SYNOPSIS

Just who was it who'd suggested the title for the next performance of the amateur dramatic group? Because when the lead actress drops out, it leaves a vacancy for a big-busted woman to prance naked on the stage, which nobody wants to fill. Fortunately, being a lead actress is not all work and no play.

The complete story has been serialised into eight parts which will be published at approximately daily intervals.

Author's Note: This story is a light-hearted, cross-dressing romp and contains various adult elements including adultery, heterosexual and homosexual acts, and humour. If reading about such themes is illegal or not to your taste, then please do not do it, or don't come moaning to me about it afterwards! It was first published on Fictionmania several years ago, and has now been modified. The first part, which sets the scene, is far longer than the other seven.

CHAPTER ONE - LOUISE GETS WELL STUFFED

Afterwards, we were to have a big row about exactly who had first suggested Well-Stuffed Melons for the next production of the Bramcombe Amateur Theatrical Society, or BRATS, as we called ourselves. I got the blame, but my recollection of events was perfectly clear.

We had just finished our post mortem on A Merchant of Venice, which had completed its run of three performances the evening before. We'd had fantastic reviews in the local press, superb acting from everyone, and each night, we had played to an almost empty house!

"I think," said Louise, who had not only taken the part of Portia, but had also directed, "that for our next production, which is only sixteen weeks away, we should choose something a little lighter."

All six of us gave a collective sigh of relief over that, only too aware that we had given in to Louise's persuasive arguments over The Merchant against our better judgements.

Louise reached into her huge leather handbag and pulled out some heavy scripts. "I therefore suggest we have a read of A Comedy of Errors. That should go down nicely."

For the first time ever, Louise had a revolt on her hands.

"Oh no!" "No way! and, "You must be joking!"

Louise look pained. In her late twenties, with a figure like a centrefold model, she had trained to be a professional actor, and there was no doubt that she was a brilliant actor. Had the Royal Shakespeare Company immediately snapped her up after she'd completed training at RADA, she would probably have become an international star by now. But the indignity of having to audition for minor parts in mediocre plays going on tour in the industrial Midlands, followed by the absolute shock when she received their rejections, was too much. She had given up acting to become an estate agent (and a very good one too, by all accounts).

"Well what are you suggesting?" She sounded exasperated at our reaction. "A Midsummer Night's Dream?"

Helen, a company accountant in her mid thirties (slim, with nice, conical-pointed tits), said, "I don't think people in Bramcombe appreciate Shakespeare. Why don't we do an Alan Ayckbourn?"

"Oh really!" from Louise, but everyone else said things like:

"That's a great idea," "Superb" and "Fantastic!"

So Louise was forced to sit back while we all came in with suggestions.

The trouble was, without Louise's leadership, no one could agree, and our little brainstorm was starting to fizzle out, when Jane, a quiet but pleasant woman (with miniscule breasts) in her late forties, said, "What was the name of that play when those three couples have a weekend in a small hotel with the rather shapely chamber-maid."

She turned to me with a smile (and did I detect a slight wink?). "Charles, you probably know it."

Indeed I did. Although I was only a kid when it first appeared, it had continued to delight audiences ever since. The three couples, Reginald and Rebecca, Steve and Sue, and Phil and Phyllis, stayed at a small hotel and Reggie, who was the lead male actor, fell totally in love with Melanie, the waitress cum chambermaid, who wore a low-necked uniform that nicely displayed her large, rounded tits. Steve and Phil egged him on and even his wife took an extremely broadminded view since, it quickly transpired, she was having a threesome relationship with Steve and Phil! Meanwhile, Sue and Phyllis were also perfectly happy, as it allowed them to get on with their secret lesbian bonding.

The main set on stage was of the three hotel bedrooms, with imaginary walls between them delineated by wardrobes. Three doors were spaced along the backdrop and three double-beds faced the audience. At the very front of the stage, low balustrading indicated balconies with imaginary French-windows leading onto them from the bedrooms. With such a simple set, the opportunities were endless for leaping in and out of bed, jumping from one balcony to another (sometimes with disastrous results!), running between rooms, and hiding under beds and in wardrobes - in other words, the very best of British farce.

The play took its name from the words Melanie used in the dining room (the only other set used) as, in response to a question from Sue, she leant over to point on the menu to the house specials. Her action giving Reggie, sitting opposite, a superb view of the other specials of the house.

"Well-Stuffed Melons," I said.

"That must be it," Jane said.

"Oh really!" Louise was furious. "How low can we possible get? There is no way we're going to put on that rubbish."

Another first for the group - timid Jane hit back. "I think we've always agreed that our choice of production is a democratic decision, and I'm proposing Well-Stuffed Melons. Shall we put it to the vote?"

A vote would suit me just fine. Alan and Geoff, the other two males present, would obviously vote in favour, and with Jane and me, that would make at least four votes for, regardless of the votes of Louise, pointed-tit Helen, and Geoff's wife, Carol.

"Obviously it's a democratic decision, but I really think we should aim higher than that. And please don't assume that, if we do decide to go ahead, I shall consent to direct it, and absolutely no way will I play the part of Melanie."

Even though Louise, with her gorgeous knockers, had the perfect shape to play Melanie, her threat didn't worry me in the slightest. I think I understood the reason why she'd made it, but I also knew her well enough to know that, ultimately, she wouldn't be able to resist the challenge.

You see, when Melons was first written and performed in the early seventies, it was a period when both male and female actors would use any excuse to parade naked on the stage. In this case, no excuse was necessary - the three couples spent most of their time getting undressed and leaping into bed, and only Melanie kept on her clothes until the last scene.

However, as acceptable levels of decency changed (for the worse in my opinion), so successive productions covered more and more bare flesh. First, the male members were hidden behind jock straps; then the women started wearing knickers; finally, the women wore nightdresses of increasingly non-transparent material.

Bill Baker, the playwright became more and more frustrated at what he saw as the watering down of his work, and eventually he put his foot down: the piece de resistance with Melanie in the final scene must be acted as initially written, with Melanie naked apart from high-heeled shoes, stockings and suspender belt. If it was not, he declared, he would sue for breach of copyright, and even serve an injunction to stop further public performances by that company.

Consequently, the final scene is, to this day, regarded as a pure example of 1970's classic farce. Melanie enters Reggie's bedroom and confesses that her hourglass figure is due to a corset, which she had been progressively tightening throughout the play. Now, it was as tight as she could pull it, and she needed the assistance of a strong man (Reggie) to heave it tighter still. Within seconds, her dress is off and she's facing the audience with Reggie sitting on the bed behind her, tightening the corset for all his worth.

But the corset is specially adapted for the performance. With a tearing sound, the front busk suddenly rips apart, and the corset wraps itself around Reggie's head as he collapses backward onto the bed on top of Melanie's dress. Melanie is left wearing shoes, stockings, suspender-belt, and absolutely nothing else. Just then, the bedroom door opens and Reggie's wife is seen kissing Phil in the corridor outside, about to enter the room. With her dress trapped under Reggie, Melanie runs onto the imaginary balcony to escape, pulling down an imaginary curtain as she does so, and tying it around herself before leaping across to the next balcony.

And from then until the end of the play, she performs dressed only in the imaginary curtain. It's actually an incredible feat of acting, since the actor knows that the audience see her naked, but she has to perform as though dressed. Fully aware that every pubic hair and every wobble of her boobs is on full view, she will be smoothing out wrinkles in the imaginary dress, pulling it down at the hem as she sits down or, on a few occasions, having to suddenly grab it as it becomes untied. The public absolutely love it, both for the challenge to the actor, as well as the sheer, unadulterated voyeurism of the moment. Louise, I knew, would not be able to resist.

Helen broke my thoughts and, not unexpectedly, took Louise's side. "I quite agree," she said. "It's so politically incorrect, we'd be pilloried by the press..."

"...and the public would come to see us by the thousands," I finished Helen's sentence for her. "Melons has been playing to packed audiences ever since it launched forty years ago. After The Merchant, we need a highly successful run, and this is a dead cert. I vote we go with it."

"I agree with Charles and Jane," Alan said. "Let's get a successful performance behind us, before we try anything more intellectual. And if Louise doesn't want to direct, I'd be happy to take it on instead."

Alan's comments brought the count up to three in favour. It only needed Geoff to speak up and the vote would be won. Alan and I both looked at him, expectantly.

He hesitated before he spoke. "I agree with Louise," he said. "I think we can do better than this."

The dirty, rotten traitor! How could he desert a noble cause like ours? Why...

"Well I don't."

I think we'd all forgotten about Carol, Geoff's wife, sitting in the corner, and we all turned to gaze at her.

"Melons is a sure-fire winner. We'd be stupid not to go with it.

"And let's not forget," she continued, "that we've always agreed we'll share the leading parts, and Louise has played lead in the last two performances. It's my turn for the lead in the next one."

Her words left us speechless, Geoff most of all. I remembered then how Carol had moaned the last time Louise got the lead female part. Geoff had obviously already seen where Carol was going, and tried to head her off. Now he sat there fuming, and turning a peculiar shade of purple. But as I looked Carol up and down, I recognized it was a perfectly reasonable solution. Carol was in her mid-forties, and looking pretty good, in a chubby kind of way. Although her waist was certainly not as slim as Louise's, her breasts must be considerably larger. Well, no one ever said that chambermaids weren't allowed to be cuddly.

She returned my gaze with a defiant smile, and I smiled back and said, "Carol's right. It is her turn to play lead, and if she's happy, I think she has the right qualifications for the part."

There was a sound of a volcano bursting from Geoff's side of the table, but I didn't care. Carol deserved the praise. Not only had we won the vote, but had nicely put Louise's nose out of joint as well. A highly successful result.

CHAPTER TWO - WE'RE ALL STUFFED!

Eight weeks later, it appeared a hollow victory. Alan had none of the qualities needed to make a competent Director, and we were getting nowhere. We'd spent weeks deciding which role we would each take - not because it was contentious, but simply because Alan never got us together. We'd already spent half our time available before the production, and we'd only had a single reading - although I hadn't complained too much so far, since I'd pulled the male lead role of Reggie. Now, Alan opened the meeting, that Saturday evening, saying he had some bad news. Could it get worse? Yes, it damn well could.

"I'm sorry to have to tell you that Carol contacted me this afternoon. She's decided, I think after considerable pressure from Geoff, that she's not right for the part of Melanie. She realises this has put us in a hopeless position, and so both she and Geoff have decided to resign from BRATS."

Bloody hell!

There was a cacophony of similar comments, followed by an outbreak of sheer panic, which Alan tried to calm by telling us he had decided to abandon the whole production.

"I'm afraid you can't do that." It was Jane speaking. "After the criticism I got last time about lack of publicity, I've already put the dates in the quarterly Arts Council Information Bulletin. They're printing fifty thousand copies as we speak. We can't cancel."

"It doesn't matter," Alan persisted. "If people try to book, they'll be turned away."

"It's really not that simple," Helen broke in to the argument. "I was going to tell you at the end of our meeting, but, as Treasurer, I applied for a Bramcombe Arts Society grant. You know they don't normally give money to amateur theatrical companies, but I heard they had some lottery money spare and I convinced them of the artistic merit in Melons, and they bought it.

"I received their cheque for five thousand pounds last week," she continued, "and I used it to pay off the debts remaining after The Merchant, and as a non-returnable booking fee for the theatre for Melons. There's less than two hundred pounds left. If we cancel Melons, we'll have to find the money to repay it."

I turned to Louise like a dog begging for a biscuit. "Louise, wouldn't you reconsider playing the part of Melanie? You can see what a mess we're in. Please."

That evening she'd come straight from her office and was wearing a pastel-blue, straight skirt with matching blouse and jacket. She looked absolutely ravishing - but as hard as nails!

"Absolutely not. What about Jane? She voted for it." She turned towards her. "Why don't you take the part of Melanie?"

"That's ridiculous! I haven't got the figure."

"So what," Helen said, clearly trying to head off suggestions she might take the part. "After all, Carol was hardly a beauty."

That was a bit unfair on Carol, but I didn't think it worth arguing over.

"Anyway the play was Charles's suggestion," Jane said, stupidly adding, "let him play the part."

"My suggestion!" I was outraged. "You suggested it."

And we then spent several minutes arguing about who said what, in which Jane took the position that she'd originally been thinking of Fawlty Towers, and it was me who was responsible for everything!

"Can I make a proposal?" Louise had kept out of that argument, and she interjected at just the right point to bring us all to silence.

"It seems we're all getting worked up about who's going to play the part of Melanie, when there's a much more important problem to resolve."

That shook us! A more important problem than a missing lead character! We all stared at her.

