Big Hard Girls

by Nikki Crescent

  I did like it in a weird way. It was kind of sexy, as if she was some sort of sexy woodland nymph. I put my hand on her shoulder and ran my fingers down her chest. “It’s cute,” I said.

  “You won’t believe this, but it’s actually cologne. I was at the store and I smelled it and I just had to have it. I know it’s not the girliest scent I’ve ever worn.” My heart stuttered. I tried not to think too much into it. I slipped my fingers onto her left breast. I fondled her nipple. There was something very relieving about her breasts, always there to remind me that she was a beautiful woman, no matter what she had between her legs, and no matter what scent she wore on her body.

  She slid her hand down slowly from my chest. Her fingers slipped around my cock and she began to play with me casually—something she used to do, before the incident. And then she kept talking. “I saw this really cute dress at the mall. I wanted to buy it, but it was two hundred dollars.”

  “You should have just bought it if you liked it,” I said. My cock tingled and began to get hard.

  “Yeah—but when would I have worn it? It was tight and kind of racy—it would only be good for a special function, and when was the last time we went to one of those?”

  She was stroking me now, seemingly mindlessly, getting me hard as if she wanted to have sex. And back in the day I would have reached down and done the same thing to her: rubbed her clit and stroked her pussy. But now there was a cock there. Now I would probably give her the wrong idea if I reached down and started fondling her.

  Or was I giving her the wrong idea by doing nothing? Was I just reminding her that I was put off by the reality of her situation? Maybe the right thing to do was to play with her cock the way she was playing with mine. Maybe that would be the best way to make her feel good about herself—and in a weird way, make her feel more like a sexy woman and less like some platonic housemate.

  So I carefully reached down her chest, over her abdomen, and up the skirt of her tiny nightie. I found her soft flaccid cock and I began to fondle it casually. I felt my cheeks burning red hot, so I tried to divert the attention. “Maybe we can go to the mall this weekend and you can buy it. We have the money—if you like it, you should own it.”

  “But when would I wear it?” she asked before letting a little whimper slip. I felt her cock twitch as it began to pulsate.

  “You could just wear it around the house. It sounds sexy. I wouldn’t complain.”

  “But I would have to do up my hair and makeup for it to even look right,” she said. She was beginning to squirm. Her cock was getting hard fast. She tightened her grip on my cock and began to stroke me faster.

  “I doubt that,” I said. “You’re beautiful without makeup. And even your bedhead is sexy.”

  She looked into my eyes and smiled. Her cheeks were dark pink. “You’re cute, but I know you’re full of it.”

  I tightened my grip on her cock and began to stroke up and down, now that I had some length to work with. “I mean it. You could pull it off. Be my sexy little housewife.”

  She let another whimper slip. Her knees rose up and her bum squirmed. I kept stroking, and she kept stroking me. I turned onto my side slightly to face her, so I could kiss her, and then she did the same, without letting go of my cock. We kissed for a moment and then I felt my tip touch her tip. I froze for a moment as my heart skipped a beat. I looked into her eyes and saw the same beautiful woman I fell in love with so many years ago. We kissed again.

  She let go of my dick and wrapped her arms around me, pulling herself in close—close enough that our cocks were pressed together. I grabbed both of them and started stroking them together. It felt nice. Her dick was warm and I liked the way it throbbed. And I liked the way Rey looked into my eyes while I pumped her shaft. I liked the way her lips curled into a cute smile, and then I really liked the way her lips parted when she reached her orgasm. Her cock spewed warm fluid up my abdomen only a few seconds before mine did the same on her soft stomach. And then we started to make out like we were teenagers again. We hadn’t kissed like that in years, since before the wedding and before the engagement. It was nice. It was exciting. That cock of hers was breathing a whole new life into our relationship.

