Twice Smitten - a Love Story

TWICE SMITTEN: A LOVE STORY CH. 3

By Norma Jane

1

Chapter 1 introduced Leslie and our love-affair in the early 1990s, when we were around forty, and returning to university to take a language degree. It included Leslie's earlier sexual history and how we eventually resolved the problem arising from it. Chapter 2 recorded our visit to his mother, Linda, to consummate the desire he had so long harboured since seeing her naked when he was eighteen.

2

Our affair continued, but the contact with Linda had wrought a series of changes, in our relationship and love-making. Always appreciative of them he became obsessed with my breasts, pressing them against himself and rocking from side to side, uttering little repetitive formulae: 'Whose are they, anyway?... Give them over...I can feel them inside me...'

No more rear-entry and cramming the whole penis inside me. The favoured routine was now that I must harden him with hands and lips, then straddle him as he lay passive and engulf as much of his erection as I could, and lay myself flat to bring my bosom to bear on his chest. Then I must slide rhythmically a few inches up and down his body, to rub my clitoris off against his pubic bone or the base of his shaft, and simultaneously ease his penis a little way in and out of my vagina. Meanwhile he held my bottom and murmured further fragments: 'Who is inside?...Whose clit is coming?...I can swell them, swell them...'

We were studying as hard as ever, but he was increasingly depressed, more and more desperate for sex, often rushing us out of the library or language laboratory to my room, tearing off my clothes and then his own and pulling me down on top of him to follow the routine of hardening, inserting, sliding and muttering, until I came - and I had to come in order to bring him off, too. It became harder for me to come, because it became so mechanical, and at the same time desperate. It was clear some deep down yearning was seeking expression, and that it had to do with his longing for Linda, but went beyond the yearning to lose himself inside her as he paid her the tribute of his ejaculations.

Between whiles he was as affectionate as ever and often tongued me to climax without arousing himself, or caressed and nipple-sucked as he fingered me off. But these were more acts of kindness than expressions of love, and as our courses drew to a close we knew there was no further to go. I was quietly desperate, too, still in love but recognising I could not fulfil whatever profound need it was that haunted him. We even went to stay with Linda again to see if she could diagnose or satisfy his craving.

3

She, too, had, with my help, to stiffen him, and crouch over him as I slid him onto her. Then I pushed her down onto him and helped her flex her pelvis so as to frot her clit against his penile base. I also had eventually to force my hand between them to frig her clitoris and come her, in order that he could feel it in the five inches or so he had inside her vagina, and ejaculate successfully.

This recourse was successful. Her orgasm was minimal, but enough. He came and almost at once fell asleep. Knowing how deeply he slept now after coming in this way I helped Linda raise her hips, ejecting him and a flood of sperm, and move back to be able to kneel and get off the bed. She looked troubled, and I pulled the bedclothes over him, took her hand and led her out of the room, closing the door behind us, and into the bathroom.

There is something delightfully intimate about washing another woman, slipping her nipples through your fingers, smoothing beneath her, moulding her bottom in your sudsy hands, and Linda received my ministrations with quiet pleasure, and, I hoped, comfort, though she said nothing until I had dried her, led her to her own bedroom, opened the bed and helped her into it. I got in beside her and kissed her gently for a long time.

When I withdrew my lips, she said, 'What's wrong with my poor boy?'

'He's not a boy anymore, Linda. He's forty-one and having a mid-life crisis,' I said.

'What is it? Do you know?'

'Not properly, no,' I said, 'But I think he wants to be you. Or you as you were when first he began to pine for you. Maybe even to be you when you were eighteen yourself.'

'Why do you think this?'

'When he goes to sleep, like he just did, after he comes in me, or you now, he goes into a kind of coma. As if he's hoping he'll wake up different. Caterpillar to butterfly.'

'How can we help him, Norma?'

'We can do nothing but hold onto him, take him into us, come for him to help him come and be patient. He doesn't properly understand himself yet.'

She asked, 'But will he ever? Can't we ask him, listen to him, get some counselling?'

