IN THE FREEZER - PART 1
by Charlotte Dickles

SYNOPSIS: Nigel, and his wife, Angela, are happy to offer a temporary UK home to Nigel's Aunt Nancy, following the death of her rich husband Frank, in Australia. On their first evening together, they are absolutely delighted when Nancy signs her will leaving all her fortunes to them when she dies. But wills have to be properly witnessed, and with Nancy's premature departure, someone has to witness her signature. Although the family resemblance is fortuitous, Nigel has reservations about the whole scheme. With just cause, it would appear.

This story is complete but will be released in three parts at daily intervals.

AUTHORS NOTE: Like many of my stories, this is a light-hearted romp which I hope you will enjoy. But it does contain adult themes such as (and the more sensitive readers may wish to close their eyes whilst reading the next 17 words): crossdressing, sex with multiple partners of both genders, illegal acts, getting drunk, humour and extra marital sex. (If you've had your eyes closed, you may now open them.) So if reading material containing those subjects is either illegal or not to your taste (or if you've had your eyes closed), then please do not do it - or at least, don't moan about it afterwards.

CHAPTER 1 - IN THE FREEZER (Friday and the days that led up to it)

"Hi, Angela, I'm home."

Faintly, I could hear her call from upstairs. "Hi Nigel. I'm in the bedroom."

"It's been a sod of a day," I shouted, walking over to our drinks cupboard and preparing to mix a gin and tonic. "Where's Aunt Nancy?"

I'd opened the ice bucket and was grimacing because Angela hadn't filled it, when she replied faintly from upstairs, "In the freezer."

Knowing my normal first action when I came home, Angela was presumably heading off my complaint. I went through into the kitchen, emptied the water from the ice bucket and then got the ice-tray from the fridge-freezer and squeezed the cubes into the bucket. It was a job that I always found so fiddly that I hated doing it, whereas Angela never seemed to mind. Still, by the time she came downstairs, I was sitting down and had taken my first huge gulp of G and T.

She was looking pretty miserable even before I'd told her the news. Part of me wanted to ask her about her day first - to delay the inevitable tale of woe I had to give her - but I knew the longer I delayed, the more difficult it would become to say.

"Angela. I've got the sack."

"What!"

I shook my head, still hardly able to believe the day's events. "The whole computer system went down. Internet banking was off the air practically all day long. As Operations Manager, I get the blame, regardless of the facts."

"But I thought you had a backup system in Manchester?"

I shrugged. "We do. But last year, the Chief Accountant decided we could get a cheaper communications deal with a cable company than we had with BT. I argued that they wouldn't be as reliable, but they promised the earth. When it came to it, the links to Manchester weren't working. We were totally buggered."

"They should sack the accountant instead."

Another shrug. "He left three months ago to work for one of our rivals."

"And you're left holding the baby."

I nodded. "They're actually getting me to resign rather than sacking me. That way, they'll give me a reference and I'll take leave in lieu of notice. But with all these takeovers going through in the industry, it's not a good time to be looking for work in computer banking. Every bank seems to be shedding staff - not taking them on."

Angela smiled at me. "Poor Nigel. No wonder you couldn't deal with my phone call this morning." (I couldn't even remember her phoning, it had been so frantic.) "Still, never mind, you managed to give me a good enough hint about Aunt Nancy."

My heart gave a sudden lurch. Christ! I'd forgotten all about that. An appalling day was just about to get worse - much, much worse - and my mind darted back to last night, and the four days that had led up to it.

***

It had been the previous Sunday evening when everything had started. Angela and I had been rowing about our normal subject - money. She had been made redundant a few months earlier, and whilst I was on a good salary (little did I know what was to come), it simply did not stretch as far as our joint incomes had done a few months previously. But Angela insisted she still needed to buy new clothes for every job interview she took - and to give her her due, she took plenty but with no results so far.

The phone rang, providing a thankful intervention to the row which was going nowhere. Angela grimaced at me and went to answer it. She was gone a long time and I thought she must be chatting to one of her friends, so I started to watch TV. When she returned, she said, "That was your Aunt Nancy, from Australia."

"Really? That's unusual." Apart from Christmas cards, we hadn't heard from her for years.

"She rang to tell us that Uncle Frank has gone," and added, when she saw the lack of comprehension in my eyes, "as in passed away; deceased; died."

"Oh dear. What a shame. Was it sudden?"

"Seems to have been, although she didn't want to talk too much about it. The point is, she's coming back to England, and wants to stay with us."

I pulled a face. We only had a small house, and with Aunt Nancy living with us, three would definitely be a crowd.

"Before you start complaining," Angela said, "one thing she did say about Frank was that he owned a sheep farm."

"A sheep farm?" That sounded interesting. "A big, sheep farm?"

"Nigel, it's in Australia. Sheep farms are either big, or absolutely gi-normous. And either way, I expect they're worth an awful lot of money."

"Do you know, Angela, it'll be nice having Aunt Nancy staying with us. Perhaps we'll be able to cheer her up after her sad loss."

She smiled. "I imagined you might say that. I thought the same."

"How long does she want to stay for?"

"Well, what she's suggesting is that she flies over this week and stays with us for a couple of days. But then she's proposing that she takes us away to a nice hotel for a week's holiday. I told her we were a bit strapped for cash at the moment and she said not to worry - she'd pay for us all."

"Wow!" That did sound attractive. A nice hotel for a week's free holiday. "Any idea where she wants to go?" I hoped it wasn't London. Working in London, one gets a different view of the place to the tourist.

"Do you remember going to Seacombe on holiday as a kid?"

The question took me straight back to my childhood. "I must have been about eight years old, I should think. We all went to Seacombe for a seaside holiday - Mum, Dad and me, and Aunt Nancy came along as well. She was great fun - she really livened up the holiday, and we all had a great time. But shortly after that, she emigrated to Australia, met Frank there, and settled down."

"Apparently Nancy has to visit some shop in Seacombe, so she's suggesting we go and stay at the Grand Hotel there."

"The Grand?" I reminisced, "We used to walk past that hotel on the way home from the beach to our bed and breakfast. Nancy and I would pretend we were staying there, and we'd talk about ordering champagne breakfasts, and caviar for supper. I didn't know what they were then - I do now, but I still can't afford them."

"Well, perhaps that's just what Nancy will order when we go there. Do you fancy it?"

I nodded. "Yes please, and The Grand sounds quite nice as well."

Angela snorted. "Don't you ever think of anything else?"

I sighed, deciding it was diplomatic to suppress my answer.

***

She rang me at work the next day. "Nigel, I've made a temporary booking for The Grand - seven nights from Saturday. I've spoken to Nancy and she's happy with the price and everything. She'll fly into London Heathrow on Thursday morning. Could you have the day off work, and we'll go and meet her? And are you also alright to book the whole of next week off?"

"No problem. There's not much happening here at the moment," I said, blissfully unaware of what was to come.

"Oh, there's one problem, Nigel. The hotel seems to be in a time warp, permanently stuck in the last century. They don't take credit cards by phone, so we'll need to send them a cheque for the 25% deposit. Obviously, Nancy can't do it from Australia in time for it to get there before she does, so is it alright if I write them a cheque. Obviously it'll take us above our overdraft limit, but Nancy says she'll pay us back as soon as she arrives."

She told me how much the deposit was, and I almost had a heart attack. It was getting on for half a month's net salary!

"I guess you'd better," I said. "It would sound churlish otherwise, but you know the bank will charge us for an unauthorised overdraft." (That was on top of the credit card bill interest.)

Anyone might think that working for a bank, one would get special attention - you do, you're treated worse than anyone else!

***

Meeting Aunt Nancy at Heathrow turned out to be relatively easy. I remembered her as a tall, willowy young woman. She was still tall, about the same height as my five feet ten inches, but she'd broadened out everywhere, including, I was delighted to notice, a very nice, round pair of tits pushing through the front of her track-suit. I'd reckoned she must be twenty years older than me, so that made her fifty-eight. However, rather than being almost an OAP, as I'd expected, she was like Joan Collins had appeared at that age. Indeed, her hair was similar to one of the styles that Joan Collins has - you know, where it cascades down to her shoulders and underneath her chin.

"Nigel! My favourite nephew," she said, throwing her arms around me and forcing my chest so hard against those breasts I could feel her nipples trying to pierce me. At the same time, she smothered my cheeks with kisses.

"Nancy, my favourite aunt," I replied, sharing the small joke we'd had when I was eight years old. I only had one aunt, and she, only one nephew.

She turned to Angela. "And this must be Angela," she said. "You didn't tell me she was so beautiful, Nigel." She relinquished her hold of me and went through the same kind of hugs with Angela.

"Have you eaten?" she asked, when she eventually released Angela.

We shook our heads; it was barely midday.

"Well, that's fine," she said. "I had a meal on the plane, so I don't need anything, but I do need to see someone in Slough about the lock on my little jewel box. Slough is quite close to here, isn't it? I rang them whilst I was waiting for the baggage to come through and they're expecting me, so we could pop over there and you could go into a pub for some lunch whilst I go in and see them."

Slough was a bit out of the way, but not significantly, so when we got back into the car, I obediently turned it towards the address she had given us.

***

"Well, that's got that little job done." Nancy sat down next to us in the pub where we'd agreed to meet after she'd gotten her jewellery box fixed. "And I'll have a pint of Fosters, please Nigel."

Angela gave me a look. In her absence, Angela had been criticising Nancy's weight - as women do - and we'd had a bet upon whether she would drink pints or something smaller. I lost. Angela had also suggested the Joan Collins hairstyle was a wig, and the breasts were silicon, but we hadn't placed a bet on either of those, since we thought we were unlikely to discover the answers.

When I returned from the bar with Nancy's drink, Angela said, "You know, Nigel, I can't help noticing how similar you and Aunt Nancy are. Your faces are almost identical."

"Even when he was young you could see how he took after his grandmother, just like me," Nancy said. "He was a really pretty boy, and I think he's still very pretty now."

"Thanks," I said. "That was a bit of a back-handed compliment."

"Well, Angela's absolutely spot on, but her comparison doesn't really say much for my femininity, either," Nancy said. "But I compensated for that by having my tits done." Without a trace of embarrassment, she grabbed hold of her tits and gave them an affectionate squeeze.

Angela gave another knowing nod at me, whilst I tried not to notice the guys at the next table who were openly leering at Nancy. As a distraction, I supped some beer, whereupon Nancy let go of her tits, picked up her lager and started to gulp it down with a speed that astonished me.

"Would you like me to drive home tonight?" Angela offered. "Only someone gave Nancy a flier as she was coming into the pub, about a closing-down sale of evening-gowns and dresses just around the corner. She needs to buy some new clothes for the hotel next week, so I thought I could go with her and help her choose, whilst you stay here and have an extra couple of pints. How does that sound?"

It sounded pretty good to me. They had an excellent cask of local ale behind the bar, and because I was driving, I'd been limiting myself to one pint. It wasn't often that Angela positively encouraged me to drink without close monitoring, and this seemed an excellent opportunity.

So, after Nancy had quickly finished her drink, the two women departed for the shop, and I went to the bar for a replenishment.

***

"Nigel, could you come round to the shop and help carry Nancy's parcels back to the car?"

I had just been finishing off my fourth pint, and was feeling nicely inebriated, when my mobile went off and Angela made her request. Under slightly more sober conditions, I would probably have started to make some comment about the quantity of goods she must have bought, but it had all been extra drinking time for me, and I couldn't care a fig. Angela gave directions, and five minutes later I was walking through the shop door.

"Nigel, look! Nancy's bought me a present." Angela held up a large bag and waved it at me. "It's so lovely, and I'd been thinking I really need something extra for the hotel next week."

She was about to open the bag and show the contents to me, when Nancy said, from the counter where she was standing, "Nigel, this till won't accept my credit card. Could you pick up the tab and I'll pay you later?"

If I'd been sober, I'd have undoubtedly checked the amount before handing over my card and entering the PIN, but as it was I didn't notice it until afterwards when the assistant handed me the receipt. The total cost was the equivalent of more than two months' salary! I sure hoped Nancy settled her debts pretty quickly, or I'd be bankrupt.

***

Dinner that night was pretty good. I'd had a chance to sleep off my excess alcohol, whilst Angela had prepared one of her superb meals. (Well, actually, that meant microwaving the Marks and Spencer packs, and then presenting them on her own serving dishes, but Nancy didn't know the difference.)

Nancy told us about life in Australia, and we told her about our own lives - how we'd met; our jobs; our social lives - without going too deeply into the rather rocky state of our marriage. Conversation was free and easy, and it wasn't until the end that I got the chance to bring the conversation around to more important matters.

"Nancy? I need to talk with you about money."

"Oh, of course!" she said. "I was forgetting. Just a minute, I need to get my papers from my bedroom."

She was back a minute later with a sheaf of official looking documents. "With Frank gone," she said, "it made me realise how vulnerable I felt, and I realised you were the only two living relatives I had.

"Before making it official, I wanted to see you and make certain I felt the same way afterwards, but now I have, I can tell you I've had a new will drawn up, leaving everything to the two of you."

She pulled a foolscap document of thick, legal paper from an envelope, opened it out, and then took up her pen and signed it.

"There. I only need you two to witness it, and it will all be legal," she said.

Angela reached forward for the document Nancy was holding, but I said, "That's no good, Nancy. The solicitor should have explained: the will can only be witnessed by people who don't benefit under the will, otherwise it's invalid. We'll need to get some other people to witness it."

I turned towards Angela. "Do you think it's too late to go round next door to the Sharps?"

She looked at the clock and nodded. "It's gone ten-thirty. They'll be tucked up in bed by now. We can get them sometime tomorrow."

We all nodded. After all, it wasn't as though there was any desperate hurry.

"Talk of bed has got me yawning," Nancy said, demonstrating her statement. "Do you have any drinking chocolate or cocoa?" she asked Angela.

"Oh yes, I'll go and make it," Angela said, rising to her feet.

Nancy firmly stood up. "You've done enough today, already, Angela," she said. "I'll make it. Now, would anyone else like some?"

Angela said she would, but after my pre-dinner sleep I still felt wide-awake. I said I'd stay up for a while and stack the dishes in the dishwasher. It was only after they'd both gone off to bed, that I realised I hadn't asked Nancy for any money.

***

"My favourite nephew."

I'd met Nancy as I was leaving the bathroom, clad only in my pyjamas. She was wearing a full-length nightdress, with a deep-scoop neckline.

"My favourite aunt," I politely responded, trying not to peer down that tremendous valley between her tits. In spite of her years, they were still perfect, and didn't have that orange-peel effect you see on some older women.

"My favourite nephew admiring his favourite view."

I blushed slightly. "Sorry Aunt."

"Nothing wrong with a man admiring a juicy pair of tits. Do you want to see them properly?" She didn't wait for an answer, simply pulled the nightdress off her shoulders and down her arms. The neckline snagged for a minute over her nipples, but then dropped down, exposing a fabulous pair of knockers with rosebud nipples.

I gasped, before remembering that only the bedroom door separated us from Angela. "Look, it's a bit difficult really, Aunt."

"Rubbish," she said, and pushed open the door to our bedroom.

I almost had a heart attack on the spot, until I saw that Angela was lying in bed, fast asleep.

"I'm afraid I slipped a couple of sleeping pills into her cocoa," Nancy said, "because I am bloody hungry."

Her hand darted through the fly on my pyjamas and grabbed my hard prick. She smiled as she gave it a little squeeze and I groaned. "And it looks like you're very willing to feed me," she said, leading the way to her bedroom.

Afterwards, I told myself I had the choice of following, or having my prick pulled off, which was no choice at all.

***

Sex is always good, but sometimes for very different reasons. With Nancy, it wasn't that she kept me on the edge of orgasm for hours, or that she knew hundreds of different erotic positions. It was just a great, straight fuck.

Once in the bedroom, I went to stroke her breasts, but she held both my wrists and said, "Don't bother with the foreplay. I've been jigging myself all the time you've been stacking the dishes. I'm ready for it. Just shag me like a bull in a fucking china shop."

She certainly was ready for it. She had a condom to hand, and she had it slipped over my prick in less than a second. As I entered her, her juices were freely flowing, and as soon as I set up a rhythm, she started groaning and growling - almost like a dog with a bone. Within seconds she was on the point of orgasm. She grasped both her hands onto my arse and started frantically working me against her. Harder and harder - faster and faster. Her growls had turned to grunts, like a pig rummaging in a trough, and then she was coming in a fantastic climax. She didn't scream - thank God or she'd surely have woken Angela, sleeping pill or not - but her breath was coming in huge long rasps and that was the moment when I also came.

I slammed into her, and she used her hands and her legs to force my prick hard inside her; a moment's withdrawal, and then we were slamming together again - and again - and again, until every drop of my semen had squirted deep inside her. (Well, OK, into the condom.)

Slowly, I came to a halt and looked at her. There was a huge grin right across her face, and she looked totally fucked. I closed my eyes, moved my mouth to her breast and gave a sharp, little affectionate bite on her nipple.

***

I awoke with a jump. Jesus Christ! How long had I been lying in bed with Nancy? What time was it? Had Angela noticed my absence?

Nancy still had her legs wrapped around my bum, crossed at the ankles. It must have been an uncomfortable way to sleep, but I guessed she'd had such a long time without sex, that even subconsciously she didn't want to let go. I wriggled a bit, to try to get her to release her legs, but she was dead to the world and I couldn't shift her.

In the end, I had to grab hold of the headboard and pull myself up through those pincer legs, until I could get free. I grabbed my pyjamas from the floor and dashed into the bathroom. I flushed away the condom, thoroughly washed my cock, put on my pyjamas and went to our bedroom and slipped into bed. Angela didn't stir.

***
Back to Friday

Only now, it appeared, that sometime during the frenzied day, Angela had telephoned me about Nancy, and had obtained some kind of hint about what had happened. What the hell had anyone at work said to her? It wasn't as though I'd mentioned last night to anyone. Well, better get it out the way.

I looked around, and smiled. "Where is Nancy? When I asked earlier, I thought you said she was in the freezer." Best to try a little joke to lighten the mood.

Angela looked puzzled. "Er, yes! That's where you said to put her."

It had been a mad day. Angela seemed to have joined the rest of it. "Well, she wasn't there when I went to get out the ice-cubes, just now," I quipped.

"Not that one, you stupid idiot! The chest freezer in the garage."

I looked her in the face, not understanding the joke, but ready to meet her smile with one of my own. Wasn't it great, I thought, that even after I'd told her about today, my wife could still have a little joke like this.

Except that she wasn't smiling! A sudden dread filled my heart. Without saying anything further, I put down my drink and went into the kitchen and through the interconnecting door to the garage.

I lifted the lid. We didn't tend to use the big chest freezer much now, since we'd stopped bulk buying from the farm shop, so it should have been empty, apart from a couple of tubs of ice cream. Instead, it was full of plastic sheeting - what looked like the huge bag in which the mattress for the spare bed had been wrapped when it was delivered - only now it was wrapped around something other than a mattress.

I found the edge of the plastic sheeting and pulled it back, to reveal my worst nightmare. For there was Aunt Nancy, her eyelashes covered in frost!