  And I thought that our problem was solved. Rey had learned that she liked taking it in the ass and I learned that I didn’t mind playing with her cock from time to time. Things were starting to seem like they were back to normal, until the next night when I went to borrow Rey’s phone and saw that she was still watching girl-on-girl porn while I was out of the house. She was still getting off to female fantasies that I couldn’t fulfil, and I was worried that those fantasies would soon become needs, and I would be written off.

  CHAPTER VI

  The sex was good for the next couple of weeks, but then things started to get stale. Rey would let me into her ass, and then I would reach around and grab her cock and it would be soft. I would fondle it and jerk it off, but it would remain soft, as if I’d lost the ability to arouse my wife. Occasionally Rey would moan, but it didn’t sound the same, as if she was now faking it, trying to imitate the real moans she was making during our first few little romps.

  Sometimes, if I got a few glasses of wine into her before we went off to the bedroom, I could get an erection and a cumshot out of her. But even the wine was starting to lose its magic after a few nights of drinking—and not to mention it was getting pricey, buying a new bottle of wine after work every day.

  I was running out of ideas. Whenever Rey slipped into the shower, I would take her phone and look through her history. And my heart would fizzle down into my stomach whenever I saw that lesbian porn—even though I knew I was going to see it. She was watching it every day, fulfilling her sexual needs without me. At least she was still putting in the effort to fulfil my needs—but I was starting to wonder if my needs were better off left unfulfilled if it just meant getting pity sex.

  So I found myself back on my computer, looking back into hiring an escort for the two of us. But now I was starting to think that the escort was more for Rey and less for me. Maybe I wouldn’t even stick my cock in her. Maybe I would just let Rey fool around with her while I fucked my wife in the ass. Or maybe I wouldn’t even do that. Maybe I would just watch and try to see if there was some sort of technique I could learn to pleasure my wife.

  And then, after another few days, I started to notice a new trend on Rey’s phone history. She was starting to watch tranny porn: mostly videos of convincing trans women fucking men in the ass. She had even watched a few videos of cross dressers getting pegged in the tush. My heart stuttered when I realized she was probably wishing she could be the dominant one. She had male hormones pumping through her veins—she probably couldn’t help it. Maybe, in a weird way, she felt emasculated whenever I fucked her in the ass—even though she wasn’t even a man, nor did she identify as male in any way.

  We were in bed that night and I thought about broaching the topic, asking about her porn habits. But I knew the conversation probably wouldn’t be productive, and it would only make her start clearing her browser history, leaving me in the dark as to what she was watching when I was out of the house. At least with her browser history I could diagnose what was going on in her head.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?” she asked. “I don’t know if I can have sex tonight—my bum’s still pretty sore from last night.” It was an excuse that she’d used a few times in the past couple of weeks, and she was starting to use it more and more. I couldn’t help but wonder if her bum was sore, or if she was just getting bored of our nighttime sex games.

  “But do you like it?” I asked. And instantly I could feel my cheeks turning red.

  “Like it? Like what?”

  “When I—you know—stick it in you back there.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “It’s fun,” she said, but her voice raised a few semitones, making me think that she was lying. And I could tell that she was getting sick of sucking my cock every night. She’d never be
en much into cock sucking, and her new male hormones probably weren’t helping much on that front.

  That’s when I got an unusual idea—an idea that made a cold chill run down my spine, but I was desperate. I needed my wife to want me. I wanted her to get her sexual gratification from me and not from some creepy website on the Internet. So I slipped under the covers and crawled down between her legs. “What are you doing?” she asked. I didn’t respond as I flipped up her skirt and tugged down her panties. My mouth had never been so close to her cock before—or any cock for that matter. But it was about to get a lot closer. I lifted up her dick and I slid it into my mouth, and then I began to suck.

  I felt her body tense up. She let a little gasp slip—probably just out of shock. And then she reached down and slipped her fingers into my hair. “W—What are you doing?” she asked again. But I didn’t respond. I was under the covers where she couldn’t see me—so she was free to pretend like I was a girl. She could imagine a curvy chick was between her legs, sucking her dick, just like in her porno videos.

