Basement recreation room, suburban America, sometime in 1986

The iconic contour-fluted lines of the Coca-Cola bottle spun around and around.

The three teenage boys and one teenage girl watched it eagerly.

All four of the teenagers had not long turned eighteen and would soon be going to separate colleges. They had been friends throughout high school and this would be their last encounter before they left.

They had drunk bourbon and coke from paper cups and Grant Butler had produced a baggie of low-grade weed but they had all partook and were more than a little high.

It was Grant Butler who had suggested they play spin the bottle and they had all pooh-poohed him and told him he was an idiot.

“We stopped playing that game in tenth grade,” William Mitchell laughed drunkenly.

“Anyway it’s not fair. I’m the only girl here,” Christine Baker whined.

They were in the basement of Christine Baker’s parents’ house. The basement had been converted into a rec-room, furnished with street find furniture, carpet remnants and bric-a-brac. There was a battered pool table, a Ping-Pong table and shelves of board games. An old but serviceable console television commanded one corner of the room. A record player and a stack of singles and albums topped a cabinet, inside of which was a cassette player and Christine's collection of cassette tapes. Two black speaker boxes bookended the cabinet.

The place was a little downtrodden but it was their hangout when they wanted to get away from their parents and Christine parents were away for the weekend and would be returning the next day so they could drive her to Rutgers University where she was enrolled in her freshman year.

“Yeah! We need more girls!” Steven Townsend exclaimed drunkenly.

The other girls and boys that the four teens hung around with were spending their last weekend with their families and couldn’t attend the impromptu farewell party. None of the boys and girls had paired up into serious relationships but they had kissed, groped and fondled each other now and then as they coupled and uncoupled as teenagers were want to do. Steven Townsend claimed that Mary Jürgens had once given him a handjob in his car but Mary denied it but Steve was insistent that she had.

A wicked grin appeared on Christine Baker’s face.

“What if we make another girl?” she said, stifling a hiccup.

“What do you mean?” William Mitchell asked.

“You guys spin the bottle and whoever it lands has to become girl,” Christine giggled.

“Fuck off Christine!” Grant Butler rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think so,” William Mitchell joined in.

“You guys are scaredy-cats. Take on the dare. Whoever the bottle picks I’ll take them upstairs to my bedroom and dress them like a girl,” Christine sounded excited.

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me,” Grant Butler whined, concentrating on rolling another joint.

“Come on! Be game!” Christine implored the boys.

“Hey. Why not? It’ll be fun. We’ve all dressed up for Halloween,” Steven Townsend said levelly.

“I don’t think so,” William Mitchell sighed.

“We’re fuckin’ doin’ it!” Steven Townsend growled.

Steven Townsend was the unelected leader of their group. He wasn’t the most intelligent but he was the biggest and strongest of the group and had been offered a college football scholarship. He also had a car whilst the rest of them had to borrow from their parents, so that kinda made him in charge.

And so the three boys sat, anxiously watching the classic Coca-Cola bottle whirl and twirl, each of them hoping it would point to another when it stopped. Christine Baker watched the bottle spin, her eyes lit up with amusement and mischievousness. Whoever was chosen by the bottle was going to be humiliated and get to know what it felt like to be treated like an object. Christine loved her friends but the boys had all at one time or another come on to her and when she had rejected their advances their relationships had changed and they were more distant with her.

She had discussed this with the other girls and they’d had the same experiences, even Mary Jürgens, who despite her protests, the other girls believed that she had in fact given Steven Townsend a handjob.

This would be a chance for Christine to wreak a little revenge but it was all in fun and she was looking forward to dressing up the unlucky winner.

The bottle slowed down and stopped. It was pointing directly at William Mitchell who blushed and he opened his mouth to argue or complain but Steve Townsend shut him down before could start.

“Don’t fuckin’ whine about it Mitchell. You know the rules. The bottle determined your fate now get your ass upstairs and don’t come down until you’re dressed like a girl,” Steve sneered.

“Come on William it will be fun. Like Steve said, you boys have dressed like girls before at Halloween. Didn’t you go out as a wicked witch with us once?” Christine tried to diffuse the dark mood that was descending on the party.

“Yeah but I was twelve and it was a fucking black smock, a homemade pointy hat and a straw broom and my face was painted green; I looked pathetic,” William countered.

“Just do it. You took on the dare. We all did. It could have been any one of us,” Grant Butler chimed in having finished rolling his fatty.

He fired it up and passed it to William Mitchell first who took a huge toke and passed it on. The intoxicating smoke mingled with the alcohol he had imbibed and the marijuana that he had smoked earlier created a calmness that descended over him. What the fuck? It was just a harmless prank and he would get to spend some time with Christine Baker alone in her bedroom.

William got to his feet a little groggily and Christine stood with him, accidently flashing her pretty pink panties which all the boys saw because that’s how they were conditioned.

“Come on Will,” Christine took William by the hand and led him to the staircase.

He liked holding Christine's hand and he followed her willingly, drawing in her perfume which was something oriental and exotic, his eyes on her pert bottom and long legs, her A-line pleated skirt flapping around her thighs as she walked.

“See you when you get back Wendy,” Steve called out.

“Who’s Wendy,” Will asked, his mind confused by booze and drugs.

“I think that’s you honey. Will is going to become Wendy,” Christine giggled and squeezed his hand and led him upstairs.

William chuckled to himself and followed Christine dutifully, catching a nice eyeful of pink panty as she led the way up the stairs. He’d had a crush on Christine as long as he could remember but then again he had crush on most of the girls in their circle of friends.

She led him up a second flight of stairs to her bedroom.

As soon as he entered Christine's bedroom Will was swept away by the exotic smells created by the miasma of perfumes, powders, lotions and cosmetics. The wall opposite her twin bed, perfectly made with a pink stain comforter over the bedding and a small arrangement of fluffy toys on the pillows, was taken up by a huge armoire, the doors of which were open revealing an extensive wardrobe of clothes.

Next to the lace curtained window overlooking the tree-lined suburban streets and manicured lawns, was a two-door, four-drawer mahogany vanity unit with a large, lighted mirror. Perfectly aligned in rows were Christine's cosmetics.

Will had to admit he was impressed. His sister’s bedroom mostly looked like a bomb had gone off scattering her clothing, her makeup and all of her possessions around the room and her bed was seldom made. Not that Will went into his sister’s bedroom very often and he had never been in another girl’s bedroom ever.

Just standing there taking in the feminine opulence was an experience in itself.

“Come on silly, don’t just stand there,” Christine led him to the door to her ensuite bathroom.

“Go in there and strip. There’s a nightie hanging on the back of the door. Put that on. I have lady-shavers and foam under the sink, shave that bum-fluff off your face,” Christine said in a commanding tone.

“I don’t think so princess,” Will baulked.

“The JD and grass had given him courage that he seldom possessed.

Christine took a step forward, put her hands on her hips and loomed over him.

Christine Baker stood five-feet seven inches in her stocking feet; her heels gave her a couple more inches. William Mitchell at five-five, slim-framed with his courage leaving him hastily was no match. He felt intimidated by Christine. He was in her bedroom and about to wear her clothes and Steve Townsend had put her in charge, or so it seemed.

“What am I going to wear under my nightie?” Will surrendered and retreated.

He was hardly aware that he referred to the garment as my nightie.

Christine leaned in until her face an inch away from Will’s.

“You’ll wear nothing Wendy. I’m going to dress you when you come out,” she whispered but her tone was menacing.

William flinched when Christine referred to him as Wendy but it was her attitude that frightened him. This silly game had already gotten out of hand. He had things to do. He was leaving for college soon and his life seemed to be going into a spiral over which he had no control.

“And I’m going to make you look pretty and you can be my girlfriend,” Christine’s demeanour suddenly changed and she smiled at him beatifically.

She kissed the tip of his nose and then softly kissed the side of his mouth and William Mitchell was doomed. He was standing in Christine Baker’s bedroom and was about to get naked in her presence and she had just kissed him. They had kissed before when they were kids playing spin the bottle but now she was a young woman and she had kissed him willingly not because the bottle had decided that she had to. Her bedroom smelled nice and it was ‘girly’ and somehow sexy and Christine smelled nice too and there was no doubt that she was sexy.

Along with her navy-blue pleated little A-line skirt she was wearing a pink V-necked angora sweater that fitted her curves and showed off her perky teenage breasts to perfection. Her legs were sheathed in flesh-toned sheer pantyhose and she was shod in black chunky heeled Mary Jane pumps.

