The discovery of what appears to be a sex doll whilst Bill and Lucy help their friend Gemma to move into her new house provides a weekend of fun and games for all three of them

 

Author's Note: Warning contains humour and sex and is not to be taken too seriously. Don't read it if such things upset you. All people, places and events are fictitious.

A Decade of Big Busts Stories - No 8 - Just a Dusty, Old Suitcase
by Charlotte Dickles

"There's a sex-doll in that case you found in the loft!" Gemma yelled from the bedroom.

"What! No way!" my sister Lucy shouted back from the kitchen. "Let me see."

I, too, was irresistibly drawn from the lounge, where I'd been removing books from a large box and stacking them on the bookshelves. I followed Lucy up the stairs and into the bedroom, where Gemma had been unpacking a large, dusty, old suitcase.

I had found it earlier that morning in the loft, left behind by the previous occupants of the house into which Gemma was moving. She had pulled several items of women's clothing out of the suitcase and spread them over the bed, including a couple of dresses which I recognised as late 1970s Laura Ashley - the age when I had first become aware of the opposite sex! There were also a number of frilly white items, the kind of stuff which had always sent a thrill down my spine.

But still lying in the base of the suitcase was the object Gemma was referring to: it looked a bit like an empty diver's wetsuit, and about as sexy. Very dark-brown-skinned, almost ebony, with protruding dark-brown lips, but with holes where the eyes should be, it lay limply in the bottom of the case, as though it had been there for a long, long time.

Which it probably had, I guessed. Elderly Mrs Lawrence's had lived in this house for at least the last nine years - the period Lucy had been her next-door neighbour - and she had been a widow when Lucy moved in. Presumably, this suitcase had been left in the loft since the time when her husband was alive and active; probably for almost thirty years, judging from the dresses.

Now that Gemma, Lucy's friend from work, was moving in, Lucy and I had been roped in to give a hand. Well, that's to say that Lucy had volunteered my services, more because she hoped that Gemma and I might become good friends than because it was a particularly large job.
M
Several times on that Saturday morning, I had cursed Lucy. I know she meant well, and it certainly wasn't the first time that she had found potential female friends for me, her only brother, since my marriage had split up two years ago. But Gemma was totally out of my league.

Lucy had invited me for supper on Tuesday, without telling me that Gemma was also invited, following her appointment to inspect the house to rent next door. I guessed Gemma must be about thirty, compared with the big 4 - 0 that I'd just reached, and our age was probably the closest thing we had in common! She had a slim figure with tits so small she had no need to wear a bra - a fact quite apparent from the blouse unbuttoned virtually to the waist. She looked incredibly sexy in her flared miniskirt - and dirty with it!

I reckoned she was the kind of girl that most of the blokes in her office would queue up to screw the arse off; and once she had finished with one, she would go on to the next in the queue, and spit all the bits out afterwards! And Lucy thought she and I would make a nice twosome! It had been inevitable that at the end of the meal, Lucy offered our help with the move, and even more inevitable that Lucy's fat slob of a husband, George, had something more important to do.

So the three of us had toiled all morning, emptying the rear of the small van Gemma had hired for the occasion, carrying the large boxes along the road from the nearest place she could park and into the house, and then helping to unpack them. An ideal way to spend a Saturday! You can imagine how pleased I was to take the opportunity of a break from that toil, even if it was only to gloat over a thirty-year-old sex-doll.

But I was even more pleased when after a few seconds in which Lucy and Gemma prodded and pulled the doll without even letting me get a look in, Gemma said, "Hey, look at the time. It's midday. Time to christen the flat. I, er, 'borrowed' a bottle of champagne from work and it's cooling in the fridge. Bill, can you help me open the bottle, and Lucy, why don't you bring the doll down to the kitchen, so we can inspect it at our leisure?"

I was more than happy to oblige. Lucy and Gemma worked at a publicity agents, where they consumed bottles of champagne like other companies use bottled water, so it was not unusual for bottles to 'go astray' and end up at Lucy's house. Gemma, it appeared, had a similar habit. We spent a few minutes in the kitchen opening the champagne, pouring it into the glasses - incidentally spilling some of it in the process - and then drinking Gemma's health in her new home.

"It's not a sex-doll at all," Lucy said. She'd been closely examining it whilst Gemma and I had been seeing to the more important issue of serving alcohol. "See," she held up the doll's face for inspection, "there are holes where the eyes should be and the mouth is open. There's no way you could inflate this, or fill it with water."

It surprised me that my little sister knew what one did with a sex-doll, but before I could tease her about it, she continued. "And there's a zip to open it right up, underneath the bust line." Without a trace of embarrassment, she lifted a heavy breast with huge chocolate brown aureole, and protruding charcoal-black nipple, and showed the zipper opening, stretching from side to side of the torso.

"Wow, that's weird," Gemma said. "What is it?"

"I think it's a kind of body-suit which Mrs Lawrence wore to disguise herself as a West-Indian woman," Lucy said. "I know she used to work for Social Services. It may have been a way in which she could more easily gain the confidence of some of her coloured clients."

I'd heard of some outlandish things, but that sounded ridiculous. Gemma obviously felt the same, since she looked at me, I returned her stare with a wry smile, and then we both turned to grin at Lucy.

"Well why not?" she said. "That's obviously what it's for. You think of a better idea."

"Are you sure?" Gemma asked. "It still looks like a sex-doll to me."

Lucy eyes sparkled, annoyed that her idea had been challenged. "I'll soon show you," she said. "I'll go and put it on." She dashed out of the room, the bodysuit flung over her arm.

"I'd give it a good wash before you do," Gemma called after her. "You don't know where it's been."

Which of course, left me alone with Gemma. Would she immediately rip off my clothes and rape me? I should be so lucky. I topped up our empty glasses, and tried to think up something original and witty to say.

"She's a great girl, isn't she?" Gemma said.

"Lucy? I suppose so. She's five years younger than me, but I guess we're probably closer than many brothers and sisters with that age difference. We shared a flat in London for many years until I got married, and then she came back to Seacombe and met and married George. When my marriage split up, I came to live with them for a few weeks. She helped me through a bad time."

"How does she put up with George?" Gemma continued. "He's a revolting pig."

I was saved having to answer her question - all the more difficult because of her perfect assessment of George - by Lucy choosing that moment to reappear, still wearing her original clothes.

"OK," she said. "You were partly right. I should have realised when I was down here that the amount of padding in the hips and bum was extreme. It would have given me a figure like a Sumo wrestler. In fact, I couldn't even get the suit on past my thighs. Then I discovered this tail, thing."

She held up the bodysuit so that its hairy, imitation pussy hung down between the legs, just like a short tail.

I was confused. "Sorry, Lucy. I still don't understand what it is. What has that tail got to do with it?"

She smiled at me. "It's quite simple," she said. "It's got a tube inside it, and then the whole thing pulls back and fastens between the legs, so it looks just like a woman's pussy."

"Right," I said, still not understanding.