***

I stared at her for a few seconds, and then turned to Angela.

"Angela. Why have you put Aunt Nancy in the freezer?" Quite a reasonable question, I thought, and calmly put, considering it was obvious Angela must have found out about our illicit sex and murdered her. Perhaps she was just about to murder me and pop me in besides Nancy, but there was no sign of any weapon in her hands. Not even any sign of aggression on her face. This was so weird, I thought. Perhaps the strain of the day has sent me mad.

"Well, I'd thought that was the best thing to do," she said, "even before I telephoned you. Then I rang your office and you suggested the same."

"Angela. I didn't speak to you today. We had the emergency on, you remember?" But hardly as big an emergency as what had happened here.

Angela looked totally puzzled. "No, but Adrian answered the phone and said you couldn't speak, so I told him to tell you that Nancy had gone, hoping you'd understand the hidden message. And when he came back, he said that I should put her on ice."

"Oh my God!" I whispered. I remembered now. With the internet banking system collapsed and the whole office in panic mode, Adrian had come to me with a message from Angela that Nancy had gone out. Big fucking deal! I'd told Adrian to put ANGELA on ice - in other words, get rid of her - and the half-wit must have relayed the message verbatim.

"When did she die?" My mind was scrabbling to find some logical fact I could cling to.

"I found her dead when I went to wake her this morning. She was quite cold by then, and rigor mortis had set in, so there was no hurry to call a doctor or ambulance. It meant I had time to think."

"But why did you need time to think?"

She looked at me as though I was stupid. "Don't be daft. Nancy signed her will last night, but we didn't get it witnessed. Therefore it's invalid. We need to hide her death until a respectable time after the witnessed will has been lodged with her solicitors.

"Bloody hell! You must be joking. It's illegal!"

"Alright, not reporting a death is illegal, but it's not as though we've murdered her or anything. And she properly signed the will, so we're not trying to steal money she didn't want us to get. It's just the paperwork we need to sort.

"Don't forget that she owes us a packet of money," she continued. "I booked the hotel for her and paid the deposit, and you paid for those clothes yesterday - and also don't forget it was a closing-down sale, so they won't take them back. Can we prove she owes us the money?

"And what happens if the will stipulates that Nancy has to outlive Frank by, say, a month, before she inherits. That's often in wills to avoid double-death duties in the event of them both dying within a short time of each other, like in a car accident. If that was the case, she may have no money at all, and we could go and whistle for our overdraft. No, I thought it out fairly carefully, even before I tried to get hold of you, and I'm convinced it was the right thing to do."

"Bloody hell!"

"I was right about the wig, also" Angela said, pointing towards a carrier bag next to the freezer. Aunt Nancy's hair could be seen poking out the top.

I shuddered.

"And Nancy told us her breasts were false, but at the time, I didn't realise how false." She bent down and rummaged inside the carrier bag beneath the wig. "Look," she said, pulling out something large and skin-coloured.

I stared at it. "What is it?"

"They're called Bustlets," she said, holding the object in front of her chest, as she twisted round to face me. Nancy's tits appeared to be stuck to Angela's chest!

"Bloody hell!" I could see now that it was a long-necked, skin-coloured vest, with boobs imbedded in the front. The kind of thing you sometimes see in Joke Shops, only these looked very, very realistic.

"They look very good when they're on her," she said. (Well, I knew that!) "I almost didn't notice them, but they were a little too tight for her, and there was a slight indentation where they met her skin. If she'd only recently taken off her bra, I wouldn't have thought anything of it, but since she'd only been wearing a nightdress, it looked a little strange. I felt the indentation with my finger, and then realised the whole garment came off."

She turned back to face the body in the freezer. "She looks very different now, without her wig and boobs. But still, just look at the lovely smile she had on her face when she died. I think she died happy, knowing that we were going to inherit her money."

I looked at her face again, and saw the same smile on her face as she'd had last night, as she'd come to a heart-stopping climax! Oh my God! And I'd lain inside her for ages after she'd died! I shut the freezer with a slam and went back to replenish my G and T.

***

"I don't think the Sharps will witness her will, just on our say so that she signed it in the first place," I said to Angela when we'd gone back to the lounge and each of us had a large G and T in our hands.

"Of course, we can't even ask them to," Angela replied. "It would be far too suspicious."

"So does that mean we have to forge the witness signatures?"

"That would be dangerous as well. It only needs some other person who feels they should have inherited to start checking things, and we could end up in prison."

I shivered at the thought. "Well, what then?"

Angela smiled at my air of desperation. "Nancy's booked to go to The Grand Hotel tomorrow, for a week. No one knows her there, so if someone else registers in her name, who's to know the difference. And then what would be more natural than that a few days later, she asks a couple of the staff to witness her signature on a document?"

"Of course," I said, as Angela's plan came clear to me. "With the wig and the boobs..."

"The perfect disguise," she said. "Especially if we ask the male staff to sign and she's wearing a dress with a low-cut cleavage."

"Brilliant! But what about... later? Finding the body, you know. And if there's an autopsy, won't they know the body's been frozen?"

"I think it's important not to rush it," Angela said. "Too many people come to grief because they try to do that. So, after our holiday, we send the will to the solicitor, and tell him Nancy will use our home as a base, but she intends to travel around the country for a few months, doing some sightseeing.

"We'll need to keep an eye on the weather forecasts, choosing our moment carefully. At the right time, Nancy will go for a holiday in a cottage in Snowdonia or Ben Nevis, or somewhere like that. She'll be seen walking by herself for a few days, and then there'll be a nasty snowstorm, and she goes missing. Eventually, they find her frozen body buried under six feet of snow. Poor Nancy."

"Absolutely brilliant!" I sat back and considered Angela's masterpiece. "Fantastic and... Hang on, there's a flaw there."

I thought for a moment before continuing. "Look, it could be that one of the police or mountain rescue guys sees Nancy walking in the area before her 'death'. When they find her body, they'll immediately realise that it's a very different person from the person they saw walking."

Angela stared at me, and said nothing.

"Well, you must have thought of that, Angela. You always think of everything."

Still Angela said nothing.

"OK," I said, "Do you not understand what I'm saying? Nancy is about five feet, ten high, and quite stocky, whereas you're only five, six and very slim. Even with Nancy's boobs on, they're not going to mistake you and Nancy for one and the same person."

"Right," she said. "And similarly, at The Grand, if anyone asks the witnesses to describe Nancy, they'll need to give a plausible description."

"Precisely!"

"So we'd need someone about five feet, ten inches high, with a face that looks quite similar to Nancy's."

Her words were like a blow in the stomach. "No!" It was absolutely ridiculous! "No way!" Totally preposterous! "You must be out of your mind! It would never work."

"Why not?"

"I couldn't pretend to be a woman."

"Well Nancy never seemed to try very hard to be like a woman, apart from the hair and tits."

There was one other way in which she'd been a woman, but I didn't want to go into that.

"Look," Angela said, "I realise you've had lots of shocks to the system today, and you'd probably like time to think about it. The problem is, we haven't got a lot of time. If we go along with my plan, we'll be checking into The Grand tomorrow afternoon. So my suggestion is that, rather than trying right at this moment to decide Yes or No, let's assume you're going to do it, and if you want to withdraw tomorrow, that's fine.

"We could even go to The Grand with you in disguise and still decide not to get the witness signatures if we think you've been rumbled. After all, it's hardly illegal for a man to dress as a woman. And if you're very good, as I intend you to be, no one will rumble you."

I shrugged. She was right, and given that we already had a dead body illegally stored in our freezer, one might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.

***

We spent the whole evening getting me ready for tomorrow. Firstly, I had to strip naked, and then Angela applied wax all over my body, covered it with bandages and then ripped the bandage off again, taking with it my body hair and most of my skin. Hell, it hurt! How do women go through that all the time?

Perhaps I should have protested, but secretly I knew I had to grin and bear it. Thank God Nancy had made me use a condom last night! Without it, my semen would be in her vagina, frozen along with every other bit of her insides. Come the post-mortem, as she would undoubtedly have, they would have been able to analyse the DNA to show that, immediately prior to her death, Nancy had sex with a close relative.

Of course, Nancy only had one male close relative, so regardless of where her body was discovered, under what kind of highly credible conditions, the suspicion would be pointed directly at me! And if I were shown to be several hundred miles away at the time she supposedly died, there'd be a lot of very searching questions asked. Even if, by some miracle, I managed to avoid a criminal conviction, our marriage would be abruptly ended.

As it was, if we could pull off this incredible deceit, I'd be saved. So, as Angela ripped off my skin, shred by shred, I took it in the same way that a member of Opus Deus bears the self-flagellation, until finally, the agony was over, and Angela was smoothing cream over what was left of my skin.

"I suggest you try on the Bustlet now," Angela said, "and see how it fits. Then, we can put some make-up on you. I'll need to teach you the basics of make-up, so you can do it yourself, especially when you go into the Ladies and need to touch it up."

I guess I should have been horrified at the thought, but actually, once the waxing was over, I started to enjoy the thought. Suppose I could get away with it - go into a smart hotel and have men admiring my boobs pushing out the top of my dress. The very idea was so erotic, it brought a flush to my cheeks.

Angela looked at me and for once gave me a sympathetic smile. "I know it's horrible for you Nigel, but it's not only going to get us out of a bit of a financial mess, it's also helping Aunt Nancy to have her dying wish fulfilled."

Personally, I thought I had already achieved that, but that was a comment which could never be aired. Instead, I put on my brave face, and said, "Let's give it a go."

"Great."

Angela took the Bustlet out of the carrier bag and we both looked at it a bit more closely, before trying to fit it onto me. It was in the form of a short, sleeveless vest, but with a long neck which would stretch right up to the chin, with the huge pair of boobs pushing out the front. I wasn't certain what it was made of - I guessed some kind of nylon, with silicon inserts - but it looked, and felt, just like real skin, although perhaps slightly more tanned than my own.

Fortunately, the join under the chin could be disguised with make-up, and the shoulders of a dress or a blouse would hide the point where my arms protruded through the armholes. The join at the lower edge would be hidden at the front underneath my boobs, but the difference in the tan would probably be obvious at the back. Still, since I wasn't intending anyone other than Angela to see that, it wasn't going to be a problem.

I held my arms straight forwards towards Angela, and she fed the garment over them and down towards my head. It was a terrible squeeze getting my head through the narrow neck, but when it was done, Angela could pull the garment as far down my body as it would go. One final stretch and she was satisfied.

"Wow, you look fantastic!" she said. "Perhaps I ought to get one, as well."

I looked down at the breasts protruding from my chest. "Bloody hell! They look good."

And, not only did they look good, well... they felt good. Does that sound weird? How could inanimate objects sewn into the garment I was wearing on my chest have any kind of feeling? But I could feel the way they gave a little b-o-y-n-n-g-g-g as they wobbled under their own weight. I raised my two hands to cup them and give them a firm squeeze, in the same way Aunt Nancy had done in the pub on Thursday.

"Jesus!" I screamed. "Hell, that hurt!"

"What is it?" Angela was shocked by my scream. She moved to touch my breasts as though they were real and they needed a stroke.

"Don't touch them!" I yelled, grabbing her by the wrists and holding her hands well away from my tits. "They're alive. They bit me."

"Don't be stupid. They can't be alive. There's nothing inside them."

I shook my head. "I don't know what it is, but when I gave them a squeeze, it was as painful as when you were waxing my chest, just now."

"That's unbelievable. They simply can't..." She paused for a second and then said, "Look, I promise I won't try to touch them, but close your eyes and tell me what you can feel."

Still holding her wrists, I did as she bade. "Nothing really, except that... U-u-g-g-h-h!" It hadn't been painful, but certainly I felt something brush my left nipple. I opened my eyes, but Angela was still standing as motionless as before. "What did you do?"

She was shaking her head now. "That's incredible," she said. "I simply blew on the nipple, and you felt it. Look." She gave another little puff from her mouth, this time at the right nipple on my Bustlet. Again, I felt it.

"Hell!" I said. "That really is amazing. The Bustlet has got sensitivity. In fact, it's extraordinarily sensitive. When I grabbed them, the way I sometimes grab you, it was incredibly painful. I don't know what they'd be like if you did something incredibly painful to them, like giving them a nip with your teeth, or something..."

It was fortunate I'd pretty well finished my sentence as the realisation crept in. Nancy had physically prevented me playing with her tits last night, in much the same way that I was now holding Angela's wrists. I hadn't thought anything about it at the time, but afterwards, just as I was dropping into my post-coital slumber, I'd given her an affectionate bite on her nipple and now she was dead.

"What is it?" Angela was trying to interpret the look on my face.

"I don't know. Something seems wrong, somehow. I mean, it's great having false tits which are sensitive, but these are just too sensitive. I'm frightened to let you touch them. That's not how tits should be; they should be a delight to play with."

"Well you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Angela said with a sarcastic smile. "But you're right. Your breasts just seem wrong. I wonder if there's some setting underneath we can get at and adjust. Do you want to take them off."

I shook my head. "Yes, I want to take them off, but No, I'm not going to let you touch them. It's absolute agony."

"Well, we have to get them off. Clearly, you can't go to the hotel screaming every time someone joggles your tit. Do you want to see if you can slowly work them off by yourself?"

Thirty minutes later, we had to admit defeat. I'd tried my best on my own, and then Angela had carefully tried to help, all to no good. Every time a breast was even joggled, I was in agony.

"What the hell are we going to do, Angie?" I asked in desperation.

"I suppose we could try to find who the suppliers are, and ring them up."

"What, in Australia?"

"Well, at least it will be the start of their day, rather than the evening," she said.

"Yes. The start of a Saturday morning," I cried. "They may not even be open today, and we don't know the name of the supplier, anyway. I'm going to be stuck in this forever. I shall probably die in it, just like Aunt Nancy."

"Well, at least I'll get some peace," Angela said.

CHAPTER 2 - I DO LIKE TO BE BESIDE THE SEASIDE

I was interrupted from further panic by the phone ringing. I was closest, so I picked it up.

"Is Mrs Brown there?"

Damn! We'd only been running the conspiracy for a few hours, and not only was I trapped inside a woman's breasts, we now had a woman looking for Nancy.

"I'm sorry, she's not here at the moment. I'm Nigel Simmons, Mrs Brown's nephew. She's staying with us. Can I help you?"

"Hello Mr Simmons. This is Toni from Big Busts in Seacombe. Mrs Brown was due to visit us tomorrow sometime, but she was going to telephone today and confirm her arrival. Can you confirm she is still intending to come, and what time it might be?"

I was about to fob her off, when it struck me.

"Sorry, did you say 'Big Busts'?"

"That's right. We manufacture a range of goods, including head and shoulder busts."

"But it's not just head and shoulder busts, is it? You also manufacture big busts, as in a Bustlet. Is that right?"

"Well, yes, we do manufacture a number of other products, including the Bustlet."

"It's just that my Aunt Nancy... well she's gone away for a few days and she left her Bustlet behind, saying she didn't need it for the time being - it was too sensitive, and we could use it, and, well..." I took a deep breath. I had to say the words; there was no point in delaying them. "The silly thing is, I tried it on and now I can't get if off." The last few words came out in a rush - I felt so stupid.

"You mean you tried on Mrs Brown's Bustlet?"

"I know it's absolutely stupid. I mean, it's not as though I'm homosexual or anything, it's just that..."

"No, no! It's not stupid at all, and your sexuality is of no concern to us. In fact, we have lots of heterosexual male customers who enjoy wearing a Bustlet. No, it's just that I was surprised that Mrs Brown left her Bustlet with you, without warning you it was faulty. She was coming in tomorrow to change it. So, can I just confirm that you're wearing the Bustlet now?"

"Yes, and the problem is, it's so sensitive, I can't get it off."

"Alright, it sounds as though you've got the sensitivity level set too high. We warned Mrs Brown not to go above five. What have you got it set to?"

"Sensitivity level? Er, I'm not certain what it's set to or how to change it."

"Do you have the remote control?"

"Hang on." I turned to Angela. "It's Big Busts in Seacombe. They're the company that supplied Aunt Nancy's Bustlet."

She nodded. "I gathered that."

"They say there should be a remote control unit. Have you seen it?"

She wrinkled her nose. "I don't think so. I'll go upstairs and have a look."

I told Toni that Angela had gone to look for it and, added, "Did you say the unit was faulty."

"Mrs Brown telephoned us last week, and from her description, it sounded like she'd got a fault on the unit. That's highly unusual, they're normally very reliable."

"A fault? That sounds quite dangerous."

"Well, it could be if you had it on a high sensitivity setting, which we warned Mrs Brown against. The skin of the Bustlet is made of material like a touch-sensitive computer screen, and there are electrodes in contact with your own skin that simulate those sensations. If there is a fault on the unit, it could result in a nasty electric shock. It could be lethal in the extreme."

I checked Angela was still upstairs, before I asked, "So if she had sex with someone and they gave her nipple a bite..."

"Oh! Don't even think about it. We suggested to Mrs Brown that she stop using the Bustlet, but she insisted. So we gave strict instructions not to use it above a sensitivity setting of five. From your own reactions, it sounds like she left it on quite a high setting. The important thing at the moment is to find the remote and set it much lower."

Just then, Angela came back in the room waving a remote.

"OK," I told Toni, "we've found the remote."

"Simply point it at the front of the Bustlet and press zero," the woman said.

Angela heard her words and did as commanded. In an instant, my breasts changed from super-sensitive orbs, detecting every breath of air in the room, to totally inanimate objects, as I'd originally expected them to be.

"Phew! I think that's done the trick." I gently touched my left breast with a finger. Nothing. I gave it a harder squeeze. Still nothing. "Yes. Thank you so much. I was getting into a real panic, there. I thought I'd be stuck in it forever."

"Glad to be of service. Now, did you say your aunt has gone away for a few days? Presumably, that means she won't be bringing the Bustlet into our shop in Seacombe."

"My wife and I are coming down to Seacombe. We could bring it in."

"That would be excellent. Er... did I understand you to say that your aunt had now lent you the Bustlet?"

"Yes, she did. She said she wasn't going to use it."

"I'm sorry she's stopped using it, but we did advise her to discontinue until the fault was fixed. However, if you're now the owner of it, then we'll be happy to give you a proper fitting for a new Bustlet to replace the faulty one. And to make up for the pain and discomfort caused to you this evening by the faulty appliance, we'll also throw in a free Hiplet, as well. If you'd like one, that is."

"Er, what's a Hiplet?"

"It's a garment we've developed in response to demands from our male customers who want to look convincing women. It's a bit like a long-legged control brief, only it has padding from knee to hip, to produce a much more female shape. Like the Bustlet, it is absolutely lifelike, so it's very difficult to tell it from the real thing."

"Well, I expect there's one way," I said, with a smirk on my face.

"Not at all," she said, detecting my innuendo. "The Hiplet has a built in vagina. You can enjoy full heterosexual sex as a woman wearing a Hiplet."

"Bloody hell! Well, I don't need that."

"The choice is yours. If you want to look a convincing woman, then you need a Hiplet, and we only make them to be absolutely realistic. How you use it is your choice, but we'll be quite happy to give you one to make up for the pain you've suffered tonight. Does that sound acceptable?"