Will stood there looking at her taking in her beauty. She was a redhead, her hair cut in flippy waves with bangs that sometimes fell into her eyes. She wasn’t conventionally pretty, her mouth was little too big and her nose was crooked but she wore plenty of makeup and knew how to use it to good effect. Her style was very eighties forward and Will thought she looked just like Molly Ringwald who was currently starring in Pretty In Pink.

“Go!” Christine pointed at her bathroom door and Will retreated to her bathroom.

He did as he was told and nervously stripped, hanging his clothes on the back of the door having taken down the nightie which turned out to be a sheer black negligée that tickled his knees. He held the silky garment against his face before he put it on, feeling the gossamer fabric on his cheek and inhaling Christine's scent. He had become slightly tumescent and had briefly considered masturbating to relive himself.

A quick peek into Christine's laundry basket revealed a tangle of sheer pantyhose, transparent nylon hipster panties and satin full-cut drawers. He would never admit to anyone, not even under torture, but William sometimes stole his mother’s and sister’s panties and nylons from the laundry hamper and masturbated with them.

He shook his head and came to his senses and did as he had been told and quickly shaved the fluff off his chin and cheeks. He came out the bedroom feeling quite silly staring at the floor, barefoot and naked except for the chemise, unable to look up at Christine Baker.

“Your figure is nearly as good as mine. You just don’t have any tits,” Christine smiled at him as he approached her.

Will didn’t have the frame for football or baseball or the bulk for wrestling or hockey. He played tennis and volleyball and enjoyed cross-country running and cycling. The other guys teased him about his slim frame and slight build and he had once opened his gym locker and found a tennis dress instead of his tennis shorts and polo. Steve had pranked him and the other boys had laughed along.

“Just as well because otherwise none of my clothes will fit you,” Christine pushed him down into the chair facing the vanity mirror.

“You’re not really going to really make me look like a girl, are you?” Will smiled nervously.

Christine just smiled at him.

“Shut up and turn to face me,” Christine spun William around on the swivel chair and went to work on his face.

The smell, feel and taste of the cosmetics was foreign to Will but it was also exotic. He felt her putting foundation, finishing powder and rouge on his face and eyeliner, eyeshadow and mascara on his eyes and finally lipstick on his lips.

“Bite down on this,” Christine put a tissue between his lips and he bit down and was surprised to see a lipstick kiss on the tissue.

“That will set the lipstick. It’s long-lasting so it won’t come off when you kiss,” Christine said rather seriously and put a coat of gloss sealer over lipstick.

“No one’s kissing me,” Will said trying not to sound too sulky.

“When they see what I’ve done to you Steve and Grant won’t be able to keep their hands off you,” Christine chided.

“Shut up!” this time Will did sound like a petulant child.

Christine brushed out and teased William’s shoulder length blonde hair. His mullet transformed into very feminine layered shag with bangs. She painstakingly painted his fingernails bright red.

“Can I see?” William asked.

“Not until I’ve finished with you,” here put these on.

She handed him a pair of sheer-to-the-waist glossy tan pantyhose.

“I’ll turn around while you put them on. Step into them one foot at a time and pull them up to your knees, then pull them all the way up around your waist and smooth out the wrinkles,” Christine said and turned her back as promised.

Will’s legs were practically hairless. The few fine blonde hairs he had were shaved for cycling.

He rolled up the pantyhose and put his toes in each of the footlets and pulled them up to his knees as he had been told, then he stood and pulled them up around his waist. What Christine had not told him was how wonderful the nylons felt on his flesh. He masturbated into his mother and sister’s pantyhose often but he’d never put them on and now he knew what he was missing out on.

They felt silky and caressed his skin like featherlight kisses. He was becoming a little tumescent and to make it worse Christine turned around and peeked. He’d had to open the chemise to pull up the pantyhose and she caught him smoothing out the wrinkles.

“Perfect except for one thing,” Christine giggled and flicked the bulge in his crotch with a finger.

“Hey!” Will flinched.

“Tuck it under your crotch and the pantyhose will keep it in place I bet,” Christine laughed.

“Turn around then,” Will said sulkily and she did.

Will managed to awkwardly tuck his penis along his perineum and squeeze his scrotum there too.

“Put these on to help keep that thing tucked away,” Christine handed him a pair full-cut satin panties.

He stepped into them and pulled them up. Christine had not warned him how wonderful the satin panties would feel against his silky pantyhose either. It was doubly amazing and when he pulled them up snugly he was glad his penis was tucked away because it was becoming uncomfortably tumescent. No wonder girls liked frilly, satiny, lacy things against their bodies he thought.

Christine put him in the matching bra and stuffed the cups with balled-up pantyhose and then she put him in a little black velvet miniskirt and purple satin blouse. He had small feet and just managed to squeeze into a pair of Christine’s black open-toe pumps.

She clipped earrings to his earlobes and put a matching choker around his neck and bangles on his wrists spraying him liberally with perfume.

“Now you can look,” Christine turned Will around to face the mirror.

William Mitchell was stunned. Looking back at him was a slim-figured, very pretty, blonde teenage girl with long shapely legs and tousled blonde hair.

“I don’t believe it’s me,” Will whispered.

“It is you Wendy,” Christine laughed and spanked his ass.

“Those two idiots downstairs think I’m going to bring down some clown-faced Halloween gargoyle woman but wait until they get a load of you,” Christine said, obviously proud of her work.

“They won’t really kiss me though, will they?” Wendy said absentmindedly staring at herself in the mirror.

She would certainly kiss the girl in the mirror. She looked like a Wendy and smelled like a Wendy and she even felt like a Wendy, she thought to herself as she smoothed her skirt down her thigh. In his mind, William had become Wendy.

“Careful walking down the stairs,” Christine led him out of her bedroom and down the two flights of stairs to the basement playroom.

“Cover your eyes and don’t open them until I tell you,” Christine called ahead to Steve and Grant and led Wendy into the centre of the room

“Ok you can look now,” she chuckled gleefully.

Steven Townsend and Grant Butler were both astounded and stood there slack jawed staring at Wendy with both awe and bewilderment.

“Jesus! You look like a girl!” Grant stammered.

“No you don’t! You look like a beautiful girl!” Steven corrected him.

Christine brought out her Polaroid One-Step SX-70 instant film camera that she’d been given for her birthday and took a few shots of Wendy who got into the spirit of it and posed. Wendy had expected to be ribbed by the other two boys but when they stood staring at her and making flattering comments she couldn’t help but feel less trepidatious and more comfortable in her skin.

“You tart!” Grant chided Wendy playfully and lit up another joint which they passed around until it was a tiny roach.

The smoke mellowed them out and Christine put ice in four cups and filled them with JD and Coke and set them down on the floor around the Coke bottle.

“Ok. We have two boys and two girls now so let’s play!” she said excitedly sitting down and crossing her legs.

Christine was correct. Steven and Grant had expected William to return looking like a ‘man in a dress’ with clown-like makeup, clomping around in ‘Minnie Mouse’ high heels.

But Wendy was stunning, and taking Christine's advice to take shorter steps, point her toes slightly inwards and land on the balls of her feet first, she actually glided across the floor sensually and swayed her hips seductively.

“You’re not serious about playing spin the bottle? I thought that once you’d humiliated me, dressing me up this way and teasing me, the gig would be up?” Wendy said.

“We’re playing! Sit the fuck down Wendy!” Steve barked.

Wendy complied, sitting down awkwardly, both Steve and Grant ogling her legs and sneaking a panty-peek as she struggled to sit cross-legged with any hint of decorum.

“I’m going first,” Steve declared and spun the bottle on the floor.

It stopped spinning between Grant and Christine. They were sitting boy-girl-boy-girl but there were spaces between them.

“Everyone move in closer otherwise we’ll never get the bottle to point to anyone,” Steve sighed.

“And I’m taking another turn,” he declared as they scooched in closer.

“I like your perfume Wendy,” Grant whispered into Wendy’s ear and she blushed.

The bottle stopped spinning pointing at Grant Butler and Steven Townsend reluctantly shook his hand according to the rules they played by.

Christine spun next and the bottle landed on Grant again. They stood up and kissed closemouthed, Grant trying to extend the kiss as long as possible. Steve and Wendy still sitting on the floor could see Grant’s burgeoning erection and Steve sniggered while Wendy blushed.