  And it wasn’t long before she started getting hard. Her body relaxed and she let a moan slip out from her lips. I kept sucking, bobbing my head up and down. It wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. Her cock was smooth and her pubic hair was neatly trimmed. I was terrified that I would feel gay while sucking her off, but it really didn’t seem too much different from eating out her pussy, which I used to do all the time with a smile on my face.

  So I smiled now, knowing that I was pleasing my wife—if only for one night. Maybe she would tire of getting her cock sucked too, but I would cross that bridge when I got there. For now, I was just content with the elated moans I was hearing her make. I gently fondled her ball sack while I sucked. I could taste a bout of sweet and salty pre-cum. I swallowed it and carried on. She was rock-hard, throbbing intensely, pulling my hair with both hands as her knees rose up and fell down over and over. She started to thrust herself gently up into my throat as she came closer to her orgasm. “Oh God,” she moaned. “Babe—I’m so sorry—I’m going to come. Oh God, I’m so sorry. I’m about to come. I’m so sorry.” I don’t know why she was apologizing so much. I pressed her tip against the flat of my tongue and then I let her unload. It didn’t taste gross, like I was expecting. It was like salty pancake batter—nothing I couldn’t handle. I swallowed it and then I made sure I got the last drop out of her rod before slipping back up and settling back into bed.

  Her face was dark red and her eyes were practically glowing in the dark. Her lips were curled into a smile that seemed permanent—and that smile made my heart feel warm and fuzzy.

  CHAPTER VII

  My worst fears came true after two weeks of sucking Rey’s cock every night before bed. At first, the cock sucking was working. I would suck her cock and then she would suck mine and then she would bend over and let me fuck her in the ass while giving her a reach around. Sometimes we would sixty-nine and get off in each other’s mouths. But after two weeks, things started to get stale again. I found myself under the covers, sucking for nearly twenty minutes while she awkwardly tried to get herself in the mood.

  And once again I found that tranny porn in her browser history. She was still jerking off to her own fantasies while I was out of the house. I still wasn’t properly satisfying my wife.

  It was another week later when I found the most disturbing thing in her browser history: a familiar link to a familiar escort website. She had been looking into hiring a girl. She’d even gone as far as the ‘confirm purchase’ page, but I didn’t see any receipts in her e-mail. Maybe the escort sites didn’t sent receipts. Was it possible my wife had gone out and fucked a young female escort? And would I be angry if it was true?

  I thought about confronting her, but I was still worried that she would retaliate by deleting her browser history more often, leaving me completely in the dark.

  I came home one evening and she was wearing makeup. “Why are you all dolled up?” I asked.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I just felt like being pretty, I guess,” she said. My heart hurt. I couldn’t help but think that she’d gone out to meet an escort. It was very rare that she would put on makeup with no plans of going out. But all I could do was smile and nod.

  She was getting ready for bed that night when I came up behind her. I took the straps of her nightie and slipped them off of her body, letting the little satin outfit fall to the ground. Then I cupped her breasts and squeezed. “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Just fooling around a bit,” I said.

  “I’m kind of tired,” she said.

  I sunk down behind her and I ran the tip of my tongue over her anus. She laughed. “Really, Nick. I’m tired,” she said. I reached through her legs and grabbed her cock, pulling it back so I could suck it from behind. She stopped protesting as if she was suddenly enjoying herself. So I kept sucking, until her cock was too hard to hold down between her legs. Then I just reached around her and stroked her off while I ate out her asshole from behind. And then I looked in the mirror in front of her and saw that her eyes were closed. Her head was tilted up and her lips were parted, and it looked like she was trying to access some sort of fantasy, or maybe a memory. She was probably trying to replace me with the escort she may have seen that afternoon, or one of the porn stars in her videos.

