Kathy is Different Ch. 04

"Speaking of that," I said, rolling up onto my side and really looking, "How does this work?" I asked, taking the bright purple, well, "erection" is a good word, into my hand. "I don't see any straps."

She laughed again, a sound full of mirth and I realized that any awkwardness between us was over.

She giggled and said, "Hold that thought."

I watched her go into the bathroom and then come back, that purple erection bobbing along in front of her.

"It's called a strapless," she said. "It's anchored in my ass and pussy, and I blow up the part in my ass with this," she held up a small pink rubber bulb with a hose attached to it. It looked like the thing the nurse uses to pump up the cuff and then take your blood pressure.

"Watch," she said and pulled her knees back, exposing the strapless. She attached the hose on the rubber bulb to a little protrusion at the base where the strapless's scrotum hung.

"Well, crap," she said, giggling, "I didn't exactly think this through. Go into the bathroom, get one of those little towels, and wet it with warm water. There'll be some clean-up to do here."

"Oh," I said, realizing what she meant.

I went in, got the towel she requested, wet it, and went back to bed where she was still laying in that same position, her knees wide apart and pulled back so I could see the way the strapless entered her asshole and, as it turned out when I looked, her pussy as well.

The little rubber bulb was attached to the strapless and I watched, I was fascinated, as she pressed a little chrome button at the base of the bulb, and I could hear the hiss of escaping air. When the hiss died down she sighed and pulled the strapless out.

I stared, hell, I was unable to look away.

I don't know, I guess I had expected some sort of beautiful, pure, almost sexless Barbie doll. Instead, when she pulled the strapless out I could see the very dark stain surrounding her asshole and the way her pussy sort of gaped open. Between her legs she looked, well, let's be charitable here and say she looked much more "mature" than the rest of her.

She handed me the strapless, warm from her body, and held that position.

"Clean me up, Honey," she said.

"Now THIS," I thought as I began carefully cleaning her asshole with the warm, wet towel, being sure to clean that cleft where legs met body where she was smeared with, well, poop, "is a whole new level of intimacy."

I realized, as I carefully washed her, that her orgasm hadn't been faked. She was leaking, her grool thick and white and very sticky the way threads pulled away wherever I touched. Her scent was slightly different and then I bent, finished washing her now but still fascinated, her taste was faintly different, still salty and kind of slimy but with a hint of a bitter aftertaste.

I pulled away reluctantly.

"Go ahead," she said, "wash Wilbur off and I'll continue the lesson."

"Wilbur?" I asked.

She laughed and said, "My high school sweetheart called his cock Wilbur and, well, this little gem kind of reminds me of him."

I smiled, took Wilbur into the bathroom, and carefully washed it (him?). When I had it squeaky clean and, I realized, wonderfully warm after being bathed in the hot water, I went back into the bedroom for my lesson to continue.

Her smile made the phrase "cat who just ate the canary" leap into my mind. She had that sort of satisfied-combined-with-gotcha look that made me smile back.

"Sooooo," she said, patting the bed in invitation, "feeling better?"

"Yes," I said, crawling in and kissing her, "Thank you."

"So you know," she said, "here's how my boyfriend here works."

I watched as she hooked the squeeze bulb to Wilbur, giving the hose a little twist and I heard a faint but audible "click" as the connection was secured. When she started squeezing the bulb the end of the rear probe, the anal probe part of Wilbur, blew up like a balloon until it looked like an oversized Tootsie Roll Pop albeit with the ball on the end quite a bit bigger than the suckers from my childhood.

"This," and she touched the other probe, oddly shaped with a much longer, quite realistic penis that had little protrusion at its base, "is for me, and this," she touched that little flexible rod, "is for my clitoris," she finished, pronouncing the final word "cliterus."

She took the slightly oversized purple, very realistic erection, grinning, and said, "And this is for my partner."

She reached down and brushed my penis, what I was starting to think of as my oversized clitoris (I still think of the word as "clitoaris"), and said, "You see why I'm kind of jealous. We all want to be, well, to assume the man's role from time to time," she stopped and thought for a second.

