This chapter describes Melanie's final discovery of Martina's true nature and then relates the exciting times they had sharing their bodies menage a trois with Beatrice.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Martina’s Story
Chapter 4

List of Characters.

Myself. Martina, A sexually dysphoric child whose sexuality has not yet been ascertained but who chooses to present as a girl

Beverly. My adoptive ‘aunt’ who is a mature shemale and my most supportive adult friend.

Chenille. My older half sister.

Jennifer. Aunt Beverly’s adopted daughter.

Beatrice. Aunt Beverly’s second adopted daughter and Jennifer’s younger sister.

Sian. My lesbian mother who is married to —

Margaret. Who is Chenille’s lesbian mother.

Sissy. My and Chenille’s transvestite shemale father.

Sandie. My doctor, psychiatrist and sexual counsellor.

Judge Elizabeth Porter. The judge who ruled that I should be allowed to live and dress as a girl.

Angela Hunt. Jennifer and Beatrice’s natural blood mother who is now married to Aunt Beverly who
is a shemale.

Countess Wemite’ Sian’s old School Chum

Peter. Countess Wemite’s son & Melanie’s older brother

Melanie. Baroness Wemite’s daughter and my best school friend.

Rosemary & Monika. Two bullies in the junior school.

Lucinda. A previous victim of the two bullies and our fourth study mate.

Gertrude & Daisy. Our other two remaining study mates.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I never realised just how forward and eager real girls could be when there was the promise of real heterosexual sex without any of the attendant risks or boyish threats. Beatrice knew that I was vasectomised and sterile and she knew from long years of intimacy that there was no risk of any disease.

“We’ll be able to do it ‘bareback’!” She told Melanie Happily. “Martie’s sterile and clean!”

“And all soft and girlie with lovely tits,” added Mel as she gently cupped my breasts and brushed my stiff nipples.

They hugged each other ecstatically then dragged me between them into Beatrice’s bunk.

“Who’s going first?” I whispered.

Beatrice and Melanie looked at each other and smiled.

“You’d better go first,” offered Bea, “you’ve tried stuff up there before. I’m still a virgin.”
Melanie giggled and squirmed eagerly as she seized the opportunity. Without further ado, she climbed onto me and spread her thighs apart. I was slightly surprised. I had always thought that girls needed foreplay to get them ‘ready’ but Melanie was already ‘prepared’. I gently humped my rigid boy-clitty against her sex and felt the slipperyness of her receptive love lips.

“Do it!” Gasped Melanie urgently. “Do it now!”

“Be gentle though,” whispered Beatrice in my ear. “Go slowly at first.”

This confused me slightly. Here was Melanie urging me to act quickly whilst Beatrice was urging caution. In the end I took Beatrice’s advice and gently probed at the slippery entrance to Melanie’s core. For an answer, Melanie squeaked her impatience and thrust her tummy hard down. My boy-clitty suddenly slipped without any resistance deep into Melanie’s tight, warm, wet sex.

“Oh!” I squeaked with surprise before realising just what a delightful sensation it was. “Oh-ooow, aaahh. Mmm! That’s lovely.” I sighed as the wet velvety scabbard enveloped my boy-clitty.

“Of course it’s nice!” Rasped Melanie as the frustration cracked her voice. “Now ge, - get on with it. Faster!”

Always happy to please my friend, I started humping very slowly so as not to hurt her. This was what I had read in all the sex books and magazines but Melanie was no ordinary girl. Her needs were desperate and I wasn’t moving quickly enough.

”Dammit!” She cursed, “This is not good enough. You get on top!”

Without any consultation she squirmed and twisted so as to spin us around without missing a beat. We never even separated and within moments I found myself on top. Melanie then spread her thighs wider, brought up her knees and jammed her heels into my butt.

I responded uncertainly for I was still afraid of hurting her but my needs were also gathering their own momentum.

“Come on!” She groaned feverishly. “Harder. Drive that thing of yours hard against my clitty!”

With every stroke, she drove her heels into my butt and urged more speed. I glanced uncertainly at Beatrice who was mesmerised by Melanie’s demands. It was obvious to Bea that Melanie was an exceptionally horny tigress. Bea finally caught my beseeching gaze then nodded as she pressed her own hands against my butt and urged me on like a jockey driving a horse.