She waited a moment before answering our unspoken question. "Carol and Geoff, of course. They are both excellent actors, and put so much into our group, and don't forget, Geoff also takes the role of Stage Manager. Now they've resigned from BRATS. Without them, we'll fall apart. I think the Director has to convince them not to resign."

It made a lot of sense to me, except that Alan was shaking his head.

"It's no good," he said. "I spent ages talking to Carol; Geoff won't even speak to me. I can't do anything to stop it."

"Then we need to appoint a Director who can." I surprised myself by saying the words, but I'd been looking at Louise, and knew she was going suggest it. Better that I said it first.

Everyone turned to stare at me, thinking that I was putting myself forward as Director, but I know my own limitations and I kept my eyes lowered during the embarrassing silence. Finally, Alan said, "Well, if you or anyone else thinks they can get Carol and Geoff back, then I'll willingly step down."

I looked up at Louise. "How about it, Louise?" Everyone's eyes turned from me, to her.

She paused just the right amount of time, as though she hadn't been thinking that all along. "If there's a general consensus then, yes, I'll do it." She paused, whilst we all nodded our heads or muttered, "Aye," and then continued. "There is one proviso. Obviously, we'll need to allow Carol to change role, but we have to get Geoff on board, as well. We may need to make some other changes. Is that agreed?"

"Are you thinking of offering him Reggie?" I'd been delighted to pull the lead male role, and now I could see it disappearing.

Louise grimaced apologetically. "Let's just say that if you're willing to be flexible about your role, it will give me much more scope to negotiate, and get this show on the road. But if you're not, my hands are tied. It's your shout, Charles."

I could hardly refuse. I gave in with good grace.

"But we still haven't resolved who's playing the part of Melanie," Jane said.

"Look," Louise said, "I shall probably offer to let Carol play Sue in place of me, and Charles has said he'll be flexible about his part. Let's get Carol and Geoff's agreement to rejoin the group, first. After that, everything else will probably work out."

Yippee, we all thought. Louise is going to play Melanie. And we broke up the meeting with a lighter heart.

CHAPTER THREE - I ALMOST STUFF LOUISE

"Geoff says you always keep a bottle of excellent wine in your fridge. I hope he's right."

It was ten pm, that same Saturday evening, when the doorbell rang. I'd just been thinking about having an early night to bed. It was Louise at the door of my flat, still wearing the pastel-blue suit we'd seen her in earlier.

"Come in," I said, and led the way into my lounge. Louise flopped onto my settee, put her feet up on a beanbag and sank back. She stared up at the ceiling, and gave a big sigh. It was the first time she'd been inside my flat, and she looked more at home than I felt, standing in my own lounge!

Deciding she was overdressed, she removed her jacket without getting up from her seat, which involved a considerable amount of wriggling and twisting of her torso. Without the concealment of her jacket, her breasts thrust through her pale blue blouse like large grapefruit, with her modestly cut neckline exposing just a hint of the Grand Canyon beyond. The wriggling had also caused her knee-length skirt to ride up, and I could see a part of a white suspender securing the top of her navy-blue stockings.

I hurriedly (well, not too hurriedly) averted my eyes, went to the kitchen, and took a bottle of Pouilly-Fume out of the fridge. Whilst I was uncorking it, I called out to her, "Knowing Geoff, he probably said the wine was expensive, rather than excellent. His taste is somewhat different to mine."

Louise was smiling as I went in with the bottle and two crystal wine glasses. "He called it extravagant, actually, and fed me gallons of his home-made barley wine. It was absholutely revolting, but I could hardly tell him so, as I was trying to convince him to come back to BRATS."

Was she slurring her words slightly? It occurred to me that Geoff's wines were renowned for their potency, and if Louise had been knocking them back like barley water for a couple of hours, she must be well and truly pissed.

I handed her the glass of wine and she took a huge gulp from it - far larger than I'd normally have thought was her style - but since she threw her head back and her breasts jutted forwards as she did so, and the movement of her body caused her skirt to ride up even higher, openly displaying her stocking-top, I didn't object.

She gave me a wry smile. "I did it!" She nodded with self-satisfaction. "I've been at their house ever since the end of our meeting thish evening, but I finally got them to agree to rejoin BRATS."

"That's absolutely great, Louise," I said. "How did you manage it?" Of course, what I really meant was: Did you have to offer Geoff my part?

Pissed or not, she saw straight through my hidden question and smiled. "Geoff was incredibly stubborn, at first - really jealous of Carol being sheen naked. That was obviously why he voted against the play as soon as I shaid I wouldn't take Melanie's part."

Definitely pissed as a newt but, pissed or not, she'd brought home the goods. I asked the big question, "So how did you convince him?" I refilled her glass, and took a big draft from mine, to encourage her to do the same.

An even bigger smile, this time. "I had to wait ages until Carol went to the toilet before I told Geoff that if he insisted on being so stuffy about Carol, I'd have to redress the balance, by telling her that last Christmas I'd given him a tit fuck."

I gulped down the rest of my glass. "You gave Geoff a tit fuck?" I was both shocked and jealous. The lucky bastard!

"Well, he wore a condom, so I didn't get a pearl necklace, if that's what you're thinking."

What I was actually thinking was of my own cock thrusting between those massive tits, which so nicely bulged through her silky blue blouse. Perhaps I ought to refill our glasses again. I did so and forced my mind back to the subject.

"So that presumably shut up Geoff. What about Carol?"

"Geoff had really destroyed her confidence. Told her how he could see her waist bulging out behind her breasts - the inference being that her breasts sagged down to her waist."

"That's pretty shitty."

She nodded. "There was no way she could continue in Melanie's role, so I offered her mine."

I tried not to show my excitement, but took a huge gulp of wine, just to show how cool I was. "Does that mean that you'll play..."

"Of coursh not. You know I can't play that part."

Did I? With this much booze inside her, now was the time to try to convince her. I guessed flattery was most likely to succeed. "But why not, Louise? You would play it superbly..."

"You mean you really don't know?" She looked mystified, as drunks often do when the world is unable to keep up with their clarity of vision. "But your ex-wife was at the shame college as me. Shurely she musht have told you?"

I shook my head. "Either she didn't know, or she treated it in confidence."

I think I'd probably guessed Louise's problem. With tits that size, she must have had an enlargement, which can sometimes leave nasty scars. From her remarks, she'd obviously had the operation whilst at college.

I sought to put the issue sensitively. "Louise, is it that you have some kind of blemish or... scar you don't want anyone to see?"

Her reaction flabbergasted me. She burst into laughter! She had a sip of her drink to try to calm herself down, and then choked on it, spluttering everywhere.

Finally, she said, "You really don't know, do you? Well, I guess you'd better have a look."

Without further ado, she sat up and put down her glass on a side-table. Then, without a trace of embarrassment, she unfastened the buttons on her blouse and pulled it wide open, revealing that wonderful pair of huge tits bulging out of her bra cups. She slid the blouse off her shoulders, and let it drop behind her. I hurriedly finished my glass and replenished it.

Pulling her arms out of the sleeves, she then reached behind her and unclipped her bra. There was so little sag as she let the bra drop onto her lap, I think the only reason she wore it was to flatten her nipples, which now came pushing out of hiding.

I tried not to gulp. Here were the most perfect pair of breasts I had ever seen in my life, and they were being exposed before me, not as part of a frenzied sexual coupling, but in drunken innocence, as a greengrocer might display his fruits. To my surprise, there were no signs of scars, or even a blemish.

Louise was smiling at my confusion. "I expect you'd like to get your hands on them, wouldn't you, and give them a nice squeeze?"

I nodded, too surprised at the offer to speak. Louise, some fifteen years younger than me, had never indicated any interest in me, sexually. Now here she was, pissed as a newt and making very pleasant suggestions.

She folded her arms in front of her breasts, as though to defend them from my onslaught, and then hooked her fingers into a garment which I hadn't even noticed she was wearing - some kind of skin coloured vest - and started to pull it up, and over her head. But as she brought it around her neck, her breasts had disappeared!

I gulped, and stared, and hurriedly finished off and then replenished my glass of wine. Underneath the vest, she had flatter tits than me! She'd pulled the garment completely over her head, now, and she bundled it and tossed it over to me.

"Here you are then, have a nice squeeze."

I caught it, realising as it flew through the air that it was far heavier than a thin vest should be. I spread it in my hands and found myself holding one tremendous breast in each hand!

"Holy shit! They're false!"

"Well done Charles. What fantashtic reasoning power you have."

I looked at her again - an attractive, slim woman, with breasts which barely disturbed the line of her flat chest.

She laughed at my expression. "You look so shocked, and yet I thought you knew about my falsies all along."

I drained my glass and filled it again, and then found we'd finished the bottle. I spent a few minutes getting another from the fridge. As I filled our glasses again and sat down, I played for a little more time, trying to sort out my confusion.

"Sorry Louise, it's all a bloody great surprise to me. I simply never dreamt your breasts were anything but real. Well, OK, I may have thought you'd had an enlargement but..." My voice drained away as I again felt those lovely tits in my hands. They were felt so soft and real, damn it!

"It was as we came to the end of our training at RADA," she started to explain. "All the other girls on the course appeared to be getting jobs and I didn't. I'd always had an inferiority complex about my miniscule boobs; I reasoned that was why I wasn't getting the jobs, so I decided to do something about them. Enlargements would have taken months to arrange and recover from, and I heard about Bustlets from someone on my course.

"Unfortunately, it didn't open up the opportunities I was so certain it would. OK, I got plenty of offers for the casting couch, but I was emphatic I needed payment in advance of the goods, so it never worked for me.

"I took a temporary job at an estate agents, just to get some cash. Within three days, I was allowed to escort a client to view a house; I made my first sale next morning. The commission from that alone was probably worth more than I'd have made in my first year on the stage. I'm now a partner in the most profitable agents in town. Of course, as an estate agent, I still have to act a part; it's simply so much more profitable. And I fulfil my dramatic acting needs by being a member of BRATS.

"The problem is that most of my fellow students at drama school knew all about my Bustlets. If I'd have taken the lead role in Melons, someone would have shouted, "Foul - she's not showing her real tits!" BRATS would have had an injunction slapped on it, but even worse for me, the newspapers would have been certain to get hold of the story. My career in the estate agents would have been finished. I couldn't risk either of those two events."

I nodded, understanding now why Louise had been so against putting on the production, knowing that she'd be under tremendous pressure to play the part of Melanie. However, to be honest, I was still having difficulties coming to terms with Louise's tits in my hands. I gave them another experimental squeeze. They were very erotic.

It struck me that normally a major part of that erotic feeling was due to the sensitivity of a woman to being stroked and kissed there. I remembered how sensitive my wife's tits had been - she'd almost come to orgasm simply from my sucking on them. Louise presumably missed all those kinds of pleasures. Without thinking, I asked, "Do you remove your breasts before you make love?"

As soon as I said it, I realised it had been an incredibly clumsy and offensive question - perhaps an indication that I, too, had been drinking too much wine.

But Louise suddenly appeared preoccupied with another issue, and she said, "Bloody hell! Sorry, but I have to go to the toilet."

I pointed her in the direction, and she quickly disappeared. I wondered whether, she would still remember the question when she returned. I hoped not.

She was in the toilet for ages. I thought she might be throwing up Geoff's very worst of barley-wine, mixed with my extravagant addition of Pouilly-Fume, but when she finally returned, she looked fine. She continued my question without hesitation.

"You asked if I take off my Bustlets before I make love? No way. Can you imagine what most blokes" reactions would be? They've pooled a bird with huge jugs and then, just as they're getting her to bed, she pulls her tits off. Worse than taking out your false teeth and sticking them in a glass beside the bed.

"Anyway," she continued, "my original Bustlets may have lacked any sensitivity, but every six months, or so, I buy a new set - on my commission, I can afford them. They've improved in leaps and bounds since the original design. I reckon the latest Bustlets are more sensitive than my real tits."

"Sorry, Louise." I was gob-smacked. "Are you saying you have sensitivity in your false breasts?"

She smiled. "Oh Jesus, yes. It's based upon a kind of touch-sensitive material - like they use in screens you get on computers, and the device amplifies it and gives a tiny jolt of electricity into the relevant area of your own body. Because it's all digital, you can turn the sensitivity up or down, depending how you feel. At the maximum setting, my tits are so sensitive, I reckon I can almost have an orgasm simply by a bloke breathing on them."

I jokingly breathed on the breasts in my hands, and she giggled. "Don't be stupid. You need to be wearing them to feel the effects. Try them, if you don't believe me."

She must think I was born yesterday to accept that. I made a wry face at her, bundled them up, and made to pass them back, but she said, "Sod you, Charles. I'm not having my word doubted. Now, take off your shirt and put them on. Then you can see how sensitive they are."