“My turn,” Grant was happy to be having his turn having just kissed Christine Baker.

This time it landed on Wendy and everyone froze. It was crunch time. Were they really going to make William Mitchell dressed as Wendy kiss a boy? Wendy looked from face to face and saw lechery on Grant’s face, resentment on Steve’s and expectation on Christine's.

“Come on Wendy, you agreed to this,” Christine niggled her.

“Not really, Christine. I was sort of forced into it,” Wendy said defensively.

“Fucking kiss her you tool!” Steve barked at Grant and the room went silent.

Grant stood up and when Wendy struggled to stand in her heels he helped her to her feet. She tottered on her feet and fell awkwardly against him and Grant took the initiative and leaned into Wendy and kissed her.

The kiss was clumsy. He held Wendy by her forearms, their bodies hardly touching, Grant’s lips puckered stiffly. Wendy pursed her lips in response. At first she felt silly and embarrassed, then Grant put an arm around her and pulled Wendy a little closer and suddenly Wendy felt quite comfortable… more than that she felt coveted, someone wanted her. The kiss, although chaste, became pleasurable. She closed her eyes and let Grant kiss her softly for the prescribed one minute.

“Ok; time!” Steven called out, the jealousy evident in his voice.

Wendy and Grant disengaged ungainly and Grant pulled out his shirttails and Christine smiled when she saw him trying to hide an erection.

Steve was getting pissed because he hadn't got to kiss a girl yet and when Christine spun and it landed on him he was happy. He took more that the prescribed minute kissing Christine, trying vainly to force his tongue into her mouth while he squeezed her butt. He made no attempt to disguise the erection digging into her belly.

Christine was flattered that Steve became aroused kissing her but she struggled to keep his hands off her ass and his tongue out of her mouth. She was used to struggling with boys who tried to take liberties with her and she gave as good as she got.

“Ok, enough!” she finally broke free of him.

“One of you others are supposed to time us!” she whined petulantly.

The truth was that both Grant and Wendy were getting off a little watching Christine and Steve go at it.

The circle reformed on the floor and they took a quick break for everyone to have a drink. The four teens were well on the way to being intoxicated and still high from Grant’s stash of ditch weed.

Steve spun the bottle and the iconic contour-fluted lines of the Coca-Cola bottle spun around and around.

The two teenage boys, one genuine girl and one crossdressed girl watched it eagerly.

It landed firmly and squarely on Wendy and she gasped.

She looked at Steve and saw the look of lechery on his face and she swallowed.

“I invoke the closet rule!” Wendy stammered dryly.

The other three looked at each other inquisitively.

‘The closet rule’ had been introduced into the game when they were young teens and the girls in particular were embarrassed to kiss a boy in front of the others. The rule allowed the couple to go into the closet and kiss in the dark whilst one of the others timed them and knocked on the door when the minute was up.

“Fuck that,” Steve grumbled.

“It’s allowed,” Christine snapped back.

Wendy was hoping that by invoking the closet rule she would be able to fight off Steve and keep him at arm’s length if he tried to feel her up like he had just done to Christine. It would be harder for him to find her in the dark closet with the light off and she only had to endure one minute.

Steve turned to Grant who nodded meekly.

“Christine’s right Steve; it’s allowed,” Grant couldn’t meet Steve’s gaze.

“Ok. In that case I’m changing the game to seven minutes in heaven,” Steve sniggered.

“Hey! You can’t change the game halfway through!” Wendy protested.

“And who is going to stop me?” Steve got to his feet and towered over Wendy and held out his hand.

“Ok Steve, I think this has gone far enough,” Christine said sharply.

“I’ll decide when it has gone far enough. Come on Wendy,” Steve reached down and Wendy meekly took his hand.

“You time it Grant and I want my full seven minutes,” he called over his shoulder as he led Wendy to the closet.

Steve opened the door and pushed Wendy inside and slammed the door closed.

The closet was used to store old furniture, unused games and cleaning gear. With Steve and Wendy inside there wasn’t much room.

Steve groped for Wendy in the dark and found her and pulled her to him. He pressed his lips on hers and kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth. Wendy was so surprised that she didn’t fight back initially and as she had no sense of orientation in the dark she clung to him to keep her feet.

Steven misread Wendy’s actions as active participation and he kissed her passionately, his hands going to her ass, his fingers pawing at the velvet miniskirt, squeezing her buttocks. Wendy could feel his steely erection pressing into her belly and she was so stunned that she just grasped at him in the dark.

Wendy had half expected Steve to deride her and laugh at her or maybe even beat up on her a little. Steve liked to horse around with William and often wrestled with him to belittle him and keep him in his place. Wendy had not expected to be treated this way.

Was he bullying her… yes for sure? Was she somehow secretly enjoying it… possibly?

Wearing the clothes was exciting: the sheer pantyhose clinging to her buttocks and legs, softly caressing her skin whenever she moved, the full-cut satin panties worn over them added a scintilla of decadence that stimulated every nerve in her groin and she had been semi-tumescent ever since she had stepped into them. Then there was the cool soft satin blouse caressing her shoulders, chest and belly and that tight velvet skirt around her waist, buttocks and thighs.

If William could dress a girl any way he wished, she would be wearing exactly what he was wearing now.

Then there was the makeup, perfume, jewellery and high heels. Wearing the makeup was exotic. She could taste her lipstick as Steven kissed her, she could smell her perfume, and those ridiculous heels that kept her tottering just looked so damn good and she felt so sexy wearing them.

Wendy justified putting her arms around Steve as a means of staying on her feet in the dark confines of the closet. Of course he was taking liberties kneading her buttocks but he was keeping her on her feet wasn’t he? Those soft lips pressed on hers and his thick tongue invading her mouth was a liberty, but wasn’t that was part of the game? Wasn’t the whole idea of spin the bottle to kiss the person that the bottle pointed at?

But none of that explained why she felt so excited feeling his hard prodigious rod pressing into her flat belly or why her own cock was uncomfortably erect lying pressed along her perineum or why she felt so feminine and girl-like. It was somehow empowering to be submissive and submit. She wondered if this was how girls felt when boys they liked were pressing their needs on them.

William was used to being the butt of the jokes, the sidekick; the one who always had to run-go-fetch for the bigger boys and for Steven in particular. He was the last one chosen for team sports and games; he was the one that seldom got to kiss the girl. He was the guy who sat with other ‘losers’ behind the other boys and girls in the cinema watching them make out in the gloom.

But Wendy was desired and wanted. She was Christine's friend and Steve and Grant were jealous of each other when the bottle landed on her. It was empowering and feeling feminine and submissive was not as ghastly and abhorrent as she thought it would be.

In the dark Steve had forgotten all about William Mitchell. William had ceased to exist. He was holding this beautiful sexy young woman in his grasp whom he had deemed to call Wendy and Wendy she was. As their eyesight adjusted to the dark he could see how beautiful she was.

She felt soft. He knew those tits were false but her curves were real, her lips were real, her pretty face was real, her soft buttocks were real and those gorgeous long legs were real. It was all a game. No harm done. But Steve was determined to mine every second of pleasure he could out of Wendy Mitchell.

The booze and the grass had fuelled his desire of that there was no doubt; but it was something else that drove those primal urges. She was just so sexy and fuckable!

She felt so soft and feminine in his arms and she had stopped struggling and become compliant. Had she become more than just passively compliant? Was she actively participating?

Wendy let her mind go blank, driving out all of the doubts, contrivances, fears and speculation and just lived in the moment. She was a beautiful desirable, and yes sexy, young woman and she was in the closet with a hunky jock whom almost every girl at school would drop her panties for.

She draped her arms around Steve’s shoulders and returned the kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth. She subconsciously kicked her leg back like she had seen girls do when they were kissing and Steve’s hand went to her thigh. He stroked it, evoking twinkling wavelets of pleasure as his fingertips caressed the gossamer nylon. Wendy gasped into his mouth and Steve smiled around the kiss.

They kissed more urgently and Wendy pressed her body against him and Steve pulled her tight. In the dark they had forgotten who and where they were. Steve stroked Wendy’s thigh, his hand going all the way up her skirt to her pubis where he stroked her satin panties. They felt cool and slinky and his cock throbbed in his jeans.

Wendy was just overcome with the sensuality of it and was enjoying the kissing and caressing, swathed in girl’s clothing and presenting enfemme gave her freedom to behave any way she wished and she was unashamedly horny.