'I don't think so. Questioning him would probably block, not free, him.'

'Does he still love you, Norma?'

'Yes, but it's not the same. He also somehow resents me, because he wants to be like me and he can't. He's confused about his identity...'

'What I can?'

'Keep his home for him, welcome him when he visits, let him come in you when he wants. What women have always done for men - and for other women, too.'

I put my lips to hers to prevent further discussion, and took up where I had left off in the shower, smoothing her breasts, catching her nipples between my fingers, kneading her sweet bottom, running my fingers down her crack and into her vulva. And slowly she began to relax and arouse, enabling me to suckle her nipples, and eventually open her thighs and lodge my face between them to lingus her clit and cunny until she came, and, after a rest, came again.

4

In the morning we had to rouse Leslie and more or less dress him before getting some breakfast down him. Then we loaded him into his car, Linda kissed him goodbye and she and I kissed and murmured a farewell, and I drove us back to university, where our last term continued into the exams and the submission of dissertations. Which were successful for us both, since we gained first class honours, but also brought us to the point of parting. For while he was going south and then west to perfect his command of Romance languages, French, Italian and Spanish, adding Portuguese, I was going east to improve my German, Polish and Serbo-Croat.

Sadly, no progress had been made in his search for understanding of his condition, and I felt I had failed him in not being able to bring him enlightenment and resolution. But we knew there was nothing more we could do, and the only sensible course was to separate and hope that further exploration of the world would yield illumination.

Our dissertations were on the usages in different languages of how sexual matters were encoded, revealing differing attitudes and metaphorical idioms. We had different perspectives, but both began with the observation that in English the vocabulary is limited, often comical and lacking in appreciation. For instance, there are a few medical or quite polite terms for penis, starting with that, including 'member' and 'organ,' but the taboo terms are near-contemptuous once you're beyond 'cock.' 'Prick,' 'dong,' 'John Thomas,' and so on. The same is true for the more limited list of terms for 'vagina.' 'Cunt' is not so shocking as at one time, but there are few other words, and they are imprecise. 'Pussy' seems to mean female genitalia in general, though it is often taken to mean vagina, and there is general confusion about the distinction between vagina and vulva, for which there are few synonyms other than 'quim,' 'slit' or 'slot.' For 'clitoris' there is little but 'clit' or awkward phrases like 'love button.'

I raise this topic at this point, because I intend to try, as I have been doing in previous accounts, to coin new words or make existing words more precise, and this process has become all the more necessary with the proliferation of genders. This has been recognised in the creation of such items as 'she-cock' and 'arse-pussy,' but they are not very pretty and seem rather desperate. So, now read on in the narrative of my being twice-smitten.

5

Leslie and I had agreed we would not correspond but would keep Linda informed of our activities, so that I knew, from my regular visits to her over the next five years, always involving love-making, that my erstwhile lover had mastered Portuguese and gone to Brazil to make use of it while teaching English. The dispatches from Rio and Sao Paulo had mostly been limited to assurances of continuing employment, including in a university, and good health. They were signed simply, 'Your loving L.'

The first hint of a return was a call from Linda to say that this was imminent, and the next was a name that I saw on the list of those who would be attending an advanced English-teaching course I was involved in. There was the right surname, with title and initial 'Dr L.' I was, therefore, bracing myself for the reunion, wondering whether it would that of those so long separated as to be strangers. Or would we recapture some feeling of our one-time closeness? But when I arrived at the venue and was given in the lobby outside the seminar room the updated list of attenders, I noted that 'Dr L.' had been expanded to read 'Dr Lesley.'

Hardly had I absorbed this telling clue than I was being introduced by a colleague to a radiant being, with, 'Norma, this is Lesley. Lesley, Norma.'

'Oh, we were at university together,' this vision said, grasping my hand firmly. 'We know each other very well.'

Not to be outdone or be surprised into some exclamation I said, 'Yes, indeed,' shaking the hand and holding onto it a moment, 'Though Lesley has changed a little since then, probably from all that foreign travel and new experiences.'

