Agnes Dourville Ch. 13

(The story continues -- after a hiatus -- with a long chapter and a new turn for Michael/Michelle.)

*

Amidst all my excitement about standing in for Anton's wife, I don't forget about Sharon back in Douglas. To me, doing something with Anton is quite sinful, forbidden and dangerous, while my memory of Sharon is all light, innocence and flowers.

I send the following letter to her, a little concerned she'll take up with someone else and forget about me. I'm careful about revealing too much, in case her siblings or parents read the letter (very likely).

Dear Sharon,

I mean the "dear," because I have not forgotten the wonderful time we were having. We went from a date catastrophe to being really good friends.

I know it's been a long time since I've written since my leaving. I apologize about leaving so suddenly without a goodbye or reason for doing so. It really has nothing to do with you or Agnes. The reason I left was I realized that if I were to accomplish my life plan of going to college I'd have to earn some decent money. I've finally found the job that does this, and I think that after six or eight months more I'll have enough to start school.

The reason I haven't given any of you back there my address and a phone number is that I wanted to pursue my goal without having a lot of social obligations. I know that sounds selfish. I want to continue this way for the time being.

I get together with my friend Michelle from time to time!

When I reach my financial goal I will definitely return to Douglas for a while, and I really look forward to spending time with you again. As for college, I really have no idea where I'll go at this point.

Sincerely, Michael

Writing a letter to explain everything, without explaining much, is a tiring exercise. I finally mail the fifth version of the letter during a day trip to Minneapolis. There are a few white lies, but I need to maintain some kind of contact .... and I manage to slip in that little item about Michelle ....

It's Friday, the day Anton and I agreed to have a "date," and I must admit I'm getting more nervous by the minute. What seemed rather exciting and sensual now has me greatly worried. What if he wants too much and, like, jumps me? What if I don't like his maleness? What if he's disappointed in me? What if I'm too embarrassed dressing? I mean, I haven't really been around men much dressed as Michelle, except once in a while back at the grocery store.

I tell my dad and Diane that Anton's going to teach me more about raising fish, and that maybe I'll overnight there. They don't suspect a thing, it seems, because they like Anton too much. They've had him and his wife over for dinner several times and love them.

I wonder what the other drivers think when Anton drives off with me. If they knew Anton's wife was gone for a week, they might connect the dots.

I love the throaty sound of his dark green Alfa Romeo as we make haste through country roads and then the streets of Hibbing. The wind passes through my long hair as we rod up a hill to his impressive home. I'm still worried, but also feel free. Free to be me, whoever that is ....

I shower, and then Anton, who's a good cook, asks me if I'd like a shrimp risotto for supper. Being just an ignorant kid, I know very little about shrimp and nothing about risotto, but say, "Love it."

I'm standing there with just the towel around me, so Anton says while he showers and then prepares supper, I might go into the his bedroom and find the clothing and accouterments he'd love me to wear. I'm mightily disappointed, because I thought I'd have the pick of his wife Suzy's things, but who am I to ruin the bosses' expectations?

"There's no hurry at all, Michael," he says. "Or what name did you go by back in Wisconsin?"

"That would be Michelle," I reply.

He seems enthused. "If you don't mind, Michelle, I'd actually like to call you Pang, the name of my Thai girlfriend. Tell the truth, I never did learn her last name; I couldn't even pronounce it."

"Have you stayed in touch with her?" I ask.

"Again, you must never tell anyone, but I send her money for her mother a couple times a year. I guess I'm an easy mark, but I want to keep a contact with her."

"She must have been wonderful."

"Yes, completely. To give you some idea, I laid out a couple photo blowups of Pang on the bed. You'll see what I mean."

He really does need me to recreate his lovely. This is such a fixation in him.

So I trundle on into the bedroom, as Michael, and close the door. I see lingerie, clothing and etceteras all laid out neatly on the bed, but I'm immediately drawn to two 8 by 10 color photos there. Obviously taken by a professional, I'm astounded that what I see is (underneath) a man. The first photo shows Pang in a tight-fitting black dress ending at mid-thigh. She displays some generous hips and a sexy bust topped with an elaborate bodice reminiscent of an American Indian necklace. Her black hair is back in a bun, her eye makeup is perfect and tasteful, and she's wearing Grecian sandals with red toenails. Her face is classically almond-shaped. She's a perfect height and her arms are slender and oh-so-feminine.