It was a purely scientific exercise, you understand? Louise was claiming something which, to me, sounded unbelievable - I had to test it out - my being slightly pissed had nothing to do with it. I undid the buttons on my shirt and pulled it off, then fed my head into the garment, which she called her Bustlet.

It was much more difficult to get into than I'd expected. The neck was long, and designed to cover everything, up to right beneath the chin, where it merged into the jaw-line without being noticeable - especially under my beard! It was stretchy material which clung to my face as I tried to force through it, and made me feel quite claustrophobic.

Finally, my head and face popped out of the top, and by this time, Louise had come over and carefully smoothed down the join along my jaw-line. Then she showed me how to slip my arms through the armholes, without damaging the garment. Finally, she was pulling the whole thing down my chest, where it stopped, a few inches below my nipples.

I looked down. Gulp! I reached for the wine glass and emptied it before looking down again. Shit! I refilled my glass, emptied it and then looked down again.

"So do you look good, or do you look fucking good?" she asked.

I couldn't have expressed it better myself. Pushing out of the front of my chest were the two most perfect tits I had ever seen in my lifetime. They looked even better from my viewpoint than they had done attached to Louise.

"And just try to tell me they're not sensitive."

Louise simply touched the underside of my breast with her hand, and I was gasping. She moved her hand closer to my nipple, and I was almost screaming with pain... or was it pleasure?

"The sensitivity setting is quite high, so if I was to squeeze your nipple now, you would almost pass out with pleasure," she said. "However, I think you'll find this much more pleasant."

She bent her head down, and her tiny red tongue darted out and just flicked my nipple. The blood coursed through my head, and I think I had a mini-orgasm.

"Bloody hell, this is erotic," she said. "I'm going to have to fuck you."

That was all right by me. She was pulling down my trousers and pants, and my prick came rearing out to greet her. She momentarily slipped her mouth over it and took me right inside, but the sensation was nothing, compared to that which I'd felt, just seconds ago, in my nipple.

She moved her mouth back there, and I started to lift her skirt, ready to slip my iron rod inside her.

"Condom," she said, breathing lightly on my left nipple.

"Sorry," I said, partly coming to my senses. "I was getting carried away. I've got some in the bedroom."

I took her by the hand and dragged her into the bedroom, and pulled open the top drawer in the bedside cupboard and rummaged through it. I couldn't find them!

I temporarily let go of Louise in order to pull the drawer totally out of the cupboard and turn it upside down on the floor. The amount of junk I kept in that drawer was unbelievable - all kinds of garbage, but no condoms! It had been months since I'd last used them. I spread the junk out across the floor, then went rushing into the bathroom, in the vain hope I'd put them in the bathroom cabinet, instead. Nothing!

I went into the lounge, and searched in the cupboard where I keep some of my other junk. Nothing! I stood up, almost crying with frustration.

"Don't worry," Louise said, kissing my left nipple again, driving me insane with lust. "It's only just after 11 pm. There will be a couple of clubs open in the town centre for hours, yet. We can walk there in ten minutes, and either get a pack from a vending machine in the toilets, or we could walk on to my place, where I've got enough of the things to keep us fucking all night long."

Sweet relief. At least, that's what I should be getting shortly.

"There's only one condition," she said, transferring her mouth to my right nipple, and simply blowing my mind.

"Anything," I said.

"You lend me a track-suit to wear when we walk into town." Her lips went back to the left nipple, and she gave me a very slow hand-job on my prick.

"No problem. But what's wrong with the suit you're wearing - or not wearing? It makes you look incredibly good."

She smiled then put her mouth over my nipple again and sucked part of my breast into her mouth. It felt divine. She muttered something, but with her mouth full, I couldn't understand what she said.

"What? I didn't hear."

She took her mouth off my breast, and said, "Because I want you to wear my suit when we walk into town."

I pushed her away. "Sorry?"

She grabbed my dick and pumped it a few times. "Oh Charles, you heard perfectly well. I want you to wear my suit and blouse - and all my other clothes - when we walk across town. It's so incredibly erotic, seeing you like this. I think I shall burst when I see you properly dressed up."

I couldn't disagree about it being erotic. I had never felt so turned on. I wanted to fuck her like crazy, and what we might do in private could well be the kind of fun and games to die for. But I knew that as soon as I appeared in public, I'd be laughed into shame.

"Louise. It may feel great in here - playing games - just the two of us. But as soon as I step outside like this, we'd attract every lout in the area. They'd ridicule us. Make the journey hell."

"Only if they knew you were a man."

"Well, of course they're going to know I'm a man. They only have to look at my hair to know I'm a man." Actually, it was more the absence of hair which really classified me as such - only thirty-nine years old, and already with a shamefully large bald patch.

"Well, that's no problem, then." She rummaged through her bag, and then produced something with a flourish. "Carol gave me back the Melanie wig she'd borrowed to help her get into character. You can use that."

That was being silly, in treating my objection so literally. There was something more important. "Louise. Have you noticed my prick sticking out like the Eiffel Tower? I think others might, as well."

"Carol also bought an extra-firm pantie-girdle, to help get her into shape for Melanie's corset. She told me that she now hated the thing every time she saw it in her drawer, so would I take it away." Another rummage through her bag, and then she came out with the garment, still in its original wrapping. "It's only size ten, I'm afraid, but that should certainly prevent your bulging stomach from distending the line of my skirt, as well as keeping your rampant prick under control."

I had one final line of defence. "I have a beard."

She smiled. "I wondered when you'd get around to that. It's all right. I have some wax in my bag. It will take it all off - no problem."

"Wax! That'll hurt like crazy."

She bent down and breathed over my left nipple, and then gave it a slow tonguing. "Maybe, but that's only what we women always have to put up with, in order to look so good for you men."

"Oh shit!" I thought for a minute, then reluctantly added, "I guess you could call this the ultimate part to play."

"That's my girl," Louise said, her words muffled as she sucked my right tit inside her mouth.

CHAPTER FOUR - LOUISE STUFFS ME

Stepping into the road dressed as a woman for the first time was like being on Cloud Nine. Sure, the skin on my face was still tingling, where Louise had painfully ripped off my facial hair; my stomach appeared to be held in a vice clamped so tight I could barely breathe; and after the initial excruciating pain in my testicles when she had pulled the tiny pantie-girdle hard up into my groin, my balls and dick appeared to have completely retired from the scene. I was also freezing in the cold night air; Louise's jacket had been too tight across my shoulders, and fearful I might split the seam, she'd instructed me to carry it across my arm.

But on the plus side, I had a tummy which was flatter than Louise's; without the jacket, my tits stuck out like headlamps on a 1920's Bentley; and with every step, my two-inch heels made an erotic clacking sound on the road, followed by a shudder which ran throughout my body. The shudder caused my breasts to give a delicious wobble, and my nipples to move inside my bra, giving me sweet feelings which kept me on the edge of orgasm. Walking was like sexual intercourse - without the intercourse.

There was, of course, plenty of opportunity for intercourse at that time on a Saturday night. There were loads of drunken gangs of blokes roaming the streets, ready to shag any woman who looked even remotely interested.

"Never look at them," Louise told me as we walked, "and keep your hand on the mace spray in your handbag." But she also gave me lots of useful advice about how to walk, and how much to swing the hips and clack the heels, without getting gang-banged. And also, some tips on speaking. "You never know when you might need it," she said. Little did I know, the scheming bitch!

The first club we came to, Gino's, seemed to be full of blokes leering at the few females, who were mainly in twos and threes. I'd have gone on somewhere else, but Louise walked in without hesitation. I had to dash after her if I wasn't to be left on my own on the street.

"I'd better go into the toilet on my own," she said in the lobby, just inside the door. "If you come in with me, strictly you'd be breaking the law, although no one would notice." She glanced at the blokes, already eyeing us up. "You'd better go to the bar and buy us some drinks, and for God's sake, don't let anyone buy them for you." And she disappeared behind the door which said "Ladies".

The problem was, she was absolutely right. If I followed her into the ladies toilet, I'd be committing an offence; the way I was dressed, I certainly couldn't go into the men's toilet; and if I continued to stand around looking like a tart on the game, then I'd pretty quickly have a gaggle of guys more than willing to make me an offer.

I swivelled around, appearing not to notice all the guys staring at me and strode over to the bar, desperately trying to remember everything Louise had told me. Never mind that, after ten minutes walking through the streets, my ankles and calves felt as though they were on fire, and that all I wanted to do was to sink down on a chair, lift one foot onto my knee and remove the shoe, and quickly repeat that with the other one. No, I had to appear totally in control.

"Getcha-a-drink-luv?"

It was a guy on his own, sitting at a stool at the bar, looking totally pissed out of his head, and sounding even worse.

Desperately hoping he would go away, I smiled sweetly at him, and said, speaking precisely in the way Louise had instructed, "No thanks. I'm with a friend who's..." With a zing, my nipples suddenly popped erect, thrusting through my blouse like flag poles with flags shouting, "She's gasping for sex".

The guy did a double take. I guess that, never before had his offers of drinks had such a response. His face broke into a grin from ear to ear, and he stuttered some words like, "He can't be much of a bloke if he lets a beautiful doll like you buy the drinks."

I was furiously trying to remember what Louise had said about the Bustlet - something about it being digitally controlled, and how the sensitivity could be turned up or down, and at the maximum setting, the tits were so sensitive, she could have an orgasm simply by a bloke breathing on them. The way this guy was leaning forward, I was about to have my first female orgasm! The problem was, I couldn't remember if she'd told me how to control my tits, or even if they simply had a mind of their own.

Inspiration came. "It's a girl I'm waiting for," I said. "I'm a lesbian, and I thought you were a woman dressed up as a man. That's why I got, er, so excited. I'm sorry if I misled you."

"Me?" The drunk looked down at himself, as though hoping I might be addressing someone else. "You thought I was a woman dressed as a man? Holy shit! I think I must have had too much to drink." In spite of his comment, he turned and downed the remains of his pint of lager, and asked the barman for a refill.

"Well done." Louise was standing at my elbow. "You managed him superbly." She eyed the bar counter. "Have you not got the drinks in yet?"

"No, I was..."

"That's OK," she magnanimously said, looking across the room for a suitable table. "Mine's an orange-juice and lemonade." And she left me at the bar whilst she walked over and sat at a table!

***

"Bloody hell," I said, as I carried over our two drinks to the table. "These breasts have a mind of their own. I only spoke a few words to a bloke, and my nipples suddenly turned as hard as pebbles."

"Don't be a prat," she said. "I told you that the sensitivity can be turned up or down. There's a little remote control to do it."

"Well, why did my nipples suddenly go..."

I broke off as Louise pulled out of her pocket a small remote control device, similar to those you'd have to control a ghetto-blaster or small hi-fi unit. She deliberately moved her thumb over the red button and held it there for a second, before slowly pressing it; my nipples, which over the last few minutes had returned to their normal size, suddenly shot our again to their previous excited state. I clasped a hand over each breast and could feel their granite-like hardness pushing against my palms, until I became aware that every bloke in the place was staring at me. I sat back in my chair and removed my hands. Let the stupid gits get a hard-on, just by looking at me. What did I care?

"But why did my nipples go erect when I spoke to that chap at the bar?" I asked, still confused at the way my newfound bits of body were behaving.

"Don't be stupid," she said. "I simply watched you walk over to the bar and waited until some bloke spoke to you before pressing the button."

"You did that to me!" I was flabbergasted. "But why?"

"Simply to test you out. I thought you'd take it all in your stride, and you did. So well done."

"You thought I'd handle it. But what would have happened if I'd been exposed as a..." I stopped just in time, before I was overheard.

She smiled. "I'd have nipped off home pretty smartish. What would you expect?"

***

Ten minutes later, I'd calmed down sufficiently to enjoy the joke on me. As Louise had said, I'd managed the situation perfectly, but I'd never have the courage on my own to have dared, had she not deliberately thrown me into it.

"By the way," I said, "there was no need for us to have come out, after all. You had a pack of condoms in your handbag, all along." I pulled out the box I'd discovered in Louise's handbag at the bar, as I'd been searching for money to pay for the drinks, and held it in front of her eyes.

"Oh, how stupid of me," she said.

"I see we have similar tastes," I continued. "These are exactly the same brand as the ones I was looking for in my bedroom."

Then I noticed something about the pack. "Hang on." I turned the pack over, a sudden sickening feeling in my heart. I pushed the pack towards her and said, "This IS the pack of condoms from my bedside cabinet. There's the stain where I spilt some tea over them. You stole these from the drawer whilst you were supposed to be in the toilet."

"That's right."

Her admission took my breath away. "That's right? What do you mean, that's right?"