"That sounds great."

"Alright, what time will we see you here?"

"Can we make it about two pm?"

"See you then."

SATURDAY

Toni in Big Busts was, appropriately, a very big-busted woman. (I couldn't help wondering if her breasts were enlarged with the aid of a Bustlet; I rather suspected they were.) She had a skin as black as any I had ever seen, and she greeted us with a broad smile.

"You're early, Mrs and Ms Simmons, but that's no problem at all."

Her smile was infectious, and I grinned back. "We made good time, and we've just had a nice lunch." And I very self-consciously added, "Please call me Nigella."

As we were getting dressed this morning, I'd suggested to Angela there was really no point in wearing Nancy's Bustlet, since we were going to change it anyway, and that I should drive down to Seacombe as a man. Of course, Angela had overruled me.

"You need to get the feel of being a woman straightaway," she had said. "You haven't got much time before you have to be really convincing. After all, if you need to buy some petrol..."

"But I do," I'd interjected, "that's why..."

"That's a very good reason why you should go en femme," she'd said. "It will give you some practice in front of others. If you're detected, it's not the end of the world and if you're not, it will give you some confidence."

"But I'll have to pay for the petrol. My voice..."

"You spent all last night practising your voice. It's time to give it a trial with something simple. After all, you'll only have to give the number of the pump and say thank you. You should be able to manage that, shouldn't you?"

It was true. I'd practised with a tape recorder under Angela's guidance for hours. In the end, we'd managed to find a voice which I created in my mouth, rather than deep down in the throat, and which we thought would probably fool most people. If I couldn't do something as simple as giving a pump number to a bored assistant, there was no chance of success of the rest of our scheme.

So I had put on the Bustlet and wig, and dressed in Nancy's tracksuit. Then, Angela had made-up my face, so I looked - and felt - quite presentable, and I'd actually managed perfectly well in the filling station. It was true, I'd only had to say, "Three," in response to the assistant's "What pump?" and then "Thank you," but I'd come out feeling a whole lot more confident than when I'd gone in. So much so that Angela had coerced me into going into a roadside cafe for lunch! Again, I'd had no problems.

As for my new name, we'd agreed that we shouldn't involve Toni in any part of our deceit, and that I should say I was simply changing my gender as an experiment. Angela had proposed my new name, Nigella.

So, now I was facing Toni. She knew I was a male in drag, yet she seemed to have no awkwardness about the situation. I might just as well have been Aunt Nancy.

"Alright, get stripped off, and take off the Bustlet, and we'll see if we can find a better skin match for you than the one you have at the moment."

"No," Angela said. "I think we'd better stick with the original shade of skin.

"After all," she added, turning towards me, "Aunt Nancy will probably want it back at some stage, so she'll be very upset if the Bustlet doesn't match her skin."

Christ! Angela was right. If I'd had a colour to match my skin, it would have stuck out a mile, when Aunt Nancy's dead body was found, if her Bustlet didn't match her skin.

"Of course, I was forgetting that," I said to Angela. "Alright, we'll stay with the same shade."

"No problem," Toni said. "I presume that doesn't apply to the Hiplet, though. You'll want that to blend in with your own skin."

I was going to say it didn't matter as there was no way anyone other than Angela was going to see it, but Angela spoke before I could.

"Oh yes, please." In response to my look at her, she added, "Well, you might want to have a swim in the hotel pool. I'm sure we could get a nice bikini for you."

"Before you go buying the bikini," Toni said, "remember that Nigella is going to be very large around the hips. She may not look that good in a bikini."

Angela look perturbed, and said, "Oh, does she have to be that large? Nigel has a lovely trim bottom. I was rather hoping Nigella would be similar."

Toni shook her head. "I'm afraid not," she said. "The problem is that Nigel has wide shoulders. Unless we pad out Nigella's hips to compensate for them, she will look like a man dressed as a woman, regardless of the size of her boobs. That's the most important feature of the Hiplet; it gives a person wide hips, even though that's the very shape that most females want to change.

So, by the time we left Big Busts, I had a figure that Angela despaired over.

"I thought you would make such a lovely woman because you had nice slender thighs and legs, not fat like mine." (As usual, Angela was exaggerating the size of her body.) "Now, you're really fat."

"Thanks," I retorted. "How am I supposed to have any confidence when you make remarks like that?"

"Oh, don't worry, darling. No one could possibly imagine that you could be anything other than totally genuine. After all, no one would TRY to make themselves look like that." She gave another look over me. "Well, I suppose you do look quite similar to Aunt Nancy, and that is the reason we're going through all this."

"I'm glad you reminded me of that. After the way you were gloating over my changes, I thought we were doing it to fulfil your own fantasies."

Angela actually blushed, but I should have known better, because within seconds she came back fighting. "Oh yes? Well, who was it that had a massive erection in there, when you saw the woman you'd turned into. It's a good job we elected to go for the red gel to stick down your Hiplet. Once we'd got your monster under control, we couldn't afford the risk it might escape again."

"Well, it was a pretty cruel way the way you got it under control," I said, responding to Angela's point. "Hell, that hurt."

Toni had explained to us that Hiplets needed a gel to prevent perspiration forming, and that there were two options: green gel was fine for a few hours wear, but for longer term wear, the red gel was recommended, which sealed the pores and totally prevented perspiration. I'd be able to wear the Hiplet comfortably for ten to fourteen days. After that, my top layer of skin, to which the Hiplet would be glued, would be shed, and I'd be able to take off the garment. After Toni had explained that I wouldn't be able to remove the Hiplet for that period, I'd said I thought I should use the green gel, but Angela had taken me aside and told me in no uncertain terms not to be a stupid idiot, and that I had to use the red gel. So red gel it was.

With the Hiplet in place on my hips, and only the gusset to pull back between my legs, there had been one part of me preventing that - the enormous hard-on to which Angela had referred. There was no doubt I found my new shapely figure very erotic. But with the gel setting, there was limited time to get everything in place. Angela had solved the problem by giving my erection a hard slap. My rampant prick had promptly shrivelled, and just as promptly, Toni had pulled the gusset into place and my genitals had disappeared from my sight for a whole fortnight.

"I wouldn't worry too much about your willy," Angela said. "At least, it can have a little rest for a few days now. I think it's been too demanding recently." (God, if only she knew how recently!) "Anyway, two women going to a hotel together are bound to get a few offers over the course of the week. You'll probably get lucky."

"Jesus Christ! You don't think that blokes will try to pull us, do you?"

"Of course they'll try to pull us. I shall be mightily upset if they don't. And since my husband isn't here to satisfy me..."

"Angela!"

She laughed at me. " If it makes you feel a little safer, we can pretend to be lesbians. But from what I hear, men see that as more of a challenge."

"Oh hell! I never thought about that side of things. I'm going to be in the shit, aren't I?"

"At least your voice is much better now, after Toni gave you those pills. However, you do need to speak as a woman would speak, and that kind of comment is most unladylike."

Toni had produced a pack of Voice-Changer capsules. I had to let the capsule rest on my tongue until it melted, and then let the goo slide down my throat. For a minute, it had felt as though I'd drunk sulphuric acid but afterwards, my voice had gone right up in pitch, and now sounded as sweet as a nightingale.

However, Angela was right; I certainly needed to get in character as a woman, which meant talking like a woman.

"OK," I said, "let us girls go check in the hotel and have a great time."

"That's better," she said.

***

The hotel was superb. Angela had booked the Victorian suite, and she checked in for the pair of us (which reminded me that I still hadn't managed to extract any money from Aunt Nancy's bank account.) The spacious sitting room was located between the two bedrooms, with a Chesterfield suite of armchairs and sofa. A beautiful Victorian dining table and chairs were located in the bay window, with a French window leading onto a balcony, directly overlooking Seacombe's main beach.

In the master bedroom, there was a four-poster bed, but even the secondary bedroom had a canopy over the bed; and both had superb bathrooms and walk-in closets.

"Wow," I said, bouncing on the four-poster, "if only I wasn't wearing this silly get up, we could exercise the bed-springs."

"We'll have to see what we can do, later," Angela said.

(Presumably, I thought, she was hoping to get a good tonguing, tonight. Hell, that would be frustrating with my prick encased in glue.)

"In the meantime," she continued, "I suggest we go and explore the hotel. It will give you a good chance to get acclimatised to being a woman, and for members of the staff to see you and get to know you."

"Do you think that's wise?" I had a bad attack of nerves. "I mean, I might blow it completely, and then we'd have to abandon the whole idea."

"I can do most of the talking, but what's important is that people see you around the hotel, and know you by name. That way, when we get round to asking for signatures on the will, they won't question things. As we said before, even if a disaster occurs and you're rumbled, you haven't done anything illegal so far. Remember, I checked us in, so they couldn't even have you for passing a false cheque."

It was true. Everything was fail-safe up to now - apart from sticking the body in the freezer - and we wouldn't try to get the signatures until I was fairly confident of pulling it off. So, we did a tour of the hotel, promenaded through the grounds, tripped across the road to the beach and spent only a few minutes amongst the riff raff there, before returning to the tranquillity of the hotel.

"Fancy a drink before we go up to change for dinner?" Angela asked. "I'll order them." (That was a pleasant change - it was always me who had to do that.) "Is it the normal pint of lager for you, Nancy?"

"Thanks Angela," I said. At least, Nancy had been a beer drinker - even though it was only lager - which meant I could follow suit. A gin and tonic was all right for a quick injection of alcohol after coming home from the office, but I still preferred beer for most occasions. Perhaps sometime during the week, an adventurous woman like Nancy might graduate onto that cask of local real ale I could see behind the bar.

I glanced around the bar area, looking for an empty table. At that time in the late afternoon, there were plenty free, but I couldn't help noticing how many of the hotel residents gave friendly smiles of welcome. I chose a table next to a couple of guys who I thought might have heard the football results. They had given me the friendliest smiles of all.

"Are you here on holiday with your friend?" It was the taller and younger of the two who'd spoken.

God! What had I done? I was trying to avoid conversations with people, not have a nice chat about what a superb hotel this was, or even how Chelsea was getting on and which team was going to avoid relegation.

"Angela's my niece, actually, and yes we're on holiday here for a few days."

There, I'd answered his question; now hopefully he would shut up. But as I looked more fully at him, I could see he was obviously one of those guys who fancy themselves as God's gift to women; especially unattached women like the image that Angela and I must present! I guessed he must be in his early forties.

"Nice hotel. Have you stayed here before?"

Shit! Why couldn't he leave me alone? But I already knew the answer to that - he was male and I was unattached female. At least, he plainly didn't suspect a thing. I gave a glance at the bar. Angela had got our drinks and was waiting for her change. She gave an encouraging smile to me, and nodded, eagerly, urging me to continue the conversation.

"It's my first time here. I've been in Australia until recently."

The shorter man now joined in. "Australia? Great. I was out there last year. Where did you live?"

Oh my God! Where did I live in Australia? I'd been worrying for the last twenty-four hours about trying to pull it off as a woman, to the total exclusion of all other issues. I didn't know the first thing about Nancy's life.

Angela saved the day. "Here's your lager, Nancy. Did you always drink that in Australia?"

I nodded. "Mostly."

"Hmm. That explains why you're overweight."

"I was just talking to your aunt, and she was about to tell me where in Australia she lived. I was out there last year."

"Oh really," Angela replied. "That's nice." She turned towards the taller of the two, and with a flash of resourcefulness which amazed me, added, "Tell me, have you heard the football results today?"

"Chelsea won, 2 - 1," (Well done, Angie! Chelsea won. Great. If only all problems could be solved as easily.) He proceeded to reel off another dozen crucial results, ending with, "Want to know any more?"

Angela shook her head. "No, it was those I was interested in. Thanks."

"It's unusual in this kind of hotel to get a woman asking for football results. Especially a really pretty woman."

(Cheeky bastard, I thought.)

Angela flashed him a smile. "Thanks. But it's for my husband. He won't have had chance to listen to the scores today."

(Well done, Angie. That's shown him you're not going to be picked up.)

"Oh, is he in the hotel then? I'm surprised he didn't watch it on TV."

"Oh no! He's not here. He hopes to come down in a few days. No, he's having to do a special job at the moment, so in the meantime, it's just the two of us, all on our own."

(Hell, did she have to put it like that. It was almost as though she was trying to get us picked up. I could almost predict his next words.)

"Well, it's always a shame for people to have to dine on their own. Why don't we eat together this evening? My name's Jake, by the way, and this is Simon."

"This is my Aunt Nancy and I'm Angela. Thanks for the offer of dinner, but it's our first night here. I think we'd rather dine alone tonight." (Thank God she'd said it at last.) "Perhaps later in the week?" (Bloody hell! What are you doing, Angie?)

"That would be great... Oh, are you going now?" (This as I downed my lager and stood up.)

"I'm afraid we have to change for dinner," Angela said. "See you later."

***

"Bloody hell, Angie. What the hell are you..." I had to break off as a couple I guessed were a few years older than us came up and joined us, waiting for the lift.

"I'm only being friendly," she said, "and I do think, aunt, that you shouldn't get too excited if a couple of guys try to pick us up. You have to get over your husband's death sometime, and you're still young and good-looking. You should regard it as a compliment when that happens."

"I wish men chatted me up," the woman said, and we both smiled at her. She added, with a good-natured smile, "It's usually Pete, here, that manages to get chatted up by members of the opposite sex."

Pete gave a nonchalant smile, "It's always tough that women find me irresistible, but I guess some men have to be that way."

Angela and the woman found this incredibly funny, but I simply smiled politely. I wanted to stay in character, and I wasn't certain how Nancy would have reacted to him.

Thankfully, the lift arrived then and we all got in. We had the ritual, "What floor do you want?" and then the woman said, "My name's Mary, by the way, and you've already met Casanova, who goes by the name of Peter."

"I'm Angela, and this is Nancy, my husband's aunt."

We all smiled at each other.

"Are you here all week?" Angela asked.

Mary nodded, enthusiastically. "Yes, we are," she said. "We were hoping to meet another nice couple who we could enjoy our holiday with."

"That would be great," I said. It had suddenly occurred to me that Mary and Pete would make an excellent couple to befriend as witnesses. Whilst Pete might enjoy chatting me up, it would be under the supervision of Mary, so was unlikely to prove dangerous. And I really should make an effort to behave more friendly, as no doubt, my aunt would have done. "We can have lots of holiday fun together," I added.

Both Mary and Pete appeared really pleased with my suggestion, and Angela gave a nod of approval. But any talk of further plans was interrupted by the lift arriving at our floor.

"As it's the first night, we were planning to eat alone," Angela said. "But why don't we get together tomorrow sometime?"

"Sounds great," they both said, as the lift doors closed on their smiling faces.

"Well, I'm glad you got talking at last," Angela said, as we entered our suite. "I thought the way you suddenly stood up was quite rude to Jake and Simon. Aunt Nancy wouldn't have been like that."

"Angela, those two blokes were trying to pick us up. That's why I was like that, and you seemed oblivious to the danger. I was friendly enough to Mary and Pete."

"Look," Angela said, as we entered our suite. "I'm trying to get you in character. Aunt Nancy was a gregarious woman who, judging from what she told me in the dress shop, fancied sex with every man in Adelaide. She certainly gave a few lecherous smiles to some of the husbands who were in the dress shop with their wives. If it weren't for the fact you were her nephew, I'd have kept a pretty close eye on you two whilst she was living in our house."

(Gulp!)

"So if she was really staying here, she'd probably have been playing Strip Jack Naked with those two guys in the bar, by now. Why do you think she had those enormous tits, if it wasn't to say, 'Come and get your hands on these, sport.' "

"Bloody hell! I never realised she was like that." I had to think about what she had said. "But you can't expect me to copy Nancy in that respect!"

"All I'm saying," Angela said, "is that Nancy would have behaved very differently from the way you were intending to behave. Alright, that may not be critical. But if anyone does investigate the signing of the will, you can bet they'll come here and be talking to the staff about what she was like. If they say she was a retiring violet, they won't believe it was Nancy who signed the will."

"Why didn't you tell me this yesterday? It totally changes everything."

Angela smiled at me. "That's why I didn't tell you. If you'd known you had to go out and pull a few blokes, you'd have refused."

"Of course I'd refuse! I can't pull a bloke."

"Why not?"

Her question took my breath away. "Why not? Why not! It's obvious, isn't it?"

She smiled again. "No."

I gasped in shock. Here I was, a bloke, married for a decade to a reasonably attractive woman, both of us faithful to each other (until Thursday). OK, we had our disagreements but in the space of one day, she'd got me dressed as a woman and was suggesting I had sex with men.

"I'm not homosexual, for God's sake."

"I never suggested you were. But for the next week, YOU ARE Nancy Brown, and she was a woman with a sizeable sexual appetite. You have to act in character. And whilst you're in her character, having sex with men is not homosexual, it's heterosexual."

"But I don't fancy sex with men."

"I'd be surprised if you did. But you won't be doing that because you fancy it; you'll be doing it because you ARE Aunt Nancy. Don't you remember Toni saying you could have full heterosexual sex?"

"But she didn't mean with unsuspecting men; she meant with men who know I'm a man and want to simulate heterosexual sex."

Angela shook her head. "I wondered about that myself, so I asked Toni directly."

"And?"

"She said that provided he wasn't the size of a donkey, you should be able to fool an unsuspecting man into having sex with you. But she also added that a man might cut up rough if he discovered what you were doing.."

My turn to shake my head. "Bloody hell! Cut up rough? He'd cut off my fucking balls! And you're suggesting I have to lay back and think of England for the good of the cause?"

"Absolutely. Or to put it another way, lay back and think of your bank balance and a body in our freezer. Either you are going to be a very believable Aunt Nancy, or we are going to be in real trouble."

"But how do I know Toni is right about this? It's easy for her to say a man won't notice the difference, but if he does, it's not only the end of our personal project, it's probably the end of my life. I'm not particularly keen on either event."

Angela gave me a sympathetic smile. "Look, it's first night, right? It's definitely bad taste to drop your knickers on the first night, so tonight it's just you and me. And we can explore the capabilities of your new body. Alright?"

I agreed. It crossed my mind then that Angela had probably brought her vibrators, which she kept at the back of her bottom drawer, but which, until now, she had never introduced into our relationship. I wondered whether they would work on my pussy. Time would tell.

...and I'd also love to read your comments. Although this story is not a mystery, like many of my stories it does contain a few twists which hopefully you were not expecting. Some of you will have your suspicions, but in the time-honoured way, please do not spoil the surprise for others by airing them in a comment.

In other words,

SYNOPSIS: Nigel, and his wife, Angela, are happy to offer a temporary UK home to Nigel's Aunt Nancy, following the death of her rich husband Frank in Australia. On their first evening together, they are absolutely delighted when Nancy signs her will leaving all her fortunes to them when she dies. But wills have to be properly witnessed, and with Nancy's premature departure, someone has to witness her signature. Although the family resemblance is fortuitous, Nigel has reservations about the whole scheme. With just cause, it would appear.

This story is complete but will be released in three parts at daily intervals.