Attached to the other photo is Anton's note: "please have your hair like this." In this portrait, Pang's wearing an elegant, off-the-shoulder, satiny-white evening dress. There's a tasteful, slender necklace of probably imitation diamonds along with tiny, very feminine earrings, and long black hair parted in the middle flowing behind her ears. The fitted dress reveals a slender waist which expands out into wonderfully sexy hips. How did Pang acquire such a womanly body? I will never be able to attain such curves without padding, which is all back at Agnes' place.

Pang's chin is so nice and slender, and I don't see an Adam's apple.

I can see how Anton fell in love. I'm attracted to her myself.

The shock I have is when I see the identical black dress (as in the first photo) on the bed! What did he do, steal it? Will it fit me? Will I pass as his petite lover?

I'm rather excited when I start putting all the Pang-like things on. There's a wedding-style white corset with sexy cups (like I'd spied my cousin wearing before her wedding) that I put on first, with a little difficulty, since all the hooks have to be connected in front, and then the sexy garment tugged around so the hooks are in back. This must be his wife's. I have quite an erection getting it to behave. It does pull in my waist tightly. I love the secure feeling and look.

I go into the adjacent bathroom to fill the cups with tissue. What a lovely beginning! I haven't been in such feminine attire since I left Agnes in Douglas. If only Sharon could see me now!

Then I put on some slinky and tight white panties which do a good job of smoothing out my genitals. They're almost like a mini-girdle.

Next I daintily step into some milky-toned nylons with elastic lace tops and attach them with difficulty to the corset's four garters.

At this point I realize I'd better put on my makeup so it doesn't fall on the dress and get in the long, black-hair wig he found for me. Was he embarrassed buying it? I would've been.

The face is everything, right? What did Anton give me for makeup? There's a note: "Fortunately, Suzy didn't take all her makeup with her. You'll find her big kit in the bathroom."

I look at the photos again. My experience with makeup is so limited that I'll have a very difficult time attaining what Pang attained in Thailand. But I will try.

It takes a half hour. I really try my best to be subtle and not garish. I manage to cover over my facial imperfections and create a smooth, even, natural look (that tones down my whitish complexion). I even pluck my eyebrows a little and trim them down to look more womanly. What will the other drivers say when they see that? I can't go overboard on this ....

I accent the eyebrows a little with a black pencil and then enhance my eyes with mascara and eyeliner.

Then, a light, tasteful lipstick. Anton's given me the pick of three dainty earrings for my still-pierced ears.

I pull into the bewitching dress. It's a bit tight, but that makes it look sexier. My behind and hips aren't one-hundred-percent womanly (without a padded girdle) but I still look sexy enough.

I shake out the wonderfully long black wig and put it on. Finally, I insert my toes into some of Suzy's very feminine sandals, which are slightly too small, but again, OK.

I look at myself in the mirror, striking a pose similar to Pang's. So, now I have become her, hopefully. In every which way, I look very feminine, except there's this extra little thing hidden between my legs .... that and my small Adam's Apple.

I make my entrance. It's dark out now, and Anton has the house lights out, with only candles on the supper table. He's closed all the blinds and is just finishing removing his baking dish from the oven -- good timing. He's wearing an apron, and takes notice of me, the blushing bride.

Looking me up and down for a long moment, Anton whistles in appreciation. "So nice to have you here, Pang," he says with a genuine smile.

I just stand there, blushing a little.

"You wonder how I happen to have the same dress as in the picture?" he asks.

I nod yes.

"I loved it so much on Pang, I bought the same one at the same store," he says. "I thought that if I ever married someone over here I'd give it to them. So when I married Suzy, I asked her if she'd like it, and it fit her, but wasn't her style, so she only wore it a couple times to make me happy. But, Pang, it does fit you like a glove. This really brings back memories .... "

"Pang's beautiful," I confess.

Anton begins pouring white wine to go with the shrimp dish, which looks delicious. He graciously seats me opposite him at a small table. I feel a little sinful, taking the place of his wife, but hope he finds me attractive. I'm uber aware of my breasts, my dangling earrings and my flowing long hair. But I'm also a little confused. I had wanted to pretend to be Suzy, whom I've met and admired, but now I'm pretending to be a petite Asian woman who's obviously more demure and quiet than Suzy, but whom I've never met. I will have to wing it.

