Ch.6 Secrets of the Toolshed

The morning after our Sunday brunch at the Holmsteads, I wake late, aware that its late by the brightness of the sun through the venetians on the bedroom door to the pool. I lay contentedly, listening to Paul’s deep breathing, enjoying the fullness of his soft cock nestled snugly but comfortably in my ass. Yes, I know sometimes its my pussy, sometimes my ass, but it’s just one of the things I’m used to as a TG woman.
I’m vaguely confused as to how we got here in my own big bed in my own bedroom. I’m sure we had only ¼ bottle of champagne each but simply can’t remember the 3 mile trip from the Holmstead’s home. Gee! Could we have been intoxicated on sex? I’ll ask Paul when he wakes up.

He does wake up but by the time he’s finished kissing me good morning, I’ve forgotten about it. We both pad off to our respective bathrooms for our morning ablutions but I’m a little slow this morning and he’s already bright and bushy-tailed, reading the newspaper and sipping coffee by the time I emerge. I grab a cup and we sit together at the table in the lanai, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper like a couple of old fogies who’ve been married for 40 years and have retired to Florida.

In fact, over the next few days we develop a near to “old fogy” routine: Coffee and newspapers at 8:00, hearty breakfast at 9:30, a walk around the quiet neighborhood about 11:00, lunch at 12:00. At about 1:30 it’s a ride along the bike trails, or a kayak paddle down the canal or a visit to the nearby beach. Home by 3:00 for a quick shower and an hour or two of slow, friendly, playful and fun sex, a swim, then a drink and supper around six. After supper I do a few household chores while Paul watches tv, maybe shop a bit at the local mall. By 10:00, I’m usually curled up comfortably between Paul’s legs sucking on his cock while he lies back naked on my big bed watching the news.

News over, he sometimes grabs my hair and fucks my face to completion; I like that quite a bit because I love the sweet taste of his cum and I happily swallow every drop – but I don’t cum myself. Other times he puts me on my knees and fucks me from behind, all the while saying “take this my horny, slut-whore.” What I really like best though is when he stands on the floor beside the bed and drags me feet first over to the edge, yanks my ankles high and wide above his shoulders, spits on my pussy and enters me with a single deep thrust. I invariably cry out in pain but it soon passes as he repeatedly hammers into me so my cunt burns. Spreading me so wide ensures he goes deep every time and having his feet firmly planted on the floor lets him control my movement as my body cavorts on the end of his cock as though impaled on a spear. And he shouts “Fuck me bitch. That’s all you want and that’s all you’re good for.” After he cums though, he leans over me and kisses me tenderly on the lips, and says “you’re a sweet little cunt and the best fuck I’ve ever had. I’d recommend you to anybody.”

But still, it is a kind of routine and I fear he’ll get bored with me and leave. So on Thursday when Gloria phones and asks if we’d like to come over for lunch on Friday, I jump at the chance. Friday morning we stand in the closet and debate what to wear. Paul chooses a bright yellow and white shirt and white shorts I washed and ironed for him yesterday; I opt for a pink sun dress patterned with small white flying birds, high pink heels and long dangly ear rings. Since no one wears hose before 6:00 in Florida (unless working in a law office) I use makeup on my legs so they’re not so white. At 11:55 we’re once again in the Holmstead driveway.

Gloria is radiant in a smashing tennis outfit that shows off her gorgeous gams; Mike looks like he’s just stepped off a championship golf course, tanned, fit and hearty. They welcome us much as before, though Mike cups my bottom and holds me close for a moment longer than necessary and Gloria kisses both of us full on the mouth. We find chairs on the lanai and Bobby, their big Afghan hound, comes bounding in from somewhere. No doubt sensing my mood, or pheromones or whatever, he makes a bee-line for me and thrusts his nose under my skirt. “Not right now, big boy” I rebuke him, but his tail droops in disappointment so I don’t push him away and he lays at my feet, nose still under my skirt giving an occasional lick to my panties or thighs. No one seems to mind.

Mike produces cool drinks and we chat casually, even referring to last Sunday occasionally. “You guys really settled me down proper on Sunday” Gloria remarks. “Puss throbbed ‘til Tuesday.”

“My butt woke up Monday wondering what happened” Paul contributed.

“Perhaps it needs more education” Mike responds. Paul blushes a bit but doesn’t say no.

We talk more about the weather and the view and which lawn service they employ and then I ask Mike “what did you mean on Sunday about my not needing special training?”