She could sense my lack of comprehension. "OK, so work out what goes inside the tube before you pull it through?" she asked.

I shook my head, still mystified.

"A willy!" Gemma exclaimed. "A bloke's willy goes into the tube. The suit doesn't turn a white woman into a black woman. It turns a man into a black woman."

Lucy beamed. "Absolutely right. It's incredible, isn't it?" She pushed the suit over towards me. "Here you are then, Bill."

I looked down at it. "Why are you giving it to me?"

Lucy beamed back. "Because it's for changing a man into a woman, not a woman into a woman. That means that we need a man to try it on."

I pushed it back at her. "I'm not going to put it on."

"Oh come on," Gemma joined in. "It's only a bit of fun. Lucy was quite prepared to give it a go. Don't be a bad sport."

"Yeah, but..."

"There's only the three of us here," Lucy added. "No one else is going to know."

I paused. They were both laughing at my embarrassment. Lucy was right, of course. She hadn't hesitated about trying to get into it. Why should I?

"Promise you won't tell," I asked them, just like when Lucy and I were kids. They both nodded.

I stared at Lucy. "You won't mention it to George?"

"Oh come on. No way. It's just between the three of us. It's only for a joke. Here." She pushed the suit back at me. "Go to the bathroom and slip it on."

I shrugged, and took the suit. It was strange but it felt totally different from the way I'd imagined. I had guessed it was made of rubber, but it felt just like real skin ought to. As I carried it upstairs, a few experimental tugs revealed it was made from very stretchy material. From its age, I guessed it was some kind of thin Terylene.

I went into the bathroom and stripped naked, hanging my clothes over the edge of the bath. There was only one place to sit, so I put down the toilet seat and sat on it, then I held up the bodysuit in front of me. It still looked a bit like a diver's wet-suit, except that it had a built-in head with long, black hair, and gloves and feet complete with red-painted nails on fingers and toes. Lucy was right that a zip stretched across the body in a wavy line from one armpit to the other, following the curve of the side and underside of the breasts where they joined the body. Even when naked, the sag of the breasts would conceal the join from all but the closest inspection and any slight mark would be seen as the indentation left by a bra.

I flopped the part of the body above the zip backwards, so that the head, shoulders and breasts hung down the back, and slid first one leg, and then the other, into the legs of the bodysuit. I could understand now what Lucy had been talking about, for whilst most of the suit was made of extremely thin material, the outside of the thighs, from mid-thigh right up to the hips and around the bum had thick padding. After I'd got my feet located, I stood up and pulled the suit up to my waist. Peering behind me, I saw I had one hell of a shapely arse!

Even more obvious was that I had an enormous erection! The material felt extremely erotic against my skin, and in its current state, my prick was quite patently never going to bend backwards between my legs. However, the tail was hanging next to it, and I could feed my prick into the tube on the underside of the tail without problem - indeed, it felt just like inserting my prick into a smooth, juicy cunt. Had I known the task would be as pleasant as this, I certainly wouldn't have raised any objection with the girls.

"How are you going, in there?" Gemma's voice came from outside the bathroom door.

"I've partly got it on, but I think I'm going to have trouble going any further."

"Are you decent?"

Before I could say 'No', the door jerked open and all I could do was turn away in order to hide my erection pushing the tail up in the air so it pointed towards the ceiling.

"No problem," Gemma said, reaching between my legs from behind! Fucking hell! I knew she crushed blokes' nuts for a hobby, but I thought she might give me a bit of respect.

Her hand closed over the end of the tail that was left hanging down from the extremity of my prick, and then she was yanking it backwards between my legs.

"Oh, fuck! Shit! Stop it!" Incredible pain as my prick disappeared between my legs, followed by some very weird moments as I think my balls disappeared inside my body. All I could do was cling to the washbasin to stop myself writhing in agony on the floor.

"There," Gemma said, "that's fixed it." She gave the tail another tug, which was uncomfortable, rather than painful, and then she'd fastened it somewhere and I was released from her grip. "That wasn't too bad, was it? What do you think, Lucy?"

"Fantastic! That's incredible. Turn around Bill so we can see the new you."

I glanced down to check I was respectable, but really knowing that my prick would have totally disappeared; perhaps Gemma had wrenched it off and thrown it down the toilet!

"Wow!" "That is so realistic!" "Great!"

The girls were peering around either side of me to stare down at the spot where, just a minute ago, I'd had my enormous erection. Now, there was simply a bush of black hair at the point where my black legs joined my black torso.

"Right, let's pull it up to your shoulders," Gemma said, and between the two of them, they eased the suit up to the point where the back of it was touching my neck, with of course, the hood, arms and breasts hanging halfway down my back.

"I think we're going to have to experiment a bit," Lucy said. "We need to sort out whether the hood goes over your head first, or we slip your arms into the sleeves."

It took a bit of manoeuvring, and in the end, we found it was a combination of the two to get my head inside the hood with all the holes lining up with my own orifices. My ears came through small holes in the side of the hood, my hands were fully located inside the gloves at the end of the sleeves, and then the breasts were slung forward over my shoulders so they were hanging in their natural place. Lucy fiddled about underneath my breasts, and it was all a bit of a stretch, until she managed to pull the zipper closed and I carefully stood upright.

"There. What do you think?"

I looked in the mirror on the door of the bathroom cabinet. A black woman's face with long, black hair falling over pink ears, peered back at me.

"My ears are still pink," I protested.

"There were some little bottles in the suitcase," Gemma said. "I guess there'd be some kind of stain for your ears. They'd never be able to make the hood fit the complex shape of an ear so they'd have to do it that way. But what about the rest of your body." She said it with all the expectation of the mother proudly displaying a teenage daughter.

I glanced down. Gulp! A superb pair of tits were pushing from the front of my chest.

Now, I have always been a tit man. In fact, to be honest, I'm a big tit man. But although I have often chased after girls with big tits, I have to admit it has inevitably been fruitless, and never before had I been this close to such a magnificent pair.

"Well I think it's quite good that you're overweight," Lucy said, totally misreading the way I was gawking at my breasts. "It sort of balances out your overall size, and anyway, if you had a slim, beautiful body, people would probably look at you more critically, and notice your stance was not quite ladylike."

Something that Lucy has never appreciated when she's been setting me up for a girl friend is that I am a tit man. Gemma's flat chest was probably one of the reasons why I didn't find her particularly attractive.

"Mmm, you're probably right... Hang on," I interrupted myself. "No one is going to notice my stance, because no one is going to see me."

"Course not," Gemma said. "But in the meantime, let's get you dressed." Already, she was slipping one of those frilly, white garments from the suitcase around my waist and fastening the fixings down the front with a speed which quite astounded me.

"Hang on, who said I was going to get dressed." I was fumbling with the fastenings of the garment, trying to get them undone, but I couldn't seem to release even one. I felt something tightening around my rib cage. Too late, I realised she was drawing on the cords of a corset. "Look, I only said I'd try on the bodysuit for a bit of fun. I'm not putting on those clothes... U-u-g-g-h!" The latter as every bit of breath was squeezed out of me.