AUTHORS NOTE: Like many of my stories, this is a light-hearted romp which I hope you will enjoy. But it does contain adult themes such as (and the more sensitive readers may wish to close their eyes whilst reading the next 17 words): crossdressing, sex with multiple partners of both genders, illegal acts, getting drunk, humour and extra marital sex. (If you've had your eyes closed, you may now open them.) So if reading material containing those subjects is either illegal or not to your taste (or if you've had your eyes closed), then please do not do it - or at least, don't moan about it afterwards.

CHAPTER 3 - SATURDAY NIGHT & SUNDAY MORNING

Angela had always taken forever to get dressed for dinner, but in the past I'd never realised just why. It took even longer now there were two women, and one of them didn't have a clue. Firstly, there was all the bathing, rubbing in cream and checking for any hairs not ripped from my skin last night - and there were a few which Angela energetically attacked with a pair of tweezers. Then we had to select the gown for the evening.

I hadn't really noticed the items Nancy had bought from the dress shop on that first day - only the size of the bill - but there wasn't a single dress which didn't expose Nancy's (ie my) boobs to the full.

"See what I mean about Nancy's agenda?" Angela said. "All you have to do is sit back in your seat and let these dresses - and your tits - do the work for you."

How easy it was for the woman, I realised. Just push out your tits and all the blokes come chasing after you.

"In any case," Angela said, "exposing your boobs proves more thoroughly than any other way that you are completely woman."

I'd pretty well come to the same conclusion; in for a penny, in for a pound. I shrugged. "Okay, let's get on with it."

I'd have grabbed the first dress on the rail, but of course, Angela had to agonise over every one. Would this one clash with the colour scheme in the dining room? Would that one merge with her own attire? After absolutely ages, we decided on a lemon-coloured dress, with a full skirt that had a slightly more respectable neckline than the others, but not by much.

"My dress is not too dissimilar, only it's a peach colour," Angela said. "I think we'll go together nicely." She looked at her watch. "Come on, we have to get on with the preparation for dinner."

"Angela," I said, "there's another side to preparing to meet people which I never thought about until we met those guys downstairs. I know hardly anything about Nancy. For example, where was her farm in Australia? You suggested just now that it was near Adelaide."

"Haven't got a clue," she said. "The important point is not to get trapped into revealing things about yourself. Tell them you've just lost your husband, so you'd really rather not talk about that part of your life - ie the last thirty years. If they push it, you can even get mellow, start talking about your poor husband, what a noble man he was (although Nancy suggested he was an absolute shit with a willy the size of a worm). You could even start weeping a bit and then say you're going to retire to your room.

"Once men realise that asking you about your personal life is a total turn-off, they'll keep well clear. But regard the weeping as the ultimate deterrent. Don't use it if you can help; otherwise they'll remember you as being extremely upset over your husband's death, which is definitely not what Nancy was indicating."

"Did he really?" I asked.

"What?"

"Have a willy the size of a worm?"

Angela shrugged. "I don't know. It's what Nancy said when we were shopping."

"How come women always go into intimate personal details within five minutes of meeting each other?" I asked. "I would never talk about your personal details to anyone else." Another thought struck me. "What did you say about me?"

Angela smiled. "I agree with you, actually. She was far too intimate, far too quickly. So, I just made it up. I said you had tackle the size of a bull's, and you went about sex as though you were in a china shop. I thought it was quite a witty response."

A witty response with unintended consequences. No wonder Nancy had snared me in her trap, and told me to shag her like a bull in a china shop!

All this time, Angela had been working on making-up my face. Now she threw the wig over my head, adjusted it ad infinitum, and then told me to face the mirror and see the result.

Wow! I'd have fucked myself without a moment's hesitation. I was still only dressed in bra and knickers, with my grapefruit-sized tits pushing so nicely out of the bra, and down below, the flesh flowed around my rounded hips. Angela had cleverly used make-up to the opposite effect of the norm - she'd made me look older - and with the Joan Collins hair framing my face, I didn't recognise it as my own. I looked one hell of a fuckable woman.

"I'm sorry you have to be so overweight," Angela said, "but I'm afraid you'll just have to grin and bear it. Some men have such bad taste, I'm certain there'll be plenty of takers for you during the week."

Poor Angela, I thought. She still doesn't understand what makes women attractive to men. On the other hand, I hadn't a clue what made men attractive to women, so I guess I had better shut up.

***

Dinner was really great. Superb menu, exquisitely cooked food and all delightfully served. Nothing was too much trouble for the waiters, and as the meal progressed, I realised how well Angela's new dress suited her, with her boobs pushing out almost as much as mine and I started to feel very randy.

I tried not to show it, since I was now Nancy, and Nancy would not have looked at Angela in the same way. Instead, I chatted wildly about all kinds of stupid things: planning the events for the week (including shopping!); asking about many of the technicalities of make-up, which were a complete mystery; and even co-operating with Angela when she started talking about the eligible males (ie for sex - not marriage) in the dining room.

After all, I reasoned, once I had a bit more confidence I could flirt dreadfully. That didn't mean I had to have sex with them. I was a woman, after all, and that's exactly what we women did all the time. Well, not all the time because otherwise the human race would have ceased to exist, but you get my meaning.

As we were waiting to order coffee, I had a quick glance around to make certain there wasn't a waiter within hearing distance, and said, "This may not be what the other Nancy might have said, but this one wants to take you to bed and make passionate love to you."

Angela looked a bit startled and went red in the face, and then said, "There's no reason why the other Nancy wouldn't have said that. I thought I told you that Nancy was bi-sexual. She liked women as well as men."

"You didn't tell me that."

"Oh, didn't I? I meant to."

When you know a person really well, you can often instinctively tell when they aren't telling the whole truth. Angela's casual, "Oh didn't I?" screamed that the words had been rehearsed ten times over.

I thought a little, and then said, "She said at the airport how beautiful you were."

"Yes, she did."

"And then the pair of you went off buying clothes together."

"Yes."

"She bought you a dress."

"Yes, it's the one I'm wearing tonight."

I looked at it again. "It's very beautiful, but I've said that already. It must have cost a lot of money."

"Yes." Then, "Six hundred and eighty pounds."

I silently whistled. The kind of money I'd never been able to give her to spend on a dress.

"She said we should all be good friends, and that's what friends are for."

I nodded.

"And that she thought I was very beautiful and that I should have beautiful clothes. And that she gave beautiful things to her beautiful friends. And that she was thinking of willing us all her money when she died. When she came out with the will at dinner, I was just so overjoyed."

"And the two of you went off to bed together, well before me," I added, with deliberate innuendo.

She took it straight. "Yes." Another pause, whilst she looked at my face, then she obviously made up her mind. She took a deep breath. "I was feeling incredibly sleepy, and I got into bed and that's when Nancy came into our bedroom and sat on the bed."

"Go on."

"She slipped her nightdress down her arms and asked me if I thought her breasts were nice. I said I thought they were fantastic. They were too; but then we know why. That's when she asked if I would suckle them, like the baby she never had.

"Well, I felt very indebted about the will and the dress and everything, and I felt really drowsy. Comforting her like that really seemed no great shakes, so it seemed simplest to do as she asked. Within seconds of my suckling her left breast, she had a mini-orgasm."

Angela's face, which had been so serious until now, broke into a huge grin. "I'd never given a woman an orgasm before," she continued, "and I was so proud of myself that almost without thinking I suckled her other breast, and she had a much bigger orgasm. Of course, I realise now she had the setting on her Bustlet turned right up, but I didn't know that then. She seemed so thankful for my giving her an orgasm, that I let her kiss my pussy." On her face was a look which was a combination of both guilt and excitement.

"Nigel, I thought you were half decent at kissing pussy, but she was better. She brought me to a climax in about twenty seconds. I'd never before experienced anything like it. One minute, I was sitting up in bed, feeling incredibly embarrassed because your Aunt Nancy had her head between my legs - the next I was writhing in the throes of a fantastic climax.

"It lasted about five incredible minutes, then we heard you coming up the stairs and she darted out the room back to hers. I must have dropped off to sleep at that point because I don't remember anything until the next morning, when I took in her tea, and she was dead. But she still had that happy smile on her face which I can remember beaming at me from between my legs."

She turned tearfully to me. "Nigel - shit, I shouldn't call you that - do you think I killed her - you know, with that fault on her Bustlet - by licking her nipples to hard, or by catching her with my teeth, or something like that?"

I suppose that could have been the time when I owned up to the events that had happened subsequently, but I had too much sense. It was one thing for my wife to confess to lesbian sex with my aunt; quite another if I confessed to heterosexual sex with her.

So, I simply said, "I'm quite certain that if it was anything you'd done, she'd have immediately experienced the effects and she'd have collapsed there and then. As it is, I think you can be absolutely certain it was nothing of your doing."

"Oh Nigel - sorry Nancy - I've just confessed to having sex with someone else, and you're so nice about it, and totally supportive." She gave me such a smile. "Look Nancy, I know it's still only fairly early, but why don't we skip coffee and go upstairs now. I've got a little surprise for you."

***

Well, that set me thinking. It sounded more than loaning me her vibrator. Had she found some way to extract my dick from its glued-in position inside the Hiplet, and was going to give it a nice big jolly? Certainly, she had gone into a little huddle with Toni after she had explained that the Hiplet would be stuck on me for the next two weeks.

But funnily enough, I'd got into the spirit of being a woman. Somehow, I felt that reverting to maleness in our bedroom would be a cop-out. On the other hand, I was a male inside, and if Angela presented herself on a plate, I was hardly going to refuse. Just as I hadn't refused when Nancy had seduced me.

I noticed as we waited for the lift, Angela was impatient to get upstairs; standing on first one foot then shifting her weight to the other, almost as though she was going to wet herself with excitement. That, in itself, was strange. After we'd settled into the norm of married life, Angela had usually been a cooperative partner, seemingly enjoying the experience, but she had never been the one to instigate the action, in the way that Nancy had on Thursday evening.

Unfortunately, some other guests joined us as we waited for the lift, so we couldn't talk to each other on the ride up to our floor. However, as soon as we'd got out of the lift, Angela grabbed me by the hand and pulled me along the corridor to our room.

"Wow. What's got into you, all of a sudden?"

She looked over her shoulder at me, gave me a wink - a wink! Angela never gave winks - and said, "You'll see," and then seemed to drag me even faster along the corridor. Of course, she was used to high heels, but I felt that any moment I was going to land flat on my face, and then where would our illusion be?

However, we reached our suite without incident, and as soon as she pulled me inside, and closed the door, she stood with her back to it (almost as though to prevent me escaping!) and said, "I talked with Toni about your not being able to have sex, and she said there was a simple solution."

There! Wasn't that exactly as I'd predicted?

I started to lift my skirts to get at my Hiplet. "Well that's great. How do I get out of this Hiplet?"

"You don't."

I stared at her. "I don't? But you said..."

"Toni's solution was chick with dick."

"What?"

"Chick with dick. You know, people whom to all intents and purposes look like a woman, except in one vital respect - they have a dick. I think you get a lot of them in the Far East."

I let my skirts fall back to the ground. "But how does that help me?"

Angela dropped her hands to her own skirt and started to lift it. As I'd said previously, we both had similar shaped dresses, with a full skirt which needed a crinoline underneath. As Angela lifted the skirt higher and higher, she exposed her stocking tops and suspenders, and the bare flesh between stocking tops and...

"Oh my God!"

She pulled the skirt right up now, so it was level with her tits and I could have an unrestricted view. It was easy to see why Angela had chosen a dress that needed a crinoline. It was also easy to see why she wasn't wearing panties. For her panties would never have fitted over the grotesque monstrosity sitting at the top of her legs - an absolutely enormous penis, with blue veins running up the side, and an even larger, purple, shiny knob.

"It's obscene! It's hideous! It's..."

"A cock. The kind of thing that men stick inside women all the time."

"But... But... It's huge!"

Angela smiled. "Well, it is bigger than yours, darling, but I wouldn't get a complex over it."

"But... what are you going to do with it?"

"Can't you guess?"

"No way! Absolutely, no way!"

"Why not?"

"Because..." Her question threw me. Why not? Wasn't it obvious?

"It's far too big. It would never fit inside my vagina."

Angela smiled. "That was the reason why Toni suggested I get the Large size strap-on penis rather than the Extra-Large..."

"Extra-Large!"

"...which would never penetrate the vagina on the Hiplet. The Large is alright with a bit of a push. When I explained to her that you'd got to put yourself around a bit, she thought it a good idea to practice with me first, and then you'd know the limit of what you can take. If you do meet any men with pricks bigger than this, you'll just have to cry-off full sex, and give them a blow job, or something."

"Pricks bigger than that? You don't get pricks bigger than that."

"Oh, are you the world's expert on pricks?"

"Well, no, but..."

"Do you remember Paul, who I was dating when I met you?"

I wrinkled my forehead; I'd been really taken with Angela and hadn't really noticed who she was with. A vague memory returned. "You mean that little squirt?"

Angela smirked. "I can tell you that 'Little Squirt' was a description that definitely could not be applied to Paul."

"You're not telling me his prick was bigger than that thing..." My words died out as Angela nodded. "But he was such a tiny guy..."

"He wasn't tiny where it mattered. Why do you think he had so many girl-friends?"

Why did I feel so insanely jealous? "But you chose me in place of him."

"Exactly. Because actually taking something this big inside you is quite painful, and you get to worry that your vagina will be terribly stretched, and never recover. When I met you, sex became pleasant again."

"So you opted for me because of the good sex?" Well that rather mollified what she had just told me?

"Well not really. More attractive was the size of your bank balance before we took on the mortgage."

"Oh."

"Look Nancy, never mind the days of pre-history. Nigel and Angela are a great couple. But Nigel's not here now, and Nancy is. We have some serious rehearsals to do to make certain you can cope with the part."

The theory was fine, but the practice? To be honest, the sight of that enormous prick had terrified me; it was like nothing I'd ever before seen at first hand, and the very thought of it even getting close to me was horrific. Alright, I knew it was going into my Hiplet, which had been specially designed to take such a monster, but it might touch my leg on the way in. I gave a little shudder. No, I really did not want to even contemplate that tonight.

She may have wanted fun but, to be honest, I was still smarting that even before we'd met she'd been having fun with Paul, with a monster even bigger than the one she sported now. I know it sounds unfair, but I felt betrayed by that; what must she have felt when we went to bed for the first time and there was a prick, half the size of the one she'd last had inside her, without the horrible blue veins and huge purple head. No wonder she'd been incredibly turned-on now by this prick. Well sod her!

"I suppose it could be fun," I said, "but... well it seems a bit mechanical, and it's not as if we're going to particularly enjoy it, are we? I mean, it's not real sex, is it?"

"Look," Angela said, "When her assistant fitted me out with this, she didn't say that the thing had a mind of its own. It was fine, this evening, until we started talking about Nancy coming into my bed - then suddenly I got a hard-on like a flag-pole, and it's been like it since. The problem is - well, I suppose it's not a problem really - that it's not just an external appliance, it fits inside me as well. As soon as it went erect, it's been nuzzling against my clit every time I move, and driving me wild. I really need to have sex with you. Like... desperately; really, really desp..."

Just as I was on the point of relenting, having been in that position of need many times before, she broke off in mid-flight - as though she'd suddenly thought of something important. Then she continued, "Of course! How stupid of me. I'll go and get it."

She went darting off into the bedroom, and returned a few seconds later with the TV remote control.

I gave a sigh of relief. "That's a good idea. You can watch TV instead, and the erection will probably disappear."

"Don't be stupid. This isn't the remote from the TV." Instead of pointing it at the TV, she pointed it towards me and pressed the red button.

Ping! My nipples went rock-hard and thrust out the material of my dress, as though I'd slipped a couple of pebbles down there.

"I didn't think Toni would have time to demonstrate the remote to you, so I got her assistant to explain it," Angela said. She continued to point the remote at me, and pressed another button.

Zing! Since getting a new Bustlet fitted at Big Busts, my tits had been attractive but comfortably senseless mounds on the front of my chest. Suddenly, they were the most sensitive part of my body. I could feel the material of my dress grazing against them, as they wobbled in rhythm with my breathing. I could even feel my breath on them, just as when Angela had blown at them, last night.

But instead of it being painful, as it had been last night, it was something gloriously erotic. I needed them to be fondled and stroked and...

" Angela." I gave her my most pleading smile. "Will you suckle my breasts? Please? I really need you to, desperately."

"Well," she said, "that depends whether you want anything else doing afterwards."

***

I certainly did!

I almost tore my dress getting it off, for I desperately needed Angela to suck my breasts. She leapt at me and roughly pulled it down my shoulders, so my arms were trapped but my titties fell free.

Angela lifted her hands to cup my breasts, and gently squeeze them and stroke them, and then, tantalizingly, she let her thumbs brush across my nipples, which made me gasp with excitement.

"Wow," she said. "It was only two days ago I touched another woman's breast for the first time, and now I'm addicted to them."

I was just so grateful to her when she lowered her mouth to my left nipple, and started to suck on it.

"Oh Angela. Yes! Please! Suck them harder! Oh yes!"

Whilst she was sucking on alternate breasts, she pulled my dress down my arms and allowed it to drop to the floor. Then my panties were following. Frustratingly, she stopped her work on my breasts just as I thought I might be about to orgasm, and took me by the hand and led me through to the bedroom and across to the four-poster, where she turned me and made me sit on it.

Again her mouth dropped to my nipples, sucking the one whilst gently kneading the other. She pushed me back on the bed, following me down with her mouth working fantastic things on my nipples, a process which conveniently left her lying between my legs. She grasped me underneath the knees and lifted and separated them, so she could let her mouth attack my pussy.

Alright, I can't deny I'd already had a play around that area, and found it all a bit unresponsive. Yes, there was a hole there into which you could probably stuff a decent sized prick and jiggle it about, but I guessed that would give me little satisfaction. Compared to the erotic feelings I'd got from having my nipples sucked, which I was certain would lead to an orgasm pretty quickly if only Angela would turn her attention back to them, this was going to be a dead loss.

Still, that's the age-old problem we women have; we want men to concentrate on arousing us by sucking our tits, and all anyone with a prick wants to do is to shove it in the hole and spurt semen inside. Still, I thought I ought to go through the motions and make a few realistic groans, just in order to spur Angela on. I suspect that over the years, she had done the same for me many times.

I saw her open mouth and pink tongue moving down between my legs. I'd have to get the timing right. I mustn't moan before she'd licked me; that would give the game away. Perhaps I ought to count to five, just to make...

"A-a-a-h-h-h-h!!!" Now in case you're wondering, that was a genuine cry. It was impossible to describe the wonderful feeling that started in my groin, and sent blood surging through every part of my body.

I didn't know what had happened since I had played with myself earlier that afternoon, but... Yes I did. Angela had used the remote to up the sensitivity on my breasts; and it had also worked on my Hiplet. I could feel Angela's tongue flicking along one lip of my pussy, and then working its way back again, but not quite touching the spot I wanted her to.

"O-o-o-h-h-h!" Well she touched it then.

"J-e-e-e-e-e-e-z!" And again.