Steve stroked and squeezed her buttocks through her panties and then slipped his hand inside the leg of her panties and squeezed her ass through her pantyhose, a finger slipping into the crevice between her buttocks. This gave Wendy cause to become alarmed but Steve kissed her harder and held her tighter and she couldn’t deny that she liked what he was doing and his finger exploring the cleft of buttocks was dangerously evocative.

When he took her hand and put it on his cock she froze.

She could feel the heat and the girth of it though the denim. It felt wicked and dangerous and she knew that if she allowed him to go much further they would be crossing a line but she couldn’t help but imagine her long fingers with those red-painted fingernails gripping that pink turgid flesh for a fleeting second.

Almost instinctively she squeezed the organ through the denim and Steve gasped into her mouth and squeezed her buttocks.

Wendy knew that she was going too far and that a line had been crossed and she was bewildered as to what to do next.

Wendy was saved by a hammering on the door.

“Time’s up people. Get your asses out here!” Grant called through the door.

Christine pushed Grant out of the way and snatched the door open hoping to find Steve and Wendy flagrante delicto but she was disappointed.

Steve had pushed Wendy away from him when Grant hammered on the door and she had fallen back against an old writing desk and had just managed to pull down her skirt when the door flew open.

“What have you two been up to?” Christine smiled inquisitively.

“We don’t kiss and tell,” Steve pushed past her and went and poured himself another drink.

Christine had seen the bulge in Steve’s pants, the red lipstick on his lips and Wendy’s lipstick smeared around her mouth.

Wendy adjusted her skirt and straightened her blouse; she squeezed past Christine her face blushing crimson.

“Slut,” Christine whispered in Wendy’s ear as she passed.

Wendy couldn’t help but smile. Was Christine actually jealous or was she just teasing her?

“So how was it?” Christine sidled up to Wendy.

“We kissed. It was ok,” Wendy was still blushing and she strode purposely to the temporary bar where Steve was throwing ice cubes into a plastic cup.

“Will you make me a drink too please,” Wendy asked Steve who still had his back to her.

Steve shrugged and pulled another cup off the stack and began to throw ice into it.

“You were in there for seven minutes and all you did was kiss?” Christine continued to needle Wendy.

“Yep. That’s all we did. He didn’t want to really but we agreed to the game so we thought we had to,” Wendy said indignantly.

Christine let out a loud guffaw.

Steve turned around and offered Wendy her JD and Coke and glared at her as if to say ‘keep your mouth shut’.

“Steven Townsend is no gentleman and I’ve never seen him make a drink for William Mitchell ever. He must be sweet on you or you have something on him,” Christine continued to grill Wendy.

“Don’t be silly!” Wendy sipped her drink and made her way back to her place in the circle.

“Wendy and Steven sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” Christine sang quietly into Wendy’s ear and Wendy pushed her away playfully.

“Stop it!” Wendy giggled.

She couldn’t stay mad at Christine. Something had changed between them. They had bonded somehow when Christine had transformed William into Wendy. Christine had always stuck for up Will and had a soft spot for him but now it was like they were sisters.

With fresh drinks beside them they were ready to play another round and this time it was Christine's turn.

Steven and Grant watched the bottle spin, both hoping it would land on them. Christine could sense their eagerness. The mood had changed. Spin the bottle was no longer a silly kissing game, suppressed sexual longing was bubbling to the surface and it was all because of Wendy Mitchell.

Turning William into Wendy may have started as a prank but it had become something else. There was a feeling of guilty salaciousness attached to it. Christine had created Wendy and she could easily have complied with the implied objective of turning Will into a pathetic caricature of a girl: an ugly, sexless wraith whom the boys could tease, ridicule and bully but instead she had created a beautiful sexy young woman. She had done this as a form protest but it had become something else entirely. Wendy was her invention; a sister and her friend but she was something else too. She was an expression of pent-up and suppressed sexuality.

Steve and Grant were also complicit. Instead of mocking Will they had lusted over Wendy and had both kissed her, validating her femininity.

And then there was Wendy herself. William Mitchell was used to being the butt of the jokes and would do almost anything to be accepted by the group. He was meek and weak-willed but he could easily have just said no. He could have refused to dress enfemme and he certainly could have objected more strenuously when Steve insisted on going ahead with the kissing game. Wendy had endured seven minutes in heaven in that closet and only she and Steven knew what had happened in there but Grant and Christine had witnessed no cries for help.

When they played spin the bottle as kids they swore to keep it a secret, mainly from their parents, but they were all adults now. But there was no doubt in Christine's mind that they would also be keeping this a secret.

The bottle stopped spinning.

It was pointing at Wendy Mitchell.

“Shake hands?” Wendy breathed a sigh of relief.

“Fuck no! I want to see you two kiss,” Steve interjected.

“You know the rules Steve. If the bottle lands on someone of the same sex as the spinner they shake hands,” Wendy said.

“But you’re not the same sex, are you?” Steve sniped.

Wendy didn’t know why the comment offended her but it did.

“For the purpose of the game I’m a girl. Christine bitched about being the only girl so we spun the bottle to decide who was going to be a girl and I lost and now I’m a girl,” Wendy said defiantly.

Wendy was so indignant that she didn’t realise the implications of what she was saying. She was basically telling the group that she was a girl and should be treated that way.

“I say we put it to vote,” Grant Mitchell interjected.

“Good idea. I vote kiss,” Steven grinned

“As do I,” Grant high-fived Steve.

They turned to Christine and looked at her expectantly but knowing she would veto the vote and the two girls would shake hands.

“Kiss,” Christine whispered so softly that the others barely caught it.

Wendy was shocked but delighted as were the boys. Wendy had invoked the right to shake hands with Christine because she thought it was the right thing to do, because that’s what the rules dictated but Will had been longing to kiss Christine and now he had his chance. But it would Wendy kissing Christine not Will.

A few months ago Christine had kissed another girl at summer camp where she had been a camp councillor. Ostensibly it had been to congratulate the girl on her eighteenth birthday because Christine had also turned eighteen the week before but it had gotten a little hot. The girl had turned her cheek at the last second and they had ended up kissing mouth to mouth. Then they didn’t break the kiss. Then they opened their mouths. Then they used a little tongue. Then they did a little over the tank-top breast fondling which turned into inside the tank-top nipple tweaking before they were disturbed.

Nothing else happened but Christine rubbed one out at least once a week thinking about kissing that teenage girl. It was so different to kissing a boy. The kiss was soft and sensual, their bodies were supple, breasts pressed together. There was a sweet tenderness to it with an undercurrent of lust.

Christine and Wendy got to their feet and approached each other nervously. They stood at arm’s length, puckered up and tentatively leaned into each other and pressed their lips together.

Wendy was immediately aware of Christine's perfume, the sweetness of her breath and the softness of her lips. The kiss brought back memories of the fleeting sexless kisses they had endured when playing the game when they were younger. Christine recalled the girl at summer camp but this was girl was more exotic. She was wearing perfume and makeup and her hair wasn’t sweaty and underneath all those sexy clothes she had boy-bits but because they were unobtrusive it made it more bohemian and captivating.

Then there was also the fact Christine had ‘made’ Wendy. She was a creation of Christine's artisanship and she felt a special bond with her.

Wendy felt so sensual as she kissed Christine. She was very aware that she was kissing a beautiful girl but she was a beautiful girl herself. She was intensely aware of her clothing especially her nylons and panties, the hem of her skirt fluttering against her thighs, the satin blouse caressing her torso, her teased hair and her heels.

The two girls put their arms around each other and drew their bodies together and the kiss became fervid as they opened their mouths and introduced their tongues. Their bodies pressed together and Wendy could feel Christine’s pert breasts pressing into her. They both kicked back a leg and standing one-legged their kisses became more intense.

They ground against each other. Christine could feel herself becoming wet. She was no longer thinking about the girl from summer camp dressed in her khaki shorts, tank-top and sneakers; her sweaty hair cinched in a ponytail. The girl she was kissing was dressed in eighties chic and very feminine and there was something special under her skirt.

The two young women pressed themselves together harder, Wendy rubbed a leg against Christine’s and it felt like a thousand butterfly wings were caressing her flesh as their pantyhose hissed. Christine’s hand slipped under Wendy’s skirt and she stroked her thighs and Wendy did the same. They were oblivious to the audience who were watching them slack-jawed with awe.