"It's alright," Gemma was saying. "I'm not going to draw it too tight."

"It's already too tight," I tried to say, but I had no breath in my lungs to object.

Two more gigantic squeezes, and Gemma was tying off the cords.

"I'll just put a couple of granny knots in this lot," she said. "We don't want the knots coming undone accidentally."

"Gemma, you are dreadful," Lucy came to my defence. What a wonderful sister! "Do you want me to help her slip into her stockings?"

"Help who slip into her stockings," I gasped.

"Why this big, black naked woman who we've discovered in Gemma's house," Lucy replied. "We'd better get her dressed before Bill returns."

The traitor! She was bending down in front of me and feeding my toes into a lacy, white stocking, and then drawing it up my leg. She clipped it to the suspenders attached to the corset. Seconds later, she had the other one in place.

"Slip your arms through here," Gemma commanded, holding a white bra in front of me. Without being able to properly breathe, I was too weak to do other than comply, and I did the same as Lucy fed my feet into white sandals and fastened them. Finally, Gemma made me step into one of the Laura Ashley dresses.

"There," Lucy declared. "You're complete, Billie."

"Billie?" I cried. "You've never called me Billie in my life."

"I never called my brother Billie," she agreed, "but Bill sounds so masculine, and I think that only very feminine women can get away with it. So, in your new role I'm going to call you Billie." She stared at my dismal face, and added, "Oh come on. This is only a bit of fun amongst the three of us. Cheer up."

"You didn't tell me you were going to force me into women's clothing," I complained.

"Oh Billie, you are making a fuss," Gemma said. "You agreed to put on the bodysuit. So why is it so much worse if you get dressed? Look, as a 21st century male you're probably not familiar with this fact, but did you know that champagne was developed specifically for people in your position?" From somewhere, she had produced the almost empty bottle of champagne and my glass, which she held in front of my nose.

I wrinkled my nose, focussing on the glass. Certainly, another glass of champagne would make me feel a lot better at this moment. "Developed for people in my position? What's that?"

"Well, in the early nineteenth century, when champagne was finally turning into the product as we know it today, it was discovered that the drink particularly suited tightly-corseted ladies. Apparently, the fact that it continues to bubble as it descends inside the closely contained rib-cage increases the absorption into the bloodstream, and the extra supply of blood to the brain intensifies the effect of the alcohol. In other words, when a woman is tightly-corseted, she will get totally squiffy on fairly small amounts of champagne, without any unpleasant after effects. Didn't you know that?"

Every now and again, you come across one of these fascinating facts of English, or in this case, French history. I found the story quite riveting. "Really? That's remarkable."

Gemma was smiling at me as she topped up my glass from the bottle. "I think you had better test this out for yourself."

Now I have to say that I am not a particularly keen champagne drinker. To be honest, I prefer a good beer anytime - or even a mediocre beer! But as I sank that glass of champagne with the corset compressing every inch of my torso, I realised she was completely right. I could feel the bubbles still bursting as they sank down my throat, and then come bubbling back up, making me give a large burp. And I did feel really great.

I giggled in embarrassment. "Sorry. Do you know, I think you must be right about that?" I pushed my empty glass towards her. "Perhaps I'd better test it some more."

Philosophically, Gemma upturned the bottle over my glass to show it was empty.

"Well, that's where we have a slight problem," Lucy broke in. "You see, I too 'borrowed' a bottle of champagne from work as a house-warming present for Gemma. But it's in the fridge in our house. I've also baked a quiche, and I've got some salad ready for lunch, but it means we'll have to go round there for it."

I wasn't quite certain why that posed a problem. I'd eaten at Lucy's house plenty of times in the past without difficulty.

"George is out at the pub with his football mates, and they'll watch a match on the pub TV all afternoon, so there's no chance that George will come back." Lucy paused, looking at me with concern.

That's when it hit me. She expected me to go round to her house for lunch dressed as I was! "I'd better change back into my own clothes, hadn't I?"

"Come on, Billie," Gemma said. "This is just for fun. Lucy has said that George won't be back for hours. Let's have a girls' lunch together. Besides, you properly want to test out whether wearing a corset really does make champagne go to your head, don't you? You won't be able to do that if you revert to your other self."

Another thought hit me. "I'll have to go into the street to get from this house to Lucy's."

Gemma gave me a quizzical look. "So what's the problem? Come on, take another glance in the mirror. We'll blacken up your ears, and in the few seconds it's going to take to go out this front door and walk to Lucy's, no one is going to detect you're a man. There probably won't even be anyone outside in the road to see you."

She was right of course. The road outside wasn't a busy thoroughfare. I could easily nip from the one door to the other without being seen. And wouldn't it be fun! The adrenaline surged through my body as I realised that was exactly what it would be. Hell! That was an exciting thought. "OK," I said.

***

Gemma went back to the old suitcase on the bed and rummaged through the contents in the bottom until she found the bottle of dye, which she handed to Lucy. "Here, you'll probably do this better than I will."

Lucy soaked the dye onto some cotton wool and then deftly dabbed it firstly around my left ear, and then my right.

Five minutes later, I was ready. We went downstairs and Lucy cautiously opened the front door and looked out. She turned back to look at me. "All clear," she said.

She stepped out and I followed, almost stumbling as my one-inch pointed heel twisted on the cobbled road. Gemma grabbed hold of me before I landed on my arse. A few seconds later, we'd reached the safety of Lucy's front door, and we were inside. Phew! That had been exciting. Little did I know what more was in store!

Lunch was really superb. Lucy got the second bottle of champagne out of the fridge, and we downed the first glass whilst we helped her lay the table. Over lunch, we talked about Gemma's new house and the work she wanted to do on it, the pros and cons of the area, and eventually our mutual excitement at finding the bodysuit, and me putting it on.

After a few minutes, Lucy summarised that last bit of our discussion with a startling statement. "You know, Billie, over lunch you've been the same kind of fun person, as my brother, Bill, used to be, fifteen years ago."

The honesty of that simple statement shook me. "What do you mean?"

Lucy looked thoughtful, reminiscing about an earlier life. "Oh when Bill and I we were in our twenties," she might have been speaking of someone else, "we shared a flat in London and he was just so much fun that he made life really exciting and enjoyable. Then he met a girl and got married, and I think that, quite early on, the marriage went wrong. Unfortunately, instead of splitting up straight away, they hung on together for years. Even after he'd got divorced, he was still so serious, and..."

"When I met Bill at your house for dinner," Gemma broke in, "he was a real, miserable, old bugger. And he was pretty grumpy this morning too. It's a good job Billie came to replace him." She gave me a quick smile, to take the sting out of her words.

Both Lucy and Gemma looked carefully at me, awaiting my reaction, and for an instant I was lost for words, it was all so true. But then I couldn't help a smile coming to my face and I said, "Well, it's a good job that miserable, old, bugger has gone away, and left me here instead."