My colleague nodded and moved away to greet some other new arrivals and I was free to contemplate this 'Lesley.' And she was worth looking at, whether or not you had known her in a previous manifestation. She was, thanks to wearing elegant high-heeled sandals a little taller then me. Her hair was beautifully cut to hang to the shoulders of her leaf-green blouse, within which nestled a shapely bosom, supported in an obviously expensive and perfectly-fitting bra. She was lightly made up, with a touch of green eye-shadow and pale lipstick. A dark brown skirt was belted tightly round a trim waist, and it was all I could do not to stare or express my admiration for someone radiating health, beauty, confidence and good will.

We stood smiling at each other and I refrained from asking such questions as, 'Why didn't you tell me?' and, 'Didn't you think to warn me?' Because I understood she had wanted to avoid all anticipation on my part and present herself, new-minted, so that my responses would be as far as possible spontaneous. So, I soon realised that although we were professional linguists, language was inadequate and superfluous, and we went into the seminar-room in silence.

I knew, naturally, that she would come to my room in the late evening, and I had meanwhile remembered that Brazilian medical practitioners had pioneered and performed thousands of operations on and hormone therapies for those seeking gender-transition, The question was, then, precisely what was now Lesley's physical situation? I assumed I would be informed or this, though whether we would resume, or begin, a sexual liaison was not worth considering in advance. It was, after all, probable that she had a new lover or maybe several relationships under way, and that she had signed up for the course with the aim of simply freeing me from any now false ideas about her, and ensuring closure to a previous association which had never been formally terminated.

6

When she knocked quietly on my door in a student accommodation block at that university I had composed myself to expect nothing but whatever she chose to reveal. I opened to find her smiling gently, dressed as before, but in flat shoes. I could see from a few tendrils of damp hair and the slight musky perfume she had showered, as I had. I stepped aside to admit her, and when I had closed the door we stood looking at each other a couple of feet apart. Speech was still irrelevant, and we simply offered and took hands and gently squeezed them, gazing deep into each other's eyes.

What we saw prompted us to move together and embrace, hugging like two old friends greeting each other after a long absence than lovers reunited. But what was different was, of course, that we were bosom to bosom and I became acutely aware of it. I also knew that this was deliberate on her part. We were woman-to-woman at this level. What was I to make of this? A surge of tenderness went through me, and she sensed it, as I drew her closer.

Without releasing each other we leant back a little to continue the eye-contact, and then we brought our mouths together and began a long, long kiss. It began with lips only but slowly progressed to open jawed tonguing, taking us into a new phase, beyond the old friends', or old lovers', reunion. This was tentative love-making, but for the moment we didn't know whether or how it would move on.

It was confusing for a little while that with my eyes closed this felt like beginning love-making with Leslie, but the acute awareness of breasts pressed against mine banished that notion and I was ready to continue into whatever was right for us now. At the same time I sensed that the initiative was with me. She was offering herself, giving herself into my care, and I must intuit what she needed from me. Because I was profoundly moved by the awareness that she was assuming I would want to take a lover's possession of her in her new manifestation, taking us out of the past and seeking into a new dimension.

From that moment we were attuned beyond needing guidance. We stepped apart and she stood relaxed, eyes half-closed as I released the belt round the skirt to release the blouse, which I unbuttoned without haste and drew off her shoulders and down her arms. I paused to admire the perfect bra, encasing those firm, full breasts. They were, when I released them, beautiful, and natural, developed without surgical intervention. They were so like Linda's that I thought for a moment that she had, indeed, somehow become as Linda has been when first seen naked. Even the perfectly found areolas and the already erecting nipples were similar. But I was making assumptions and these were Lesley's breasts, a little smaller than mine, but exquisitely rounded, touching together more closely than mine.

I took them in my hands, gently squeezing, thumbing across those sweet nipples, and she uttered a sigh and stood up straighter to offer them to me. There was no need to voice my appreciation as my hands were speaking for me. It was not yet time to put my lips to them. It was time to unzip and release the skirt, which, kneeling, I drew down her legs and over her feet as I lifted them, also removing the shoes. And there she stood in all enveloping silk. Still kneeling I turned her by the waist and there was her deep, rounded cheeks, perfectly held within what were surely specially made knickers. This was not the tight-buttocked masculine bum I had so much liked. It had burgeoned into a totally female bottom, and I wanted so much to see it bare and drew down the delicate silk down her legs and off.