Hell, this was sex with a difference! Like nothing I'd had...

"U-u-u-u-g-h!" ...before in my entire...

"C-h-r-i-s-t!" ...life. What had I been missing?

I knew my orgasm was approaching; I could feel it building up inside; all my nerves were singing tales of joy to me. Yes, I was almost there; almost...

"Can we try to get my cock inside, now? I am really so desperate." Angela had withdrawn her wonderful mouth and was moving her body up, and positioning her gigantic prick near my crack. I couldn't see it from where I was but it seemed incredible that something that size could fit inside the hole I'd explored earlier. I wondered whether I'd have any feeling as it went in.

Then the monster bumped into me, somewhere between pussy and arsehole, and started pushing hard, as though trying to dig a new hole.

"Oh shit, that hurts. You're in the wrong place."

"Now you know what it feels like," Angela said. "You've done it to me enough times."

"Yes but... Oh fuck, you're in the right place, and that hurts even more! It's so big. It's very painful. Angela, stop it! I mean that. Stop it now! Oh God, it's really, really excruciating! I can't take it! It's splitting me wide open! A-a-a-h-h... Oh." The latter as Angela's monster prick slid inside the place it was trying to get. I still felt there was a huge beast inside me, but it was no longer trying to rip me apart.

"O-o-o-o-o-h!" That as Angela slid the beast in as far as it would go.

"A-a-a-a-a-h!" as she slid it out again. Then "O-o-o-o-o-h!" "A-a-a-a-a-h!" "O-o-o-o-o-h!" "A-a-a-a-a-h!" "O-o-o-o-o-h!" as she set up a rhythm. Hell, this was better than the real thing. Just the movement of my tits as they joggled in time with Angela was absolute bliss, and the Hipster had obviously been designed to improve on the human anatomy. I was getting rapturous feeling from every stroke of Angela's super cock.

I had my first orgasm about ten seconds later, and Angela rather than letting go with her climax, as I tended to do, she carried on, and on, whilst I wriggled in ecstasy on the end of her cock.

A few seconds after coming down from that orgasm, I went into another, and another, and another. In fact, I lost count of the number of orgasms I actually had, especially as after a while, they all seemed to merge into one long one.

Finally, Angela started building up for her climax. She increased the pace, and worked harder and harder with every thrust. The gentle wobbling of my tits was changed to a violent pitch, backwards and forwards, and that in itself, was so erotic that I had another orgasm on the strength of it.

Then I could feel Angela's hot fluid spurting into me - thrust after thrust after thrust. Even her ejaculation went on far longer than any natural penis could have done. Finally, she was spent.

She slumped on my shoulder, kissed my nipple, and asked, "Was I any good?"

I turned her mouth towards me, kissed her, and said, "Brilliant."

I was about to suggest that we do it all over again, when she reached over, turned out the lights and dropped fast asleep.

***

It must have been about an hour later when I felt a wonderful sensation in my breast. It was almost as if... I woke up.

Angela was kissing my nipple. She smiled at me. "I thought that would wake you," she said. "My cock has gone rock-hard again."

CHAPTER 4 - SUNDAY

By morning, we were both totally shagged out, and I managed to slip away from Angela without waking her. It was about eight-thirty, and I decided I'd have breakfast downstairs.

The very first thing I did was to grab the remote and reset the sensitivity on my tits to... Well, I was going to set it back at Level Zero, where there was no feeling in my boobs whatsoever, but it had felt so nice having those cuddly puppies nestling against me, that I decided to set it at Four. That setting meant that, whilst I wasn't frantically desperate for sex, as I'd been last night when they'd been on Nine, there was plenty of sensitivity there.

So I could feel them joggle as I walked about the room, and when I took a shower and started to soap them, I got a really whizzy feeling all through me; so whizzy that I almost reached for the remote and set them back to Nine, but managed to desist.

After my shower, I took my daily Voice-Changer capsule, slipped on bra and panties, pulled on a skirt and a matching top (another low neckline!), slipped my feet into some sandals and spent about fifteen minutes trying to copy everything Angela had taught me about making up my face to look old. Then I went downstairs.

In the dining room, it was the conventional self-service for the main items, with a waitress called Kerry delivering tea, coffee and toast to the table. She was a pleasant-faced girl, who bade me, "Good Morning," as soon as she saw me, and gave me a joyful smile. It's funny, I conjectured, but a woman would never smile at a man like that, because he would immediately read it as an invitation for sex. How nice that, when we women meet each other, we don't have to worry about those kind of issues.

Kerry took my order for tea and toast, and I went and helped myself to the rest of my breakfast - orange juice and grapefruit. Kerry was back at the table within a few minutes with the tea and toast.

"Is she really your niece?" she enquired with an even wider smile

"Sorry?"

"Sorry, I know that sounded very rude, but I was curious about Mrs Simmons. She's very pretty, isn't she? I wondered whether she was really your niece?"

"Yes, Angela certainly is very pretty, and actually, she's my nephew's wife. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, she's not a blood relative then. No reason for asking. I wondered; that's all.

"By the way," she added, "my close friends call me Kermit."

I gave her another nice smile at the invitation to become a close friend. "That's an unusual nickname. How did you get it?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she asked with an even wider smile.

The only Kermit I knew of was Kermit the Frog, but I didn't like to glance down to check whether she had webbed feet or hands. Instead, I simply smiled back and said, "Nope. You have me completely foxed."

"Kermit the Frog," she said. "What feature do I have that I share with a frog?"

I stared at her closely, and as I did so, she gave a quick glance around the dining room to see if she was being observed by any of the guests. Then she poked out her tongue a little way and flicked it from side to side - then she stuck it out further - and further, pushing it down until she could have touched herself under the chin. Then it all slithered back into her mouth, and she was left with the same smile on her face as when she had started.

It was such an erotic gesture that if my prick had been free I'd have slapped it in front of her and told her to lick - in the middle of the hotel dining room or not. As it was, I merely flushed a bright red and said something like, "I bet an ice-cream wouldn't last for very long with you."

"Nothing can withstand my tongue for very long," she said in an incredibly suggestive way. Then she added: "Do you know Seacombe very well?"

"Not well at all," I said, trying to gather my thoughts and taken aback by the abrupt change of subject. "I was last here with my sister's family thirty years ago. Angela's husband was a little boy then."

"Thirty years ago! Things must have changed a bit since then."

"Well, actually," I said, "I'm surprised how little has changed."

"I was thinking of places like The Spring Lamb. You know about that, do you?"

"No. What is it; a good pub?"

"A good pub? It's the ONLY pub for people like us."

She must have seen the look of incomprehension on my face, for she clarified. "It's a gay bar - there's only one in Seacombe."

"Oh." I said, realisation coursing through my body, "What makes you think I'm gay?"

She blushed. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned it. It's just that every evening at nine we come around the rooms to turn down the bed-quilts. Naturally, I knocked on your door and as there was no reply, so I used my pass-key to enter the sitting-room."

"Oh."

"The two of you were in the bedroom with the interconnecting door left wide open. You were both having a fantastic time. Naturally, I left the suite straightaway, but it made me feel incredibly horny. It's been far too long since I had a session like that. Obviously, your secret is safe with me because we all have to stick together, don't we? Like I say, I shouldn't have mentioned it and the manager would fire me if he knew I had done. You won't tell anyone, will you? "

"Of course not."

"Do you mind me asking, are you two in a permanent relationship, or are you free spirits?"

"Oh, we're absolutely free spirits." Angela's voice came from over my shoulder, making me jump; I hadn't seen her come up behind me. She smiled back at the beaming Kerry, as she sat down at the table. "Nancy has only been in this country for a few days and we simply kind of hit it off." She looked over at me with affection. "That's right, isn't it, Nancy?"

I took my turn at smiling and nodded. Thankfully, I thought, Angela's sex drive must have abated since last night, as she hadn't immediately tried to fuck me on the breakfast table!

"I thought that might be the case," Kerry said. "You both have all the enthusiasm of being in a fresh relationship. That's really nice. Now, madam, can I take your order for tea, coffee or toast?"

After Kerry had left the table, Angela said, "Nancy, that was brilliant! You said just the right things to enhance your reputation, and I also thought it was really great the way you behaved when Kerry barged into the suite last night. I simply took my lead from you."

My jaw dropped. "You mean that you heard her come in?"

"Of course. You mean that you didn't?"

I shook my head.

"She knocked quite loudly on the sitting-room door," Angela said, "and I'd got my mouth full at the time, so I thought you'd tell her to go away. But instead, you simply kept quiet and let her come in. You even said to me, 'Suckle my tit harder, Angela.'

"When I did," Angela continued, "you went straight into another of your orgasms that was so intense, I thought you were pretending for the maid's benefit, so I threw in a few screams of my own. After about five minutes, perhaps a bit longer, I heard her leave.

"I found the whole voyeurism thing incredibly erotic and my erection came back with a vengeance, so of course, we never got to discussing what the maid must have seen. I'll go and help myself to some breakfast. For some reason I'm feeling extremely hungry."

***

It was only when she came back, I noticed she was wearing her tightly cut jeans.

"You've taken it off," I said, accusingly.

"Taken what off?"

I glanced around to make certain I wasn't going to be overheard. "Your penis. When you said the assistant fitted you with it, I thought you meant it was glued on, just like mine."

"Don't be stupid! I only have one dress suitable for a crinoline, and I can't go around the hotel all week wearing that. And if I wear anything else, it's going to stick out a mile." She grinned. "Well, almost."

"That's not fair you can take yours off!"

"You're being idiotic. You must have realised I couldn't have been wearing it yesterday afternoon. I had these jeans on then. I simply couldn't have a prick semi-permanently stuck on to me - it wouldn't be practical. Or perhaps the reason why you are so upset that I've taken it off," she continued, "was because you enjoyed it so much last night that you want more of it today?"

"Oh, don't be crude," I snapped. (Ouch, that comment had been close to the bone.)

"Because if it is," Angela went on, "we can definitely say that it achieved its objective. Except that you'll have to get your cock from another source now."

"Oh, do you swing both ways?" Kerry interrupted, putting Angela's coffee and toast down on the table.

"We both do," Angela replied. "That's why I married in the first place. But it's good to get away from a husband now and again."

I snorted, and Angela said, "Oh, I'm sorry Nancy. That was in such poor taste. You see," she turned to look up at Kerry, "Nancy lost her husband quite recently."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Kerry said. "I didn't realise." Embarrassed, she went dashing off to tend another table.

***

By the time we'd got back to the suite, our row had mulled. Angela gave me a reconciliatory smile and said, "Do you now agree that sex with men is perfectly feasible."

I smiled wryly back at her. "I think you've proved your point. If I can take a monster like yours inside me, continually for a whole night, without any signs of wear and tear, I think that physically I could cope with a real prick without a problem. What's really great is that I don't have any soreness inside, as you used to have when we had non-stop sessions like that. It was all simply sheer, unadulterated pleasure."

"So what about some adulterous pleasure?"

"Adulterous?" I thought guiltily back to Thursday night with Aunt Nancy, and then realisation sank in. "You're talking about with a man?"

"Yes, of course with a man," Angela agreed. "Nancy swung both ways. So is sex between you and a man still a mental taboo?"

Hell, Angela had only had a cock for a day, and she was already pushing back the borders. She really did have the devil in her.

"Hang on Angela. Can we just step back a little?"

She smiled at me, but said nothing.

"Until Thursday, you and I were a perfectly conventional, married couple. We had a few rows, but overall we got on pretty well. I loved you and you loved me. We had a reasonable income, a nice house and plenty of sex."

"And a boring life."

"What?" I was staggered. "You were bored? You never said."

"What could I do about it?"

"If you'd have told me," I said, "we could have done all sorts of things differently."

"I knew you wouldn't understand what I was complaining about, and we had enough rows anyway. Also, I didn't really know what I wanted to change. Then, Aunt Nancy arrived, and suddenly life is fun and different and exciting and, and... lots of things."

Her eyes glazed over and she continued, "Before Thursday, I couldn't have imagined having sex with your aunt, or stuffing a dead body in the freezer, or you becoming a woman and me getting a prick, or... or..."

"...or me having sex with some man you pick up for me?" I ended for her.

"Yes, exactly." She was beaming with excitement. "Just deny that what we're doing is tremendous FUN."

I thought for a second about the incredible sex we'd had over the last twelve hours, the surges of adrenaline I felt every time I went out as Nancy, and the mind-boggling rush I was getting as we talked about having sex with a male, without him knowing the truth.

I reluctantly nodded. "You're right. It is fun. Physically, last night was fantastic. I didn't realise women enjoyed themselves so much whilst they're being shafted."

"Put it down to the quality of your partner," Angela quipped.

"I understand what you're saying about imitating Nancy's habits as far as I can," I continued, deciding to ignore that interruption. "But I'm still nervous because it would be so dangerous if he did find out."

"But you'll give it a try?" Angela asked.

I nodded. "Alright," I said.

***

Sometimes (like now, as I write these words), I think I must have gone a bit crazy to do the things I did. Alright, everything up to the point where we got to the hotel, I can logically justify in my own mind.

Sure, becoming Aunt Nancy for a week sounded strange, but we'd got forced into it by the combination of my lending Nancy too much money, accidentally killing her whilst giving her an illicit shag, getting the sack from work, and Angela being given a confusing message from my office. After all, once Nancy had spent most of the day in the freezer, it was always going to be difficult explaining it away at the end of a hot, sunny period in August.

But it was the events leading on from there that are really difficult to justify. Angela had talked about Nancy's nymphomania, but at the back of our minds, we both knew that anyone investigating Nancy's movements would not be checking up on the number of lovers she had whilst staying at the hotel. In any case, she had just lost her husband of thirty years, so a change in behaviour patterns would be perfectly normal at that life-changing time.

Angela had already explained why she wanted to go out on a limb - she was bored with life, and I guess (at a year older than me) depressed to be rapidly approaching forty. As for me, I'm not really certain why I consented to everything Angela suggested.

Undoubtedly, Angela is an expert at getting her own way with me, so that might be part of it, but I certainly can't put all the blame there. Perhaps to an extent, I too was looking for a change to the humdrum existence we led. Getting the sack was a terrible shock to my system, and that forced me to confront my, until then, comfortable position. Our project had to succeed; otherwise we'd go bankrupt.

But I think it was more than that. I believe that I immersed myself so thoroughly into being Aunt Nancy, that I took over her soul - warts and all. If she was a sex maniac, then I had to be one, too. Of course, what I didn't realise at that time was that there was a big difference between Nancy's sexual needs, and her sexual fulfilment, which is why she'd been so ready for it on Thursday evening. But I would only find out that some time later, so let's get back to our fun.

***

"Why don't you go down and sit in the lounge for a bit?" Angela suggested. "That will give the odd male a chance to strike up a conversation with you. Remember, you don't have to do anything except have a pleasant conversation. You can save thoughts of deeper delights for later in the week."

"I'd feel a bit stupid sitting in the lounge on my own," I said, suddenly uncertain about my venture. "I'd have nothing to do."

"I noticed a small library of books left by other users on the bookshelves down there," she said. "You could choose something from that and read it. Only don't choose a car magazine. Pick something suitable."

So with that sage advice, I went down to the lounge, selected a woman's magazine from a rack, and started learning more about the art of applying make-up.

"Hello."

Wow! Ninety seconds. That's all it took for the first male to pounce on a women sitting on her own in a hotel foyer, with breasts the size of large grapefruit pushing out of her low-cut tee shirt. And I was made up to look middle-aged! Perhaps if I'd looked younger, I could have done it in half the time!

I looked up, smiling. It was Pete, the husband of Mary who we'd met yesterday in the lift.

"Hello to you," I said. "Enjoy the meal last night?"

"Very nice," he said. "I've just been for a walk along the sea-front, admiring all the pretty ladies on the beach. I guess if I'd known you were sitting here, I needn't have bothered to go out."

"Oh, listen to Mr Smoothy," Mary said, appearing from nowhere, and giving me a grin to show it was all friendly.

"Anyway," she added, turning to Pete, "I thought you said you were going for a walk to clear out the cobwebs after too much to drink last night. Not ogling all the dollies on the beach, and then coming in and chatting-up Nancy."

"Oh, shucks," Pete said, pretending to be admonished. He turned to me. "She's found out about our affair already, and it hasn't even started yet."

It was impossible not to smile back. "Never mind, plenty of time left."

"I'm glad we found you," Mary said. "We were intending to drive up to the castle and have a look around. Apparently, there's a pub which does good food quite close by. Do you two fancy coming and having lunch with us?"

Since I had Pete and Mary lined up to witness my will, it sounded a good idea for us all to get to know each other better.

"That sounds great," I said. "I'll pop up to our bedroom and get Angela. How about if we meet by Reception in about fifteen minutes?"

It was agreed. I went back up to our suite, and as I approached it, I could see the maid's trolley outside. Presumably, she was inside servicing the rooms, so I'd have to watch my words carefully. I went in.

There was no one in the sitting room, so I called, "Angela," and poked my head into the master bedroom.

"She's in the toilet," a voice said from the other bedroom, and I turned round to see Kerry in there, in the process of making the bed.

"Oh, hello again," I said. "You have a busy life, don't you? You can only just have finished serving breakfasts."

"It's always hard work in the hotel trade," she said. "As soon as the rush of breakfasts has eased, the manager sends me up here to start servicing the rooms."

Just then, the toilet in the en-suite could be heard flushing, and Angela came out.

"Hi," she said. "You weren't downstairs for very long. I thought you were going to be there most of the morning."

I told her about the offer from Mary and Pete, and she pulled a face.

"It sounded a good idea to me," I said. "We want to get friendly with Pete and Mary. Don't you want to go?"

"I suppose so," she said. "Only, I was looking forward to a restful morning around the hotel, after last night."

She grinned at me, and I gave a sickly smile at Kerry, who unashamedly grinned back at us. "Don't mind me," she said.

"We don't have to go if you don't want to," I said. "We can stay here, but I thought it was too good an opportunity to miss."

Angela nodded in agreement. "You're right, of course," she said. "Give me ten minutes to get ready. Why don't you go down and tell them I'll be a few minutes late?"

***

The trip to the castle proved to be both interesting and enjoyable, for we all four of us got on well together. The pub lunch was every bit as good as promised, and it was almost three pm by the time we returned. We agreed to meet up for supper, but in the meantime, we all decided to sleep off the effects of the copious quantities of alcohol we'd all consumed, apart from Mary, who'd driven us home.

The hotel room was immaculate when we went back into it, with no evidence of the mess we had left it in that morning.

"It's nice having someone to do all the tidying up and cleaning for us, isn't it?" Angela said, looking around.

"That reminds me, " I said. "Why did Kerry have to make up the bed in the spare room? Or did she simply do it because they have to make up every bed, every day?"

"Don't be silly," Angela said. "I decided that in order to have some reputation left, after Kerry barged into the room last night, we should give some semblance of having slept in separate beds. So I rumpled it up before following you down to breakfast this morning."

"Poor girl," I said, thinking of the extra work for Kerry. "They have a tough time of it, working here."

"Well, we're paying a small fortune to stay here so that they can give us all the extra things we want," Angela said. "Now, after all that alcohol we've just taken, are we going to bed for a while before we get ready for dinner?"