Lucy and Gemma grinned back at me, and then we were laughing and pouring more champagne into our glasses and toasting Gemma's new house and Billie's new life. As I sank that toast, the truth suddenly hit me. It was Bill who was constrained by the miserable existence he'd had for the last ten years - not me. I was Billie, a big, fun loving, bloody attractive (at least by my standards, if not Lucy's), West Indian woman. I was so excited by the idea, I almost missed Lucy's next words.

"...so as it's Bill's birthday next week, I thought, Gemma, that you could give him the contents of that old suitcase you found today. I'm certain he'd find it really useful. Would that be alright?"

Gemma smiled. "Of course. I was wondering how to get rid of it, so if Bill would like it, I'd be more than happy to give it to him."

"The only problem is," Lucy continued, "that I simply can't bear to see Billie looking like this." She stared at me and then paused for a moment, deliberately teasing us, before continuing, "That dress is so passé, it beggars belief. Billie, let's go out this afternoon and I'll buy you a new dress for your birthday."

Gulp! "You mean, we go out like this? With me dressed... like this?"

Lucy nodded. "Mmm. Gemma will come with us, as well, won't you, and give us the benefit of your advice?"

"Of course. I'd love to."

"But... I mean, it's one thing to wear these things in the house, with just a quick dash between the two front doors... But I'd have to go into the shops..." (Billie would love that!) "...and try on clothes..." (and she'd love that, too) "... and talk to the assistants, and things."

"Talking isn't going to be a problem," Gemma said. "When I was rummaging through the junk at the bottom of the suitcase, I found these capsules." She produced a tattered, old box from the pocket of her jeans, and held it up for our inspection.

"What are they?" Lucy and I asked almost simultaneously.

"They're called Voice Changer capsules." Gemma read from the label on the box. "It says it will increase the pitch of your voice so any man will speak just like a woman. Hmm, it sounds a pretty wild claim. I wonder if they had the Trades Descriptions Act in those days." She read from the directions on the side of the box, "'Place a capsule on the top of the tongue and wait for a minute until it melts. Swallow the contents straight down the throat. Within minutes, you will have the sweet voice of a woman.'" She looked up at me. "Sounds exactly what you need."

I almost hesitated, but then I realised that hesitating was exactly what Bill would have done. He'd have procrastinated until he died of old age. I smiled at the pair of them, both looking rather anxiously at me, as though worried I might not go along with it.

"Well, pass one over," I said. "I can't swallow it from here."

Gemma extracted a capsule from the box and passed it to me. I slipped it in my mouth and held it on my tongue at the back of my mouth for a few seconds. Then it melted, and I swallowed. It was a bit like taking a gulp of a strong brandy - the fire that starts in the back of the throat and slowly sinks to your stomach. Except that this was more like a furnace of red-hot coals, which slowly, so, so slowly descended partway down my throat and then stopped, and there it got hotter and hotter and hotter. I gasped air in and out through my mouth, forcing it down my throat, trying to prevent it going into meltdown. Finally, the burning gradually subsided to a dull warmth.

"W-o-w!" I gasped. My voice sounded hoarse rather than sweet, as though my voice-box had been burnt away. "I t-h-i-n-k t-h-e p-i-l-l-s may have deteriorated over the..." I paused. My voice had changed as I uttered the sentence. OK, no way could it be described as sweet, but it was certainly higher in pitch, and had far less base to it.

"That's remarkable," Gemma said. "It sounds less... powerful, I guess. Talk some more."

I did so. "I was thinking that was incredibly stupid of me - to take tablets which must be twenty years old, have passed their use by date years ago, and even then, were probably obtained from some rather dubious source."

"Billie. You sound incredible!" Lucy said. "Nothing like your normal voice. The capsule really worked. But I was a bit surprised when you took it. Bill would never have done that."

It was really strange, I thought, that we were all - even me - talking about Bill as though he was somewhere else. And why not? He certainly wasn't here. I put my thought into words.

"Well, Bill's not here, Lucy. I am. Now, do you really think I can dare to go to the shops with you?"

They both looked at me, hardly believing my words. "Absolutely no problem," Lucy said.

"You just need one addition to make you complete," Gemma said. "A nice, large, pair of gold-hoop earrings, and I just happen to have brought a pair with me from my house."

She held her hand open in front of me; the two hoops were so large they almost covered the palm of her hand. "I didn't know whether you would want to try them. What do you think; do you want to give them a go?"

"But they're..." Lucy broke off as Gemma shot her a look.

"What Lucy was going to say," I said, settling back in my chair, "was that those earrings are for pierced ears, and I haven't got pierced ears."

Gemma stared back at me. "It may be a bit crude, and it may hurt a little, but we can pierce them now if you want to."

Bill would have refused outright, so I said, "I'm game."

Bloody hell! Gemma should have a Nobel Prize for understatement. Hurt a little! It was like having fingernails ripped out - not that I've ever had that done, but I now know what it would feel like. But having had my ears pierced, the earrings inserted, and my ears re-dyed around the casualty area, I had to admit, as I looked in the hall mirror, that they really completed the picture.

The large hoop earrings wonderfully framed my black, round face; by Lucy's standards my dress may have been passé, but it had a low scoop neck through which my breast pushed up nicely; my corset gave me a slim waist and combined with the padding on my hips resulted in a superb hourglass figure; and as I murmured, "You look great," at myself, my voice was definitely that of a woman, not a man.

"Oh! Hello. I didn't know Lucy was having friends round." George's voice came from the kitchen, where he must have just entered through the back door. "Especially," he added, "such beautiful women friends."

Bill would have frozen on the spot. As Billie, I took a deep breath and then swivelled round and stared back at him. "I'm Billie, Gemma's friend." And then the devil in me made me add, "Well you fancy yourself, don't you?"

I realised it was the different way he was standing that had caused me to say it. He'd pulled in his stomach, expanded his chest and thrown back his shoulders in the way that males do when they are trying to impress a bird. HE WAS TRYING TO IMPRESS ME! The adrenaline surged through me as I realised. OK, he still had a large beer-belly, and even in his long-lost youth, he had never been handsome, but HE BLOODY FANCIED ME! I could get used to that.

"I see you've met Billie," Lucy said, giving George a bit of a dirty look, "and Gemma is here as well. I thought you weren't coming back until dinner-time."

"It's only Arsenal on the box down the pub this afternoon, and it's going to be a wipe-over for them. Couldn't bare to watch it." He eyed me up again. "Do you like football, then, Billie?"

I shook my head. "Naw. All those blokes dressed in white, playing with their wickets. It's not my thing."

George looked as though I'd slipped a turd into his hand. "Blokes playing with their wickets? That's not... Oh, it was a joke, eh? Ha-ha, very funny."

"We're going shopping," Lucy said, and we three girls marched out together.

***

"Why don't we stop and have a drink at the Harbour Wine Bar?"