"Well," she started again, "except for Millie, she's a pure Femme," and her pronunciation made the capitalization obvious.

"Femme?" I asked.

She giggled.

"Millie is pure girl. She has no interest in using something like Wilbur. Personally, I think she is unhealthily fixated on having something in her pussy but, well," and here she shrugged and giggled, "she's so damn passionate I don't mind. But anyway," she went on, "MOST of us want to be the man from time to time, and YOU, my dear," she giggled and gave a little tug to my clitoris, "don't need toys to do that. So yeah, I'm a bit jealous but I'm telling you there's nothing unnatural about your giving in to your male side from time to time."

She kissed me then, one of those slow lingering kisses that I imagine husbands and wives share mostly during the first year or so of marriage, before the initial passion has passed. It was a good kiss, sensual, bordering on sexual but not quite crossing that line.

"Now," she said, her fingers twisting in my hair at the back of my head, pulling me to arm's length, "put Wilbur back where he belongs. Your lesson isn't done for the day yet."

When she pulled her knees back, exposing and offering herself, I could see that she was still, well, "aroused." Her pussy was shiny with her excitement and her white, creamy grool overflowed. I dipped my middle finger into where it ran and touched the puckered circle of her anus. After a couple of touches like that, I used her natural lubricant and slipped the anal and vaginal probes in, simultaneously. I could see, in this position, how that little knob at the front of the erection that was inside of her now met her clitoris. I held Wilbur's business end in my hand and gently moved him, getting the vaginal probe in all of the way, making sure the secondary bump was nestled against her clitoris, and then started squeezing the squeeze bulb too, well, it sounds terribly clinical, but to "lock" it into her.

I could feel resistance building in the amount of strength I needed to squeeze the bulb.

"Good?" I asked.

She smiled and said, "A little more, Honey. I like that deliciously FULL feeling."

I pumped a half dozen more squeezes, the resistance getting strong, and she grunted softly and said, "Enough."

I gave the tube its quarter twist, freeing the bulb, and set it on the bedside table.

I took her purple erection in my hand then, amazed at how realistic it felt and how, well, how "secure" it was as I began stroking it as I had done, oh, about a bazillion times with my own erection.

I could see how it worked.

Each stroke had the little bump at the base of her erection press and release her clitoris and pull out of her pussy just a bit before going back in.

She giggled.

"Gonna jack me off like a man?" she asked.

I kissed her breast, sucked her nipple, kissed her lips, and whispered, "No, I'm going to jack you off like a woman."

She giggled and said, "Are you sure I'm your first?"

I smiled and said, "Well, I have more experience at THIS than you do. Now lay back and let me do the work."

She laid back then, that great mass of dark hair fanning on the pillow, and said, "Okay, Kathy, whatcha got?"

I let my mind drift back to early, confusing days when puberty was fighting with my body over whether I would be a man or a woman. When I masturbated, sometimes it would be a man, in my mind's eye, slowly bringing me along, sometimes a woman. But it was always slow.

I used her natural nectar to lubricate her erection and stroked her, slowly. As I did I covered her face with soft butterfly kisses, as Brian, the crush of my earliest fantasies, the boy in my English class, had. I kissed her forehead and eyelids. I brushed her lips with mine, not a true kiss, just a brush. I traced the helix of her ear, that big part on the outside, nipped the lobule, her earlobe, and probed the auditory canal with my tongue, flicking the tragus, that little point the guards the auditory canal.

I kissed her cheek and nipped at that soft spot under her chin.

When I felt her hips starting to rock in response to what I was doing I whispered, "No, Nancy, relax. Let me do the work."

She sighed and giggled very softly. "Am I really your first?" she asked, again.

"Yes," I whispered, giving her earlobe another nip before moving to her nipple and truly nursing, drawing nipple, areola, and a bit more tissue into my mouth and massaging it against the roof of my mouth with my tongue.

She gasped when I bit down, remembering how I had extended my fantasies with pinches.