“Time!” Grant called out absentmindedly and immediately regretted it as Steve batted him across the shoulder.

“What did you do that for?” Steve growled.

Both boys had been watching the girls make out and it was better than the lesbian porn they had seen in Steve’s dad’s adult movie collection.

“I set the timer on my Casio watch and it went off. I dunno. I’m an idiot,” Grant sighed.

“You said it,” Steve was unable to move.

If he did he would expose a huge boner in his jeans and Grant had the same problem.

Christine and Wendy came out of their reverie and disengaged; both blushing and a little embarrassed but also still a little a hot. Wendy found it impossible to sit down with her cock hard between her legs and went to the makeshift bar and poured more drinks, giving time for her erection to subside a little.

Wendy carried the drinks to the kissing circle two at a time. Steve and Grant grinning at her when she handed them their drinks; Christine a little embarrassed, offered a wry smile.

Wendy sat down and Grant snatched up the bottle and spun it.

All eyes were on the glass talisman and when it landed on Wendy there was a collective sigh.

“Closet rule and I want my seven!” Grant leapt up and pulled Wendy to her feet, almost dragging her to the closet.

Grant made no pretext of being shy or trepidatious. He pulled Wendy into his arms and kissed her passionately and his hands roamed her body. All Wendy could do was pretty much hang on because Grant was all over her, almost knocking her off her high heels.

Grant was usually the quiet one who went along with the others and especially Steven Townsend. Grant wasn’t one to go out of his way to bully and tease Will Mitchell but he would join in if it was necessary to be part of the group.

Although Wendy was being pawed at and sloppy-kissed by Grant who was high on dope and drunk on bourbon she didn’t try to fight him off. A little high and certainly drunk herself she thought it poetic irony that a boy who usually ignored her was now besotted with her.

“Settle down Grant; you’ll ladder my nylons,” Wendy heard herself and smiled.

When did she every think that she would be saying those words?

She managed to extricate herself from Grant’s embrace a little by pressing her ass into the writing desk and pushing him with both of her hands.

“Sorry,” Grant whispered in the dark.

Their eyes had adjusted the dark and there was just enough light for Wendy to see the remorseful look on his face. She couldn’t believe that she felt sorry for him.

“Come here,” Wendy whispered and pulled him to her.

She put her arms around him and kissed him tenderly. Grant became aroused again and held her tight and returned the kiss, this time introducing his tongue.

Wendy felt so good that Grant could hardly believe it. She was so sexy in her short skirt, sexy blouse, high heels and nylons. He had banished thoughts of Will Mitchell from his consciousness and there was only sexy Wendy. He rubbed her back and Wendy liked the feel of his fingers through the slippery satin but when he moved his hands to the front of her blouse she put her hands over his to stop him.

“There’s nothing in there,” she whispered.

“Let me anyway,” Grant kissed the side of her mouth and she felt his eyelashes flutter on her cheek.

She took her hand away and Grant unbuttoned her blouse. She shivered when his hands slipped inside and cupped her brassiere. The cups were squidgy and infirm, stuffed with balled-up pantyhose, and Grant pulled the stuffing out of them and his fingers found Wendy’s nipples.

“No!” Wendy tried to stop him but his hands were inside the cups and tweaking and stroking her meagre breasts and firm nipples and god help her she liked it.

Grant had not been with many girls and those that he had been with were mostly flat-chested so he was not unduly disappointed with what he found inside Wendy’s brassiere. Her bosom may be almost non-existent but her nipples were long and frim and her skin was soft and smooth, not a hair to found.

Wendy’s knees trembled as ringlets of pleasure radiated from her nipples. She had never played with her own teats before and had no idea that it could feel so nice. She cradled Grant’s head when he lowered his mouth to her bosom and licked and sucked on each nipple alternatively.

There was no doubt that their kissing game was getting well out of hand. It had become bizarre the minute they decide to dress Will as Wendy but the sexual tension that had been building seemed like it was likely to erupt.

Grant knew full well that he shouldn’t be sucking and caressing Wendy’s breasts but he was enjoying it immensely and his erection had returned and was pressing uncomfortably against his zipper. Grant was the kind of guy who went commando. He pressed his groin against Wendy as he slathered at her tits and he relished the feel of his cock pressed against her belly.

Wendy was not oblivious to the bloated penis being pressed against her stomach but it felt rather powerful and controlling to know that she had caused it; besides it was safely contained by a pair of denim jeans. She was too taken with the waves of delight coming from her breasts in any event, and when Grant ceased attending to them and kissed her again she was a little disappointed.

But not for long. Grant turned out to be quite the adept kisser he used his tongue in ways that excited Wendy. His fingers replaced his mouth inside her blouse and he stroked her nipples while they kissed and Wendy was once more on shaky ground as her legs began to buckle as the intense pleasure coursed through her body.

She was almost unaware that Grant had moved his hands to her legs until overwhelming sensations of rapture erupted from her nylon-sheathed thighs.

“God I love the feel of pantyhose,” Grant gasped around sloppy kisses as his fingers stroked and caressed her legs.

So did Wendy; of that there was no doubt but letting this boy put his hand under her skirt seemed to be going a little too far. She tried to bat his hands away but Grant had her pressed against the desk and his face was pressed to hers as his kisses became more fervid.

Was she enjoying Grant stroking her pantyhosed legs? You bet she was but surely she had to uphold some modicum of decorum.

“Stop that Grant we’re just supposed to be kissing!” Wendy felt stupid even as she said it.

Grant lifted his Casio digital watch to his face and pressed a button and the face lit up in the gloom.

“Shit! Only three minutes left,” he sounded panicked.

At least he’d stopped kissing her and pawing at her to read his watch.

But then the onslaught continued. Grant pulled her face to his and kissed her passionately, forcing his tongue into Wendy’s mouth and she tounged him back. She could endure three more minutes of this and he was a nice boy and she liked kissing him and she liked feeling him pressing against her womanly body.

His hands went back to her nipples, briefly tweaking them on the way down to her legs. It felt so good that Wendy was disappointed when her nipples were paid only scant attention but then Grant’s hands were on her legs. He hiked up her skirt and she felt a little silly trying to push it down whilst she was still kissing him passionately. Now she knew what it was like to be teenage girl on a date with an over amorous young man.

She thought she had won the battle and was a little disappointed that he was no longer stroking her thighs.

Then she heard the ominous sound of a fly being unzipped.

“Don’t you dare Grant… of my… stop… blugh…” Grant stifled Wendy’s protests my pressing his mouth to hers and kissing her.

Wendy felt the sleek iron bar that was Grant’s penis press against her leg.

Was she shocked? Yes! Did it feel amazing? Yes! Would she ever tell anyone? No!

She struggled against him as Grant began to rub his cock on her gossamer-clad thighs but she was only making things worse because Grant felt her silky flesh caress his throbbing cock the more she struggled. Grant tried to hold Wendy still as he kissed her, chasing her mouth as she tried to stop him but she writhed and struggled as much as she was able with her ass pressed against the desk.

Then she made a critical mistake.

Wendy slammed her legs shut trying to deny Grant access to her inner thighs.

All she succeeded in going was trapping his hard cock between her lean, pantyhose-sheathed thighs.

Grant moved his hands to her ass and squeezed Wendy’s buttocks while he fucked her thighs. Wendy clung to him trying vainly to struggle but it was hopeless. The more she struggled the more he enjoyed it. The more she struggled the more she enjoyed it! There was something so sensual and downright sexy, feeling Grant’s hard throbbing cock fucking her legs.

She returned his kisses and stopped struggling, lying to herself that she was only doing so to just to get it over with; her own cock rock-hard between her legs. Grant squeezed Wendy’s buttocks, caressing her satin panties, sliding them over the cheeks of her nylon-shrouded ass.

Wendy drove her tongue into Grant’s mouth and wriggled it and waggled her ass too because it felt good and lecherous to do so. She relished the feel of his lips on hers, his tongue in her mouth, his hands caressing her ass and his throbbing cock between her legs.

Grant was in ecstasy. This was closest he had ever been to fucking a girl and feel of Wendy’s soft slinky thighs again his sensitive cock was amazing. Her ass felt so soft and yielding as he squeezed it and her body felt so womanly pressed against his.

He groaned as he released and ejaculated between Wendy’s silken shrouded thighs.