I readily agreed, until she made it quite clear that sleep was all she had in mind. Then I lay on the bed and read a book for a while, before I felt my eyes growing heavy. I really shouldn't drink so much at lunchtime, I thought.

***

It was almost six o'clock when I was awakened by Angela's whinging. (She gets into these moods occasionally, and it's best when it happens to be attentive and caring, otherwise it degenerates into a full-scale row.)

"What HAVE you done with it?" (When she puts unnecessary emphasis on certain words, prepare for the worst.)

"Done with what," I mumbled, still half asleep.

"Well, where did you PUT it?"

"What are you looking for, my darling?" I cheerfully asked. ('Caring' does not mean 'timid' - that's fatal at this stage.)

"Why, the WILL of course. Where did you put it?"

I was confused. "The will? Well, you packed all the paperwork - all Nancy's papers from the bank - and everything."

Angela looked extremely cross. "Oh God! That's really great isn't it! Why don't you LISTEN to what I say? I TOLD you, I was bringing all the bank papers and YOU should bring the will."

"Oh shit!" was all I could say.

"You mean, you haven't brought it! That means that our whole trip here has been WASTED!"

Unfortunately, she was right!

"Shit! Shit! Shit!"

"Is that all you can THINK to say?"

Thoughts of death concentrate the mind wonderfully. "I'll have to drive back home and pick it up."

"Don't be STUPID! It took us FOUR HOURS coming. And don't forget that Nancy isn't INSURED to drive our car - I'm not even certain she's got a LICENCE - so if you have an accident or are stopped by the police, not only is our story BLOWN, but you'll also get prosecuted."

"Well, I'll change back..."

"If people see you without tits, that will BLOW your cover as well." She set her face in that certain way, and I knew we were about to enter the self-sacrificial phase. "I shall have to go, WON'T I?"

This stage had to be dealt with extremely carefully.

I sighed, and looked as though that was equivalent to her donating a leg for live medical research. "Oh Angela. You know you hate driving."

On the way down, I'd done all the driving wearing Nancy's tracksuit, without even considering the risk of being stopped by the police or having an accident.

"And you'd have to drive both ways," I continued. "It's too much."

"Well, what CHOICE do we have? It's all your fault, and it's ME who has to pay the price."

"I'm sorry, Angela."

She appeared to be slightly appeased by my apologies. "I'll drive down early tomorrow morning. It's Monday, so I'll have to set out at a RIDICULOUS time to avoid the traffic." (She was right. The traffic in the whole of South-East England on Monday mornings was always abysmal.) "I'll start about three am, so I should be home before the WORST of the congestion starts.

"But it's too much for me to drive back the same day," she continued. "I'll set out early on Tuesday morning for the return journey. That means you'll have to take care of yourself for the whole day, and I don't want you HIDING from everybody."

I promised I would be good, and go out as Nancy, and meet lots of other guests.

"Well you'd better get ready for dinner NOW," she said. "We only have an hour before we're due to meet Pete and Mary for aperitifs."

***

I was a bit miffed over supper, because rather than Pete giving me all his attention, as he had done during our trip to the castle, he spent the whole time chatting up Angela. I could read his mind like a book; he was obviously wondering how he was going to: a) get Angela into bed; and b) do it without his wife knowing.

The annoying thing was that Angela played up to him, as though her husband wasn't sitting just a few feet away. Of course, I had to pretend it was of no interest to me, at all, so I spent the time talking with Mary. Actually as I talked with her, I realised that, although her clothes were drab, underneath she was really rather attractive. A well-rounded body (which Angela of course insisted was fat), with a pleasant face, and an interest in every word I spoke. So, by the time we went to our respective beds, my earlier irritation had completely disappeared.

"Have you got your penis all at the ready?" I asked Angela, as soon as we got into our suite. Obviously, she hadn't been wearing it tonight, since she had on a tight-fitting dress.

"Don't be stupid," she said. "We had plenty of that last night and, unlike you, I only have a few hours sleep before I have to get up and drive through the night, all because you didn't listen to what I said. If you think I'm going to wear myself out pleasuring you all night, you've got another think coming."

I sighed. I'd hoped that being chatted up all evening by Pete might have got her in the mood, but clearly, it had fallen flat. I resigned myself to a sexless night.

"I think I'd better sleep in the spare bedroom tonight," Angela said, adding salt to the wound. "That way, I can get away without disturbing you," (her sudden consideration amazed me), "and it will also mean that you're not keeping me awake all night by touching me up to try to get your own way."

That hurt me a bit, and with a simple, "Please Yourself," I retired to the master bedroom to commence the task of removing my make-up.

CHAPTER 5 - MONDAY

I didn't hear Angela leave in the middle of the night, and I was rather upset next morning that she hadn't even come in to kiss me goodbye. Still, I supposed she did have a point. If I hadn't forgotten to bring the will, her eight hour round journey, spread over two days would have been unnecessary.

The problem was, I couldn't remember her instructing me to pack the will. Now I'll freely admit that my memory is often pretty poor, and I'm always forgetting all kinds of things. But that is to say that my problem is that I'm absent-minded - I forget to do things I'm supposed to be doing, but normally, once I've been reminded of them, my memory is clear.

So it was perfectly feasible that Angela would have said, "Pack the will," and I had forgotten to do it. But if that had been the case, then as soon as Angela reminded me of it, the memory - and the associated guilt - would have returned. Yet, I had no such recollection. Reluctantly, I decided that, at only two years away from forty, my memory was starting its long-term decline.

As these thoughts passed through my mind, I'd been lying on my back in the same position in which I'd awoken, a few minutes previously. I wasn't certain of the time, so I looked over to the right to the Victorian wall-mounted clock. The movement caused my body to swivel slightly, and I felt my weighty breasts shift across towards my right side; not much, since they were very firm, but just sufficient such that the nipples rubbed against the sheet and sent a tingling feeling all through me.

Eight-thirty. Plenty of time before I had to do anything. I moved back to my original position. Again my breasts shifted and the nipples rubbed against the sheet. Another warm, tingly feeling, which brought a smile to my face. It had been much the same when I'd awoken yesterday, and I'd had to immediately reach for the remote to turn down the sensitivity, simply so that I could get on with getting ready for breakfast.

Of course, today, there wasn't any rush. I could spend a little time in bed playing with myself. My hands reached up to my nipples - hard, round buttons protruding through the front of my nightdress - no wonder they had felt every sensation as they had rubbed against the sheet.

I sat up with a jerk, then, the movement sending more wonderful feelings through my body. With Angela giving off ice-cold isobars last night, why should my nipples be erect when my breasts had been on the 'Four' setting all the previous day? The sheet dropped off my breasts and, through my sheer nightdress I could see my engorged nipples, a good centimetre in diameter, and protruding about the same amount from my breasts.

My hands raised to cap them, and roll them between fingers and thumbs.

"A-a-a-h-h-h!" That was wonderful. I rolled them again.

"O-o-o-o-h-h-h!" Fantastic.

But the question forced its way through to my consciousness. Why were my nipples erect, and my breasts on a far higher sensitivity setting now than they'd been last night?

There was only one answer. Angela had come in my room before departing, perhaps given me a kiss, and clicked on the remote to give me a pleasant thrill as I awoke. With such encouragement, my hands started to work in earnest on my breasts, making me utter more moans and whimpers. It really was wonderful waking up as a woman, and being able to play with yourself like this.

My left hand dropped to my groin, and explored anew the slit there, and the little, almost hidden, knob at the point where the two sides joined. More ecstatic pleasure. I guessed that, if I'd still have been a man, I'd have climaxed by now, with the resultant sticky mess on the sheets, and the feeling of depression that went with it.

Harder and harder I worked at exciting myself, and faster and faster. It really was fantastic that I could keep it going for so long, so close to orgasm. My tits were bursting with excitement, my clitoris throbbing with pleasure, just a few more strokes and I'd be there...

Just a few more...

Just a few more...

More, more, more.

More... more... more...

I wound to a stop, physically exhausted and sexually frustrated. I had really wanted that orgasm; I was so close to it. Yet it had evaded me. Damn! Time to give up, set my sensitivity back to one, and forget my breasts had any life in them.

The remote wasn't on the bedside table, where I expected it; nor had it been left on the bed. In fact, a glance around the bedroom showed it wasn't there at all. I got out of bed, my heavy tits obeying the laws of gravity, and rubbing my nipples against my nightdress as they swung down into their normal position.

I walked through to the sitting room, feeling my tits quivering with every step I took. Angela had left a letter on the dining table. She'd obviously written it to be non contentious in the event that anyone else should see it.

"Dear Aunt Nancy

"I'm just about to set off, and I shall probably be at home by the time you awaken.

"I expect by now you'll have discovered I've taken a remote control with me, and I'm not talking about the TV. That's because I want you to get the same buzz from things today that you enjoyed on Sunday - my way of ensuring you have a great time whilst I'm away.

"Should be back tomorrow.

"Love, Angela."

Damn! She'd upped the sensitivity of my Bustlet to some high figure, and walked off with the remote. I was stuck in the nymphomania setting. I thought back to the hours of fun that Angela and I had on Saturday, with my setting on max and her enormous strap-on penis. Today was going to be a long, frustrating day.

Anyway, I thought, what did she mean by SHOULD be back tomorrow? The plan was that she WOULD be back tomorrow. There was no reason at all why she should miss more than one day's enjoyment at this splendid hotel. And perhaps when she arrived back in the early hours of tomorrow morning, she'd put on her penis and awaken me with the shagging of my life.

I showered, spending much more time than was good for me in playing with my parts, to exactly the same fruitless end as before. Then I got dressed.

At least, I started to get dressed, but with my nipples erect, no matter what dress or top I wore, they pushed out the material making my state of excitement all too obvious. Eventually, I had to concede, putting on the sloppiest sweater I had, with the organ stops pushing through the front. After doing my make-up and taking my Voice-Changer pill, I finally got down to breakfast only a few minutes before it had closed.

"No Kerry today?" I asked the new waitress.

"It's the end of the season," she said. "Kerry was due to leave at the end of this week, but her grandmother is ill, so she's left a few days early."

To be honest, I was slightly pleased about that; not that her grandmother was ill - I'm, not that cruel - but I felt Kerry was too familiar with us guests. Alright, she was delighted she'd found two supposed lesbians, but there was no reason why that should occasion remark, any more than if a heterosexual waiter found two guests who were also heterosexual.

"Hello, Nancy. Did Angela get off alright?" Mary had come over to my table as she and Pete were leaving the dining room. We had discussed Angela's planned trip last night at dinner.

I smiled at her. "I think so, although I don't remember her going."

"Oh well, never mind," Mary said. "I expect she'll be back in a few days, and in the meantime we'll look after you."

"A few days?" I said, confused. "She's only away for one night, and that's just because it was too far for her to drive in one day."

"Yes, of course," Mary said, sitting down at my table. "Look, you know you said you'd let me try on that dress you were wearing Saturday night. Do you think I could come back to the room with you when you've finished breakfast? Pete's going for his walk along the beach, leching at all the women, so we'll have the whole morning together."

"Alright, that would be nice."

I thought it would be, too. I got on very well with Mary; she made me feel good about myself, and she was an excellent friend to have.

****

The phone was ringing when we got back to the room. I dived to answer it. As I expected, it was Angela.

"Hi there," I said. "I've just come back from breakfast. I have Mary with me." (So she'd know I couldn't talk freely.) "Have you only just got home? I expected you to get there hours ago."

"Oh, I did," she said, "but I felt ready for bed, so I came straight up. Since you've got Mary there, you won't be able to say anything, but knowing how I left you, I expect you're almost up the wall with frustration." She seemed to enjoy taunting me, and she continued in the same vein. "I'm lying in bed now, as it happens, completely naked, my little pussy is begging to be stroked and she's really enjoying it."

It had been years since we'd had this kind of conversation over the phone. I'd ring her up from work, and she would explain in great detail what she was doing to herself whilst thinking of me. On its own, it would have made me feel horny, but with my nipples tingling with every joggle of my boobs and unable to masturbate to a climax, it could drive a person insane.

"I've just been down to collect the post," she said, thankfully changing the topic before I imploded. "There's a letter for you from your bank. As you aren't going to be around, I thought I'd better open it. You didn't tell me you'd changed your address to our house."

"I meant to tell you," realising the remark really was addressed to Nancy, rather than me, "but I forgot."

"Well the letter says that your new UK bank card and cheque book will be sent here within a couple of days," Angela said. "I thought, in that case, it would be better for me to hang on here until they arrive and bring them with me. That way, Nancy, you can pay the hotel bill directly from your account, rather than putting ours under further strain."

It made a lot of financial sense, although I was going to miss Angela terribly, particularly since she'd left me climbing up the wall with frustration. I really would be going mad.

"I'll pop the will in the post, and you should get it tomorrow morning," she continued. "Then you could get Pete and Mary to witness it."

"I'll do that as soon as I can," I said.

I failed to catch some indistinct words over the phone. "What did you say," I asked."

"Oh, I've just put on the radio," Angela said. "I guess if you have Mary there you'd better go now. Enjoy yourselves."

After Angela's declaration yesterday that she would kill me if I committed adultery with a woman, I wondered what she meant by that.

In the master bedroom, where she'd opened a wardrobe, Mary said, "Oh, what beautiful dresses. Is it alright if I try them on?"

Seconds later, she was pulling a dress out of the wardrobe, and her own clothes were dropping to the floor.

***

Last night, it had been Angela who had brought the conversation round to the beautiful clothes I had in my wardrobe. Under Angela's prompting, I had casually agreed to let Mary try some of them on. It had never occurred to me at the time exactly what that would result in.

As a bloke, if I agreed to lend someone a suit - which would be a pretty unlikely event anyway - they would have taken it to a bathroom to try it on. Certainly, no bloke would pull off his clothes in front of another one unless he was either gay or in a sports' changing room.

So I was unprepared for Mary to strip off her blouse and skirt and then, realising her bra was the wrong shape to fit underneath my dress, pull that off too. Fortunately, I managed not to gasp in delight.

For Mary may not have had very noticeable tits when concealed under clothing, but when naked, the small pert breasts with sizeable brown nipples looked exceptionally attractive. Especially as within seconds of meeting the colder air, the nipples popped out almost as prominently as mine.

"I think I could wear this dress without a bra, don't you?" she asked, swivelling around, the nipples clearly making their presence noticeable.

"I think with a figure like yours, you could," I said. "I don't think I'd get away with it."

"Oh, but you have wonderfully firm breasts," Mary said. "I'm sure you could if you felt brave enough. Why don't you try it now, and I'll give you my considered opinion."

So, just seconds after she had shed her own clothes, my floppy sweater came off, followed by my bra.

"Wow!" Mary said. "What fantastic breasts. How do you keep them so firm? Do you mind if I touch them?"

...and I'd also love to read your comments. Although this story is not a mystery, like many of my stories it does contain a few twists which hopefully you were not expecting. Some of you will have your suspicions, but in the time-honoured way, please do not spoil the surprise for others by airing them in a comment.

In other words,

SYNOPSIS: Nigel, and his wife, Angela, are happy to offer a temporary UK home to Nigel's Aunt Nancy, following the death of her rich husband Frank in Australia. On their first evening together, they are absolutely delighted when Nancy signs her will leaving all her fortunes to them when she dies. But wills have to be properly witnessed, and with Nancy's premature departure, someone has to witness her signature. Although the family resemblance is fortuitous, Nigel has reservations about the whole scheme. With just cause, it would appear.

AUTHORS NOTE: Like many of my stories, this is a light-hearted romp which I hope you will enjoy. But it does contain adult themes such as (and the more sensitive readers may wish to close their eyes whilst reading the next 17 words): crossdressing, sex with multiple partners of both genders, illegal acts, getting drunk, humour and extra marital sex. (If you've had your eyes closed, you may now open them.) So if reading material containing those subjects is either illegal or not to your taste (or if you've had your eyes closed), then please do not do it - or at least, don't moan about it afterwards.

PART 3

CHAPTER 6 - FUN AND FROLICS

Well, what would you have said? Here I was feeling incredibly horny after walking from the lift to our suite with my high-sensitivity boobs joggling like crazy, Angela talking about stroking her pussy, and Mary stripping off in front of me and waving her tits in front of my face. Perhaps if I had considered it for a few minutes, I'd have come to a sensible answer.

But I didn't have a few minutes. As she spoke, Mary's hand was moving towards my breasts. Short of jerking them away with a "No!" there was little I could have done, even if I'd decided I wanted to. And perhaps I found it convenient to be indecisive, just as I had when Nancy had assaulted me last Thursday evening.

"A-a-a-h-h-h!"

"They're very sensitive, aren't they?" Mary said. "And I didn't even touch your nipple. Let me just..." With a touch so light, I wondered that I could feel it, she simply grazed her finger across my nipple. But feel it, I did. I gasped as the most wonderful sensations coursed through my body.

"Oh, is the other breast as sensitive?"

It was! My legs felt so shaky that I collapsed onto the bed.

"Oh you poor thing. I suppose with your husband dying, it's been ages since you've had anyone to play with these properly. Well, don't worry about a thing. I can help you; and there's no reason to worry about being unfaithful to his memory, or anything like that. This kind of enjoyment doesn't count. Now I think you probably need someone to suckle your breasts." Her head moved downwards.

***

It was almost midday when Mary's mobile rang. She crawled across the bed to take it from her handbag.

"Hello Pete. Are you back in the hotel now?"..."I'm in Nancy's suite. I've been helping her with stress relief."..."Yes, that's right."... "Well, I'll put it to her and call you back. Bye."

No doubt Pete was thinking of his lunch.

Mary disconnected the call and turned towards me, smiling. "The old bugger guessed immediately what I meant by stress relief," she said.

"Oh," I said, feeling incredibly embarrassed.

"That's alright, don't worry about it," she said, putting out a hand and giving my breast another little stroke. (Heaven!) "The point is, he asked whether you'd like the full works to go with it."

"The full works?"

"Yes. You know. With a man? Only he is a perfect gentleman, and very good with it. And he's only got a thin willy - only don't tell him that - so he slips it inside without any pain, and then he can move it like heaven. If you're a bit nervous about doing it again with a man, I thought it would be the perfect re-introduction for you. But it's your decision; there's no compulsion."

"But he's your husband."

"Yes, but we've just had very nice oral sex, haven't we?" (I couldn't deny that.) "And we always take precautions, so it's quite safe, and it's not as though you're going to take him away from me. No, we both enjoy safe sex with others, and we trust each other."

I guessed that if you're unconcerned about your partner having sex with someone else, then there's no reason not to trust them. I hesitated somewhat. It was, after all, what Angela had been encouraging me to do, and in character for Nancy, but...

"I'm not certain. This morning has been a bit unexpected."

She was so sympathetic. "That's alright. Look, how about a compromise. I'll get him to come up to the suite and I'll meet him in the sitting room and tie his hands behind his back before I bring him in, so you'll feel totally safe with him. Then we can strip him off and you can look him over and see what you think. If you don't want him, then I'll certainly give him one, so he'll have no hard feelings about it - literally, after I've finished with him."