We'd had a whale of an afternoon. We had shopped and shopped and shopped, and now we were ready to drop - me in particular, since I simply wasn't used to walking on inch-high, pointed heels. ("Only an inch," Gemma and Lucy had repeatedly remarked) My ankles were on fire, every bit as fierce as the one that had changed my voice earlier that day.

But, my God, it was worth it. My arms were full of parcels, and Lucy was carrying the beautiful dress she'd bought for my birthday, whilst Gemma carried the rest of my other purchases.

Earlier, as we'd headed for the main shopping area, Lucy had said, "Billie, you really need to get a whole range of clothes if you're going to spend any decent time as yourself." Rather than as Bill, she could have added, but by that time, we had all got used to the absent Bill.

I was already totally into my new self. I felt so good that the idea of taking off my bodysuit at the end of the day and returning to the world of the miserable Bill seemed extremely depressing, and Lucy's suggestion had been a God-send. So, Lucy had lent me money to make all kinds of other exciting purchase. We had bought tops, skirts, shoes, bras, panties, stockings, and another corset, which Gemma reckoned would give me a far slimmer waistline than my current one. God knows how much money I'd spent that afternoon, but for the first time in my life, I didn't care!

As we traipsed back across the bridge towards the old part of Seacombe where the girls lived, it was Gemma who had made the suggestion about the wine bar, and we all turned and looked at the Harbour Wine Bar. It had been converted a few years ago from an old fish store on the harbour side. The whole of the front wall had been replaced by single pane of glass, and now it provided a ready venue for tourists who, regardless of weather, could watch over the activities in the harbour whilst devouring vast quantities of whatever took their fancy.

With dusk just arriving, the lights were twinkling inside, and we could see empty tables next to the window, on the upper floor.

"OK, let's go in," Lucy said, "but we are not sitting in the window with Billie still wearing that dress."

I'd tried on and bought dozens of clothes that afternoon, but much to Lucy and Gemma's disgust, I was still wearing my original Laura Ashley. I know it had sounded silly, but I had wanted to delay properly putting on my new clothes until we returned to Gemma's house, and I could give them a fashion-show.

"Why not make an early birthday present?" Gemma suggested to Lucy. "You go and bags a table, and I'll go with Billie to the Ladies and help her into her new dress, and I could also put on the mini I've just bought. It would be good to sit up there and show it off."

Inside the wine bar after dark, it wasn't particularly obvious that taking a seat at the front was like sitting in a well-lit shop window. In particular, the view from the quayside of women sitting at the upper-floor tables was outstanding, and most of the men around the harbour made a point of continual bird-watching. Fortunately, my new dress had a very full skirt, so I wasn't too concerned about them staring up at my legs, but it was just so typical of Gemma that she would want to put on her new, mini skirt.

However, it was an arrangement that satisfied us all. Gemma took me into the Ladies, which was fortunately empty. She helped me remove my old dress, and then she slipped Lucy's present out of its carrier and held it up, and I gasped again at its beauty. Just a simple, white dress with a full skirt, made of a material so light it would float out with every swirl of my waist. It had a plunging neckline - indeed Gemma had been most insistent that everything I bought should properly display my breasts. ("Just to emphasise that they're real," she had said. "With your height, you need to confirm your femininity.")

She slipped the dress over my head and zipped up the rear. I did a few practice swirls before Gemma was shooing me out, to go and keep Lucy company, whilst she slipped into her skirt.

"You look fantastic," Lucy said. "I simply can't believe that only twelve hours ago you were someone completely different."

"I am someone completely different," I agreed. "I can't believe it either. You two have been so good to me today." I slipped into the bench seat on the opposite side of the table to Lucy, and slid to the end nearest the window, thinking that it was all right by me if blokes outside wanted to admire me in my new dress.

I filled my glass from the bottle of wine that Lucy had already got in, before raising an issue I'd been giving some serious thought all afternoon. "Lucy, when you talked at lunchtime about how I stayed for too long in my failing marriage, it made me wonder whether you felt you might be having the same problem."

Lucy paused, hesitating before giving a grimace and speaking in a very quiet voice, "I never could hide anything from you. Yes, I'm very unhappy with George, and we seem to have nothing in common nowadays. I'd suspect he might be having an affair, except he's become such a fat slob in recent years, that I don't think anyone would have him. I don't know whether it's worth continuing." She shrugged philosophically. "On the other hand, he continues to bring in the money - he's on a really good income now - so I think I've decided simply to keep on faking the orgasms."

"Well, that's what we all have to do with blokes, isn't it?" Gemma's quip broke the rather sombre feeling that had settled between Lucy and me.

Lucy looked up with a smile. "That's right. We always have to do that." She slid out from behind the bench seat to allow Gemma to slide in next to the window, facing me.

"I don't know how you have the nerve to say that." I, too, was anxious to lighten the mood. "Considering that when you were sharing a flat with Bill, he had to put in earplugs every time you brought home a boyfriend, to avoid being deafened by your cataclysmic climaxes."

"No! Really?" Gemma was impressed.

Lucy smiled. "Actually, that started when I was at university." She turned to me. "You remember I was a bit plain and flabby then?" I shook my head - we'd had this argument before. "Well, I quickly discovered that if my screams of orgasm reverberated all the way down the men's' corridors, I would never be short of a boyfriend. In fact, I almost had guys fighting to take me out."

"Wow! And you were faking it? That's cool!" Gemma was even more impressed.

"Faking it! You weren't faking it in the flat. You enjoyed every minute, of every boyfriend you brought in." But I recalled that Bill had found it bloody frustrating!

"Uh-uh." Lucy shook her head. "Don't you remember, it was the 'in' thing in those days - every woman had to have fantastic orgasms? It was compulsory. Still is now, to a lesser degree. But you can't just decide you're going to have one, and then do it. So, I simply made it all up. The boys always loved it. Made them feel really great."

"You mean you never had an orgasm?" I was incredulous.

"Schh!" Lucy said.

We all looked around, as we realised our voices had been rising in volume, but the place was almost empty. We continued our conversation in lower voices.

"I've had one, now and again," Lucy continued, "and they're quite nice. But I really don't see why there's so much fuss about them. Certainly no reason why they should be compulsory. How about you, Gemma? Do you have lots of incredible orgasms?"

"Well I certainly have some," she said, "but never when it's just the conventional 'prick in a hole and jiggle it about' kind of sex. I always have to fake it then..." (Wow! That shook me to the core!) "...but it's always well worth faking it, because otherwise some blokes can take all day about it, and let's face it, sex can be so bloody uncomfortable."

I was gob-smacked that I had totally misjudged Gemma.

Lucy nodded her head. "That's just how it is with George. He'd go on for hours and hours if I didn't fake it."

"You should remember that the tongue is mightier than the penis," Gemma said. "For me to have an orgasm, my lover has to get to work with a tongue." She stuck her tongue out of her mouth and flicked it in a quite suggestive manner. "But when that happens," she continued, "I really crash out. You should get George to give it a go."

"Fat chance of that," Lucy replied. "He's never liked putting his tongue in the place where I wee from."