"I agree that I used my trip to the toilet as an excuse to search your bedroom for your supply of condoms, and then hid them in my handbag. Strictly speaking, it wasn't stealing, as I was fully intending to give them back to you, but I think that's rather playing with words. So, your accusation is fully justified."

"But... but... Why?"

Another playful smile. "I could see how excited you were by my Bustlets, and had got to the point where you were curious about how they would feel. I guessed you'd be prepared to try them on in the safety of your flat, but I reckoned that in order to really get the ultimate enjoyment from them, you'd need to be seen in public. So, I carried out a simple trick. I admit it was wrong, but don't try to tell me you're not delighted that I did it."

Her words brought me to my senses, and I had to agree; the elation I'd been feeling since leaving the flat had been like nothing I'd ever experienced before. I was on a high, which I never wanted to end. I also had to agree that, of my own volition, I would never have had the courage to do it. I slowly nodded as the thoughts sank in, and then I was grinning at her, and then laughing.

"Shhh," she said. "That's a most unladylike laugh."

And then the real truth hit me so hard between the eyes that my laughter was cut off in mid-stream. I stared at her, and she stared back at me, uncompromisingly.

"You already had a blackmail hold over Geoff. So why did you get me to agree to give up my role as Reggie? You didn't need to offer him my part."

She returned a straight bat. "It was useful to have some flexibility."

"At BRATS this evening, when we were in the middle of the argument about who'd suggested Melons, I looked across at you to see whose side you were on. But you were looking as though you'd been struck by a thunderbolt."

She gave no response, simply waited to hear my next words.

"The reason was that Jane's comment had left you totally speechless."

Still, she didn't respond, so I continued. "Jane said that I'd suggested the play and facetiously added that I could take the part of Melanie. Now I started arguing about who'd originally suggested the play, but you'd recognised the more important phrase - that I should take the part of Melanie!"

I'd delivered the last sentence with all the ritual that might accompany the accusation of murder in a dénouement, but Louise's reaction was completely flat. "Absolutely right."

"You admit it?"

"Of course." She paused a moment before explaining. "When Melons was first suggested, I believed there was only one person present who had the acting ability to play the part of Melanie - me - and I simply couldn't do it for the reason we've already discussed. Therefore, I poured scorn on the whole idea, as I didn't want to have to justify my reasons. But tonight, Jane unwittingly opened my eyes to the fact that someone else had the skills to take the part. You, Charles, could play the part of Melanie. It's undoubtedly the biggest challenge you will ever have taken. I'm now the Director, so I can offer you the part. Do you want it?"

"It's not as simple as that, is it?" I ignored her question. "For one thing, have you noticed that whilst the top of me may resemble a well-shaped woman, there's something that sticks out at the bottom that is definitely not woman-shaped? Because if you haven't noticed it, I'm certain the audience will when Melanie prances about naked on the stage. For another reason, there'd be exactly the same problem with me playing the part wearing Bustlets, as if you'd played it."

"Look." Louise was suddenly in her domineering mood. "I admit that I've been deceiving you in order to get you this far, but now you have to make the decision for yourself. I'm convinced you have the capabilities to play this exceptionally challenging role; everyone in this club is convinced you're a sexy woman; you deal with tricky situations as naturally as any other woman would; and you are unbelievably excited by the whole idea.

"If you really want to play it," she continued, "we can get round all the problems. For example, I know that the shop which supplies me with the Bustlets, also produces certain discrete products for men which give them the total appearance of a woman. As for the other issue, the situation is very different to my playing the part. Lots of people know my secret - only I know yours. We keep the whole charade top secret. We could tell everyone, in BRATS and elsewhere, that your sister is filling in the part of Melanie." She let the thought sink in before continuing. "But first of all, you need to decide whether or not you want to play the most challenging role you've ever been offered. So, what's the answer?"

I didn't have to think - indeed, it was probably better if I didn't. "I'll do it."

"I've got you two so-called girls sussed." The voice of my drunken friend from the bar came from over my right shoulder, and Louise's eyes stared up in alarm at him, as he continued. "Your friend is really a bloke dressed up as a woman - Transylvanians, they call them. Now I'm going to give him a punch - that'll teach him a lesson, coming in here dressed like this."

I abruptly slid sideways off my chair to the left, trying to get out of punching range, before I turned and crouched behind the table. He stood, his clenched fist waving in the air towards Louise. I don't think he really would have hit her, but suddenly, a bouncer appeared behind him, and in a flash, the assailant was in a half-Nelson arm-lock, and being dragged towards the door.

When he was almost at the door, he shouted out, "I should have noticed straightaway she wasn't a woman - she hadn't got any tits. Not like you, love," he looked directly at me, "I could tell you was a nice girl."

***

"I'm not going to have sex with you."

How did I know Louise was going to say that?

After receiving apologies from the management about the disturbance, and vouchers for free drinks the next time we visited, we walked briskly back towards my flat. Neither of us spoke as we walked. It might have been the proximity to violence that kept us quiet, but in my case anyway, it was more that I was getting to terms with the commitment I had just made. I was taking a hell of a risk to my personal integrity, and even to the success of my own business, which could fail if people discovered the truth.

"Because you want to keep our relationship professional," I replied, acknowledging that I too had reluctantly been coming to the same conclusion.

"Do you mind?"

I considered. I should have been more frustrated, but the sexual excitement I'd felt that evening was like nothing I'd experienced before and, if I was not mistaken, I'd be getting considerable quantities of the same thing for several weeks to come.

"I think you're right, but what are you going to do right now? Do you want to sleep on my settee?"

"I'll come in for a few minutes so we can sort out our plans for tomorrow, but then I'll drive home. My car's only round the corner."

"Do you think that's wise? You must have had a lot to drink tonight. You don't want to get stopped by the police."

"I know you kept topping up my wine glass every time you emptied yours," she said, "but I reckon I've only had about one glass of wine, in total."

"But we finished two complete bottles," I said. "And what about the stuff that Geoff gave you at his house?"

"You drank almost the whole of those two bottles - I only had just the one glass. As for Geoff's wine, I told you, it was revolting. As he kept feeding it to me, so I emptied it into the tub of that Swiss-Cheese plant he has in his lounge. I'd guess it will be dead by tomorrow."

"It appears to be quite a hardy plant," I said. "I always empty my drinks into that same plant tub." But something was definitely not quite right. "Hang on! You were pissed as a newt when you came round here this evening."

"Was I? I really don't think so."

Shit! Shit! Shit! Never trust an actor, a woman, or an estate agent. And never, never, never trust someone who's all three.

Well-Stuffed Melons - Part 2 of 8
by Charlotte Dickles

SYNOPSIS

Just who was it who'd suggested the title for the next performance of the amateur dramatic group? Because when the lead actress drops out, it leaves a vacancy for a big-busted woman to prance naked on the stage, which nobody wants to fill. Fortunately, being a lead actress is not all work and no play.

The complete story has been serialised into eight parts which will be published at approximately daily intervals.

Author's Note: This story is a light-hearted, cross-dressing romp and contains various adult elements including adultery, heterosexual and homosexual acts, and humour. If reading about such themes is illegal or not to your taste, then please do not do it, or don't come moaning to me about it afterwards! It was first published on Fictionmania several years ago, and has now been modified. The first part, which sets the scene, is far longer than the other seven.

CHAPTER FIVE - I GET PROPERLY STUFFED

Next day, Louise took me to the shop in Seacombe, appropriately named Big Busts, which had supplied her Bustlet and she bought me my own Bustlet. It gave me breasts even larger than hers - incredible DDs. I was over the moon with them for a while, until my shoulders and back began to ache and only then did I appreciate what big busted women really had to go through - apart from all the offers of great sex, that is.

Louise also got me something called a Hiplet, which was a bit like a long-legged, flesh coloured control brief, with two exceptions: firstly, rather than slimming my hips, bum and outer thighs, the brief added several inches to them - essential, Louise told me, in order to get a woman's bottom-heavy shape and avoid looking top heavy. More importantly, the gusset fastened between the legs, and there was a pocket on the inside for my genitals to fit into. Louise then reached through my legs from behind and yanked the whole thing backwards.

"Ow!"

"Don't be such a baby," Louise said with a big grin on her face.

"If I was a baby," I said, "it wouldn't have hurt."

"Since you're able to joke about it," she said, "it's clearly not hurting too much."

When I thought about it, I realised she was right. There'd been a moment's discomfort and then it had been fine. I looked down and gasped. To all intents and purposes, it looked as if I had a hairy pussy.

"Most of Big Busts Hiplets have shaven pussies," Louise explained, "but I rather think Bramcombe is not quite ready to see that on the stage, don't you?"

I was dying to have a play with my new pussy, so when Louise suggested I wasn't quite ready to go on girlie shopping expedition, and that I should go and wait in the car and she'd go and get me some clothes I didn't disagree.

***

When we got back to my flat, Louise showed me what she had bought, including a whole selection of bras for me to try on to get the best fit. With a woman of my size, it appeared the most important aspect of a bra was not to show off the breasts to their best advantage, but to minimise their impact. My breasts were pulled around to the sides of my body, rather than being pushed out of the front. In compensation, they certainly relieved the pressure off the weight on my shoulders.

"For the next few days, I want to simply get you used to being a woman," she said, "so I've bought a few clothes just to get you going. They should make you look pretty inconspicuous - in fact just like an ordinary woman, who we can introduce to the others in the group tonight as your sister, and who can carry on your business during the day."

"You mean you want me to stay in character all the time? Is that really necessary?"

She smiled, tolerantly. "Of course, Charlotte."

(I smirked at the name she'd decided upon for my sister.)

"It's going to take you ages to get into character. You can't simply pop your clothes on and off, and expect to be convincing. We have to tell the others that your brother, Charles, has had to go away, but you're standing in for him. And you have to be a woman for the next eight weeks. Surely, you realised that when you accepted the role, last night?"

I didn't even bother to protest that last night I'd been drunk. For in reality, I knew two things: Firstly, that she was absolutely right. I couldn't expect to walk into the role of a convincing woman without working incredibly hard to get into the part. Secondly, I was aching to do exactly as she suggested - to live the life of a woman for two months.

The only problem was, I hadn't been able to masturbate in the car, and afterwards, when Louise left me in the privacy of my own flat, I couldn't do it there, either. With the sensitivity turned right up, it was simply too uncomfortable, and when I turned it lower, I could frig myself all day without reaching a climax. Clearly, it was something I was going to have to practice hard at.

***

"Hello Jane - Helen - Alan. Can you gather around." As our new Director, Louise had taken immediate control as soon as she and I had walked into the rehearsal room that evening - unlike Alan, who had always waited until everyone was present and had time to have a little chat about all the unexciting things they'd been doing since they last met.

"First of all, I'd like you to meet Charlotte, who is Charles's twin sister." Jane, Helen and Alan gave me friendly smiles, although in Alan's case it was more of an unbelieving leer as he stared at my protruding breasts.

"Alan, if your tongue hangs out any further it will touch the ground. Now say hello nicely."

"Please call me Charlie," I added with a smile.

They all came over, shook hands and we exchanged a few trivial words.

"Right, I'd just like to fill you in about what's happened since we met yesterday. The really great news is that I've managed to persuade Carol and Geoff to return to our midst."

"Well done, Louise," from Jane and Helen, and "How the hell did you manage that?" from Alan, whilst I looked as though it didn't mean very much to me.

"I think you'd almost convinced them, Alan, but they just needed a bit more persuasion," Louise said.

Not for the first time, I really appreciated Louise's style. She could so easily have taken all the credit. Instead, she was willing to share it for the sake of group harmony.

"They're going to turn up in a few minutes time," she continued. "I told them I'd sort out the casting issues before they arrived."

There was a sudden stiffening by Jane and Alan, no doubt preparing themselves for another bitter row.

"Don't worry, I think we've got a satisfactory solution, mainly due to Charles thinking about his sister," she inclined her head towards me, "who has accepted the unique opportunity of playing the role of Melanie."

There was a gasp from the others.

"Actually," I said with a quick smile, "Charles threatened to break both my legs if I didn't, but the result is the same. I agreed to do it."

"Great!" "Fantastic!" (I suspected Alan's "Fantastic!" was driven more by the size of my tits than anything else - the dirty bleeder!)

"The downside of that," Louise continued, "is that Charles has agreed to go to London to look after his sister's business for the next eight weeks, whilst she's helping us here."

A smirk spread over Alan's face, as I guess he realised there'd be no one keeping a brotherly eye on Charlotte, but Jane, the little bitch, said with an evil smile at me, "Well, that's no great loss then, is it? We wouldn't be in this pickle today if he hadn't messed up."