She was being so understanding, it seemed rude to refuse her offer of sex with her husband, so I said, "Mary, you're so nice about everything. I'm a bit nervous but... let's do it."

Five minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and Mary went into the sitting room to open it. A minute after that, Mary put her head around the bedroom door and said, "I've brought back a prisoner for interrogation. Shall I bring him in?"

She pushed him through the door first, and sure enough, his arms were strapped behind his back with his own belt, and over his head was pulled Mary's tee shirt.

"I thought you might not want him to see you naked if you were going to send him back," she said. She shuffled him over to the bed and made him stand in front of me. "Now," she said, "do you want to pull down his trousers and take a look at the goods on offer?"

"Don't catch the zip," Pete's voice came from beneath the tee shirt. "Anything else, but please don't catch the zip."

I pulled down the zip, careful to comply with Pete's wish, released the waistband on his trousers and pulled down his trousers. Underneath, his underpants were bulging with excitement.

It's strange, but in retrospect I realised that I didn't hesitate before pulling down his underpants. After all, I was really curious to see what his dick was like, and Mary had done a good job of selling it as a fully acceptable prick. Whilst Nigel would never have pulled them down, Nancy was keen to inspect the goods.

"Oh, how beautiful!" I exclaimed.

I'd fully intended to make some positive comment about it, even if I thought it was every bit as horrible as Angela's false prick, but my words were totally reactive, rather than some considered statement. For quite simply, it was beautiful.

The shaft was only about a half-inch diameter, with no throbbing blue veins standing proud from its surface, but smooth skin all the way up to the knob - say one-inch diameter - giving it a mushroom-like appearance. Similarly, there was no wrinkly skin on his chestnut-sized balls and they looked as innocent as table-tennis balls.

I instinctively reached a hand forward to cup them, and he gasped slightly, not expecting my touch. Then I slid my hand up his prick and circled it between fingers and thumb, and gave a couple of pumping motions. Finally, I bent my head forward to inspect the goods more closely, and could not help flicking out my tongue and giving it a slow lick around the head.

"Shall we take that as a 'Yes'?" Mary asked.

For the first time since Pete's phone call, I suddenly realised what I was about to commit - taking a man inside me in the same way as any normal woman would. Was I crazy to have gotten into this situation? Probably, but the buzz of adrenaline through my head was like nothing I'd experienced ever before.

"Take it as a 'Yes, please'," I said, "but go gently with me."

He did. Mary released his arms and removed the tee shirt from his head, then he dropped to his knees and went at my pussy as though he was trying to get his head slowly inside.

In itself, that had me aching for more, especially as Mary decided to start work on my nipples, sucking them so tenderly, I was almost weeping for the next phase.

It came so gently, I might almost have missed it, had the results not been so exciting. He pushed me back on the bed and Mary followed me down, her mouth sucking my tits like a hungry baby. There was no attempt to drill a hole in my body where there was not one already, as Angela had done; instead, I simply felt his prick nuzzling between my lips, and then he was inside.

***

Recent medical research indicates that the clitoris is far larger than its external appearance might indicate. Big Busts had obviously used this knowledge to completely wrap my artificial clitoris around my artificial vagina.

What was incredible was that Pete's prick, with a head of barely one inch, created such a feeling of paradise, when Angela's false prick which was at least twice the diameter, was nothing like as good (although I had thought it pretty good at the time). I guess it's that a light touch feels far more erotic than a heavy touch. Angela's prick had strained everything to get inside me. There was no pain when Pete's beautiful head slipped in, and I could concentrate solely on the pleasure.

As a man, it's impossible to imagine an orgasm that simply goes on and on and on. Mine started within seconds of him slipping inside me. Every slow thrust in was orgasmic, as was every slow withdrawal. Pete said afterwards that he could play me with his prick in the same way that a violinist uses the bow on his instrument. Sliding it either way produced shrieks of unadulterated pleasure from me.

I was in ecstasy for almost an hour, before he withdrew his wonderful tool, and we came to a gentle halt

"I don't know about you, girl, but I could do with some food," he said. "We haven't had lunch yet."

I could willingly have starved to death in order to prolong my pleasure. I looked at the clock; it was almost three pm.

"Why don't we order some food on room service?" I suggested. "Then we'll have time for a bit more pleasure before getting ready for dinner."

As an offer, they both found it irresistible.

***

After dinner, we continued until almost midnight, when Mary drew the action to a halt.

"I don't want to spoil any more fun," she said. (She'd got a nerve, since Pete had been servicing her almost as much as me.) "But we ought to get to bed, now. Remember, we're going on the Murder Mystery tomorrow."

"Murder Mystery?"

Mary nodded. "It's an excursion the hotel organised as an extra. We get the coach at nine, tomorrow morning, which takes us to a manor house, not far away, where a dastardly crime takes place, which we have to solve. We'll be there all day, and we don't get back until ten or eleven in the evening."

I was distraught at the thought, and I only let them out of the room after another heavy session with Pete.

CHAPTER 7 - TUESDAY - THE BREWERY AND THE TEA DANCE

Sixty seconds on Tuesday morning. That's all it took standing outside Reception waving off Pete and Mary on their coach, before a man noticed my tits pushing out the top of my blouse and spoke to me.

"Are you on your own for today?"

I looked around. It was Simon; one of the pair of guys I'd chatted to in the bar on Saturday - the one who'd been interrogating me about where in Australia I had lived.

"Yes," I said. "Pete and Mary have gone off on the Murder Mystery excursion. I tried to get on it at the last minute, but it was fully booked."

"Tell me about it," Simon said. "I was already booked to go on it with Jake, only it turns out the woman he met here on Sunday called Susan-bloody-Bracknell, who he's desperately trying to pull, wanted to go and she hadn't got a place. So, Jake convinced me to give up my place to this Ms Bracknell. I wish I hadn't done it now. She didn't even offer me the cost of the excursion."

"That's mean," I said, "but very noble of you to allow Jake to try to get friendly with her. Not many friends would do that."

"I only came on holiday with him because he persuaded me we could have a great time together. I don't really like coming to this kind of hotel since my wife died last year. But Jake's divorce has recently come through and he said he wanted a break, so I agreed to come with him for a blokes-together holiday. He's been chasing everything in a skirt since we arrived, and I've hardly seen him."

"So, since you've been pushed off the Murder Mystery, do you have any plans for today?"

"There's a good local brewery here," he said. "I thought I might do the brewery tour."

"Brewery?" I said.

"Seacombe Ales," he said. "Are you interested in looking around it? I mean, I know women aren't usually interested in breweries, but I did notice you drinking a pint of lager on Saturday. You never know, I might be able to wean you onto real ale."

"Do you think so?" I asked. "I hope you're not trying to lead me astray."

***

He certainly did. Not by converting me onto real ale, of course - I regarded that as promoting one of life's essentials, as natural as mother's milk. And I'm also not talking about the sex which we got onto by the end of the day, for which I took full responsibility. No, it was the tea dance that really led me astray.

You see, I'd never intended to have sex with Simon. Alright, I pretty soon realized he was a nice enough guy, probably in his early forties. He told me, as we walked down to the brewery, that as a widower he simply hadn't wanted to start a relationship with anyone new. Of course, he was diplomatically telling me that we were going to the brewery as two strangers, thrown together by fate, who might become friendly, but nothing more.

I respected that. If he didn't want to bonk me, or any other woman in sight, then he was a rather unusual male, but that was fair enough. So I played the part of an innocent female friend, as we went around the brewery.

I pretended to know nothing at all about the brewing process, and he meticulously filled in any details that our guide - an elderly, retired brewer with a great sense of humour - didn't properly explain. Mind you, I did notice that he tended to touch me quite a lot - all quite innocent, you understand. A little tap on the arm to draw my attention to the huge supplies of hops, or perhaps taking me by the hand to draw me across to see the steam heaters.

I noticed he also developed a habit of peering down my cleavage at every opportunity. Since every other male in the brewery was doing the same, I could hardly criticise him for it, even if I'd found it objectionable, which I certainly did not. So, regardless that the brewery tour in itself was absolutely riveting, I really enjoyed his company.

The end of the tour coincided with an early lunchtime, and since there was a well-stocked bar selling beer at cost price, which also sold a few incidentals such as sandwiches, it made good sense for us to stay on, sample several of the brews on offer, and grab a bite to eat.

***

It was about three-thirty when we got back to the hotel. By now, the occasional contact between us had turned into quite essential interlinked arms around each other's shoulders, providing mutual support as the ground moved beneath us. Indeed, I noticed his arm around my shoulder had moved to an arm underneath my shoulder, and that he had amazingly long arms. With my breasts still on high sensitivity, I was getting nice w-s-s-s-hing feelings going through me as his hand caressed the side of my breast.

It had been my intention on getting back to the hotel to go to bed - not for sex, but simply to close my eyes whilst the world regained some kind of reality. But that was when Simon saw the tea dance.

"Lesh go," he suggested.

"Go where?" I asked.

"Ish a tea dance," he said.

"Don't need any tea," I said. I had to speak deliberately for the next bit, as it was quite complicated. "Ju know, reality ish an illushon caused by a lack of alcohol?"

Simon thought that incredibly funny, so funny I had to turn and hug him to stop him from falling over. "Didn' know that," he said. "Who shaid it?"

"I did," I said.

We both thought that so funny we had to hug ourselves again, to stop the floor from coming up and hitting us.

When we'd finally recovered, he made the suggestion again. "Lesh go dancin'."

The spirit was willing, and who cared that the flesh was weak? "You're on," I said.

"No. We're on," he said, as the music started in what may have been a rumba, or perhaps a waltz, or a tango. I know that as he led me onto the dance floor, Simon told me what it was called. Indeed, he knew every step, and did his best to get me to move my feet in the right direction at the right time. For the life of me, it's all now just a blur of him grabbing various parts of me and trying to push them in one direction, and it seemed, simultaneously pulling them in another, whilst he gave instructions which contradicted both.

To me, it was all an excellent excuse for a bit of grapple and squeeze, without him acknowledging that his period of official mourning had now ended. But whilst he wouldn't verbally admit it, there was a certain part of his anatomy which was in no doubt. He had a hard-on which, as he held tightly on to me, tried to bore a hole into my stomach.

In spite of the fact that I was three parts sizzled, the effect of all this was doing wonderful things to my body, and I know that my voice came out a lot louder than I intended when I said I thought I was on the point of having a fucking, great orgasm.

Well, I'd meant it to be quite loud because the orchestra were playing noisily. It was unfortunate that they chose that moment to stop, and the sound of my voice carried right around the room, causing most of the old dears, who I now realized comprised every other person in the room, to reach either for their heart pills or their packs of Viagra.

Both Simon and I thought this more cause for hilarity, and when the music started again, he then took us through another dance that more resembled sexual intercourse than any of the modern day equivalents.

I think it was at that moment that the hotel manager came into the ballroom with the porter, and sprouted some words about retiring to our rooms. When we failed to take note, the porter grabbed hold of Simon and yanked him in one direction, and the manager grabbed me and pulled in the other (having a good feel of my nipples as he did so) and then we were all in the lift and it was shooting upwards to our rooms.

But as the porter pressed the lift buttons for six (my floor) and three (presumably his) Simon said, "Ish no good you takin' me to my beroom, cause my fren Jake ish currently in there shaggin the arse of Lady fuckin Bracknell, and she's going to be pretty fuckin upshet when you throw me in with them."

I have to say that it was at that moment that my respect for Simon rose out of all proportion. It was as much as I could do to work out where my bedroom was, and here he was, outthinking two sober people by inventing a completely fictitious story. The manager and the porter looked at each other, and I could see they were wondering, "Oh shit! What do we do with this drunken slob now?"

So I solved their dilemma. "There'sh two berooms in my shuite. He can come with me."

"Yeah!" Simon added. "You tek me there and we can all come together."

They didn't really have much alternative, so they took us both into my suite, and made a great show of carrying me into the master bedroom and laying me on the four-poster, and taking Simon into the other bedroom, and presumably doing the equivalent for him, and closing the doors of both our rooms.

Thirty seconds I heard the outer door close, and I was stumbling through the door into the sitting room at exactly the same time as Simon. We both managed to crawl to each other, somewhere in the general vicinity of the settee and start some serious grappling - you know the kind of thing; trying to get each other's clothes off when we couldn't bother to undo the buttons, and with the lining of the zips getting stuck in the zips and so on.

I know it all heightened my passion, and when we were eventually both naked and I could see that Simon's cock was every bit as magnificent as Angela's artificial prick, I didn't even bat an eyelid - I simply took it all in - and I'm not talking here about my powers of observation.

CHAPTER 8 - WEDNESDAY

I guess millions of women have awoken feeling exactly the same way as I did. "Why did I get so drunk? Why did I let myself get talked into bed like that?"

Of course, the answer for me anyway, if not for a large number of other women, was that I was undoubtedly responsible for the first, and that led directly onto the second. I could hardly blame Simon for having sex with a woman who - after he'd sucked her nipples so nicely - had told him she was absolutely desperate for it, and it didn't fucking matter about him not having a condom.

Fortunately, it didn't. I was hardly going to get pregnant, and I didn't think I could catch aids through a Hiplet. I had swallowed quite a lot of his semen, and my face and body (and all the bed linen) had been liberally sprayed with it. Hell, with testicles the size of tennis balls, he ejaculated a gallon of spunk each time he came!

Further contemplation was interrupted because my body was indicating an urgent need which could not be put off. Fortunately, I managed to get to the toilet before I wet myself, then I drank two glassfuls of water and went back to bed to nurse my hangover. It was only as I was dropping off to sleep that I noticed that Simon was no longer in my bedroom. For that matter, where was Angela? She should have returned this morning clutching the chequebook and bankcard. I turned over and let my hangover submerge me.

***

It was early afternoon before I was awoken by the phone ringing. Fortunately, my hangover had all but gone, and I was feeling well enough to answer it.

"Where have you been?" Angela asked. "I've been trying to get hold of you since yesterday."

"Just entering into the spirit of being Aunt Nancy," I said. I really didn't think it politic to tell her that whilst she had been presumably getting on with all the housework and other jobs that needed doing around the house, I had been getting paralytically drunk in Seacombe.

"Well, at least you haven't been stuck in your bedroom all the time," Angela said. "Hopefully, you've got the will witnessed by now."

The will! I'd forgotten all about it. Hopefully, it was waiting for me at Reception. "Er, not quite," I replied, but I've got several people lined up who can do it."

"I should think so too," she said. "Anyway, I was ringing to tell you the bank card hasn't yet arrived, so I'm still hanging on here. Hopefully, it'll arrive here in tomorrow's post, so I should get back there for Friday."

"Hope so, Angie," I said. "I'm missing you." (Well, I HAD missed her when I'd awoken this morning.)

"Me too," she said. "Hope to see you then. Bye."

I got out of bed and slipped on my dressing gown, then I went out into the sitting room, only to see Simon slumped on the settee.

"I didn't realise you were still here," I said. "I thought you'd shagged me and left me." (Actually, after I'd said the words, I realised they sounded harsher than I'd intended.)

"No, I'm sorry, I should have explained."

I smiled at him and sat down next to him. "No, it's me who's sorry. That was very nice what you did to me last night, and I enjoyed it very much." I gave him a kiss on his lips, and snuggled against him.

He smiled back at me, and said, "Thanks, Nancy. I thought we had an absolutely great time. Only... Well..."

"You don't want to make it a permanent arrangement," I interrupted.

"No," he said.

"Thank God for that," I replied. "I certainly don't. We had a great time together; that doesn't mean we have any kind of commitment to each other. Now, are you feeling ready for a little lunch?"

Simon nodded. "I could eat an elephant."

"No elephants on the menu," I said, "but you could have a ploughman instead." I glanced at the clock. "We're too late for the bar, so why don't we have room service? And how about a bit of the horse that bit you?"

"Do you mean a pint of real ale?" Simon asked, visibly brightening.

"I didn't," I said, "but we can order that on room service as well. No, I meant the other horse that bit you. Ne-i-g-h-h-h-h!"

***

It was around four o'clock when I heard a knock on the door. We were in a temporary intermission with Simon in the toilet, so I got up, slipped on my dressing gown and went to answer it.

"Any drunken parties going on here?" Mary asked.

"Hi Mary. Hi Pete. Come in," I said, having a quick glance over my shoulder to make certain a naked Simon hadn't come into the sitting room.

"Wow! We heard all about your antics at the tea-dance," Pete said. "And since we haven't seen you all day, and Jake was saying he hasn't seen Simon, either, we can only guess what you two have been up to."

"Then you must have a pretty vivid imagination, Pete," I retorted.

"Naw," he said. "It's because I've been led astray by Mary. She's already got me to do every unimaginable sex act, you could ever not imagine."

"Did someone mention unimaginable sex acts?" Simon said, poking his head around the door.

"My God!" Mary said, staring at the gap in the door, level with Simon's knee.

"Sorry," Simon said, rapidly withdrawing his huge cock from sight. "Didn't mean to embarrass you."

"I'm not putting up with that kind of behaviour," Mary said, getting up and marching over to the bedroom door. "Tantalising us with a quick glimpse, and then withdrawing it before we've had proper chance to admire it."

She barged thought the door, shouting as she went into the bedroom, "Come here, you cock-teaser. Let me see."

It was followed by a shriek from Simon, and a second later, Mary came back through the bedroom door dragging something behind her.

"Pete, just look at this beauty," she said, holding up Simon's cock as though displaying a trophy. "Have you ever seen anything like it?"

Pete shook his head. "Christ, it puts me in my place, doesn't it luv."

"Course it doesn't, you silly old bugger. Mind you, no wonder Simon got Nancy pissed before showing it to her." She looked up at Simon. "I bet most women faint when you slap that in front of them, don't they?"

"Don't be so personal." I rounded to Simon's defence. "There can't be many men who are as considerate as Simon - well apart from Pete," I added, keen not to hurt his feelings.

"But isn't it a monster?" Mary said. She slid her hand down his cock and was now fondling one of his balls. "Can we see it in action?"

"I'm not displaying to a peep-show," Simon said, "and please, can I have my ball back."

"Sorry, I didn't mean like that," Mary said. "I thought perhaps a party piece."

"A party piece?" both Simon and I spoke together.

"Mary's party pieces are famous," Pete said. "Or perhaps I should say infamous. They're a bit like synchronised swimming, only with sex. Great fun."

Simon and I looked at each other. "Well, I don't know," I said.

"Oh, don't be a silly," Mary said. "We've already done a three-way with you."

Simon looked gob-smacked by that, so I said, "Thanks, Mary."

She was undeterred. "This will only be with one extra. Come on, Pete, let's get undressed."

I have never seen two people get undressed so quickly. One second, they were standing there with their clothes on, the next they were both naked, and Pete's thin prick was pointing up towards my face. Gulp! This was getting out of hand.

"I see you like sandwiches," Mary said, looking at the remains of our lunch.

"Well it wasn't really a sandwich..." Simon was starting to say, when Mary gave him a quick squeeze, which shut him up, and then led him by the balls across to our Victorian dining table.