"Miserable bugger." We all agreed to that.

It struck me then how completely the girls had adapted to my new self. Here we were, three girls together in a wine bar, having the kind of conversation about female orgasms which could never have occurred if there'd been a man amongst us.

I was so engrossed by that thought that I almost missed Lucy's next statement.

"...so I suppose I'd better get back and cook George's dinner."

I owed Lucy more than that. "Why don't we eat here?" I suggested. "It's on me as a 'thanks for everything'. And you could call George and invite him along."

Lucy and Gemma agreed that was a brilliant idea, so we asked the waiter to bring us some menus, and Lucy gave George a call on her mobile and told him to come down.

"Have you noticed, you two are getting lots of admiring glances from the guys on the quayside?" Lucy asked, when she'd finished her call.

"I think it's mainly Billie they're admiring," Gemma said.

"Don't be silly." I was embarrassed for a second, until I realised that Billie would never be embarrassed by an admiring glance. "Do you think so?"

They both laughed at me. "I think it may be to do with the fact that the lights in here are shining straight through the thin material of your dress, and they can see your underwear," Gemma said. "I guess, in particular, they are trying to work out whether the reason why they can't see your panties is because you're wearing black ones, or because you're not wearing any at all."

"Oh my God!" Lucy said. "Do you want to move, Billie?"

This morning, when the girls had dressed me, I had been positively resisting their efforts to put more clothes on. During the afternoon, although I'd bought several pairs of very sexy panties, neither of the girls had suggested I put them on during our many visits to the changing rooms. My guess was that Gemma frequently went about in the same condition, and that Lucy felt it would appear far too prudish for her to have made the suggestion. But would a lack of panties embarrass Billie? Would it hell!

"I'm fine here," I said.

"This is just like Dr Jeckle and Miss Hyde, all over again," from Lucy.

"That's my girl," from Gemma, and then she added with a smile, "I'm not wearing any panties either." (Told you, I thought.)

"Oh my God!" again from Lucy, then she added, "But Billie, how do you really feel about being admired by men?"

I glanced down at the quayside, where a couple of young guys were unashamedly staring up. They caught my glance and one of them raised his fist - not in the aggressive way he might do it towards a man, but in a manner simulating an erect penis with a large head. HE WANTED TO FUCK ME! It was such an exhilarating thought, I almost wet myself with excitement. Instead, I gave jerk of my head as though to say, 'Go toss yourself off, buster,' and turned back to the girls.

"You're loving it, aren't you, Billie?" Gemma could see right through me.

I couldn't deny it. "As a male, Bill lusted after the desirable women he saw every day, virtually all of whom were totally beyond his reach. Now, I'm Billie, the opposite sex want to have sex WITH ME."

"But how do you feel about having sex with men?" Lucy asked. "Bill was totally heterosexual."

"That's precisely it, Lucy. I'm hetero, just like Bill, except that he's a man and I'm a woman. It seems natural to be admired by men, if you see what I mean.

"Look," I continued, "I'm not saying I am going to go outside and have sex with the first bloke I meet, but I am saying I feel differently today, to the way I felt yesterday or the day before. I think I need to explore my new self, and determine exactly what my limits are."

"But what about the physical limits?" Gemma asked. "Surely a bloke would notice it wasn't the real thing if you got too intimate."

"Oh, I don't think a man would find anything suspicious," Lucy said. "I had a real good look at the suit this morning, and anatomically it's pretty good, and what's more, it feels just like human skin. OK, your vagina is very small, but provided the bloke isn't enormous, I reckon he'd just think you've got a nice, tight cunt."

"Well, that would be suspicious on its own," Gemma said. "Billie looks as though a tight cunt is the last thing she'd have."

"Thank you," I said, and I meant it.

"Uh-uh!" Lucy said, looking onto the quayside again, "George is out there, and he's giving you a real eyeful, Billie. Perhaps you should explore your limits with him. I wouldn't mind, but in the meantime, let's stop him behaving like the lecherous old sod he's become."

She knocked on the window and gesticulated to him, and he looked guilty about being caught watching. But there was no guilt about him when he came upstairs.

"Hi Gemma. Hi Billie. You two girls look great." Did he give rather more emphasis to me, than to Gemma?

"Lucy looks great as well, don't you think George," Gemma replied, rather cattishly.

George glanced quickly at her and said, "Yeah, course she does. It's just that she knows what I think about her, but I've only met you once before, and this afternoon was the first time I've come across Billie." Was that an innuendo there? He casually turned his back on Lucy in order to stare enquiringly at me. "Hope it's not going to be the last."

Well, two could play at innuendo. "Oh, I'm certain you'll see much more of me, George," I said.

I gave a quick glance at Lucy to make certain my mild flirting with her husband didn't upset her. But behind George's back, Lucy was pulling a face of pretend revulsion at Gemma, who, aware that she was in George's line of sight, was trying not to laugh at Lucy's expression.

"Well, that's really great," George said, leaning towards me and quite deliberately looking down the front of my dress. No wonder Lucy was unhappy, if he was so openly leching at other women.

But she appeared positively radiant as she said, "Oh George, do stop peering down Billie's cleavage. Sit down next to her and look at the menu. We are ready to order."

***

To give George his credit, he listened carefully to every word I said that evening (which was more than many of Bill's dates had done) and made much more intelligent conversation than I'd have expected from him. I chattered endlessly about all kind of stupid things, from the décor in the bar, the new country-life museum which had just opened nearby, and the way the blokes outside kept looking at me. George promptly leant over and shook his fist at three guys staring upwards at my legs as they walked past, and I think he might have gone out and started a fight if they hadn't promptly disappeared. It was really nice, I thought, having someone to stand up for you like that.

It was surprising, but after the superb conversation I'd had with the girls all afternoon, they seemed to go very quiet. They generally listened to the two of us, and occasionally made hushed jokes to each other about George and me, and then going into fits of giggles over them. I was a bit uncertain whether Lucy was unhappy with George and me having fun together, but she certainly gave no impression she was.

It was while I was on the main course that I felt hot fingers on my right knee, which then proceeded to pull up my skirt and slip beneath it and trace a path along the inside of my thigh, towards the top of my stockings. I rapidly put my hand under the table, grabbed George's hand and forced it back in his direction. I gave him a hard stare which he innocently returned with a puzzled looking smile. Dirty bastard!

I glanced at Gemma and Lucy who had quite obviously picked up what had happened, and appeared to find it highly amusing. Gemma deliberately sat back in her seat and slipped her hand under the table, and an instant later, Lucy gave a little jump, a shocked glance at Gemma's face, and then they both collapsed in laughter. I sighed. I was obviously on my own in this skirmish.

For the rest of the meal, it was a non-stop onslaught on my legs, made all the more frantic on my part because I wasn't wearing panties. So with George's hands continually wondering up my legs, my pussy was totally unprotected. And do you know what? I found it incredibly, bloody horny! Just suppose, I thought, I let him succeed and reach my hairy vagina. What a surprise he'd get.