Wendy felt the scorching semen soak into her nylons and sear her tender flesh. It felt so decadent and wrong and wonderful. She closed her legs tight and thrust back and forth so that every drop of Grant’s semen ran down her legs. The musky smell of spunk filled the closed space.

They clung to each other, kissing and pawing and grinding against each other as Grant spurted his issue all over Wendy’s nylons.

As Grant came down from his orgasmic high they held onto each other, shaking and whimpering.

“Time! Come on you to its time!” Steven Townsend called through the door.

The handle rattled and Wendy was glad that they had locked the door behind them.

“Pass me a hank of that paper towel,” Wendy pointed to a shelf that held cleaning products.

Grant took a step back and grabbed the roll and passed it to Wendy, unable to look her in the eyes.

“You won’t tell anyone?” he whispered.

“Not if you don’t,” Wendy replied, dabbing a ball of rolled up paper towel against her legs trying to soak up all of Grant’s semen.

“Hurry up! What’s keeping you?” Steven called through the door and tried the doorknob again to no avail.

“Give me a minute,” Wendy called out.

Grant had zipped his fly and was trying to arrange his shrinking erection so it wasn’t noticeable whilst Wendy wiped away the last of his spend and pulled down her skirt, stuffed the balled up pantyhose back into her brassiere and buttoned her blouse. She tossed the soggy paper towel into the back of the closet.

“How do I look?” she asked Grant who stared at her through the gloom.

“Beautiful. Like a just-fucked whore,” he sniggered.

“Shut up,” she leaned in and kissed the side of his mouth tenderly and Grant thought it was the best kiss she had ever given him.

“Your secret is safe with me,” she whispered.

“And yours with me,” he replied and opened the door.

They were both a little dazzled by the bright light of the rec-room as they stepped out of the closet a little unsteady on their feet.

Grant made straight for his stash and began rolling a joint. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Christine or Steve because he felt so guilty. He knew that they suspected that he had been up to more than just kissing in the closet with Wendy. Supress the facts as much as he tried, the reality was that Wendy was really Will Mitchell and it was going to be fucking awkward to say the least when they stopped playing this game. Another toke or ten might just ease his guilt.

Steven was anxious to get on with the game. He didn’t care if he got Wendy or Christine next; he was going to get his pecker polished! That weasel Grant Butler came out of that closet looking guilty as hell and he bet that Grant had done a lot more that kiss Wendy Mitchell. Had he felt her up? Did she have tits? What would she feel like under that skirt? She looked fucking hot and those fucking legs in those fucking nylons and that fucking miniskirt! Steven became hard looking at her.

She was standing beside Christine at the drinks table and Christine was no hag. Her face was plain but also weirdly pretty; that pleated skirt with those coltish legs and that angora sweater covering those plump tits. He’d jacked off plenty thinking of Christine Baker.

“Fucking pretty little high school girls think they’re so unobtainable, turning me down so they can chase college boys! Well I’m going to be a college boy soon by I’m going to get me some home-girl ass before I go,” Steve grumbled to himself and took a big slug of his drink.

“What were you doing in there Wendy? Have I created a monster… a little slut?” Christine chuckled and bumped Wendy’s hip with hers.

“No! We were just kissing. I was just doing what the rules of the game say. You three made me do this!” Will had a high pitched voice anyway but overlaid with his whiney denials, Wendy sounded downright effeminate.

“So why is your blouse untucked and misbuttoned,” Christine turned Wendy around to face her and fixed her blouse.

“There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing here. We’re all adults Wendy. We all get to make adult choices and there is only the four of us here,” Christine leaned in and kissed Wendy on the side of the mouth.

“Let me fix your makeup,” Christine pulled out foundation and powder and applied some around Wendy’s nose and mouth and then she put on another coat of the long-lasting lipstick.

“You’ve been using that mouth of yours a lot. All of the lipstick I put on you in my bedroom had been kissed away,” Christine grinned.

Wendy smiled guiltily back at her.

“But that doesn't explain why your nylons are damp,” Christine cheekily ran a fingertip along the inside of Wendy’s thigh and brought it to her nose.

“It gets hot in there. I must have sweated or Grant might have,” Wendy quipped and blushed deep crimson.

“Well if he was, he was sweating spunk,” Christine raised her brows and then she cupped her mouth to stifle a raucous laugh.

“Stop giggling and messing about over there; let’s get this game rolling,” Steve called out impatiently.

The four teenagers sat in the kissing circle. It was Wendy’s spin and she spun the Coke bottle on the floor and watched it spin hoping it would land on Christine.

Steve Townsend reached out stopped it spinning so that it was pointing at him.

“Hey!” the others three all protested at once.

“Closet rule!” Steve leapt to his feet and reached down for Wendy.

He half-dragged her to the closet over the other two’s protests. He locked the door and Wendy backed up as far as she could until her ass was pressed against the desk. She could hear Christine and Grant protesting outside but they soon gave up and the little room was filled with silence.

She looked at Steve Townsend towering over her. The handsome jock was breathing heavily, his fists clenched at his side.

Wendy almost wished that the closet was pitch black so she couldn’t see but even with the overhead light switched off there was enough ambient light to see everything and she could see that Steven was sporting a healthy erection in his jeans.

She glared at him, almost daring him to do his worst and he glared back at her but it wasn’t hate in his eyes it was lust. But there was also a glimmer of something else. Was it affection?

She expected Steve to pounce on her and ravish her but instead he put out his hand and she took it. He gently pulled her to him and he kissed her softly, their lips barely touching.

This was almost worse than if he was defiling her because it was tender and loving and she liked it and she put her arms around him and pressed her body to him. It was instinctive.

Steve held her close and kissed her softly and Wendy felt safe and secure and loving in his arms and when he slipped his tongue into her mouth she welcomed it. She sighed contentedly around his kisses.

When he began to unbutton her blouse she didn’t try to stop him, even when he unclasped her brassiere and let it fall to the floor with the silly pantyhose stuffing in the cups. She threw back her head and moaned when he kissed her neck and then the hollow of her clavicle and finally his mouth found her almost non-existent breasts but Steve lapped at them tenderly, kissing the soft white flesh and sucking and nibbling her nipples.

Wendy was becoming tumescent and she could feel Steve’s hard cock pressing into her but it wasn’t insistent. It was just there like some maleficent lump waiting to be unleashed.

Steve continued to kiss her body and worked his way down to her flat belly where he grazed her hips and found her bellybutton with his tongue. Who would have thought a bellybutton would be an erogenous zone but it sure was. Rings of delight radiated from it as Steve worked his tongue in the little furrow.

Then he began the journey back up her body, pausing to tongue and nibble her breasts and her shoulders and finally back to her mouth. All the time he was doing this Wendy had her hands entwined his hair, guiding his mouth to her tender parts. Her whole body was lit up with lust and need. She had never felt so licentious.

Their kisses were passionate and lewd; they groaned into each other’s mouths and pawed at each other. Without any form of coercion Wendy’s hand had found Steven’s hot poker and she squeezed it through his jeans until he was shaking with desire.

She unzipped him and his goatish phallus fell into her hand. It was long and throbbing and sleek and wonderful and pre-ejaculate was dribbling from the eye and Wendy used it to lubricate the shaft as she stroked it.

She didn’t know what had come over her and why she was behaving so obscenely and lecherous but she didn’t care. She loved the conceptualisation that Steven only saw her as a girl and that he longed for her; that she could evoke such tender emotions from a young man who was known for his brutishness and intimidation.

She didn’t even object when Steve put his hand under her skirt.

Steven Townsend didn’t know what had come over him either. He’d intended to ravish this bitch. Maybe force her to her knees and shove his cock in her face. What was she going to do about it? Who could she tell? Who could she complain to? She had gone along with the game willingly enough. She had let Christine feminise her. It was her fault! It was all Wendy’s fault!

Then why had he kissed her so tenderly and enjoyed the feel of her soft lips on his; the shape her body pressing into his, her hair caressing his face as he kissed her, her soft supple skin when he used his mouth on her flesh. Following the line of her clavicle down to her meagre breasts with his mouth hadn't repulsed him one little bit. He’d loved suckling those little nubbins and then he’d explored her soft, flat belly and burrowed his tongue in her bellybutton, something he’d never thought of before but it had delighted him when she wriggled with delight and moaned and shook as he pleased her.