We clink glasses and begin eating. Anton keeps looking at me intently, and I'm aware he's moving into a very polite, seductive mode, rather instinctively. He's so ultra-considerate and friendly.

But I'm also a little irreverent, and ask, "Do I pass the Pang test? I haven't dressed and made up for months."

"You bring back many memories," says Anton. "Your voice is deeper, but you really do remind me of her."

We finish the main dish, have some cheesecake for dessert along with a different, sweeter wine, and then we sit back in our chairs, sated. Under the candlelight, he looks quite handsome and virile, but with that smooth feminine attribute that is especially entrancing. The wine has loosened me up, and I'm very interested to learn what he has in mind. I have to remember how far he's gone with Pang in the past -- will he want to start at the beginning of their relationship again, or will he just resume where they left off? At least that's the way I'm picturing it.

Also, I'm wondering what his penis looks like (very forbidden thoughts).

After some minutes of small talk, and after the wine has loosened us up a bit (I ended up drinking more than him), my words have slurred just a little. I'm not used to being inebriated, so I enjoy the sensation. There's a silence, and we look into each other's eyes. I look down at the exposed darkish chest hair exposed at the neck of his white shirt, and then back up into his eyes, and then look away.

I am held in so tightly by the corset, nylons and panty; by the wig; and by the dress that I feel like a well-rigged ship ready to sail ....

.... or like something ready to be unwound and unbound.

Anton stands up, so warmly lit by the candles, and looking so nicely tanned. I start to stand up too, but he bids me to remain seated.

He comes up behind me, and I feel his body heat, a warm comforting heat. He gathers my long black hair up and moves it aside, lightly kissing the nape of my neck. A thrill passes down my spine and my back involuntarily arches inward. Soon, he begins kissing the sides of my neck as well, and I find myself pushing my breasts, as they were, outward. I'm also breathing deeply.

He runs his hands lightly over those tits, as though he likes their feel.

I appreciate his approach, which only leaves me wanting more ....

I am getting wet.

We're standing now, and he pulls me to him. I bury my face into his hairy chest and smell a pleasant manly perspiration. I had been afraid he might use some sort of obnoxious aftershave or deodorant, but no.

He reaches back and gently runs a hand down my still-excited back to my buns, and gently kneads one -- and the feeling immediately makes my prick harden and become even more wet, buried as it is underneath tight panties.

"Oh yes ..... You're my Pang. I've missed you, darling. I've missed you so deeply."

I feel obligated to contribute something, and through my heavy breathing, and wetness, I manage: "You touch me in all right places."

Then he playfully rubs noses with me before ever so lightly and teasingly brushes his lips against mine. My lips respond with a little more pressure, but I don't go into frenzy of forwardness. I want him to run the show, which has been perfectly building passion by the minute.

Surprisingly (I'm amazed by his strength) he lifts me into his arms and carries me into his bedroom, like a bride across the threshold. I'm gently deposited on his soft bed. He takes his shirt off but leaves his tight trousers on, displaying a mound produced by an obviously engorged penis.

He then lights a bevy of candles and turns off the room light. Their warm glow transfers to his face and arms, which are highlighted by manly veins and muscles. I want to pull down his trousers, but again, am held back by shyness and my Pang-ish personality.

Anton helps me off with my dress and here I am in that delicious wedding corset, garters and nylons, sitting.

"You can't imagine how excited being Pang makes me feel," I confess.

Anton nods, but doesn't reply. And instead of forcing himself on me, he goes into Suzy's closet for a time, and emerges with a short, slinky nightgown -- not cheesy like some I've seen in Frederick's catalogs -- but with formed cups and elaborate embroidery. It's mostly a semi-transparent, deep maroon with black accents, and I love it.

"Please indulge me and change into this," he says huskily, his erection showing so obviously under his pants. "Leave your nylons and panties on. Can you do that for me, Pang?"

"Yes, Anton, love," I say a little shakily. Things are moving so fast I'm feeling out of control. As I change in the bedroom I'm wondering if he intends to immediately fuck me, or what. I am really fearful of someone painfully tearing into my behind, and feeling invaded.

This time, since the gown's cups are firm of their own accord, I leave them empty of tissue or padding.