  No, no—she wasn’t like that. She was probably just enjoying the moment, basking in the euphoria. I could feel her cock swelling as she was about to come. I clenched her rod harder and beat her faster. And then she said, “That feels so good. Don’t stop. I’m about to come. Oh, Sarah, that feels so good.”

  And then I stopped—but it was too late. She started coming. Her eyes shot open wide and her face turned dark red. She tried to grab her cock but she couldn’t stop herself from coming. Her legs trembled and almost buckled and then she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to say that,” she said. She reached down and pulled her nightie up quickly, covering up her beautiful body.

  “Did you just say Sarah?” I asked. “Who’s Sarah?”

  She stared at me with worried eyes, not moving from her spot. “No one,” she said. “It’s just a name.”

  “What do you mean, it’s just a name? Why did you just call me Sarah?”

  Now her face was turning from red to purple, and for some reason I found myself feeling bad for Rey, as if I was putting her on the spot and humiliating her. But she was the one who blurted out a stranger’s name while having an orgasm. “She’s not real. She’s just—in my imagination.”

  And now I was really worried. My heart started to flutter and my gut started to turn. In her imagination? Did my wife have an imaginary friend? Did that pill make her into a schizophrenic? “What?” I managed to say, even though there was a lump the size of an orange now in my throat.

  “I mean, she’s just a fantasy. She’s got long blonde hair and C-cup breasts, and she wears her eyeliner really thick—and she’s not real. Just a stupid fantasy. Ever since I took that pill, I’ve had weird fantasies involving women, okay? I can’t help it.” She turned around and started making the bed, trying desperately to escape our awkward conversation. I just backed out of the room, unsure of how to process the strange name that just fluttered off of my wife’s tongue. Sarah.

  While Rey was sleeping, I snatched her phone and looked again at her browser history, just to see if she had been looking at escorts named Sarah. But the escort in her history was named Candy, and there were no others. But I decided to continue searching through her history, and it only took a few minutes before I saw the name Sarah.

  My wife had searched for a character from TV show we watched together every week—a little side character from a silly sitcom. And sure enough, the actress who played Sarah in the show had long blonde hair and lots of eyeliner. She was cute—though I wasn’t sure how to feel about the whole thing. Sarah wasn’t just a figment of Rey’s imagination—she was a character played by a real actress on television. I wasn’t worried th
at the actress would suddenly appear in Rey’s life and offer her an out of our relationship, but I was starting to worry that a similar girl might.

  I had to think of something. Soon, my wife wouldn’t just be having fantasies about Hollywood actresses. It wouldn’t be long before she would start developing attraction towards girls in her day-to-day life. But what could I do?

  CHAPTER VIII

  I was on my way home from work a few days later when I thought I saw the Sarah character from our TV show, in real life, standing in the window of a shopping mall. I had to stop and take a closer look, and then I felt stupid when I realized I was staring at a mannequin wearing a blonde wig. But the wig was spot on, cut the same exact way Sarah wore her hair on the show.

  I was about to carry on towards home when I stopped again, this time with a curious idea that made my stomach gargle and my heart cough. I found myself looking in the reflection of another store window, looking at myself and wondering: could I look like a woman if I tried hard enough?

  The thought was scary either way: if I bought a wig and I shaved my body and got myself dolled up and then I actually looked like a chick—that wasn’t exactly the most exciting thought. But if I put in all of that work and then I just looked ridiculous and comical, like a guy who just wasted all of his time and money on a stupid idea—maybe that was a worse thought.

  I backtracked a few paces and went into that store, with the blonde haired mannequin. I walked up to the display and I looked at the hair. I ran my fingers through it, and it felt surprisingly real. Then I looked around to make sure no one was looking and I grabbed the wig off of the mannequin. I brought it over to a mirror and wriggled it onto my head. It was a nice fit, and it looked surprisingly good. With a bit of fringe hanging in front of my face, I even looked a little bit feminine.

  “Sir—can you please put that back,” a voice said behind me, making me jump.