parting her beautifully-firm buns, I roughly pushed
inside my beautiful girliboy mistress.

She gasped in ecstasy as the enormous helmet of my
cockhead brushed past her prostate. It caused her
sphincter to tighten around my shaft, pushing the skin
hard down to its base. I feared the skin around the
cockhead's rim might tear, so taut was Nicole making
it. It was the most wonderful sensation.

When we started, Nicole was face-down, but by the time
we were both coming close to climax, I was carrying
Nicole in a dance of sexual savagery, her legs
clinging to my urgently-pounding hips.

As we  danced, she screamed her approval and slid ever
more urgently up and down my very thick, very hard and
very greasy pole.

My swollen cockhead seemed to activate every nerve
ending in her body. Her senses were on fire. Her head
lashed from side to side in the purest erotic abandon.
Her fingernails tore at my shoulders. She could barely
breathe as she brought herself closer and closer to
the greatest orgasm of her life.

For myself, I was beyond control. Every few steps I
would drop Nicole's beautiful butt on to the back of a
chair or on to the table top so that I could stab her
more fiercely with my steel-hard staff. I watched her
eyes roll uncontrolled as yet another storm of sexual
delirium took her to yet another new peak of ecstasy.

At last, we came almost simultaneously yet again.

Nicole pumped what seemed like gallons of spunk all
over the front of my dress shirt, my bow tie and under
the eaves of my chin.

"Oh Paul, this is what I have dreamed of all my life.
I adore you."

I couldn't remember anybody ever having said anything
like that before.

"And me you."

Eventually, after a great deal of smiling and
little-kissing and sighing and stroking, Nicole stood
up, her beautiful and clearly very expensive silk slip
generously stained. She poured drinks for us both.

"I will just go and rinse these substances from my
slip," she said.

"Won't that ruin it?"

"Not if I am gentle. This is the very best satin you
can buy."

When she returned she was wearing nothing but a sheer
black nightdress through which I saw that she was
already becoming interested in making love again.