"That's not fair, Jane," Louise cut in before I could blow my top, "especially in front of Charles's sister. However, I'm really pleased that you feel it's no great loss, because it actually leaves us a man short. As we discussed on Saturday, Geoff is taking on Reggie's role, so Alan, now that you're not directing, I want to give you the more demanding part of Steve. Helen, you'll continue with Rebecca and Jane, with your skills, I'm sure you could take the role of Phil."

There was a moment's shocked silence, and then Jane said, "You want me to play a male part?" Another long period of silence, and then, "Wow!"

"Is that OK with you?"

"OK?" Jane was almost at a loss for words. "Why it's one hell of a fantastic challenge!" She pulled herself up square, thrust out her chest, lifted her shoulders, and pushed them backwards, letting her arms dangle as though they were heavy with muscle. "Now if you girls have finished discussing your hairstyles," her voice came out harsh, loud and aggressive, "can we fucking get on with things?"

There was a spontaneous round of applause, joined in by Geoff and Carol who had come through the door as Jane was speaking. Then we all went round shaking the hands of Geoff and Carol, and welcoming them back to the group, or in my case, introducing myself. When I came face to face with Geoff, he took one look at me, and his eyes opened wide, but not as wide as his mouth.

Shit! I thought, he's sussed me. "I'm Charlie," I said. "Charles's sister."

"Hello Charlie," he said, his eyeballs staring mesmerised at my chest. "Charles has certainly been keeping you a secret. I can't think why." When he stopped speaking, his tongue was left hanging out so far, I thought he might try to lick my nipples. Dirty little bastard! All he was interested in was my tits.

"I'm a bit concerned about appearing fucking naked," Jane spoke to Louise in her loud, male voice, which carried above everyone else's, and we all turned towards her. "I may have fucking small tits, but they're hardly packed with fucking muscle, and I think most of the audience might notice my fucking prick's missing."

"I've been thinking about that," Louise replied, "and I think I may have come up with a solution. There's a shop I've heard of in Seacombe. They manufacture realistic looking body-parts exactly for this kind of role. I think we should give them a try."

I almost let my mouth gape open. Hell, Louise was playing unbelievably close to the wind. She and I were wearing Bustlets, which no one else knew about; now Jane was going to get a Tarzan chest and dick from the same suppliers.

"Do you think that's wise," I asked. "Isn't there some restriction about how the final scene is played?" I left it vague - I didn't want to appear too knowledgeable.

Louise smiled. "I've been checking the wording of the restrictions on the final scene. It actually states that the pricks and balls of the three male characters, and the breasts and cunts - Bill Baker never minced his words - of the four female characters must not be concealed. Phil's prick and balls may not physically be part of Jane's anatomy, but they'll certainly be on full display. And I do think what we're doing here is fully in agreement with Bill Baker's intentions. Don't you agree Charlie?"

It was a debatable point, and I wasn't a lawyer.

"Well I don't." Helen was cross, standing up straight and pushing out her pointed tits to their full extent. "I think we're taking a terrible risk. We'll get an injunction placed on us, and then we'll be in real trouble."

"Well why don't I check with Bill Baker's agents?" Louise was not to be shifted. "Sound them out and see what they think."

There was a general murmuring of assent, although personally I thought it was better to keep the agents totally ignorant. Later, I found out that Louise felt exactly the same way and hadn't the slightest intention of alerting them to our performance!

***

So our rehearsals got underway. With so much time wasted to date, we agreed we had to work at it like mad, spending several hours every day privately learning our lines, and then meeting four times a week initially. Later, we would meet every day.

"Charlie," Carol said as we were preparing to depart at the end of our first session. "I feel I need a little more work on my part, and you probably feel the same. Why don't you come round tomorrow afternoon and we'll work at it together. And I'll cook a meal for the three of us, for when Geoff gets home."

"Well," I said, turning a face to desperately seek support from Louise, "Louise was suggesting that I go round to her place for personal tuition." The last thing I needed at this stage in my new life was to be in a one-to-one situation with a woman.

"That's OK, Charlie," Louise said with a smile (the bitch!). "I can't make it tomorrow, anyway. You two get some work in by yourselves. I'm sure it will be beneficial for you both."

Well-Stuffed Melons - Part 3 of 8
by Charlotte Dickles

SYNOPSIS

Just who was it who'd suggested the title for the next performance of the amateur dramatic group? Because when the lead actress drops out, it leaves a vacancy for a big-busted woman to prance naked on the stage, which nobody wants to fill. Fortunately, being a lead actress is not all work and no play.

The complete story has been serialised into eight parts which will be published at approximately daily intervals.

Author's Note: This story is a light-hearted, cross-dressing romp and contains various adult elements including adultery, heterosexual and homosexual acts, and humour. If reading about such themes is illegal or not to your taste, then please do not do it, or don't come moaning to me about it afterwards! It was first published on Fictionmania several years ago, and has now been modified. The first part, which sets the scene, is far longer than the other seven.

CHAPTER SIX - CAROL LIKES STUFFING

"Hello Charlie."

"Hi Carol." I handed over a bottle of wine I'd extracted from my cellar. "I brought this to go with the meal."

"Oh, you shouldn't have. Come in."

When we were in the lounge, Carol turned to me and hesitated slightly, opened her mouth as though to speak and then closed it again. Finally, she said, "The thing is... well... this is a bit embarrassing."

"Oh-oh," I thought, "she's seen through me."

Carol finally plucked up her courage to speak. "The thing is, Charlie, you can't fool me. I mean, it doesn't give me a problem at all. In fact, I think it's great - just what we need for this performance."

I shrugged, indicating it was a fair cop. "What was it gave me away? The way I moved... or spoke... or what?"

Carol thought for a moment and then shook her head. "No, it wasn't any of those things. It was the way you looked daggers at Geoff and Alan... No, actually, it wasn't even how you looked at those two. I mean, the way they were leering at you, yours was quite a normal reaction. No, it was the way you looked at us four women - seeing us as..." she smiled, "...sex objects. I could sense you clocking me, wondering what I was like, naked." Another smile. "I rather liked that."

"Well, thanks for telling me, Carol. Louise knows, of course, but the others don't have to know, do they?"

She shook her head. "Of course not, although some of them will almost certainly work it out for themselves. I wouldn't have mentioned it, but I thought about how useful it would be for me."

"Useful? For you?"

Carol looked embarrassed. "Well, yes. You know, because of my part. I thought you might give me some advice - some of your... experience."

I was totally lost. "How, exactly?"

"Well, you've read through the script, haven't you?"

I nodded.

"Well... my part... I'm a lesbian."

I was still lost. What on earth was she talking about? Perhaps a bit of sarcasm might spur her into being more specific. "You want me to give you some advice about being a lesbian?"

"Yes. Of course." Another nervous smile. "I mean, I haven't really taken a lot of interest in exactly what it is you do to each other, so I thought... And well, with deeply personal things, it's easier talking to someone I've only just met than a close friend. I thought you could show me a few moves and I'd then know what to do on the stage. Obviously, Louise and I won't be having full-blown lesbian sex on the stage, but if I knew what I was pretending to do, it would be..."

And on she nervously twittered for another five minutes whilst I gathered together my thoughts. She believed I was a lesbian - in other words, a FEMALE! Hell! That was a compliment to my acting abilities.

She wanted ME to give HER advice about what lesbians do to each other! Hell! That was a challenge.

On the other hand, I knew the things a man could do to a woman to satisfy her, and only a few of those involved the use of a cock.

But wouldn't that be taking terrible advantage of my secret role? I thought for a moment. In this disguise, I hadn't even been able to masturbate for two days and it was starting to feel like it. Bloody hell, taking advantage of Carol was just what I needed at the moment!

I took a deep breath. "You said you liked it," I interrupted her wittering, "when you thought I was wondering what you were like naked."

That shut her up. She nodded, shyly, embarrassed.

"Well Carol, you were absolutely right. I was visualising you naked. Have you been doing the same? About me, that is."

She blushed, and looked downwards.

"Because, Carol, there's a very simple way for us to find out what we are each like when we're naked."

"Look, I'm not a lesbian," she explained. "It's just professional interest. I want to play my part as well as I can."

"Then you must experience it, Carol." I stood before her, staring into her eyes. "Undo the buttons on my blouse, Carol, and then you'll be able to see for yourself what my body's like."

She nervously lifted her hands to the highest button on my blouse that was fastened, and they were shaking as she undid it, exposing the deep valley of my cleavage. God, I felt incredibly horny, and I hadn't even done anything with my remote control.

"Now the next button, Carol."

Her hands weren't shaking this time, but moved with rather more haste; I didn't have to tell her to undo the others; she moved down my blouse, her hands becoming more and more frantic as she pulled my blouse open and pushed it off my shoulders. I kept my arms straight, so that it slid straight down to the floor.

Carol paused then, staring mesmerised at my tits contained within my large bra. It gave me time to reach for my handbag from the side-table where I'd left it as I came in. I surreptitiously slipped out the remote control and placed it on the table next to my bag.

"You can undo my bra, now, Carol."

She stepped closer so that her tits pushed against mine (mmmm, that felt good), and reached underneath my arms and around behind my back, and released my bra. Then she stepped back, pulling the bra with it, and I let it fall down my arms and onto the floor.

Still she stared at my breasts, firmer than any woman of my size could expect to have. Without moving the rest of my body and breaking the spell it had on her, I reached sideways and touched the remote on the table, feeling my way across the buttons to the spot where I knew the red button would be.

Zing! Out those nipples popped, turning from slight, pink undulations into beautiful, protruding, purple rosebuds. Even I felt incredibly stimulated, and I knew they were false. I didn't have to tell Carol what to do. She lifted her hands to cup both breasts, letting the thumbs play with my nipples.

I'd currently got the sensitivity of the Bustlets at their lowest setting, as I'd found it quite distracting walking around all day, feeling my breasts jiggling about inside my blouse. Now I desperately needed to feel Carol's hands on them. My fingers flipped over the buttons on the remote, trying to work out which was the right button. In the end, I had to guess. As I stabbed at the button, the remote slid sideways and fell behind the table.

But it had done the trick. I could feel Carol's breath on my breasts, although since that hadn't caused me to orgasm, as Louise had indicated it might, I assumed I wasn't on maximum sensitivity. Still, as Carol rolled my nipples between finger and thumb, I gasped - in pain or pleasure, I wasn't quite sure.

"Sorry, I'm behaving just like Geoff does. Is this better?" She moved her mouth down to my left nipple and her tongue flicked out and gave me a long, slow stroke.

"O-o-o-h-h-h!" There was no question that was absolutely unadulterated pleasure.

She sucked my nipple inside her mouth continuing to work it with her tongue.

"Oh Jesus!" I was getting so horny, but there wasn't a trace of an erection. Definitely very weird!

"My turn." I took her head between my hands and lifted it away from my breasts, until I could kiss her full on the lips, and then slip my tongue inside her, and play with her tongue. And whilst we played like that, my hands slipped down her blouse undoing the buttons as they went, and then pushing the blouse off her shoulders in just the same way she had done to me. Her bra was hitting the floor seconds later, and then we broke off the kiss.

"Oh God, Charlie! I've only had five minutes as a lesbian and already it's a thousand times better than any man has ever given me."

"That's what it's all about, Carol; sex which is far better than any you'll ever get with a man."

I pushed her slightly away from me so that I could look at her properly. Geoff had been far less than complimentary about Carol's sagging breasts. OK, they weren't as perfect as my own, but then hers were real and mine weren't. They certainly looked pretty good to me. And it was my turn to go to work on her.

I sank my mouth to her breasts, and gave her the slow licks that had been driving me wild seconds before. She started to gasp under my administration, and already I was releasing the waistband and zip on her skirt and letting it drop to the floor. She had on stockings and suspender belt, but no panties. I pushed her backwards onto her settee, spread her legs and put my mouth to their join - recently shaved, I noted with approval. Tiny licks to each of side of her opening, making her gasp with excitement, slowly, very, very slowly working towards her most precious of points.

It probably took me five or ten minutes to reach it, but then I only had to give her clitoris one stroke of my tongue before she started to orgasm, with an intensity I had rarely achieved with a woman before. I guessed that in the past, I had been too intent on quickly proceeding to the next stage in our coupling, to spend those extra minutes that were really needed to so completely pleasure her. The downside was that, with my new genitals in place, I suspected I wouldn't be reaching the same level of enjoyment that I normally enjoyed as a man. In which case, I reasoned there was really no reason to bring her orgasm to a conclusion.

Her orgasm went on for ages, and it really was a pleasure serving her. Finally, I let her come down from her peak, and after a few minutes more, she was able to prop herself up from her reclining position, and look at me with the widest grin on her face I could possibly have imagined.