I touch up my makeup a little, and dab a touch of Suzy's perfume on my neck. I re-enter the bedroom to see Anon lying on the bed, now clothed only in a very sexy and fitted brief, with an elastic pouch barely containing his large penis. Seeing his whole body for the first time, I realize he works out.

The wine is still making me feel a little more uninhibited and the candlelight continues to work its magic.

I lay down in front of him and am just about to pull his brief aside and spring his manhood loose when he acts first, getting me to lie on my back with my knees somewhat drawn up.

"Pang, my Pang .... what I always wanted to do with you. Please don't refuse me this time, darling. OK?"

I don't say a thing, and let him have his way, whatever that will be ....

He gently but confidently pulls off my panties, taking care to leave my nylons in place. I'm fearful, because my femaleness is being compromised. My smaller (than his) penis, sweaty, falls loose, but the moment he touches it, it begins to rise in a wonderful crescent shape. It's dripping with pre-cum.

With the fingers of one hand circling the base of my Michelle dick and cupping my balls, he plops only the circumcised head of my cock into his mouth. It's somewhat incongruous, seeing such a handsome specimen of a man, completely transfixed by sucking my member. I feel his tongue exploring the head. With his other hand he begins playing with one of my nipples.

Again, my back involuntarily arches up in pleasure, pushing my cock further into his mouth. That sensation, along with the nipple play, really gets me going. I detect that penis sucking is new to him, because he seems awkward at times. But I'm being stimulated so much that I begin thrusting deeper and deeper into his mouth, and he takes it, the whole length of it eventually, and I'm even becoming unladylike in chasing my release. It comes, and I gasp (a male gasp, I think) and during one final big push, I explode into his mouth, gushing, gushing, gushing.

"Jesus," he says, jizz dripping out of the corners of his mouth. "Wow. I've always wanted to do this. Beautiful. I love the taste of your cum, Pang. I loved you in my mouth."

I lay back, a little exhausted, with eyes closed. "Anton, you really did need a woman with a dick. I'm so glad I could offer you that. ... This is, I guess, a first for both of us?"

"Yeah. This has been such a hot fantasy with me for such a long time. I've even had dreams thinking about it."

Later that evening, as we lay in his bed spooning each other, with only one lingering candle left burning, he holds me to him warmly as he again nuzzles my neck, I feel his hard dick against me. I'd swear the guy has a permanent hard-on.

"You can, you know," I half-whisper.

Without a word, he leaves the bed, and I hear him rolling a prophylactic down his cock and massaging some lube on it. I could turn over and observe his dick (which I still haven't seen), but something holds me back, as though I want to keep it a mystery. Then he comes back in behind me and smooths some cool lube all around my entry, and while again holding me securely, he aims himself toward my little rosebud and pushes in a little, quite gently.

"Have you done this before?" I ask in my semi-feminine voice.

"I was fucked once in a shower," he half whispers. "Didn't ever figure I'd be on the delivering end," he chuckles.

"Just leave it as it is for now," I say. I'm feeling very female and feminine. I actually feel like I have tits and a vagina, and I love to be directing him. I squirm my ass around a little, shifting the positions of his dick inside me gently, savoring the delicate sensations in my Michelle vagina. At the same time, I love being held (his hand is under my nightie cupping my "breast") and I love a warm body behind mine. Soon, Anton is moaning and I feel him beginning to thrust a little.

"Please be very slow and gentle," I ask.

Now, I'm loving the feeling of being full with him, of him occupying me, and knowing that his excitement is building.

I'm a woman now, and for the first time in my young life, I'm losing my virginity and I'm being fucked. By such a gentle, masculine man.

Soon, he can't control himself any longer, pulls out, applies generous amounts of lube and enters me for some serious copulation. He gets going. He holds me tighter.

His excitement gets me excited. Anton's moving deeper inside me -- it's a very unfamiliar feeling that doesn't give me much direct sexual sensation -- but it is making me wet again. I'm dripping. He's kissing my neck, my back. I love being owned by him.

I love countering his thrusts with my own ass motions which give him even more pleasure. His breathing becomes quicker and quicker, then suddenly stops and I feel him make one final big thrust before his body tenses, spasms and he screams, scaring me. He pumps a couple times more and then collapses against me. He's happy and that makes me happy. I feel so close to him and I feel so female, like an exotic tropical fish wearing lipstick.