I looked across the table at the other two and they were still endlessly parodying George and myself, taking turns to touch each other under the table and pretending to be shocked. George seemed completely oblivious to what they were doing. I think he was so intent on accosting my vagina that he'd tuned out every other part of the meal, including his wife and her friend.

Again the thought went through my head; just suppose I let him succeed. What a shock he'd get. Well, I was Billie, not Bill. Why not? After all, Lucy seemed totally laid-back about it, if the term 'laid-back' could be applied to the childish way in which those two were behaving.

Having finished my dessert, I put down my fork, wiped my mouth with my serviette and sat well back in my seat. "That was a fantastic meal," I uttered. "I really enjoyed it." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw George's hand disappear beneath the table again, but I appeared not to notice.

A second later, it was resting on my knee, and then starting the same journey towards the top of my stocking. Twice, he had already got that far before I'd stopped him. This time, I continued to dab my mouth with my serviette, whilst his hand moved up onto my bare skin (OK, my bodysuit skin), which almost made me shiver with excitement. Bodysuit or not, I was extremely sensitive there. I could feel the slight shake of his fingertip as they moved even further upwards, and when I didn't resist, they suddenly jumped the last inch and landed right in my bush!

I think he almost came in his pants; his Adam's apple jolted up and down several times, and he locked rigid for a while, but when I felt his fingers start to explore the jungle, I had a moment's apprehension. Suppose he realised it was false.

But that was definitely a Bill-type thought. Firstly, he wasn't going to realise, and secondly what could he say if he did? I've got my hand up your false pussy!

I gave him a long sideways glance, and he looked back at me, as his hand groped inside my labia. At least, that's what I assumed he was doing. There was actually a total lack of feeling around that area. Considering it was probably made of several layers of Terylene, it was really no wonder. At least, from the excitement in his eyes, he had no idea that Billie was other than the genuine article.

"I think I'd better go to the toilet." George released my pussy and was almost out of his seat before he had finished speaking. All three of us watched his back disappearing towards the toilets.

"Billie, you are absolutely shameless!"

Lucy was incredulous. "You don't mean you actually let him touch you there?"

I nodded, and smirked. "Well, you two didn't help me. Why didn't you stop him, Lucy?"

She considered. "Well, you obviously didn't mind too much, otherwise you'd have put a stop to it yourself, the way we girls have to. So I thought that if he was happy to do things with you, then why should I complain?"

"But how could I put a stop to it? He was continually trying it on."

"Forks are quite good in this kind of situation," Gemma spoke quite factually, "as long as you don't attack your own leg. Otherwise, you could spill your soup in his lap."

"But I didn't have soup!"

"Well, it's all worked out alright. Are you going to have sex with him? He's obviously gone to the bog to buy some condoms."

"Sex?"

"Well you could give him a tit fuck to start with," Gemma said.

"And then decide how you feel about the real thing," Lucy added.

"Lucy! You can't really be suggesting I have sex with your husband!"

"It seems the ideal arrangement. I mean, you're not going to want him to get divorced from me and marry you, are you? He can have a little fling with someone I trust and everything works out nicely.

"And perhaps I shouldn't say this," she added, glancing around to make certain George hadn't returned, "but he's got a very small cock. I don't think there'd be any physical problem getting it in."

"But I'm not certain I want sex with him."

"Oh." Lucy sounded quite disappointed.

"Billy only said she wasn't certain," Gemma said. "She didn't say she definitely didn't want to."

I did a retake on my own words. Gemma was right; that was exactly what I had said. Was I really contemplating sex with the fat slob George? For a few seconds, someone called Bill started voicing his protests, but I shut him out. This was for Billie to decide. After all, George may not be the most attractive person in the world, but on the other hand, he was available, and his wife - my sister - was not only willing, she sounded positively enthusiastic about it.

"I really am not certain," I said. "What happens if I get part of the way and then change my mind? He might cut up a bit rough."

"Billie, that's a question that every woman has to resolve in her own way," Gemma said, "and to an extent, you've already gone past the point of no return by letting him play with your doo-dah. You can hardly turn round now and say you're not up for it. That would be a right prick-tease. Now, I suggest that you and George go back to their house for coffee, whilst Lucy and I pop into my house..."

"We could say you needed help to put up the curtains," Lucy offered.

"Yes, we could say that," Gemma continued. "So when you get in Lucy's house, you ask to use the bathroom, and you can guarantee that when you come out, George will be waiting to push you into the bedroom. You go with him and do what you will, and when you've finished, you come round and get us. So, it's all agreed, then?"

Was it? I didn't remember agreeing.

"Sorry I've been gone so long. I hadn't any change in my pockets and I needed some for... er... well..." George stuttered to a halt by the table.

I smiled up at him. "Oh George, you've paid the bill after I'd offered to do it," I said. "You are really so masterful. Thank you very much. I really am grateful to you for such a wonderful evening." And I gave him a long look, and let my tongue flick between my lips.

***

In the bathroom, I had a wee, and then lifted my skirts and had a good stare at my pussy. Lucy was absolutely correct. It did look perfectly normal from the outside - not that any two pussies ever look the same. I slipped a finger inside and explored a little.

It really was quite a small pussy compared to every pussy that Bill had ever known, but Lucy had intimate knowledge of George, and she'd said that shouldn't be a problem. It also appeared that the angle of my vagina was much shallower than most. But then, to be honest, the angle of entry was not one of the key features that a man noticed at these kinds of times. There would only be one matter of concern to George - would he be spurting semen into my cunt?

I stood up and flushed the toilet, rinsed my hands at the washbasin and dried them. Then I unlocked the door and went out.

"You are so fucking sexy!" It was like being attacked by an octopus. His arms were round me, crushing me to him; his lips were against mine and his tongue was down my throat; he lifted a leg and wrapped it around my thighs, pressing my belly against something very hard.

Hell! Lucy had said he had a small prick, but it more than made up for its limited size by being incredibly rigid and pointing directly outwards, rather than up at the ceiling as Bill's did. As he thrust it into my belly, it was like being pierced by a sword.

"Help me take off my dress." I somehow managed to gasp the most important words of all. If he damaged that, I would kill him.

He only got the zip halfway down before it jammed, and then he was almost tearing the dress off my shoulders and over my breasts. There was no way it would go over my hips like that, and my arms were trapped by the sleeves of my dress which I was terrified of tearing, but he didn't care a shit. He picked me up as I was, carried me into their front bedroom, which they used as a storeroom, and dropped me onto a camping mattress lying on the floor.

I had just managed to get my arms free from my dress before he'd removed his trousers, shirt and pants, and then he dropped his entire bodyweight on top of me.

Every ounce of breath left my body. Hell, there was no way I could utter a single word in this state, let alone tell him I'd changed my mind, or even offer a tit fuck in place of the real thing. He grabbed my bra and forced it up and over the front of my breasts, and then he roughly grabbed them and squeezed so hard I was glad I was less sensitive in that area than most women.