I sped up my rhythm and pulled and pushed a little harder, remembering how my body had demanded that. Her breathing sped up to match me and her hips started thrusting, almost involuntarily.

When she spoke her voice was slightly deeper and coarse, almost raspy. I thought that was probably a combination of her arousal and the way she was surrendering to her male side.

"Oooooooooooooh, Jesus," she said in that masculine voice, "that's nice baby."

"Do I please you?" I asked, kissing her.

"You know you do, Girl," she said, giving me a little tingle when she called me "girl," "But you know what I'd really like."

"No," I said, kissing her eyelids, "what would you really like?"

She pushed me away far enough to focus on my eyes.

"Go down on me," she said.

When I didn't respond she grinned, not a smile, a grin that seemed somehow, well, "predatory."

"Yes, Baby, go down on me. You know. Suck my cock," she said, "ALL men like that."

"Oh, God," I said, unable to look away from her eyes, "I've never done that."

"Well, Toots," s/he said, "It's time you learned."

Her fingers entwined in my long hair and twisted, the pressure holding just short of pain, and started slowly adding pressure, demanding what she wanted with her hands.

Something about the pressure on my head, the way she was demanding, almost forcing me, got to me. I felt my clitoris tightening, hardening, and something deep inside told me to resist, that would make it more intense for both of us.

It worked.

"Go on, Baby," she said, her voice even coarser now.

When I pushed back her fingers twisted and I cried out.

"GO ON, BABY!" she snapped, pushing now, FORCING ME.

My clitoris was starting to leak in my own excitement as I felt the pressure of her erection against my pressed-together lips, my final defense.

"Take it, Baby," she said, her voice soft now but still in a deeper register, "Please."

That final request got to me.

The pressure, the raw, naked NEED in my belly exploded. I was hard, my clitoris throbbing and I was leaking my grool.

When I accepted her/his cock into my mouth I knew this was something that was perfectly natural. I felt the ridge of his/her glans and tightened my lips to hold it, while my tongue touched the little slit of his/her urethra.

I knew what was coming I suppose, so I didn't swallow. Rather, I let my mucus/laden saliva accumulate while I held my head back against the pressure of her hands on the back of my head.

She twisted those fingers in my hair and pushed, hard.

"TAKE IT, BABY," she said, that deep voice hard and demanding.

I opened my mouth and accepted his cock.

There was another of those explosions of need, of pure desire, deep in my belly and my clitoris flowed again with my pure physical want.

"That's my good girl," s/he said, fingers twisting, not forcing himself deeper into my mouth but holding me there while my lips tightened on his shaft and I began pulling off, slowly. I didn't need his urging, his almost forcing me, to take him deeper again, my lips wet, slick, with my saliva and mucus as I began using my mouth as a woman should.

I felt him cum, the way his hips thrust and his fingers twisted, forcing himself deeper, and then too deep. My body retched and, reflexively, I tried to jerk my head away.

"Swallow, Baby," she said, "swallow hard and you can take it. It's a skill every woman needs."

My body retched again and he eased the pressure slightly.

"Swallow now, Sugar," she said, "take it all."

I realized I was crying and my nose was running as I pushed myself down, swallowing hard, feeling his cock trigger my gag reflex.

I stopped, held myself right there, letting my body adjust, while he almost gently stroked my hair and said softly in that husky voice, "That's right," and, "You can handle it," and, "Come on now."

I was desperate now, NEEDING to give him/her what s/he wanted.

"Come ON, Bitch," I said to myself, "You KNOW you want to."

I took a deep breath, swallowing hard, rapidly, and pushed past the retching as my gag reflex flared and then I had him in my throat.

And I came, my love honey pouring out of my clitoris, my breath caught, my toes curled and feet cramping.

I felt her cum too, thrusting deep into my throat, her fingers twisting so hard I thought she was tearing some of my hair out.

I held still then as my prostate, Skene's, and Bartholin's glands poured my ecstasy onto her knees while she held me captive, my throat impaled on her cock.