She pulled out a chair and said, "Right, hop up onto the table, luv, and lie on your back."

I think Simon would have protested, but Mary was already moving his balls up there, so he had to follow. She handed a foil package to him, and added, "Slip this on."

Then she turned to me. "Take off your dressing gown, get onto the table and straddle Simon. Don't get him inside you yet, but you can let him nuzzle against you if you want to start getting ready."

"But why are we using the table?" I protested. "What's wrong with the bed?"

"Too soft," Mary said. "You need a firm foundation for this kind of set-up. Come on, don't let Simon feel lonely. Get up there."

It was easier to comply than to argue. I stepped onto the chair and then knelt on the table, and worked my way along his body until I was level with Simon's knees. I straddled him, his prick settling between my tits and I used my hands to wrap my tits around his shaft, something I'd done a number of times before.

"Don't get him too excited," Mary directed. "We want him to last the course. Now," she said, examining the table, "I could really do with another person to..."

A knocking at the door interrupted her words. She picked up my dressing gown from the floor and slipped it on, before answering.

"Jake!" she said. "We were just wondering where you'd got to."

"I was looking for Simon," we heard him say from the corridor. "I was hoping he might..."

"Come in, come in," Mary said, "we need an extra prick." She reached through the door and an instant later he was pulled inside the door, and his mouth dropped open as he saw first Pete, absolutely stark naked, his boner pointing to the ceiling, and then Simon and me, lying on the dining table.

"Right, get stripped off," Mary said.

There was no hesitation from Jake. In fact, he was naked almost as fast as Mary and Pete had been.

Mary pulled a chair up to the other end of the table and said, "Alright, I want you to kneel by Simon's head - no, you don't have to dangle your balls in Simon's face. Move forward so that Nancy can give you a gobble. And slip on this condom, first." There was another foil packet in her hand. I couldn't work out where they were coming from.

I gulped a bit at that. Obviously, I'd been eyeing him up, as soon as he took off his clothes. His prick was about the same size as mine - average sized. "God," I thought, "I'm starting to realise what an average sized prick is like!"

If Angela had instructed me to gobble off a bloke on Monday then I'd have refused without thinking. However, since then I'd had my drunken session with Simon, during which time I'd had gob-fulls of semen squirted into my mouth, up my nose and into my eyes. The idea of taking a condom covered prick of medium size was no challenge at all.

"This table's a bit rocky," Jake said, giving a little jerk of his body to demonstrate. He was right, the table did move quite noticeably.

"Rubbish," Mary said. "In Queen Victoria's time, they built tables to take this kind of punishment all the time. They're built to last. Now, Peter. Condom on?"

I couldn't see him from where I was lying, Jake's cock almost poking me in the eye, but I assumed he waved his condom-covered prick at Mary, for she continued, "You like making sandwiches, don't you? Up behind Nancy, then."

I started to have a fit of the giggles, then. The idea of Pete making sandwiches, presumably with the left-overs of our lunch, whilst the rest of us had an orgy was ridiculous. I felt sorry for poor Pete, being left out of it, presumably because his cock was so small.

"This table is really wobbling," Pete said, behind me. It was too, and he had to grab the cheeks of my bum for support.

"Rubbish," Mary said. "Now, I'm coming to stand astride the lot of you, facing Jake, whilst we all get connected up."

She climbed onto the table; even she felt it move now, as she said, "Hmm, it does seem a bit rickety. Never mind, we're all in place now."

She stepped astride us, and then I had to move forward and lie flat on top of Simon, so she could stand either side of my shoulders, which resulted in my arms being trapped by my sides

"So Nancy, move down onto Simon and take him inside you.

Well, I'd had plenty of practice, now, first getting onto Angela's huge prick, and then the many sessions I'd had with Simon over the last twenty-four hours. I moved my body a bit further forward until his prick slipped between my legs, and then wriggled gently from side to side, working him through my narrowest parts, before I could finally slide down his cock.

"O-o-o-f-f-f!" I said, with deep satisfaction. "That feels good."

"Great," Mary said. "Now, Jake, move forward and slip your cock into Nancy's mouth."

I was expecting him to be as gentle with me as I had been with Simon. Instead, as soon as he'd got his prick between my lips, he grabbed the back of my head with his hands and lunged right inside, his cock going halfway down my throat. I almost gagged, and with Mary standing where she was, I couldn't get my hands around to grab hold of him, but then, fortunately, he was sliding out again, and I decided I'd give him a right piece of my mind as soon as I could speak.

It was not to be, for he pulled back to the point where his knob was just inside my teeth before lunging forward again. "Fucking hell! That's good," he said.

I expected Mary to notice my predicament and stop the proceedings. Instead, she said, "OK, Pete. Make a sandwich."

Why on earth she was going on about that when Jake was ramming his prick right down my throat, almost choking me to death, I couldn't imagine - until I felt Pete's prick nuzzling against my back passage. Suddenly, I knew exactly what type of sandwich Pete was going to make.

"N-a-a-g-g-g-h-h-h!" I said, or something like it. What I wanted to say was, "No, I've changed my mind about all this. Can we stop?"

To be fair to Pete, as always, he was the perfect gentleman. He slid past the ring of my arse with minimum of pain, and then he was pleasuring me with all the skills he knew. What's more, as he thrust backwards and forwards in time with Jake, they were moving me on top of Simon, and his monster was thrusting against all my best parts.

"A-a-a-o-o-o-h-h-h!" I said, as, with all three orifices being fucked, I started one tremendous orgasm.

CHAPTER 9 - THURSDAY

It was the early hours of Thursday morning when Simon drew his car up outside my house.

"Is this it?" he asked.

"Yes, thanks," I said. "This is it. It was really decent of you to give me a lift, after everything that happened."

"No problem," he said. "They've said I can probably go and collect Jake in two or three days, but I don't want to stay down there on my own, especially as I'd have to find another hotel."

"Yes," I said. "I thought the hotel were really snotty, the way they threw us all out, simply because their furniture was so inferior that it collapsed, causing a great deal of embarrassment to us all."

"I know," he said. "It wouldn't have been so bad if that kid on the beach hadn't seen us through the French windows as soon as I got onto the table, naked. Even then, he didn't have to draw the attention of everybody on the beach to us."

"No," I said. "But they did give us a nice cheer as we all crashed through the French windows onto the balcony. It was a shame that all that glass got embedded into Jake's arse and back."

"Not really," Simon said. "He saved everyone else from getting hurt. But it was a pity you clenched your teeth as we all hit the floor. But then let's not forget, it was his fault in the first place. If he hadn't made me give up my place on the Murder Mystery trip, we wouldn't have met and got drunk, and everything else."

"Yes," I said, and paused for a second, before adding, "Quite fortunate he did make you give it up, really."

"Yes," he said.

I gave him a nice kiss before getting out the car. He also got out, and helped me out with my suitcase. We had another little kiss, and then he got back into his car and drove off. I watched him with a smile on my face.

***

It was totally silent as I let myself into our house. In the rumpus after the accident, I hadn't been able to call Angela as I couldn't find my mobile phone.

The manager and a couple of porters had burst into our room immediately after the accident, whilst we were still untangling limbs and Jake was screaming his head off. OK, the porter called an ambulance for him, but they made us all get dressed and go downstairs. A few minutes later an ambulance arrived, and Jake was put into it and taken off to hospital.

Then they'd escorted the rest of us into the manager's office, where he'd shouted and raved about the cost of the damage and the reputation of the hotel, whilst we shouted back about the inferior quality of his furnishings.

Unknown to us, whilst that was going on the porters packed everybody's suitcases, and as we left the manager's office, we were all shown the front door. Fortunately, Simon had given me a lift for the four-hour journey home.

I left my suitcase downstairs and went up to our bedroom. I went in quietly, without putting on the light, so as not to frighten Angela - after all, she wasn't expecting me - then bent over her head on the pillow and kissed her fully on the lips. Perhaps she'd heard me enter the house and come upstairs, for she didn't seem a bit surprised. Unexpectedly, her tongue slipped into my mouth - Angela had never previously liked that part of a good snog - and we played with each other for a few seconds.

In fact, Angela was doing fantastic things with her tongue intertwined with mine - even tickling my tonsils, when the light went on, and Angela's voice came from the other side of the bed: "What the fuck is going on here?"

We both jerked away from each other, and I found I was staring into the face of Kerry, the breakfast waitress from the Grand Hotel.

***

It would be somewhat of an understatement to say that Angela and I had a disagreement; it was the mother of all rows, the worst that we had ever had. Alright, I have to say that I didn't go fully into the reason why I'd left the hotel in the early evening and returned home without warning. But then I felt I should not have needed to give a warning.

Unfortunately, Angela did ask about my success of getting the will witnessed - something I had only remembered as I was leaving the hotel - too late for any signatures apart from Simon's.

But then she admitted that she HAD taken the will to the hotel on Saturday, but had simply invented its absence in order to have an excuse to bring Kerry home. It had been the same with the bank cards, which had arrived in the post on Monday morning, but which Angela used as an excuse to prolong her period of debauchery with Kerry. She also admitted that she'd been having sex with Kerry in our hotel room on Sunday morning, when I'd gone back there to collect her.

Fortunately, Angela had asked Kerry to leave the room fairly early on in our row, so she didn't pick up any of the real truth behind the façade, and I'm not going into much of the other pointless arguments that we both used during our debate. (At least, my activities with Nancy never came up!)

At the end, we came to a kind of natural break, more through exhaustion than of victory and defeat. Kerry spent the rest of the night in the spare room, whilst Angela and I slept as far apart as we could in the double bed.

***

Fortunately, by next morning, things had calmed down. Kerry announced she was leaving us, and she even consented to be the other witness on the will before she went. Angela apologised for deceiving me about Kerry, and in turn, I apologised for over-reacting about it. After all, she had given me permission - which I had utilised - to make love as a woman with others.

So when the phone call came at around nine-thirty, we were more or less a couple again. Angela answered it.

"Yes. Yes. Mrs Brown does live here."

I moved forward to take the handset from her, but Angela held up a cautionary hand. "I'm sorry, she's not here at the moment, but I'm helping her with her personal issues."

It made sense that Angela spoke, rather than myself, I reasoned. She couldn't be caught out by any questions which I should, but did not, know the answer.

"Oh? Is it really that urgent?" Well, yes, I suppose we could come in this afternoon - say about two-thirty, if that's alright. It is? Okay, we'll see you then. Bye."

Angela put down the phone and said, "That was a Mrs Sullivan who is the UK representative of the executors of Frank's will. She says there's something rather unusual in the will that she needs to talk with us about, urgently. I said we'd get there for two-thirty."

My stomach did a loop-the-loop. "Did you have to make it so soon?"

"Well, she said it was urgent. I thought it was better to get it out of the way. Otherwise, we'd be worrying about it all weekend."

She was right of course. In any case, she'd made the appointment. Better get it over with.

***

"Thank you for coming in to see me, Mrs Brown," Mrs Sullivan said. "I'm sorry to call you at short notice, but I only got notification this morning."

We both muttered inconsequential responses.

"Now, Mrs Brown, as I explained over the phone to Mrs Simmons, I am acting on behalf of the executors of your late husband's estate. I need to read the relevant section of his will to you, and make some checks, as required by the will." (Hell! That sounded ominous. Was she going to check my identity?) "I advised her this morning that it might be in your best interests if you could bring along a professional advisor, but you have chosen instead to bring Mrs Simmons, who I understand is the wife of your nephew."

"Yes, that's right," I said.

"Fine," she said. "You may think I'm being unnecessarily formal, but when I read the will, I'm sure you will understand the reasons."

I nodded to indicate I understood, although I was puzzled by what she said. What the hell was she talking about?

"Alright," she said, "in that case, I'll go ahead with the reading of the relevant sections of the will. Firstly, I need to tell you that the residue of the estate, some eleven million Australian dollars is shared equally between Mr Brown's two sons by his previous marriage, which I understand you were already aware of."

I smiled sweetly, thinking, "Hell, Nancy had never even mentioned sons by a previous marriage, never mind Frank leaving them the main part of the estate."

"So, I'll now read the relevant part of the will," she continued.

" 'To my wife, Nancy Brown, I bequeath the sum of two million dollars,' - that's about one and a quarter million pounds sterling," she added for Angela's benefit (and unknowingly, for mine) " '...provided that she has remained chaste to my memory for a period of two weeks following my death, this to be evidenced by my executors using the key enclosed with this will to unlock the chastity belt which I have insisted she wear for the majority of our married life together.' "

Chastity belt? What the hell!

Mrs Sullivan waved a key in the air. "So, the question I have to ask you, Mrs Brown - and I confess I am embarrassed at having to ask it - is whether I can use this key to unlock the chastity belt you are hopefully wearing."

I was speechless, but Angela came in, "So that's what you meant, Aunt Nancy, when you arrived at Heathrow and said that you needed to see someone about the lock on your little jewel box. I thought it was strange at the time, because when I helped you unpack your huge suitcase the next day, your jewel box was inside it - and it wasn't even a lockable jewel box."

"Do I take it from your niece's remarks Mrs Brown," Mrs Sullivan said, "that you are no longer wearing the chastity belt?"

I couldn't even speak, as the thoughts whirled around my head. My God! That's what Nancy had been doing in Slough - having her chastity belt removed. No wonder she'd been so ready for sex that evening after being chaste, perhaps through many months of her husband's illness. And the sum of two million Australian dollars was dependent upon me still wearing a chastity belt that I knew nothing about.

"No," Angela said. "Mrs Brown is no longer wearing the chastity belt."

"Mrs Brown," Mrs Sullivan said, "can you confirm that?"

There was no point in lying, for she had the key and would want to use it if I claimed it was there. "That's right," I said. "I'm afraid I had the belt removed as soon as I arrived in this country. I thought it was rather an antiquated custom, you see, and certainly not..."

"You don't have to explain to me, Mrs Brown," she said. "I think it's the most appalling way to treat a woman, and almost unbelievable that could happen in a so-called civilised country.

"However, I am not at liberty to debate the issue, I can only carry out the wishes specified in the will, and I'll read on to explain."

She started reading again. " 'Should my wife no longer be wearing the chastity belt (and one can make one's own judgement about the morality of such a person who, less than two weeks after her husband's death, feels the need to remove a device provided solely to protect her pureness), then the sum of two million dollars will be ring-fenced and put into trust. The trust shall pay my wife the sum of twenty thousand dollars per annum, payable monthly in advance, for the rest of her life.'

"That's about twelve and a half thousand pounds," she added for Angela's benefit, "or around a thousand pounds per month."

A thousand pounds per month! It would take years to pay off the debts we'd incurred since Nancy arrived - the cost of the hotel, the gowns she'd bought in Slough, and even the money Angela had spent on purchasing her willy from Big Busts.

"There is an important rider I must tell you about," she added, starting to read from the will, " 'Should my wife, in a fit of remorse, decide from this moment on to commit to remain chaste to my memory, the annual payment shall be increased to two hundred thousand dollars. Such commitment is to be demonstrated by her donning a new chastity belt, the key to be kept by the trustees, and its presence checked on a monthly basis prior to handing over the payment. Should the trustees discover at any time that the belt has been removed or tampered with, then payment will immediately revert for all time to twenty thousand dollars per annum.' "

Mrs Sullivan looked up from the will. "So there you have it. If you agree to wear a chastity belt from now on - and I have one here ready for you to put on - your annual income will increase to two hundred thousand dollars, but every month I must check that you are still wearing it. If at any time you ask me to unlock it, or if I discover during the monthly inspection that it has been removed or tampered with, then your allowance reduces to twenty thousand per annum. I'm afraid I need you to make the decision today, before you leave this office."

I was gob-smacked. That would equate to over ten thousand pounds a month. It would pretty quickly solve our financial position. But there was no way I could put on a chastity belt.

"Could you give us some time together," Angela asked. "I'm certain you understand that this is an entirely preposterous stipulation of the will, and we may want to contest it."

"Of course you can have time together," Mrs Sullivan said, "but I must warn you that the trustees are required to protect Mr Brown's wishes to the best of their ability, regardless of personal feelings. This would inevitably mean you taking any challenge to court, and the cost of any such challenge would come out of the trust fund. My suspicion is that the costs of such action would easily consume the whole of the amount contained in the trust, so effectively, you'd be fighting over nothing. Anyway, let me give you and your niece some time together." She got up and left the room.

"Fucking hell, Angela," I said. "Nancy has done for us. We're going to be bankrupt. We can't pay back the money we owe, with me out of work and a mere twelve thousand quid a year from the trust."

"No, but we'd be alright if we take the higher amount," she said.

"Don't be stupid!" I screamed. "I'd have to wear a chastity belt. No way!"

"I can understand why you might say that," Angela said, "but you don't have to commit for all time. You could agree to put it on today, and you'll immediately receive seven thousand pounds. Even if you decide to cut the belt off tonight, the first payment would pay off a large part of our overdraft. Keep it on for another month, and we'd be in profit."

"But you can't expect me to go without sex for a month. Besides, Big Busts said that the Hiplet will need taking off every week to ten days."

"We can ask them about that. They seemed fairly flexible; they might be able to suggest a way around the problem. But I do think the important point is you agree today to wear the chastity belt. At least, you can then change your mind tomorrow. If you decide to say 'No" now, we're condemned to bankruptcy."

I shook my head and gave a huge sigh. The problem was, she was right. I had to have the chastity belt put on today if we were to remain solvent.

So I said, "I suppose so," and then immediately remembered that it was exactly this same argument - about trying it and then changing my mind later - which had got us into the scrape we were in.

It was too late. Angela had already called Mrs Sullivan back into the room and told her I would wear the belt.

EPILOGUE - TWO MONTHS LATER

Alright, so I'm still playing the part of Aunt Nancy, and still wearing the chastity belt. Angela was right; Big Busts had been able to fix me up so I could continue to wear the Hiplet beneath the chastity belt. Every two weeks or so, when I shed a layer of skin, the Hiplet comes loose and Big Busts slide a thin pipe between the garment and my skin, and wash it all out. Then they squib more glue inside, and fix the Hiplet back in position.

As for sex, well Angela had a good look at the chastity belt and felt there was no way a conventional prick, or even a finger, could be slipped inside either my vagina or my arse. But she did suggest that a certain someone had a remarkably long and versatile tongue, and that she might be able to satisfy me.

Indeed, she did. Her tongue can work its way inside the chastity belt from the hole where my anus is, and then she only has to put it against my clit and jiggle and that, combined with Angela sucking on my nipples makes sex as good as it can get. And of course, we all have to return the favours for each other, so we're all happy.

I have now received my third monthly payment, and we are comfortably in credit. Oh, and the other thing - Aunt Nancy is still lying in our freezer. Obviously, she must continue to remain 'alive' in order for her income to continue, but we're keeping her on the eventuality that someday, perhaps, we might want to bump her off, when we have sufficient money.

Some hopes of that. The way we're starting to spend, we'll never have enough money. Why, only yesterday, we were passing a dress shop in town and they had this utterly beautiful dress in the window. We simply had to buy one each. We look great when we go out together now. It's almost a shame that I'm not allowed to screw any more men as there's no shortage of volunteers!