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!