He had been amazed and surprised when she had taken his penis out of his pants and delighted at how her long delicate fingers were stroking it. Ripples of delectation were radiating from his glans as she tickled his fraenulum with her fingertips.

The hem of her velvet skirt caressed his wrist as his hand slid under it and he stroked her nylon-sheathed thighs. They felt so goddam sexy and delightful encased in the gossamer fabric of her pantyhose and he worked his hand right up to the top of her legs and across her satin panties, relishing the feel of the slippery material as his fingers glided across it. He briefly wondered where her cock had gone but it came to him almost immediately. It could only be in one place.

Wendy froze when she felt Steve’s fingers glide across her panties. She was rock hard and incredibly uncomfortable with her erect penis confined along her perineum, held there by her pantyhose. She knew that they were going too far but maybe they had already crossed the Rubicon because when Steve slipped his fingers between her legs she nearly fainted with the delight of it.

Steve felt the shape of Wendy's’ cock pressed into her crotch and to his surprise he was not repulsed. He slipped his hand down the waistband of her pantyhose and freed it so that it lay along her lower belly and then extracted his hand and pulled her pantyhose and panties back over it. He could feel the shape of it through her panties and pantyhose and that was ok; he wasn’t actually toughing the flesh.

He crushed his lips against hers, drove his tongue into her mouth and pulled her tight. He rubbed her hard cock through her panties and listened to her moan like slattern and writhe like a whore. Wendy gripped his cock tighter and stroked it and Steven gasped into her mouth and it was his turn for his knees to buckle.

He lifted Wendy up and sat her on the desk and she opened her legs so he could hold her close and she wrapped them around him and he pulled off his shirt so he could feel her legs on his flesh. He stroked her thighs and found her cock again and he stroked that too and he was so excited that it didn’t matter who or what she was. She was his!

His hand slipped under Wendy’s buttocks and he pulled her closer to him and eased her hand off his cock and pressed it against hers and rubbed it there. Driblets of precum soaked into her panties as Steven frotted her, their cocks rubbing together through layers of nylon and satin. Neither of them had ever felt anything so outrageously decadent, delightful and lecherous and they clung to each other and rutted, Wendy scissoring her legs along Steve’s flanks to encourage him.

Steve’s cock slipped inside Wendy’s panties and now there was just a flimsy layer of pantyhose keeping their cocks from actually touching. The sensations were delightful, the slinky nylon igniting scintillas of pleasure as they kissed and dry-humped each other.

Steve pulled Wendy’s ass closer or the edge of the table so he could press his dick harder against hers and he mistimed his thrust and slipped between her buttocks.

They both stopped. Wendy alarmed and Steven suddenly aware that his cock was close to Wendy’s sphincter.

“No! Not that!” Wendy whispered.

Steven ignored her and pushed his cock into the crevice between her buttocks.

“No! Not that Steve. That’s too much,” Wendy nibbled his ear, hoping he would comply with her wishes.

But to Steve the nibble was encouragement.

He looked frantically around the enclosed space until he found what he was looking for.

He eyes zeroed in on the shelf that held the cleaning products. There was a squeeze bottle of moisturising hand cleaner on the shelf and it was perfect the purpose that Steve intended to use it for.

“Don’t do that please?” Wendy sighed but she didn’t unlock her legs from around his waist.

Steve gripped the waistband of Wendy’s pantyhose and yanked the front of her panties nylons down until her cock sprang free and it stood stiff and proud. Steve pressed his cock against it and they both watched fascinated as Steve rubbed his cock on hers, their precum comingling and lubricating the shafts.

Steve was able to reach out and press down on the trigger of the cleaning emollient and took a generous gobbet and applied it to their conjoined cocks and stroked them with his hand and Wendy leaned up and kissed him passionately as rings of pleasure radiated from her cock. She could feel the blood pounding in Steve’s phallus as they rubbed them together.

She was drowsy with the hypnotic bliss as their penises ground against each other and their lips crushed together, their tongues entwined when she felt Steve reach for another handful of the emollient. This time it dribbled into her ass crack and it tickled her and she smiled around the kiss.

The smile became a stifled scream as Steve pushed his cock into the cleft of her ass and pierced her sphincter.

“No! No! No! No!” she screamed and pounded her fists on his shoulders but Steve held her still.

“Shut up you silly bitch! They others will wonder what’s happening,” Steve hissed.

And wonder they did as they pounded on the door.

“What’s going on in there are you ok Wendy?” Christine called.

“Tell them you're ok,” Steve hissed.

“You bastard,” she whispered; but Steve still had the head of cock inside her and he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’m ok. I slipped off the desk but it’s alright now,” Wendy scrambled for an excuse to explain her cries.

Steve took the opportunity to slide another inch of cock inside Wendy’s tight cleft.

An amazing thing was happening. After the initial pain, the stinging went away and was replaced by a pleasant fullness that was quite bearable.

“What are you doing on the desk?” Christine sounded confused.

Steve looked at Wendy; an amused look on his face. He pushed another inch of cock into her and saw the look of surprised delight on her face.

Wendy was amazed at how wonderful it felt having Steve’s cock inside her. She could feel all of her girly attributes: the satin panties clinging to her buttocks, the pantyhose swathing her legs, the high heels on her feet, the satin blouse on her tender flesh, she could taste and smell the makeup and perfume. She had never felt so feminine and so desired and she also felt wanton and lecherous. She wriggled her ass a little to get more comfortable.

“I’m perched on the edge of it so Steve can fuck me,” she whispered and she and Steve supressed a muffled chuckle.

“I’m just sitting on it and Steve’s kissing me is all. How long do we have left?” Wendy asked.

“Two minutes,” Grant called through the door.

“Well fuck off and leave us alone then. There’s kissing to be done!” Steve growled but he was staring at Wendy lovingly and pushed the remainder of his phallus into her.

Wendy had never felt anything so amazing. He sphincter was tingling with delectable little sparklets, her anus felt stretched and full, but comfortably so and Steve’s cock was pressing on her prostate evoking a deep pleasurable throb.

“Two minutes,” Wendy whispered and locked her legs around Steve’s waist encouraging him to fuck her.

He leaned down and she raised her head so that they could kiss while Steve began to fuck her with long slow strokes that slowly began to build. He took her hard cock in his hand and stroked it in time with his trusts.

Wendy was writhing on the table in wanton lust, her anus burning with desire, her cock tingling with pleasure, her mouth filled with Steven’s tongue.

Wendy’s anus felt so tight around Steve's cock. He’d never fucked a girl in the ass and he’d fucked a few licentious older women but they were nothing like this. Wendy’s anus felt like it was milking him with a velvet glove as he slammed his cock in out of her tight cleft. Her kisses were wild and wonderful and she kept sliding her nylon-sheathed legs across his sensitive skin and her high heels were raking his flanks like a cowgirl encouraging a bronco to gallop.

Wendy was just a girl. A slattern. A whore. William Mitchell was somewhere far away in another universe as Wendy enjoyed having Steve Townsend’s jock-cock jackhammering in and out of her anus whilst she clung to him, kissing him so hard that their teeth were clacking. Steve was wanking her cock faster and faster and suddenly her whole conscience exploded with overwhelming pleasure as a huge orgasm began to build in her prostate and spread along the tight passage that was her anus down to the tingling ring of her sphincter and finally to her throbbing penis which erupted like a geyser, spraying her sperm everywhere.

Steve was amazed at the intensity of Wendy's orgasm as she writhed on the table, scratching his back, raking his flanks, spraying her issue all over him as her mouth sucked on his like a succubus. He rammed his cock deep inside her and ejaculated and Wendy bucked as she felt his scalding issue fill her bowel.

Steve felt an overwhelming wave of pleasure engulf him as his cock juddered and quivered as he filled Wendy’s back passage with his hot load. He clung to her and she to him as they rutted like animals.

Neither of them heard Grant Butler hammering on the door yelling out that time was up.

They remained cleaved to each other, quivering and mewling until their orgasms subsided and then they had to live with the consequences of what they had just done.

Wendy lowered her legs and Steve pulled his cock out of her ass with an audible plop and watched amazed as a rivulet of cum dribbled from her sphincter and soaked into her panties and nylons. He snatched at the paper towel and gave her a handful so she could dry the glutinous mess before it soaked into her black velvet skirt but she didn’t quite make it.

“Oops,” she smiled up at him looking like a pretty whore with her lipstick smeared around her mouth, her blouse wide open, her skirt hiked up and her legs spread.