"Thank you! Thank you! Oh, thank you Charlie. That was wonderful!"

She reached forward to kiss me, her tongue slipping inside my mouth this time, tasting her own juices.

"But you silly woman," she muttered between the kisses. "You've introduced me to all the pleasures of lesbian sex, without letting me learn how to pleasure you. Now, I think it's your turn." She slid off the settee pushing me backwards onto the carpet, and she ended up astride me.

She lowered her face to me, her tongue protruding, and we kissed some more, playfully, before she raised herself and swivelled her body right round, so she was kneeling on my shoulders, her pussy above my face, and lowering herself towards my lower half, whilst conveniently placing her pussy within licking distance of my tongue.

"Just say if I'm not going about it right, won't you?"

How she expected me to speak when her pussy was wrapped around my mouth was a mystery, but then it didn't really matter. After all, with my genitals pasted away somewhere, without a trace of an erection, there was no chance of me being pleasured. Still I had to go through the motions.

"Ah!" I gasped.

"I've haven't touched you yet."

Ooops! I thought I'd better wait a bit until I was certain she was applying her tongue.

"A-a-h-h!" Hell! I could feel her tongue on me now. A kind of hesitant stroke, along the left side of my... well, I really wasn't quite certain.

"O-o-h-h!" Now her tongue was stroking the right side of that same part.

"A-a-a-g-g-g-h-h-h!" Jesus! I didn't know which part of me her tongue was touching now, but it was incredibly sensitive.

"Oh, I think I might have reached the nice bit," she said, and she pressed her tongue against it again, and kind of wriggled it about.

Woosh! In an instant, I was bucking upwards in an orgasm that was so intense that I thought I might explode. She clung on, and her tongue worked against me some more. In desperation, I drove my tongue against her clitoris and suddenly the two of us were into an orgasm that was like no joint orgasm I'd ever had before. Orgasms last for twenty seconds. Ours went on and on and on - minute after wonderful minute of wonderful orgasmic fucking, and not a prick in sight!

At the end of it, we were bathed in sweat, looking at each other as only two mutually satisfied lovers can. Almost without speaking, we picked each other up and went upstairs to the bathroom, stripped off the rest of our clothes and stepped into the shower. And started our next round of wonderful lesbian sex!

Well-Stuffed Melons - Part 4 of 8
by Charlotte Dickles

SYNOPSIS

Just who was it who'd suggested the title for the next performance of the amateur dramatic group? Because when the lead actress drops out, it leaves a vacancy for a big-busted woman to prance naked on the stage, which nobody wants to fill. Fortunately, being a lead actress is not all work and no play.

The complete story has been serialised into eight parts which will be published at approximately daily intervals.

Author's Note: This story is a light-hearted, cross-dressing romp and contains various adult elements including adultery, heterosexual and homosexual acts, and humour. If reading about such themes is illegal or not to your taste, then please do not do it, or don't come moaning to me about it afterwards! It was first published on Fictionmania several years ago, and has now been modified. The first part, which sets the scene, is far longer than the other seven.

CHAPTER SEVEN - GEOFF STUFFS ME

"You know, you can't fool me, Charlie."

Carol and I had spent a fantastic afternoon together, and she'd even made time to throw some ingredients into a pan to create a great meal for the three of us, when Geoff came home at six-thirty. Geoff had not been particularly happy about opening my wine rather than drinking his home made piss, but Carol had put it on ice so it was difficult for him to refuse. And we'd drunk the bottle over the course of a really nice meal, with Carol sitting on my right side, her hand frequently sneaking under the table and up my skirt, stroking my inner thighs, whilst Geoff sat opposite, and stared at my breasts.

The problem was, I hadn't been able to find my remote control after I'd knocked it off the hall-table; my nipples were still protruding like rosebuds, and they were still incredibly sensitive. I wasn't quite certain what sensitivity setting they were on, but I guessed it must be a seven or eight. Which meant that every time I moved, they felt great, and the way that Geoff was aroused by them, made me feel even better - almost randy, I thought to myself.

"Hang on girl," I said to myself, "you do not want to have sex with a bloke." But every joggle of my breasts sent feelings through me that contradicted that. I wanted more sex!

After Geoff had offered to run me home, and had gone to get his car-keys, I'd had a surreptitious look for the remote behind the hall-table but couldn't see it, and then Carol had come through to give me a parting kiss.

"I'm sorry about Geoff staring at you like that," she said. "It's a real pain whenever he meets a woman with largish breasts for the first time. He was just the same with Louise. When she came to us for Christmas, I suggested she gave him a breast-job to get it all out the way. Worked fine. After that, he hardly gave her a second glance."

"You mean," I said, rather incredulously, "you didn't mind Geoff and Louise..."

She smiled. "Men get these fixations," she said. "The longer it goes on, the more pressure builds up. The best thing is to simply release the safety valve, and the problem's solved. You could try it with Geoff if you think he's a real pain. I shan't mind."

Geoff then came into the hallway, having found his keys and we left, without my remote. I decided I'd ring up Carol the following day, and ask if she could look for it. And so, we were in the car when Geoff had turned round to me and told me I couldn't fool him. After the way he'd stared at me over dinner, I was not quite so ready to believe I'd been discovered as I had been with Carol. So, my answer was more cautious.

"Why's that Geoff?"

"This act you have, trying to make out you're a lesbian, so that I won't be attracted to you. I can see straight through it. The way you kept wriggling and gasping at the dinner table, I could see that you were incredibly excited by the way I was looking at you."

If only he'd known what his wife's hand had been doing to cause my wriggling and gasping.

"Even now, I can see how aroused you are by the way your nipples are poking through your clothes."

There was no denying that. In this warm weather, I hadn't even got a coat that I could pull around me to hide my thumb-sized nipples.

"Anyway, there's no lesbian alive that can resist proper sex with a man, when she's offered the chance." He smirked at me. "And I'm offering you a chance."

I was in a quandary. Two days ago, I'd been a heterosexual bloke - not homophobic, but I always made quite certain that my sexuality was never in question. This afternoon, I'd had lesbian sex with Carol, and even after all that, I was still feeling incredibly randy. I guessed that since my recent orgasms had not discharged any semen, I was still sexed-up like a bitch on heat; the way my nipples and breasts were continually arousing me was making my position so much worse. But having sex with Geoff? There are limits, and not even many women would want to go that far.

The thought hit me like a sledgehammer. Having sex with Geoff is exactly what I'd be doing on the stage, now he was playing the part of Reggie, and I the part of Melanie! Holy Shit! Of course, I reasoned, that was exactly why Carol had decided to have lesbian sex with Charlotte, so that she knew how to play the part on the stage. Well, I was nothing if not professional. If I had to gird my loins and go through the motions of sex with Geoff on stage, then I had to go through the real thing in advance.

"You can come in for a coffee when we get to Charles's place," I said, "and don't assume that means anything more than coffee." Of course not!

***

We never got anywhere near the coffee pot. His hands were all over my breasts as soon as we got through the door, and it just felt so good that my blouse and bra were off within thirty seconds, and he was licking and sucking my nipples. Bliss!

I reached for his trousers and could feel his prick pushing against my hands as I pulled the zip down, unfastened the belt and then pulled down trousers and underpants so that his prick came rearing up to meet me. I knelt down in front of it so I could look at it carefully. This was the first prick I'd been in close contact with (apart from mine) since the school showers. To be honest, it wasn't as frightening as I'd imagined: actually quite a bit smaller than my own, I thought, with not a little pride.

I cupped one of his balls in my hand and - yes, I could hardly believe I was doing it - stuck out my tongue and ran it along his shaft, from testicle to hood, and then licked all around the rim. From the noises Geoff started to make, I thought he might be about to instantly ejaculate, which would have defeated my objective, so I pulled him down to the carpet, and he pushed me backwards and quickly moved between my legs.

Three wonderful licks on each nipple, and I was anyone's! I didn't even make the pretence of stopping him as he moved up my body and positioned himself for the thrust into me, although I did wonder whether he would notice anything unusual about my vagina.

His dick was so pleasantly small, I barely felt him slip inside me and then he was ramming it home, thrusting with a mad passion that I found quite erotic, especially as it caused my breasts to wobble like jellies, sending further shivers around my body. Then his prick touched my spot!

"A-a-a-w-w-w!" I bucked like a mad bronco, and Geoff had to cling on to avoid getting thrown. But then he was thrusting again against my spot, and again, and I could feel my climax starting to build, and build, and... and his prick slipped out. Damn!

I hurriedly reached down to help him shove it back in as quickly as he could, but he was already on his knees, pulling up his trousers and standing up. "That was bloody good, Melanie. You are one, hot sex-bomb, and I told you I'd give you a fantastic orgasm. I'd better get back to Carol now, or she might suspect I've been gone too long. See you."

The door slammed before I could even beg him to use his tongue to bring me off, and I was left hopelessly trying to find that same spot that Carol and Geoff had located with such effect to give such fantastic joy in the one case, and endless frustration in the other. But my spot was as elusive then as it had been the previous evening.

Well-Stuffed Melons - Part 5 of 8
by Charlotte Dickles

SYNOPSIS

Just who was it who'd suggested the title for the next performance of the amateur dramatic group? Because when the lead actress drops out, it leaves a vacancy for a big-busted woman to prance naked on the stage, which nobody wants to fill. Fortunately, being a lead actress is not all work and no play.

The complete story has been serialised into eight parts which will be published at approximately daily intervals.

Author's Note: This story is a light-hearted, cross-dressing romp and contains various adult elements including adultery, heterosexual and homosexual acts, and humour. If reading about such themes is illegal or not to your taste, then please do not do it, or don't come moaning to me about it afterwards! It was first published on Fictionmania several years ago, and has now been modified. The first part, which sets the scene, is far longer than the other seven.

CHAPTER EIGHT - HELEN LOVES STUFFING

"You really don't fool me at all, Charlie," Helen said.

This time it was Helen who had invited me to her place, following our next rehearsal. Again, Louise had failed to rescue me from the situation, but by now, I was at least feeling a bit more confident about myself. And I was also feeling incredibly randy.

The previous evening after Geoff had left, I'd again totally failed to find my magic spot and bring myself to sweet orgasm. And when I'd telephoned Carol the next morning, asking her to look for the remote control to my "stereo", she'd spent several minutes on her hands and knees looking behind the hall table and underneath a dresser, but had failed to find it. "You must have left it somewhere else," she suggested.

I knew I'd have to go over there myself and search properly, but she was setting off to work shortly, and in the meantime, my breasts and nipples gave me a wonderful fluttering feeling every time I moved, almost, but not quite leading to orgasm.

Did I say a WONDERFUL fluttering feeling? All day long I had to run Charles's photocopy shop, moving here and there, reaching up to shelves and down below the counter, twisting and turning, and with every jog of my breasts, my body screamed, "Sex".

It wasn't even as though business was slack and I could keep reasonably still. Business started off normal enough, but then started to pick up about mid-morning, and became incredibly busy in the afternoon. The blokes I'd normally see once in a blue moon and have a quick chat with, all seemed to come in that day and want to talk for ages, whilst staring at my breasts, with the nipples protruding through my blouse.

And that made me feel even more randy! Now I'd always made it a rule not to mix business with pleasure. Sure, in my past life, there'd been plenty of good-looking girls coming in from adjacent offices with print jobs, but I'd figured that when relationships go wrong, as they always did with me, then it was that piece of business down the drain. If that happened with many clients, I'd soon be bankrupt. Was the position different, I caught myself wondering, now that I was a woman rather than a man? I didn't know the answer, but caution made me keep my legs closed for the time-being.

So I was feeling pretty frustrated when the time came for our evening rehearsals, and rather hoping that they would be promptly followed by something to relieve the day's frustrations. Consequently, when Helen of the conical tits had suggested I come back to her place for a coffee after rehearsal, I'd really have preferred it had been Alan who had made the suggestion. It was, after all, he who had first gasped at my boobs, and who was probably more than willing to assist in my search for a bloody great orgasm. However, I also knew that girl talk inevitably leads to showing each other clothes and trying them on, and a peep at Helen's pointed tits was something I'd wanted to do for ages.

Just as when Geoff had said virtually the same thing, I was rather circumspect about my reply. "How do you mean, Helen, I don't fool you?"

She smiled, a little secretive smile, and I had a dreadful moment of self-doubt. "You know, I don't think you even fool yourself."

I tried my best to look puzzled, then I returned her smile, and said, "You'll have to give me more of a clue, Helen. I haven't a clue what you're talking about."

"OK then." There was a real smirk on her face, now. "Your breasts are obviously false, right?"

Oh-oh! Somehow, I managed to keep the smile on my face and in my eyes, and nodded. "Sure. Lots of women have false breasts like mine."