This was all I needed and I fell into Melanie’s furious rhythm as she squealed and grunted her way to one of the most explosive orgasms I had ever seen. Indeed, she was so noisy, Beatrice and I were afraid it might alert girls in the other dorms. To silence her I tried pressing my lips to Melanie’s, but she was having none of it. Her raucous gasps and wails of delight would not be silenced. Beatrice and I were terrified of the authoritative knock on the study door. Fortunately it never came and as Melanie thrashed though a spectacular prolonged orgasm, I exploded in my own frenzied release.

My pleasure subsided as quickly as it came but Mel’s followed the traditional girlie pattern. Slowly, ever so slowly, Melanie’s urgent humping subsided until she lay satiated as a heaving whimpering lump of shuddering flesh.
Finally she opened her eyes and smiled greedily.

“Ooooh! That was sooo good. “Did you come?”

“Yes, of course.” I whispered. “Didn’t you even notice?

“I, - I was too far gone to notice.”

“Yeah, that’s the truth,” giggled Beatrice. “Now it’s my turn but Martie’s going soft.”

I felt a little guilty that I had allowed my lust to overwhelm my obligations. I felt my boy-clitty and it had indeed gone soft.

“Heck! I’m sorry. I’ve got to do Bea as well. I sort of lost control,” I apologised

Melanie giggled and wriggled to demonstrate her satisfaction.

“Mmmm. You were just gorgeous Ducky. But I know what gets you horny again.”

Gently, Melanie brushed her knowledgeable thumbs across my still rigid engorged nipples and I gasped again.

“Oh! Oo-oh! Oh you minx! You know that gets me going!”

Even as I gasped and squirmed, my boy-clitty started to re-arm and Beatrice’s eyes widened with anticipation. Melanie gently grasped my growing boy clitty and smiled.

“Come on Bea, your turn.”

So saying, Melanie pushed me off her then grabbed some tissues and wiped herself before Inviting Bea to take her place.

“Just try her,” offered Melanie, “she’s delicious!”

Beatrice needed little inducement but she was nervous. She searched my eyes beseechingly and pleaded.

“You won’t be rough with me will you? I’m a virgin.”

“D’you really want to do it?” I asked. “You don’t have to do it. If you want to save yourself for your honeymoon, we don’t have to do it.”

Beatrice smiled softly and leaned forward to kiss my lips.

“No, let’s do it. I want to do it but I’ve never been breached. I’ve always hoped it would be
you. This is what I always hoped for. Promise me you’ll stop though, if you’re hurting me.”

“Of course I will.”

Having extracted my promise, Beatrice slid under me then spread her legs as she had seen Melanie do. I gently probed her sex and determined that she was still not ready.

“I need to get you horny,” I whispered, “you’re not slippery enough.”

“She’s still nervous.” Declared Melanie. “D’you want me to get her horny?”

I looked Bea in the eyes and she nodded slightly.

“Mel knows best. She knows what gets me going.”

Obediently, I rolled aside and lay with my leg draped over Beatrice’s thighs as Melanie’s knowledgeable fingers played Beatrice’s libido towards its crescendo. Soon, Beatrice was grunting and humping eagerly and I gently ‘tested’ her love-lips with my own fingers. Beatrice was dripping honey and I knew her to be ready. Gently, I slid over her and inveigled myself between her thighs as Melanie relinquished her preparations. Then Melanie decided she wanted to take control. Deftly she wrapped her fingers around my swollen boy-clitty and guided it towards the swollen petals of Beatrice’s greedy sex. Beatrice squeaked as Melanie hit a ‘bull’s-eye’ and presented my rock hard shaft to the very portals of her core.

“Ooh! That’s nice, play with me a bit, just there, - yes! That’s it! Oooh, your cockette is just so velvety.”

Beatrice’s curious hand reached between us and gently fingered the soft slippery bell of my boy-clitty and she giggled impishly. Then she turned to Melanie.

“Brush the glans of Martie’s boy-clitty against my girly clitty.”

Melanie duly obliged and I gasped with delight as my sensitive bell fetched up against the stiff slippery nubbin of Bea’s erected clitty.

“Is that nice?” Asked Melanie to no one in particular.