They cleaned up as best they could but Wendy’s panties and pantyhose were cum-stained and her skirt had silvery trails of semen on the hem. Her makeup and hair was a mess but she had managed to put on her brassiere and button her blouse which was when she found semen stains on the purple satin. She shrugged her shoulders; there was nothing she could do about it.

The front of Steve’s jeans was wet with his cum and some of Wendy's but try as might he couldn’t get it dry. He pulled out his shirttails out to cover it hoping no one would notice.

What was noticeable was the stench of semen when they opened the closet door to the annoyed glare of Christine Baker and a bemused grinning Grant Butler.

“Don’t tell me you two were just kissing in there! Look at the state of you both!” Christine tapped her foot angrily.

Grant smiled conspiratorially at Steve Townsend who at first stared at him blankly but then broke into a victorious grin.

“Ok. That’s enough! The party is over but don’t you guys go anywhere. Start cleaning up down here while I take Wendy upstairs and clean her up and give her back her real identity.

Wendy actually felt sad that she was going disappear and be replaced by William Mitchell but she knew that the fantasy had to end eventually. She followed Wendy up the two flights of stairs and was once again rewarded with the sight of Christine’s pretty pink panties encasing her pert buttocks.

Wendy followed Christine into her bedroom and stood in the middle of the room feeling like a naughty little sister.

“I can’t believe you did what I think you did! No! What I know you did!” Christine’s chest was heaving with anger.

“You had semen on your legs when you came of the closet with Grant so I’m guessing you gave him a handjob or most likely a panty-pop but I’m pretty sure that Steve fucked you,” Christine stood with her hands on her hips and Wendy thought she had never looked so beautiful.

“What’s a panty-pop?” Wendy asked meekly.

“It’s when you let a guy rub his cock on your vagina but you keep your panties on… Jesus Christ Wendy do you know what you’ve done?” Christine was livid.

“Why do you care Christine? Are you jealous that the boys went for me more than they did for you?” Wendy countered.

“Steven Townsend, the jock bully who loves himself and Grant Butler the dumb stoner who will do whatever everyone else does regardless of the consequences? Really? I have boyfriend who goes to college. He’s a proper man; not some oversexed teenager!” Christine snapped back.

Wendy stepped into Christine.

“So you're no virgin?” Wendy whispered.

Christine just smiled conspiratorially.

“Well neither am I now,” Wendy grinned.

“Well yeah, technically you popped your cherry I guess; but only in the ass,” Christine said levelly.

Then they both realised the absurdity of the situation and they burst out laughing.

“I suppose I was a little jealous. If there was any boy in our group of friends that I’d let fuck me it would most likely be Steve Townsend,” Christine admitted.

“What about Will Mitchell,” Wendy pretended to pout.

“Nah. Word is he’s a sissy who takes it up the ass,” Christine giggled.

“You bitch!” Wendy laughed along with her.

“But Wendy Mitchell is hot and if I was ever going to have sex with a girl it would be with her. Besides she has a dick so it would be the best of both worlds. Lesbian sex but with a chick with a dick,” Christine chuckled but suddenly the room went quiet.

They fell on the bed ruining the perfectly made-up pink stain comforter and scattering the fluffy toys and throw pillows. Their pantyhose-clad legs intertwined as their lips locked and their tongues explored each other’s mouths. They could taste each other’s lipstick.

“Hurry. We don’t have long with those boys downstairs,” Christine broke the kiss long enough to pull down her panties.

Wendy didn’t even bother with that. She was rock hard in anticipation and she tore a hole in her pantyhose and poked her hard cock through it. Christine took the long meaty phallus in her fingers and stroked it to full tumescence while they kissed then she rolled on her back and opened her legs.

The feel of their pantyhose rubbing together as Wendy climbed on top of Christine was so overwhelming that Wendy nearly came but she held back long enough for Christine guide her cock to her nylon shrouded vagina. Wendy hooked a fingernail in the crotch of Christine pantyhose and ripped a cock-sized hole and Christine opened her legs wide and Wendy pushed her cock through the hole and into Christine’s warm, moist, fleshy cunt.

Christine had been wet for a while. She had been aroused when she kissed Wendy in the kissing circle and whilst she listened to her having sex with Grant and Steve in the closet. She wrapped her legs around Wendy and lifted her crotch as Wendy ploughed her with her rampant cock. Wendy was awestruck with the feeling of Christine’s tight, slick vagina around her throbbing phallus. They kissed and pawed at each other, their nylons swishing as they scissored their legs together to maximise their pleasure.

To Christine it was an amazing experience to have a girl lying on top of her, kissing and probing her tight pussy with her steely rod. She began to shake and shimmy as a huge orgasm welled up from between her legs as Wendy’s pubis pressed on her clitoris and her cock pounded her tight pussy, hammering at her G-spot.

Wendy came along with her, driving her cock deep into Christine's tight, warm, moist cleft and depositing her seed.

The two girls clutched at each other, legs locked, mouths joined in frenetic kisses as they climaxed.

When they were done, Wendy lay between Christine’s legs in post-coital bliss.

“Ok. Get off me you slut. Let’s get you changed out of those clothes. You smell like a cum-bucket,” Christine playfully slapped Wendy’s ass.

Wendy was bitterly sad that the day had to end. She used Christine’s moisturised makeup-wipes and scrubbed hard at the eyeliner and long-lasting lipstick which was particularly hard to remove. She showered and washed away the last vestiges of Wendy. She disappeared down the plug, a colourful rainbow of eyeshadow, rouge, foundation, powder and perfume.

Will Mitchell came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist carrying the cam-spattered clothing he had worn when he was Wendy.

“Where do you want this? I figured you wouldn’t want it in the laundry basket,” William blushed.

“Just dump it on the floor. I’ll put it in the trash except for the jewellery and the high heels of course,” Christine said, sitting at the vanity fixing the makeup she had ruined when they fucked.

“Can I have it? A souvenir?” Will blushed; he was a blusher just like Wendy.

“You can have all of it, including the heels and junk jewellery and the Polaroids I took. There are plastic garbage bags under the sink,” Christine put the finishing touches to her lipstick.

Will noticed that she had changed her pantyhose and saw the ones she had fucked in discarded on the floor. He added them to the pile of clothes and high heels in his arms and went into the ensuite bathroom and double-bagged his stash of clothing putting the pictures Christine had taken on top.

Will dressed in silence and he and Christine hardly spoke until they were back in the rec-room which was had been cleaned up in their absence by Steve and Grant. Grant had poured one last round of JD and Coke for them all.

Christine addressed the room, looking at them individually in the eye as she spoke.

“You realise that we can never tell anyone about what we did today,” she said soberly.

“Never,” the others spoke in chorus.

“Then one last drink,” she held up her cup to make a toast.

“To total secrecy and goodbye to Wendy forever,” she said.

They clicked plastic cups together and drank, Will blushing at the mention of Wendy.

They all wondered if they would keep what happened in the rec-room a secret and if Wendy was gone forever.

One Year Later

Wendy Mitchell was dressed in a red satin evening gown, slit to the waist it showed off her long legs encased in sheer taupe holdup stockings. She was wearing tight red spandex panties so that they didn’t ruin the line of her dress and they also held her penis and scrotum tight along her perineum.

Her blonde hair was coiffed and her pencilled brows plucked and shaped and that was the only hair on her body. Her makeup was heavy put perfect and she knew that she looked beautiful. Over the last twelve months she had become an accomplished female impersonator.

Wendy’s housemate had gone home for the two week break between semesters but William Mitchell had stayed in the little apartment they rented close to the college.

Wendy opened the door and welcomed her visitors. Christine Baker looked stunning in a little black cocktail dress, tan nylons and black pumps. Steven Townsend and Grant Butler were both dressed in letterman jackets and jeans.

Wendy closed the door and Steve and Grant put down the sacks they had been carrying. Grant took out a 1.75 litre bottle of Jack Daniel's and two six packs of Cokes while Christine took ice out of the fridge.

“I brought along a memento,” Christine smiled as she held up the iconic contour-fluted Coca-Cola bottle they had used in the rec-room one year earlier.

“Don’t think we’ll be needing it,” Steve said as he swept Wendy into his arms and kissed her passionately.

“Guess not,” Grant agreed as he reached for Christine.

The End

Author's Note: I would deeply appreciate a comment or two as a scant reward for my efforts... thank you.