"But why do they have false breasts, Charlie, and why is it different for you?"

Still I kept my smile, my mind frantically seeking an answer. "Well, I don't know how I'm different from the others, because I guess we all have our breasts enlarged to attract men."

"Exactly." A smile from Helen as though I'd given away my best kept secret. "So why is it different for you?"

"Tell me."

"Because you are not really interested in men. Oh, you may claim you are, but that's simply your upbringing - playing Mummy and Daddy with dolls as a little girl, and being told that someday you'll meet your Mr Right. It's all rubbish. You don't really want a man, do you?"

I tried not to release a huge sigh of relief. Instead, I said, "Well, I'm just a normal kind of girl."

"Of course you're a normal girl. I didn't say that. But it was obvious as soon as I first met you that you're attracted to women more than you're attracted to men."

"Well, I don't really know why you think that..."

"You'd like to see my breasts, wouldn't you?"

I gulped. "Well, you are a very attractive woman, Helen, and obviously I'm interested in..." I struggled for an instant and then it came to me, "...what type of bra you wear to give you such attractive breasts."

"You think I have attractive breasts?"

"Of course."

"Even though they are so much smaller than yours?"

"Yes."

"Well that just proves it, doesn't it?"

"Proves what?"

"That you desire women more than men. You see, even though you had your breast so obscenely enlarged - and I hope you don't mind if I call them obscene, but that's what they are - you are really attracted to my much smaller breasts. Agreed?"

"Helen, I'm getting hopelessly confused about this, but yes, I can say I think your breasts look very attractive."

"You'd better pull off my top, then, hadn't you, if you want to properly look at them."

Just as Carol had done with me the day before, I removed Helen's top and stared at her breasts, almost totally concealed behind her conical bra. It reminded me of that one worn by Jane Fonda in Barbarella.

"You'd better take off my bra now, so you can see them properly."

I didn't have to be told twice. I mimicked Carol's actions of the day before, the bra dropping to the floor.

"I thought you wanted to look at my bra, Charlie."

"Er... oh, yes, it's just that..."

"You find my breasts more attractive to look at."

"Yes." To be honest, I was more than a little disappointed that with the removal of her bra, Helen's tits had reverted to the normal, rounded shape of most breasts. I had really thought that with them being permanently held in the conical bra, they would be trained to retain that shape. Almost without thinking, I stretched my hand forward to test their level of softness. I had barely run my finger over an inch of her breast before her nipple went erect. Nothing like mine, of course, but there was no doubt that Helen was incredibly switched on.

"Well, you know what turns a girl on, don't you? Oh..."

Her words died off as I bent my head forward and ran a tongue over her left nipple.

"Oh, that's so nice, Charlie. So much nicer than any man could do it. Oh..."

I switched my mouth to her right nipple.

"Oh Jesus," she murmured, "I thought I'd have to coerce you to get you to this point. I didn't realise you've obviously been with a woman before. Silly me, but it was the way you'd had your breasts done that fooled me."

I pulled my top over my head and let Helen stare for a few seconds at my breasts restrained by my minimiser bra.

"Gosh. I've never seen breasts that size before. Presumably they're not very sensitive, are they... Oh my God!"

The latter as I'd undone the clasp on my bra and let it fall to the ground. My breasts, unfettered by the bra swung from almost underneath my armpits to softly collide with each other at the centre, sending a delightful shudder all over. My nipples, poking out towards her, demanded her attention - and got it!

I pulled her head down towards them, and the very first slick of her tongue sent the feelings of sweetness through me that I hadn't experienced since I'd left Carol.

"Oh my God!" It was me exclaiming to heaven, now, as I pulled Helen's head away from my one nipple and fed it the other. Just one suck sent me into my first orgasm - not a huge orgasm, simply a foretaste of what was to come.

"I just never realised," Helen said, when I'd sufficiently recovered to pay attention to her, "that having your breast enlarged would improve their sensitivity. They weren't that sensitive before, were they?"

I shook my head. "No, before I had these breasts, they had just normal sensitivity. It's only now that they've become so incredibly sensitive. But I think it's time, Helen, that I gave you more attention." I reached for the waistband of her jeans.

Well-Stuffed Melons - Part 6 of 8
by Charlotte Dickles

SYNOPSIS

Just who was it who'd suggested the title for the next performance of the amateur dramatic group? Because when the lead actress drops out, it leaves a vacancy for a big-busted woman to prance naked on the stage, which nobody wants to fill. Fortunately, being a lead actress is not all work and no play.

The complete story has been serialised into eight parts which will be published at approximately daily intervals.

Author's Note: This story is a light-hearted, cross-dressing romp and contains various adult elements including adultery, heterosexual and homosexual acts, and humour. If reading about such themes is illegal or not to your taste, then please do not do it, or don't come moaning to me about it afterwards! It was first published on Fictionmania several years ago, and has now been modified. The first part, which sets the scene, is far longer than the other seven.

CHAPTER NINE - ALAN STUFFS ME

"You don't fool me, Charlie."

It was quite remarkable that I'd known Alan through BRATS for years, yet it was only the previous evening at rehearsals that I'd noticed that he had a tremendous bulge in his trousers. Not just any old bulge at the join of the "Y", the kind most blokes have. No this was like a piece of drainpipe, hanging almost down to his knee. When I'd first noticed it, I'd gasped in amazement, which I'd had to quickly turn into a cough, as people turned to see what had startled me.

This evening, I'd barely been able to keep my eyes off it. Alan noticed my attention, of course, and had asked me back to his place for coffee. Well, what he'd actually said was, "You for coffee?" in the way that sounds like, "You fuck off, eh?"

I smiled at him and said, "Oh, yes please," making it quite clear I understood his innuendo. Now, here he was telling me I didn't fool him. Where had I heard that before?

So, I gave him a non-committal, "How do you mean, Alan?"

"Well, you know, the reason why Charles suddenly disappeared and Charlie magically appeared."

Christ! Had he really worked out that we were one and the same. It sounded like it. "I still don't understand, Alan."

"Well, why was Charles prepared to give up the lead male role, in order to let Charlie have the lead female role?"

"You'd better tell me." I realised my voice had a sharp edge to it. Perhaps I'd over-reacted.

He realised he was on sensitive ground and cleared his throat nervously, almost started to speak and then stopped himself, obviously trying to find the right words. Eventually, he said in a kindly voice, "I believe it was because Charles cares greatly for you, Charlotte, and he realised you weren't meeting the men you so obviously need to. So he did this swap, giving you the opportunity to get to know blokes like myself."

Blimey, he'd fallen for it hook, line and sinker, and not only that, he'd also given Charles some personal kudos, which I could hardly complain about. I realised I'd underestimated Alan all these years; I'd never particularly taken to him in the past, but now I could see what an excellent guy he was. In fact, I thought, I might shower him with one of my favours, especially as that pipe down his leg appeared to be getting thicker and harder!

I gave him a warm smile now, challenging. "So what makes you think I want to meet lots of men?"

His nervousness had disappeared now, as he realised he'd said the right thing. "Well, perhaps, not lots of men. Perhaps you only need to meet the right man, under the right circumstances. And I'm that man, and these are the right circumstances."

"Ph-e-e-w-w! You're a smoothy talker."

"Yep. I also kiss well."

How did he manage to suddenly get so close that he was holding me around the waist, and pulling me towards him, and how come I couldn't stop my lips from meeting his, and his tongue from pushing between my teeth, and playing with my tongue, and his chest pushing against my tits. I gave a little wriggle and felt something deliciously hard strengthen alongside my inner thigh.

But then he was wriggling some more, almost doubling up in discomfort. I realised straightaway what his problem must be. I knew from personal experience that a suddenly erect penis can be uncomfortable for someone of Charles stature, but at least a bit of wriggling will sooner or later allow it to charge upwards. There was no way that the pipe down Alan's trouser leg was going to be able to do that of its own accord. It needed a little help, and fortunately, I was on hand to assist.

I dropped to my knees, briefly feeling his hardness through his trouser leg, before releasing his belt and zip fly, and pulling his trousers and underpants down over that enormous monster that suddenly sprung upwards towards my face.

It's strange that only a week before, the idea of handling another male's equipment would have appeared absolutely obscene. But now, with my new female genitalia, it seemed the most natural thing in the world. It was the most wonderful introduction to the male organ that any woman could have. (I conveniently ignored Geoff's intervention, the day before yesterday.)

It wasn't disgustingly thick, like you see some of them on the internet (not that I looked at those kind of pictures, of course), but was thin enough for my finger and thumb to touch as they wrapped around it. But what it lacked in diameter, it more than made up for in length. It was long enough for me to hold it in two hands, one above the other without touching, and still leave plenty of space around his rim so that I could stare at it from all directions. The head was a wonderful purple colour, and I could see it throbbing, and feel its heat radiating against my cheeks, even before I let my face come in contact with it.

But I really couldn't delay that event too long. I smiled up at Alan, and he smiled back, knowing the inevitability of what was about to happen. As I continued to stare I let my tongue slowly protrude through my lips, and then I was moving my head forward so the very tip of my tongue could play on the underside of his glans.

He gasped, and then gasped some more as I let my tongue drag down the length of his shaft, until I could flick at his balls. Then I was sliding it up again, and as I reached the very tip, I moved my head forward some more, so I could put my lips over the top of his cock and slide them down around the head.

It was quite obvious right from the start that even the most experienced cock-sucker - and, other than being on the receiving end, I certainly had no expertise in that direction - was going to have real problems in getting major quantities of that beast inside their mouth. However, as a first attempt I was quite proud of my achievement. I managed to get the whole of the knob inside, before I almost gagged. Fortunately, I managed to pull my mouth away before I instinctively clenched my teeth together with such a snap I would certainly have bitten off that wonderful cock if it had still been there.

Alan was bending down towards me, and our tongues were playing together as he pulled up my top, and then tried to do the same with bra. But what worked on the more flimsy type of bra that he was obviously used to, was totally ineffective on the heavy-duty model that I had to use to support my mammoth mammaries. I reached up behind me and released the catch, and slid my arms out of the straps.

We broke off our kiss so that Alan could go down on my tits. Absolute bliss! Thirty seconds later, I was having the first of the mini-orgasms that came when my nipples were given such considerate attention. But already, I could feel Alan was not one for spending hours on foreplay. He'd produced a condom from somewhere. I was going to tell him that it wasn't needed, but then thought better of it. After all, a normal woman would hardly tell him that, would she?

In seconds he'd slid it over his prick and then he pushed me backwards onto the carpet, and I could feel his erection pressing, firstly against my navel, then my stomach, and then I could feel it against the inside of my thighs. I lost touch with it as he lifted and spread my knees, but not for long! I could feel it nuzzling against my opening, and then he was sliding it inside. Bliss!

"Oh!"

"What's the matter?"

"I wasn't prepared for your pussy to be so short. I can barely get anything inside you."

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's just that..."

He silenced me with a kiss. "It doesn't matter, Charlie. There are other ways just as good."

He grasped me by the ankles and spread my legs wide, at the same time moving forward until it was really quite uncomfortable. His prick had slipped out of my pussy, and I could feel it nuzzling between my legs.

"Er... what do you think you're doing...E-e-e-r-r-r-r!" I wasn't certain whether it was a word or a gasp for air that escaped my lips as that monster slid up my arse. No, monster was the wrong word. A monster would have been painful and unpleasant. But his prick was so narrow that after the initial discomfort as he went inside, the feeling was more... exquisite! Absolutely, fantastically exquisite!

I gasped again, unable to say anything. Alan was being incredibly kind and considerate. He didn't try to push the whole length inside me, which would probably have been enough to force it out of my mouth. No, he simply gave me a few inches to start with, smooth action, which felt divine inside me.

"Jesus!" the thought had suddenly hit me that he was inside ME; not just an artificial vagina - he had his prick right up my arse and it was the most wonderful feeling I'd had since... since...

Well, since Helen had used her tongue on my spot last night, to be honest. OK, sex is always great, and I wasn't trying to knock Alan at all, after the unselfish way he was prepared to use any port in a storm. But although being arse fucked by Alan was exquisite, it really was not a patch upon the fantastic feelings I got from my artificial vagina. The wonders of modern science!

But what sex with Alan lacked in sensation, was more than made up for by Alan's enthusiasm. He kept telling me how wonderful I was, and how he'd fallen in love with me the first time he'd seen me, and I was the prettiest thing in the whole world.

Pretty soon, his soft words went right to my head, and I had the first of several super orgasms over the course of the next few hours, for no sooner had I finished one, than Alan was turning me over, and attacking my arse from another direction, and then another, and another.