“Oh, you’re a natural” Mike explains. “You give off an aura of sensuality at all times. You’re unabashed about your love of sex and it shows in how you move, how you walk, how you touch your hair and how you look at people. Your attitude causes you to give off large quantities of pheromones that Bobby is trained to respond to but, the fact is, everyone responds to pheromones. Yours are just way more potent than most”
“But what about the training” I persist.

“Well, most women”, Mike continues, “can learn to be truly sexy – not just act sexy but Be sexy. It just takes the right amount of sex and stimulation under the right conditions so their minds and bodies reject the conventional attitudes toward sex so that they want and need to be dominated by their sex partners, yet are able to subliminally dominate and control those same partners. And we have contracts with brothels throughout Florida and Georgia to train women, mostly women who are already prostitutes but want to be More than that, want to be truly sexy women like you and Gloria. We also train some men, often tennis players or actors who wish to really project their sexuality. We have a candidate coming in from Chicago this afternoon.”

“Oh wow!” is my inarticulate response as Bobby tries to nudge my panties aside with his nose.

“Some of the women they send us are a mess,” Mike continues. “Strung out on booze or drugs” so it takes awhile to get them cleaned up and sober. They have to be quite young and have pretty spectacular bodies for the Agencies to put up the cash to both rehabilitate and train them. Our fees aren’t cheap. The woman coming this afternoon though is not like that. She’s a high end call girl who has reached the magic age of 30 and knows she needs an extra edge if she’s going to remain in demand in the high end of the business.”

Mike has hardly finished speaking when Bobby pulls his nose from under my skirt, points toward the front of the house and says Woof! Mike gets up and goes through to the front door, returning a few minutes later with a woman who looks well past 30, too much makeup, dyed blonde hair, black eye-brows, a tough set to her lips and a strange posture meant, I suppose, to be “sexy”. Mike introduces us by first names only as his “training team”. Her name is Angela and she sits in the proffered chair a bit stiffly, ankles crossed. Gloria brings her a glass of the coolers we are drinking and gives her a brilliant Gloria smile which Angela responds to slightly but none of us say anything until Mike speaks.

“So, I understand you’re paying for your own sessions” Mike begins.

“Yes. I’m not going to be owned by one of those blood-sucking agencies. I’ve been on my own for ten years and I’m not going back to working in a house. “

“But you seem to be quite successful” Mike persists. “Why pay for an expensive training course?”

“Well I’m 30 and there are lots of younger girls coming up, some of them not even eighteen and I need an edge. I know some of the women you’ve trained and they’re good. They even seem to love the business. Me, I hate it and I hate men but I need another good ten years to be able to retire down here in Florida.”
Mike looks at Gloria and they smile knowingly.

Gloria produces a fairly thick document. “This is the contract. You’ve had a copy for a couple of weeks now. Are you prepared to sign it so we can get started? You’ll need to initial each page and of course we’ll need your certified cheque.” Angela produces a cheque from her purse, carelessly initials the pages and signs the last one. I notice the cheque has at least five figures on it. Gloria tucks cheque and contract away in a slim briefcase by her chair, then rises and says “there’s a bathroom just down the hall, Dear, first door on the right. There’s a robe on the back of the door and mules on the floor. Just remove all of your clothing and put them on. Come back here when you’re ready.”

Angela looks a bit shocked but obediently stands and walks toward the hallway. Bobby pays her no attention whatsoever even when she returns wearing the robe, apparently naked inside of it. Mike stands and in a professorial voice I’ve never heard him use before says “I need to check your heart and blood pressure. Please slip out of the top of your robe.” Angela looks at him defiantly but complies revealing her very lovely breasts and clear smooth skin. Mike picks up a stethoscope from the table, plugs it into his ears and proceeds to listen intently as he presses a silver disc to her skin just below her breasts and in several places on her back. He takes her left arm and while gently holding her wrist, stares at his digital watch for a half minute. He straps a Velcro cuff around her upper right arm and presses buttons on an attached gadget. I watch as the cuff contracts, then loosens a couple of times before Mike pushes another button on the gadget and removes the cuff. “Well, you seem to be a healthy woman” he proclaims. “We may as well get your introductory session over with today” and he strides out the screen door into the back yard toward the tool shed.

Gloria slips a black sleep mask over Angela’s face, blindfolding her. “Don’t struggle Dear. Just come with me” and she takes Angela’s arm and leads her to the door, gesturing to Paul and me to follow. Bobbie follows me. We stroll across the yard the short distance to the tool shed which Mike has already opened and Gloria helps Angela up onto a step stool. There she removes Angela’s robe, making soothing sounds to her. “Just relax Dear; we’re all professionals here” and so on. She seats Angela on the gynecologist table which has been pulled out from the main platform and lays her back so her head is on a small pillow, then puts first one foot, then the other into the stirrups and secures her ankles with wide web straps.