"Jesus! I am going to fuck you hard!"

He forced his knee between my legs and twisted, so my legs were forced apart, and he - and his iron rod - were slipping in between them, and forcing my legs even further apart. Bloody hell, I could see why the girls said it was so uncomfortable.

"Fucking hell! What a fucking tight cunt!"

I wasn't even aware he'd entered my Terylene vagina, although I'd assumed by his shift of body position that was what he was doing. He gave another enormous thrust, which apart from banging my head painfully against the wall, shaking my whole body and giving a nice wobble to my tits, produced no sensation inside at all.

"Fuck you! Fuck you, you black, fucking bitch!"

Another massive slam inside my body, which even more painfully smacked my head against the wall, making me feel a little dizzy.

"You fucking, dirty, little whore."

Gemma's words echoed in my head, "Sex can be so bloody uncomfortable," and then Lucy had said, "That's just how it is with George. He'd go on for hours and hours if I didn't fake it."

"Oh God, George," I said. "You're so hard inside me."

***

"Fantastic orgasm!" Lucy's eyes were brightly shining as I entered the house, and she had a grin from ear to ear.

I hadn't realised the walls of these houses were so thin, but then I guessed that George and I had been making so much noise, that the whole neighbourhood would have heard.

"Absolutely brilliant!" Gemma said. "A first time, as well. I've never known anyone climax like that." She looked directly at me. "Yours was pretty good as well."

"Mine?" What did she mean? Had she been talking about George? His orgasm was the normal kind of ten-second event that blokes always have. "Who were you talking about?"

"Why me, of course," Lucy said. "I've just had my first, non-faked, cataclysmic climax."

"You? But..."

"I told you the tongue was mightier than the penis," Gemma said.

"Bugger me! You mean that you and Lucy..."

"When she first came to work in our office," Lucy interrupted, "I thought she was simply the most beautiful person I'd ever seen in my life. Then I heard she was looking for a place to rent..."

"When Lucy told me about her next-door-neighbour's house, and invited me for dinner after I'd inspected it, I just knew she was hitting on me," Gemma said. "But then Bill was also invited to dinner and it looked like it was a nice foursome..."

"I realised that if it was just the three of us," Lucy took up the tale, "George would see how we were behaving and suspect straightaway, so I invited Bill along as well. George always moans about how I'm always trying to pair him off with some girl."

"Trouble was," Gemma said, "Bill, and I think even George, recognised I was a lesbian straightaway, and showed no interest at all in me, so we couldn't have continued that pretence for long. Finding that bodysuit in the loft was a heaven sent opportunity, and when George obviously took a shine to you..."

"We couldn't keep our hands off each other once you'd distracted him in the wine bar," Lucy continued. "You probably didn't realise, Billie, but when I went to the toilet, I slipped off my panties. I thought if you two can do it, so can I."

I hadn't even noticed she'd been to the toilet, so engrossed had I been in defending myself from George.

"Well, I certainly realised," Gemma said. "I almost wet myself with excitement."

"And it was really so good of you to keep him occupied all evening," Lucy continued, "and lose your female virginity to him, of all the men you could have chosen." She came over to me and gave me a hug. "Bill was a great brother, but you are an absolutely brilliant sister. Thank you."

"How do you feel about men, now you've lost your virginity?" Gemma asked. "It sounded as though he was almost raping you."

I smiled back at them. "A girl enjoys a bit of rough, now and again. I'm not certain I'd want to make a habit of it with George, though."

"That's a shame," Lucy said. "At breakfast tomorrow, I was going to suggest that George gives you a call and offers to take you to that country-life museum you were chattering about tonight."

She gave me a real nice smile. "Please, Billie. Gemma and I want to spend a little time together. You were a fantastic sister tonight, and if you were to do that for me, you'd be an absolutely fabulous, superb, incredible sister tomorrow, and I'd buy you lots more beautiful clothes. Please."

How could I refuse?

***

Well, my decision was a lot easier than I had made out to them. You see, I didn't want to admit that when I started to thrust back against George, something deep inside me started to feel 'Wow'. It took me straight back to Bill's teenage years when he had a motorbike, and used to drive it like the fun-loving maniac he was in those days. He would regularly do the ton on some of the straight, country roads behind the town. That combination of incredible power, speed, and fear was an enormous turn-on and Bill had never found anything to rival it, except sex itself.

Being shagged by George was an uncomfortable and painful bore, until I realised that I had the throttle; I could lay back and think of England or I could turn up the speed. Well, what do you think I did?

I bent my knees so I could get my feet flat on the floor on either side of the mattress, and as he came to the end of his next downward thrust, I thrust upwards with all my strength and in spite of his enormous weight, I pushed him upwards. Yes!

"Oh! You fucking bitch! You're really loving it, aren't you?"

Another slam down inside me, and another thrust from me to push him back up.

"Come on then, big boy," I snarled. "Fuck me harder."

As he started to drop again, I slipped my hands around his back, and dug my fingernails deeply into his buttocks to mercilessly pull him inside me.

"A-h-h-h!" he yelled, as he slammed inside me all the more brutally. "You fucking clawed me!"

"Play with a tiger, big boy, and that's what happens." I thrust him back upwards so hard I thought his cock was going to pop out at the top of the projectory. Fortunately, it didn't and he came slamming down on top of me again, accelerated by my fingernails boring deep scratches across his buttocks.

"Bitch!"

"Just fuck me harder, big boy!"

And so it went on, until his frenzy came to a climax.

"Y-e-e-e-e-s!" And he was starting his final run down for landing.

I lifted my feet from the floor and as he landed, I wrapped my legs right around him, driving my pointed heels into his buttocks and using them like spurs, in combination with my nails, to ensure that every drop of his semen went squirting inside my pussy, as his thrusts diminished in force, until he was lying quietly, firmly clamped in my arms and legs.

He looked at me and grinned. "That wasn't half bad, was it, gal?"

I thought back to the very first time when Bill had topped 100 mph on his bike.

"No," I said, and grinned back at him. "That wasn't half bad."

***

Next morning, I got the invitation from George to go to the country-life museum. I accepted, although in fact, we never managed to reach it. As soon as we'd left the built-up area, George stopped the car to show me a local beauty spot. Three rounds of sex followed.

By then, it was time for lunch, and we found a nice pub with good food. George had a couple of pints of beer, whilst I drank champagne. (Incidentally, I'm still not convinced by that old wives tale that Gemma threw me.) Afterwards, we reckoned it was too risky for George to drink and drive, so we booked into the motel next door, to sleep it off. Then George quite correctly decided that vigorous exercise was a much better way of getting alcohol out of the blood stream. (Four rounds of sex.)

By that time, it was getting dark and we thought we ought to return home. George stopped the car where we had paused that morning, just to check we hadn't left anything behind. He had me in three different positions on the bonnet of the car, before our final climax of the day.

Oh, and Gemma has invited Lucy, George and myself around for supper tomorrow night.