I don't know how long we were locked in that position, her fingers twisting, my clitoris throbbing, her hips thrust forward to stay as deep as he could. I do know that I knew, with no doubt at all, that I would take a man like that as soon as I had the chance.

Suddenly my body rebelled and I started to retch. I was afraid I would vomit and then drown in my own puke but she got it too and pulled me off in a hard and fast jerk on my hair.

I lay there, swallowing hard, feeling cold sweat break out on my forehead.

"It's okay, Honey," s/he was saying, lightly brushing my hair back.

When I was finally certain I wouldn't throw up I looked up at her, smiled, and asked, "Do I please you?"

She grinned and pulled me up to kiss me.

"And that, Kathy, is PRECISELY the right question to ask a man," she said and then after a few seconds added, "or a woman for that matter if she's strapped up and feeling Butch."

We lay there, side by side, sharing kisses. The sensation of her solid erection and my soft clitoris touching added a bit of unexpected sensuality. I realized I liked it.

"Any doubts left about your femaleness?" she asked, "Your femininity?"

I smiled and kissed her.

"Thank you," I said, "no doubts at all."

"Good," she said and surprised me by rolling out of bed and running into the bathroom. That plump ass looked as good running away as it did walking.

I lay back and just processed what had happened.

"You want to be a cocksucker, don't you?" I asked myself.

"Yes," I replied without hesitation.

I was laying there, wondering what it would be like with a man, feeling warm skin rather than that warm plastic, and then feeling him cum, tasting him, holding that beautiful gift in my mouth before swallowing as he watched. Or maybe having him pull out and give me a facial.

My clitoris was getting hard with my fantasizing when she came back and pulled me off the bed. She grabbed one of my arms and I had no choice but to roll or it felt like she'd have pulled my shoulder out of its socket.

"Stand up, Kathy," she said, "One more lesson before we talk about how to handle the girls."

I couldn't help but notice that she had removed Wilbur.

"Now," she said, "let me show you what a man sees."

I said nothing. I had no idea what she was going to do.

She kissed me and then began slowly kissing her way down my body. I watched, and felt her hands, very lightly caressing my arms and then my ribs and then my hips as she eased to her knees. Her lips never stopped leaving that trail of soft, warm kisses.

And I understood what she meant.

This wasn't about whether I was male or female. It wasn't about whether I had a cock or a clitoris.

This position, with her on her knees before me, kissing and licking my dick now, was about her submission, about a woman's submission.

I got hard as my fingers dug into her hair and I began twisting.

"This is what a man will feel when it's me on my knees," I thought, as I twisted my fingers in her hair harder, pulling her down onto my cock.

"That's good, Baby," I said, and I wasn't fighting my Y chromosome now, "take it all."

I felt resistance and felt her body convulse as she started to retch but then she swallowed hard and I felt her defeat her gag reflex and accept all of me into her throat.

I looked down, my fingers holding her against me, her face against my belly, my cock in her throat, and let my male side take over. I began using my hands in her hair to move her head into a bobbing motion. I was, when you get down to it, using her head and mouth to masturbate.

And I understood what a man felt with a woman in this position. He OWNS her right then. And I knew, deep down, that I wanted to be owned like that.

I don't know how long we stayed like that, her swallowing hard, pulling me deeper and my fingers twisting and controlling.

I pulled her off as my body started pumping and came on her face and knew that someday it would be me on my knees accepting a man's gift like that.

She held my erection, guiding and accepting while my body pumped harder than it ever had before.

Finally, I was finished and she stood.

And kissed me, a slick, sloppy kiss that I loved. We stood like that, kissing for another fraction of eternity while both of us got our breathing under control.

"Okay," she finally managed, "I think that's enough lesson for today."

I laughed and followed as she led me into the bathroom.

The shower was anticlimactic, a simple matter of washing each other. We were both pretty sexed out.

Clean and dry she said, "Okay, let's talk."

"Clothes?" I asked.

She giggled.

"Really?" she replied, "After what we just did you're going modest on me?"

I laughed and headed for the front room, naked, putting some extra sway in my hips.