Deftly she secures Angela’s wrists, widely spaced in cuffs above her head. Paul and I, google-eyed (me at least) watch from just inside the now closed door. Now that she is nude, lying spread-eagled on the bench, I can see that Angela still has a beautiful body. A tiny waist, flat tummy, full womanly hips and nice well-shaped and well supported D-size boobs. Maybe under all that makeup her face may be pretty too.

Mike switches on some quiet music, but not just aural wallpaper. It has a definite and compelling beat, Caribbean or Cuban perhaps? “Angela” Mike begins in his new professorial voice, “the aura that you’ve sensed in other women I’ve trained flows from the fact that they’ve been taught to love, desire and crave sex. They love men for the sexual satisfaction that only men can give them and though they now enjoy sex with women as well, they first need to experience continuous rolling orgasms over an extended period of time until all previous notions of emotionless sex have been burned from their minds and bodies. That’s what you’ll experience now.”

Mike fiddles with the control module and a two-liter flask with a tube attached lowers from above. He removes the top and drops in a soft plastic bag filled with fluid and slips the tube onto a clip near Angela’s head. “You’ll become thirsty, Angela and there’s a drinking tube beside the right side of your head. Let me see you drink from it.” She turns her head and finds it, while Mike adjusts its position for her to reach it comfortably. He continues hanging items about her body with practiced hands, explaining as he goes.” a red plastic clip on her left ear-lobe to measure pulse and heart rate; a hearing aid-looking device in her right ear measures body temperature; a black necklace loosely around her neck will transmit blood pressure, while a slim object with a trailing wire is inserted into her anus to monitor her electrolyte balance.

Mike reaches for the control module again and a clear plastic, box-like device lowers from above. He adjusts it carefully over her breasts and a soft slow suctioning sound begins. We watch through the clear plastic as Angela’s breasts are sucked up into the device. They swell up alarmingly for a second before the suction releases and they retract. Angela cries out a bit and writhes on the table. “Too much suction?” Mike queries. He squints at a gauge at the end of the box. “No, I think that’s about right. We may even increase it in awhile.”

Meanwhile Gloria has wheeled the strange, piston device to the end of the table. She plugs in a heavy power cord. Mike touches the control pod again and a thin tube with a plastic nozzle end is lowered to just above Angela’s vagina. Mike adjusts a knob and a drop of clear, oily fluid drips out, then another and another, one every few seconds until Angela’s pussy is glistening. Judiciously selecting a moderately-sized dildo from the tray, Mike lubes it with a hand smeared across Angela’s pussy and begins to gently open her up with the dildo. When he judges she is sufficiently open, he attaches it to the piston and carefully aligns the apparatus so it is just about a half inch away from Angela’s puss. He sets the foot brake on the machine and slowly turns a big red knob at the end.

The piston begins to move, very slowly pushing into Angela’s pussy. It goes in a distance and retracts. Mike is not satisfied. “She’s deeper than I estimated” he mutters and makes an adjustment. This time when it goes in Angela lets out a little gasp just before the piston retracts. Now Mike adjusts the speed until the piston is making about 20 cycles per minute, a nice leisurely speed. By this time, Angela’s head is lolling back and her hips are starting that involuntary rotary movement I know so well. Mike adjusts several cameras above the table and says to us “Time for that delayed lunch”. We troupe out of the tool shed, lock the door and leave Angela alone with the machine.

Seated once again around the table on the lanai, I absently reach for a glass of cooler, a bit of ice still floating in it. “Oh not that one” Gloria intervenes quickly. “That was Angela’s and I put a little something in it to help her stay calm.” She quickly replaces my glass and begins to set out a delicious Florida lunch featuring fresh strawberries, Greek yoghurt, a tangy salad with nuts, dried fruits, pepper cress and an unusual crinkly lettuce and a selection of cheeses and toasted wafers. Mike fusses with a remote and a panel slides aside on the wall to reveal a 60 inch flat screen. A procession of numbers march across the bottom of the screen which Mike watches intently. “She’s coming up to speed nicely” he reports. The rest of the screen is divided into four camera views: from above, left side, foot and . . . well there must be a mini-cam with a bright LED in the end of the plunger. Mike switches that camera into slow motion and we watch the insides of Angela’s vagina flash by like the walls of a subway as we are repeatedly drawn visually all the way inside her wet, glistening cunt.