Bea and I both gasped ‘Yes’ in exact synchrony and Melanie giggled as she orchestrated our virginal union.

“What does it feel like?” She asked, again to nobody in particular.

For me it was delicious frustration as I humped eagerly to try and frot my hypersensitive fraenum against the deliciously stiff little nubbin of Beatrice’s delightful sex. Beatrice however, contrarily jerked her pubis furiously to try and amplify the frenzied waves of pleasure already rippling from her sex and up into her whole being.

Melanie was now playing us like two parts of an orchestra as she conducted point and counterpoint to produce a frenzied harmonic through both our bodies.

Firstly Mel played us fortissimo as we plunged and struggled to assuage our frustrations, but then Melanie changed slowly to pianissimo as she gently brought my boy-clitty to the very portals of Beatrice’s maw and slowly allowed it to feed delicately into Beatrice’s virginal scabbard. Melanie let out a long guttural groan of satiation and slowed her tempo as she realised that violent activity would impale her on my rigid organ and she could hurt herself if her hymen membrane ripped too violently. Then she felt my velvety bell fetch up against her hymen and she froze with fear.

“Oooh. Ow! Be careful now, I can feel your thing against my cherry,” pleaded Beatrice.

I had also felt the obstruction in her scabbard and stopped immediately, solicitous of her fears.

“Are you OK?” I whispered.

“I, - I think so. I can feel you against my cherry. Take it easy.”

I lay still for several seconds then carefully eased my desperately eager boy-clitty against the resistant membrane. Beatrice let out a tight little nervous gasp and twitched experimentally as we both felt the membrane begin to stretch.

“Let me do it,” demanded Bea, “if I break it I’ll have more control.”

Obediently, I lay still and Beatrice carefully adjusted her hips as she slowly pushed down on my rigid organ. We both gasped as we felt the first little tear and her membrane slid over my velvety bell. I felt the tissue stretch around the base of my bell and smiled as Beatrice squeaked.

“Is it hurting?” I whispered.

“No. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Can you feel anything?”

“I think it’s popped,” I replied, “I can feel it around my cockette.”

Beatrice giggled and carefully wrapped her arms around my back as she slowly pushed down some more. I felt the membrane rippling down my shaft and squirmed a little as it tantalised the sensitive flesh. Beatrice squeaked again then gasped as she finally pushed down one last time to bring her girl clitty hard up against the base of my boy-clitty.

“I think you’re all the way in.” She giggled.

“She is!” Agreed Melanie matter-of-factly.

I humped gently and felt my pubis fetch up against Beatrice’s pubis. Beatrice gasped with pleasure and ground her clitty against me in a feverish circular motion. Her gyrations confirmed that whatever inhibitions Beatrice had once had about the pain of losing her virginity, were rapidly evaporating in the intense heat of her burgeoning lust.

By now Melanie had relinquished control of our union but she gasped as she recognised virginal blood on her fingers.

“Heck! I’d better get a towel!”

Ever the thoughtful considerate friend, Melanie slipped out of the bunk and seized one of her own red towels from her cubicle. She returned to quickly feed it under Beatrice’s bouncing, squirming bum.

“Thanks,” gasped Beatrice as her inhibitions were freed again and she resumed humping with total abandon.

Melanie then squeezed in beside us again and savoured the delightful pleasures of frotting her own cunny against Beatrice and I as we eagerly achieved the heights of nirvarna. Beatrice however, was having none of the urgent dash towards orgasm that had been Melanie’s forte. Better for her the long slow climb to be savoured in every nuance and sensation. Despite it being her first coupling, Beatrice was determined to get as much pleasure as possible from our union.

Fortunately, my earlier orgasm with Melanie enabled me to keep better control of my urges. I was able to play Beatrice like a cello, fortissimo as opposed to my earlier union with Melanie, which was like a violin and pizzicato.

Finally Beatrice’s pleasures burst forth and she cried out with delight as her heels drummed on my soft rounded bum. Her release gave me added impetus for I no longer had to constrain my own urges. I released my inhibitions and joined her in the final consummation of our friendship. Beatrice, Melanie and I had finally become lovers.