I would rue that the next day, for not only were my breasts and nipples still screaming sex with every joggle they received (I still hadn't been able to get around to Carol's house to search for my remote control!), my internal organs screamed "Murder!" with every movement around the photocopy shop. Needless to say, business had been building up day by day, with every dickhead in the area coming in to ogle my boobs and chat me up, so I was in a right state by the time I got to rehearsals that evening.

Well-Stuffed Melons - Part 7 of 8
by Charlotte Dickles

SYNOPSIS

Just who was it who'd suggested the title for the next performance of the amateur dramatic group? Because when the lead actress drops out, it leaves a vacancy for a big-busted woman to prance naked on the stage, which nobody wants to fill. Fortunately, being a lead actress is not all work and no play.

The complete story has been serialised into eight parts which will be published at approximately daily intervals.

Author's Note: This story is a light-hearted, cross-dressing romp and contains various adult elements including adultery, heterosexual and homosexual acts, and humour. If reading about such themes is illegal or not to your taste, then please do not do it, or don't come moaning to me about it afterwards! It was first published on Fictionmania several years ago, and has now been modified. The first part, which sets the scene, is far longer than the other seven.

CHAPTER TEN - JANE HAS EXTRA STUFFING

"Come in, Charlie." Jane led the way into her house, a rather boring looking semi-detached house. "It's fucking good of you to come back with me like this, and help me with my part. I suppose you've guessed what I fucking need you for."

I nodded. Well, it didn't take too much imagination, bearing in mind that Jane was going to have to play the part of a male, Phil, who would have sex with Rebecca. Jane presumably wanted to practice on a willing female who, judging from the size of her breasts, presumably had some considerable experience at being on the receiving end. At least, her first words had not been that, "I hadn't fooled her".

"Of course, you didn't fucking fool me for a second, you know?"

This was getting boring. "In what way, Jane?"

I was already thinking up a score of evasive answers - hell, I'd had enough experience so far - before she smiled and said, "Oh, come on, Charles. I don't have to fucking spell it out, do I?"

Even then, I kept my cool. "Sorry, Jane. You're getting my name confused."

She looked at me as though I'd just tried to slip her a Euro instead of a one-pound coin. "Do you think I'm absolutely fucking stupid, or what?"

"What?"

"Charles, it was absolutely fucking obvious it was you under that wig, right from that first Sunday evening. I don't deny the tits and cunt are fucking fantastic. I felt the same when they gave me my hairy chest and prick. But I couldn't believe that anyone who knew you could be fucking taken in by it."

I'd thought from the start that discovery was inevitable, but when it came, I could hardly believe it. "But... how did you know?"

"How did I fucking know? Well, for a start, you were introduced as Charles's twin fucking sister. Clearly, you couldn't be identical twins since everybody knows that identical twins are identical in every fucking respect, including sex; non-identical twins are as dissimilar as any brother and sister. So it didn't matter that you were twin sisters, there was only one fucking chance in hell that you would be so similar to each other.

"Perhaps more important, you still continued to fucking letch after us women, whilst almost turning up your nose at the male opportunities. And if you were a fucking lesbian, why would you have had your breasts enlarged to such fucking preposterous proportions?

"No, I'm sorry, Charles. I could see through you, right from the start. That's why I made that facetious comment about you. I thought you'd see it as a joke, and we'd all have a fucking laugh about it. But then Louise took my comment absolutely seriously and deadpanned her answer. I thought I'd better fucking shut up and see what the others said. What fucking amazed me was that almost everyone else was totally fucking taken in. I couldn't believe it. It just shows how easy it is for confidence tricksters to get away with fucking ridiculous things, doesn't it?"

"Well I thought I was pretty realistic, actually," I modestly responded, ignoring all those frantic feelings about being recognised that I'd lived in terror of for several days. "Hang on."

Something she had said struck me as strange. "What do you mean, ALMOST everyone else was taken in? They all were, apart from Louise, and she helped me..." My words stuttered to an end, since Jane was slowly shaking her head from side to side. My mind did a quick review of the experiences I'd had with each of them since then. "Well, who then?"

She smiled at me. "Why, Alan, of course. He and I looked at each other on that first night and he kind of mouthed at me, "Wow!" or something like that. But I think all the others..."

"Alan?" I interrupted her. "Alan doesn't suspect a thing. Why last night..." My words died on my lips, a terrible suspicion looming.

"Oh dear," Jane said. "Did Alan not tell you he knew who you really were?"

I shook my head. "Why?"

"Well..." she struggled to put it diplomatically, "... you obviously know that Alan's a fucking poofter, don't you?"

"Alan? Poof... Gay! That's absolutely ridiculous. Of course, he's not gay. Why he said he'd fallen in love with me... Oh shit!"

"Alan's always had a fucking thing about you, Charles. That's why he kept on coming to BRATS. We all thought you knew he was a fucking arse-bandit, and that you were simply being grown-up about it - that there was no need to warn you. We never realised you were so incredibly fucking naíve." She hesitated some more, before adding, "I take it Alan wasn't quite honest with you about his sexuality last night."

I shook my head, and said very crossly, "No!"

For a few seconds I was indignant, then the hypocrisy of my indignation struck me and I couldn't help a grin from spreading over my face. "Alan arse-fucked me for about four hours solid, and I thought that he thought he was doing it to a woman." A little snigger escaped my lips. "It's actually really funny, you know. I didn't mind when I thought I was tricking Alan into having sex with a man pretending to be a woman. But now I realise, he was using my deceit to get his own ends away."

Jane also had a huge smile on her face as she said, "You might say you were fucked by your own petard."

Her comment was enough to send us both into a fit of laughter, which lasted for several minutes. When we'd finally brought it back under control, Jane asked, "Did you fucking enjoy it?"

I nodded. "It was fine," I said. "But what I'd really like to find is a man with a hairy chest and a nice cock, who knows precisely what a girl wants, and wants to give it to her."

Jane drew herself up. "If I'm reading you right," she said, "you need me to fuck your arse off."

"Let's just say," I responded. "I need you to fuck another part of my anatomy."

***

Sex with Jane was great. There was no deceit on either side, and it appeared that her penis had been made to be just the right size to fill me to perfection - those Big Busts people think of everything. Obviously, I was able to give her lots of tips about the best way for a man to make love to a woman - but then I found I was totally revising all it, once I was on the receiving end of my advice.

The really nice thing about Jane's cock was that it didn't go all floppy after she'd ejaculated. She'd fill my pussy with about a gallon of semen (well, it was Greek yoghurt actually, and perhaps quite a bit short of a gallon), she'd pull it out so I could lick it clean, and then she'd be shoving it back inside to repeat the whole operation over again - and again - and again.

I never got home that night. In fact, next morning I barely got back to the flat in time to have a quick shower, find some clothes to put on for the shop, and open it a mere ten minutes late. I decided to close the shop for lunch, since Jane came over and we had another great bonking session then.

We had another good session before rehearsals, and it wasn't long before we were being considered an item, although how the members of the cast who weren't in on our secret rationalised that, we weren't certain!

Well-Stuffed Melons - Part 8 of 8
by Charlotte Dickles

SYNOPSIS

Just who was it who'd suggested the title for the next performance of the amateur dramatic group? Because when the lead actress drops out, it leaves a vacancy for a big-busted woman to prance naked on the stage, which nobody wants to fill. Fortunately, being a lead actress is not all work and no play.

The complete story has been serialised into eight parts which will be published at approximately daily intervals.

Author's Note: This story is a light-hearted, cross-dressing romp and contains various adult elements including adultery, heterosexual and homosexual acts, and humour. If reading about such themes is illegal or not to your taste, then please do not do it, or don't come moaning to me about it afterwards! It was first published on Fictionmania several years ago, and has now been modified. The first part, which sets the scene, is far longer than the other seven.

CHAPTER ELEVEN - STUFF AND NONSENSE!

"Of course," Melanie (that's me) declares in a simpering voice, "I would love to come back to your house, Rebecca, and work for you as housekeeper. I'm just so delighted that you didn't think anything was going on between Reggie and me, and that you can trust us together."

(OK, I never said it was a great play, only an extremely popular one.)

Rebecca smiled back at me, enigmatically (or that's what the script said, anyway - Helen's smile was more sardonic). She thrust her pointed tits towards me (she was back in clothes, again, whereas I was still wearing my "curtain"). "I'm certain you're extremely good with Reggie, in all senses of the word. But this will allow me to get on with my other interests." Rebecca smiled at Steve and Phil, then switched her gaze back to me, looked me up and down and said, "And you really must give me the name of your dressmaker."

Lights and Curtain.

"M-o-r-e!" "Y-e-e-e-s-s-s!" "M-o-r-e!"

Rapturous applause from the audience, whilst we hurriedly prepare to come on to the stage one-by-one, to receive our credits. As leading character, I naturally appear last, and the audience went absolutely wild when they saw I was still wearing my imaginary curtain.

I strode up to the front and took a deep bow, then moved back to hold hands with Reggie on my right and Phil on my left. We swept forward as a group to take a bow, and then my imaginary curtain fell off, and I tried to make a grab for it, but the other two wouldn't release my hands and I had to carry on naked as we walked backwards to the rear of the stage. I had my elbows bent in to try to hide my breasts, and my legs crossed to hide my pussy.

The audience went ballistic, rising to their feet as one, shouting and stamping and clapping. We swept forward again, and this time I managed to get my hands released, pick up my curtain from where I'd dropped it, wrap it around my torso and quickly secure it under my arm. But as we swept back again, hand in hand, I realised my right breast was protruding though the join. And so the frolics continued for at least another ten minutes, until finally the cheering started to die down, and the curtains closed for the final time.

We all turned and hugged and kissed each other, and I couldn't help noticing that Geoff gave my tit a nice squeeze as we did so. I didn't mind, and I don't think Jane did either, for she gave me a great big wink.

***

Most of the others had departed, and Jane had just gone to the toilet, leaving me with Geoff, who was shutting everything down, and locking up. I had slipped on my kimono, and loosely fastened a knot in the belt at the waist. Since Geoff and every other member of the cast had seen every inch of my body for several weeks on end, I didn't feel at all self-conscious that the garment was open to the waist, and barely concealed my nipples. I had my coat over my arm ready for when we left, since I didn't think the other residents of Bramcombe would be so understanding.

"What's that?" I asked him, nodding towards the black box he held in his hand.

"This?" He held the remote up in the air and pointed towards one of the banks of floodlights still illuminating the stage. "It's the remote we use to control the auto-effects."

He pressed a button on the remote, and simultaneously the floodlights were extinguished, my nipples collapsed, and my breasts felt totally lifeless, as though they'd been given an enormous dose of anaesthetic.

"In the old days," he continued, "we used to have a man in a booth at the rear controlling the lights, but now we have all the systems linked up to computer-controlled sensors, and we simply have to cue events by using the remote.

"It's funny," he went on, "but I thought I'd lost this remote and I'd have to order another one from the suppliers. Then it turned up at home that day when you came round. It must have been behind that hall table since the day we finished The Merchant."

He pointed the remote at another bank of floodlights, as he added, "Why do you ask?"

As he pressed the button, my nipples went "Zing!" and stood out like cherries, then he pressed another button and my breasts came back to life with a vengeance, just as he was turning back to face me.

"Bugger me!" Geoff was staring transfixed at my protruding rosebuds. He gave whistle of admiration, and I felt his breath on my breasts. Deep inside me, something stirred; something that was totally unexpected.

"U-g-g-h!" I gasped. "I think I'm going to have an orgasm."

"Fucking Hell!" he said and then, as my breath started to come in great big gulps, he gave a great big "Phew!"

Again, I felt his breath running over the front of my boobs and tickling my nipples, and that deep feeling inside me was taking over my whole body.

"Oh my God," I gasped, then "Oh yes! Yes! Oh God! YES! Y-E-E-E-S-S-S!"

"Why you fucking dirty bleeder," Jane said to Geoff. "Can't I trust you for a second?"

She threw a punch at him, and caught him right under the chin. As he fell backwards, his arms flew out and the remote sailed up in the air, and out over the auditorium. Still only partway through my orgasm, I didn't notice Geoff landing flat on his back, totally unconscious, as the limited concentration I had was fixed on the remote which I thought might just land on the second row of seats.

It missed, hit the concrete walkway and smashed into a dozen parts.

"Wow, that's fucked it," Jane said, and I could feel her breath tickling against my breasts, and something stirring again, deep inside. She glanced down at me and whistled, just as Geoff had done a minute before. "You're looking fucking horny."

"Oh Jesus!" I said. "It's starting again."

I grabbed her shoulders for support, and started to moan, "Oh God! Oh God! Oh..." And then I could feel Jane's wet tongue on my breast, tracing a delicate path towards my nipple, and I was in absolute paradise.