Angela is screaming. Mike turns the volume up a little and we watch and listen dispassionately as she alternately screams, swears, begs and cajoles. I feel a little sorry for her but envy her at the same time. She can’t be hurting with all the lubrication she’s getting and the dildo Mike has selected seems to me, a little on the small side. She just doesn’t understand that she has to let go of everything and go with the flow. Still I can see little signs that as she tires of struggling and relaxes a bit, she is having an occasional small orgasm. I vow to myself to take on that machine sometime. Paul, on the other hand, is turned on by the spectacle. “Seems quite a waste of pussy” he remarks.”

Mike smiles but retains his professorial role. “Oh we’ll all likely have a go with her as part of her training” he says calmly. “But first we have to drive the notion totally out of both her mind and body that sexy is Not something to be turned on and off. It is On 24/7. This first session she will find the hardest and most exhausting. It lasts four hours and we increase the speed by 50% in the last hour.”

Paul keeps watching the screen, now openly massaging himself. I’m about to go over to him when Gloria leans over him and coos, “care for a little more milk, baby?” I’m not usually jealous but I could shoot her when I see Paul’s eyes light up as she plops one of those big, blue-veined boobs out of her top. But my chagrin is short-lived.

Mike stands beside my chair, all Florida playboy again. “We have lots of time he grins. Let’s live a little.” He opens his shorts, obviously sans underwear and lets his mighty manhood thrust out. There’s something strangely obscene about sucking a man’s cock, out of doors in full broad daylight, both of us fully dressed but I was never a girl who could turn away from a clean, erect cock looking for a home. Still, it was an awkward angle sitting in the low patio chair and sucking sideways. “I’m sure both Bobby and I would enjoy it if you’d let me sit down” Mike teases. He lifts my sundress off over my head, leaving me standing in the bright sunshine on the deck dressed in bra and panties which he quickly removes.

I pull a couple of placemats from the table to cushion my knees and then kneel between Mike’s spread legs and get to work. I’ve barely started when I feel Bobby’s cold nose touch my pussy. And then that incredible tongue goes to work. Somehow he senses that I’m not yet wet enough or open enough to accommodate his style of high-speed humping.

Bobby’s tongue is really a thing of wonder. I always enjoy it when a man decides to tongue and suck my pussy. There’s nothing like it. But although Bobby cannot suck those sensitive tissues around my opening, his tongue is as long as many a penis and he has a way of twirling it inside of me reaching sensitive spots I hadn’t known I have. Mike, seemingly loves to watch my contortions of ecstasy as Bobby works my snatch with his tongue. At one point Mike disengages to remove his shorts so I can suck his balls into my mouth. I love to have his balls in my mouth but, knowing how sensitive they are, I’m afraid I’ll do damage if Bobby hits an especially touchy spot. I suck them in carefully, one after another, rolling each one around on my tongue. Mike growls his pleasure but eventually, disengages again and I understand why when I see that Gloria again has Paul on his knees drinking in the juices of her bountiful cunt.

Mike’s heavy cock, swollen, stiff and wet from my lengthy oral attentions, waves like a baton conducting a band as he approaches Paul’s bare bottom sticking up in the air like a target. Snatching a neglected bowl of butter from the luncheon table, he lubes his cock on the fly before stuffing the rest between Paul’s cheeks and shoving it into him with none-too-gentle fingers. As before, Paul stiffens for a moment, then seems to relax and let his butt cheeks open to Mike’s advance. And advance he does! Lubricated with the generous application of butter, he pushes his cock slowly but all the way up Paul’s ass. Gloria squeals as Paul munches down on some of her soft spots, squeezing his head between her milky thighs and Mike sets himself for a nice, long, slow fuck in Paul’s nearly virgin ass, pushing his face further, if possible, into Gloria’s glorious cunt.

The sight of Mike’s cock disappearing into mu man’s ass releases a flood of fluid from my own pussy which Bobby rightly interprets as me ready for penetration. His cock seems even bigger than usual, possibly from all the hanging around, and he positions himself firmly on my back, hugging my torso with his front paws before his first major thrust into my pussy. Oh the ecstasy! His warm furry body against the bare skin of my rump; his hot breath on my back and his hot tongue licking my neck! I brace myself with my hands on the floor and concentrate on keeping my rump up so his cock slides in straight. I swear the tip goes “round the bend” of my inner plumbing as he bottoms out and his balls slap my ass. His knot pops into place and locks the big hound inside of me. Someone has turned the volume up on the tv monitor and Angela’s screams echo my own as Bobby “hits his stride”. Forget the harps and golden streets. Heaven has nothing to compare with this.