For the rest of that morning, we lay entangled together as we whispered our secrets and shared our fears and fantasies. No more inhibitions or unshared secrets for us we concluded, for our pact of friendship had been sealed by the most wonderful of all intimacies.

Reluctantly we clambered out of bed as the school clock struck a sonorous eleven, and then we tantalised each other as we dressed for lunch. Later that Saturday, we went into town and bought each other identical rings to seal our pact. For the rest of our lives, we each wore two rings on our wedding fingers to confirm our loyalties. We never needed a formal marriage ceremony and indeed, we could not have one if we wished to project our true feelings and loyalties, for the laws of Britain dictate that a legal union can only exist between two people, and we were three. But I digress a little. It is of our school days that I write. More later of our adult years.

For the rest of that school year there were no further developments. Our study partners accepted that we were intimate, for indeed, most girls experimented with their friends, as they grew older. It was the only option open to them in a single sex boarding school. Again, most girls then moved on to find boyfriends and husbands in their adult life but we remained special. After all, Melanie and Beatrice had already found the most delightful ‘husband’ in me and without the usual downsides. We each had two partners who could indulge their pleasures in the bedroom and yet also enjoy ourselves in the shops as we shared every girlie pleasure but one. Sadly, I could never have babies. But then, neither could they unless I fathered them or they betrayed our pact.

That summer, Aunty Beverly organised a trip to Spain on one of her ships. We spent the six weeks touring Spain together with Chenille and Jennifer. It was on this vacation that our older sisters, Jenny and Chenny realised we three were an item. They admitted that they were happy for us but they were more interested in boys. More of interest to us three was the Spanish lifestyle.

Despite the introduction of European working hours, the Spanish still enjoy something of a Siesta during the heat of the afternoon. To compensate for this, they tend to keep later hours. They often dine much later than their north European counterparts and they eat out as a family, bambinos and all. We found this late hour culture much to our liking in the hot Spanish summer because we could spend the afternoons ménage a trios in the air conditioned cool of the hotel whilst promenading the streets during the later evenings.

Naturally, our ‘mummies’ accompanied us but being lesbians and she-males themselves, they have a much more liberal approach to alternative lifestyles. They usually spent their evenings dining in the pavement café’s in the gay areas of the towns. We as children of course, would dine with them, but after the meal, as teen-aged girls, we were allowed to promenade whilst they chatted and socialised with other diners. It meant we were allowed to mingle amongst the crowds of other promenaders

In the gay areas, we mingled amongst gay promenaders and our young eyes widened with excitement when we recognised an obvious transvestite or transsexual amongst the gay couples.

“Look at that one!" Gasped Beatrice. "She should give up! She’s got a five o’clock shadow and look at the backs of her calves! They look as though they’ve been cut with a chisel.”

“Aren’t you glad you started hormones early Martie?” Giggled Melanie as we watched the transvestite pick her dainty way along the street.

“Don’t make fun of her,” I scolded,” she’s quite old and things were different when she was young, especially under Franco. Spain’s come a long way. I think this whole thing is fabulous. Everybody free to do his or her own thing. That poor girl must have lived a life of hell under Franco when she was growing up and desperate to live as she wished.”

Beatrice and Melanie nodded thoughtfully
and we resumed our promenading. We received many admiring glances for we were after all, three very pretty young teenaged girls. Despite the lustful stares we never felt threatened. Those crowded late evening promenades were fabulous. Often we saw Chenille and Jennifer chatting to boys and sometimes we joined up with them. The boys showed huge interest in us at first but, because it was a gay area, they eventually accepted that we three were ‘a gay item’.

Nevertheless, it was hard for the Spanish boys to hide their lustful appreciation. The glint in their eyes and the typical bumbling attempts to impress us with acts of bravado and immature efforts to win our favours betrayed their hopes. We appreciated their efforts and showed it, because Spanish boys can be quite macho, but we had to let them down gently when their aspirations were frustrated. However despite our appreciations, they did not gain our favours. As for our older sisters Jenny and Chenny, I cannot say. They stayed out later than us and went clubbing.

Because we were only fourteen, our mummies required us to be back with them at the pavement restaurant every evening by midnight. Nevertheless, we enjoyed the holiday and it gave us the confidence to pursue our own lifestyles into adulthood. We returned home from Spain well prepared for the next year at St Angela’s.