This was the moment of truth, for I was presented at eye level not just with those new-grown mounds but three restraining bands of powerful elastic. One round the waist and one round each thigh, tucking neatly into the sub-buttock crease, the sulcus. These cinctures were clearly holding in place a special supporting thong, the presence of which betrayed the exact nature of this transwoman, and I ran a finger through the lowest end of the crack to feel the rear of the device, within which the shscrotum was contained, and beyond it the shpenis.

I turned her round again to see this cleverly designed and handmade restraint and to detach and draw it down and off. Stiff on the outside it was soft within, and as it came away from her pelvis the shpenis flopped into view, slightly swollen. I stood and put arm round her to lead her to the bed. I threw back the covers and laid her down, still completely passive and trusting. The summer twilight was darkening and I put on beside light, lay beside her and laid my face against her breasts. She lifted a hand to my cheek to cushion me to her and I nuzzled at her nipples. Already erect they hardened yet more, and I reached a hand over her hip and felt into her crevice with my fingers. I ran them down and sought beneath for her opening. After some moments of caresses it yielded and I eased a finder into her shanus and felt for her she-spot, something I had never done for Leslie. Now lipping a nipple rolled away a little to free my other hand and gently wrapped its fingers round the slowly swelling shpenis. She uttered a little moan and I began to massage it, easing the loose skin over and back from the glans. She began to thrust into my grasp and after a while I knew from the pre-orgasmic stiffening she would come. With a series of deep sighs she poured her thick shemen into my hand, like cream from a jug, and quickly fell asleep. This was not the desperate coma from former times. It was the peaceful slumber of someone utterly relaxed.

She lay open to my appreciative scrutiny. Her skin was completely hairless and lightly tanned, the result of careful sunbathing on Brazilian beaches. Her muscles were toned from exercise and there was no excess flesh anywhere. She gave off a delicious aroma of sweat, bottom, shejaculate and the musky perfume. I was enchanted, and knew myself ready to fall in love, again or still. The old feelings transformed into the new ones, echoing the metamorphosis of the former lover into the new one. Yet I had no idea what would happen next. She might wake, give me a grateful kiss for my ministrations, dress and depart. There was no point in speculating, and I pulled up the bedclothes, turned out the light and snuggled against her into sleep.

7

In the light of early day I was awoken by the tingling in my breasts. Someone was tweaking and sucking them. The someone said, 'Good morning, dear Norma. My turn to make the love, though you may need the bathroom first.'

Of course, we both did, and whilst in there we made use of the shower, and, as I had with Linda, she soaped me, running her hands over bosom and bottom, reaching under to cleanse vulva and vestibule, and it was my turn to be passive, then, and when we returned to bed and she continued to stroke, suck and tease, nipples and clit. She was fully erect, waiting for me to be ripe for entry, and at the right moment eased open my thighs, shifted between them and felt for my entrance with her glans-tip. I felt it slot between my labia with joy, which grew into utter delight as she slid slowly into me. For the first time since she had arrived at my door I spoke. 'Come again, Lesley,' I said, and as she let go her jism in hard spurts I came, though whether it began in my clit, cunt or cervix, or all three, I did not know.

Now we cuddled down to talk. I said, 'How did you know I was here?'

'Linda always knows where you are. She sent me the application form for the course.'

'Have you been to see her - she'll be longing for that?'

'No, I came straight here. Well, I wandered about a bit on the way.'

I asked, 'Why?'

'I was testing, seeing how English people responded to me.'

I guessed, 'You've only recently transitioned.'

'Only recently finished, anyway. Been on the way a while.'

'You look absolutely magnificent,' I said, 'Dressed and naked.'

'Thank you. I should explain that I wanted to come straight to you, dear Norma.'