I don’t know if a dog can ever be trained to hold back but this time Bobby seems to go on forever as I crest from one peak to another. I sense Paul trading his tongue for his cock inside of Gloria and shooting her a load that gives her spasms that shake the whole sofa. I sense that Mike shoots his load up into Paul causing them both to holler “Oh fuck! Oh fuck!”. But Bobby is still humping and I am still cumming and cumming and shrieking and cumming some more. Paul comes over and sticks his softening but still thick cock in my mouth, likely just to shut me up. When that doesn’t entirely work, Mike steps in and two big cocks in my mouth quiet me down, even when Bobby shoots his final load into me, sending me over the top for the umpteenth time. “Man, I’ve got to train that dog to do me too” Mike muses while Bobby faithfully proceeds to lick me clean as I lie entirely spent on the floor of the linai.

Angela is still screaming so Gloria turns her down a bit when we both go off to freshen up. We both wash and rinse out our pussies standing together in the big, amply equipped shower off the master bedroom. Then we playfully suds and rinse one another before toweling off in the dressing room. Gloria takes a vial of ph-balancing lotion from a drawer and applies it deeply inside and around her vagina before offering the vial to me. Then as we both touch up our hair and makeup before the big mirror, I continue to admire her swollen-looking boobs and nipples. And I let my curiosity get the better of me. “However do you manage to lactate, almost on demand,” I blurt. “Clearly from your smooth, flat tummy, you haven’t been making any babies lately.”

Gloria giggles. “Well, Mike is a doctor and several of his friends are pharmacists so they have access to samples of all kinds of drugs from the drug company reps. The one I’m on is in its final testing stages and is for new mothers who want to nurse but can’t. I’m happy to report that it works very well, the only side effect seeming to be that my breasts are so heavy with milk that they sometimes hurt and are always very sensitive. But we both like it so much that I’m going to stay on the hormone, at least for now. Mike sucks me dry most mornings and I use a breast pump at other times during the day. Those little mini-cakes I served you at brunch on Sunday were made with my own breast milk. And yes, they need some draining right now.” And she lifts both breasts toward me as an offering I can’t resist.

I don’t know what Paul and Mike do while we are away, but when we return dressed and refreshed they are both sitting at the table with freshly opened cold beers in hand, looking very satisfied with themselves. I glance at the tv monitor and note that Angela is screaming much less now but is still thrashing about. The piston is clearly traveling much faster. “Last hour” Mike remarks. Then we’ll go in and clean her up and let her take it a little slower for awhile”.

By the time the digital count-down timer on the screen hits 30 minutes, Gloria is motionless, laying legs agape as though dead. Her vitals on the screen however are fine Mike assures us. All I know is most of the numbers on the screen are lower than they were at first. We sit and wait out the clock, chatting amiably, Paul and Mike enjoying their beers, Gloria and I sipping white wine coolers. All at once there’s a ping from the screen, the piston stops, dildo still inside our “patient”. All is suddenly quiet, even the music having shut off with the timer. We all stand up together, so suddenly that Bobby awakes with a start from his nap. And again together we trek back to the tool shed.

Angela is lying on the bed like a bizarre corpse. Mike operates buttons and knobs that turn off the cameras, retract the dildo and raise the breast pump back up into the flies above, then deftly retrieves each of the small sensor/transmitters that have kept Angela safe for the last four hours. She has soiled herself so Gloria and I throw a fresh sheet over her and help her toward the bathroom. Still nearly comatose, she stumbles along whimpering with Gloria and I on either side. We sit her on the toilet and spray her down with a hose, clearly meant for the purpose, dispensing warm water in a very fine, forceful spray. Seemingly somewhat revived by the shower, she is able to stand at the basin to wash her face and underarms but winces visibly when Gloria attempts to lave her red and swollen pussy.

We escort her back to the table where Mike has stripped the sheet, hosed and disinfected the padded leatherette surface and spread a clean white sheet. Paul is dutifully using a floor squeegee to clear the floor of excess water. Angela protests incoherently as we lay her back on the on the bed and strap her in. “Jus wanna slow fuck” I think she mumbles but we pay her no heed. I squeeze some KY gel on to my hand and spread it on and into Angela’s pussy as Mike replaces all the sensors and repositions the “f-mobile” as I’ve mentally dubbed the machine. He selects a more robust dildo, lubes it and attaches it to the piston before starting the lube drip and twisting the go knob. The larger dildo pushes into her and she whimpers a bit but seems to open and relax her pussy muscles to accept the new invader. Mike adjusts the f-mobile to a slow easy pace, checks all the sensors and readouts – and we all, but Angela – return to the house.

Wow!Pt.7.Advanced Education