Dickish Direction: Shemale

But, as both lay together, grasping feebly to collect their scattered wits, both felt their need surge back, as powerful as ever before. And so, without further pause, they resumed their movements.

Their bodies scraped against each other, their breasts, groins, faces filling again with ecstatic cheer. The phantom sensation of the pang already faded from their minds.

But its effects, as yet minor but profound, remained. Left to incubate, unseen, in the darkness between their bodies.

And as their movement began again in earnest, Summer leaned her head forwards, her neck no longer willing, or able, to support it. Finally allowing it, too, to rest against its counterpart. And as those sparkling brown eyes grew enormous in their closeness, as Summer stared back into them, she paired her lips with the waiting flesh of Malena below. Allowed her tongue to part her lips, pass her teeth, to again begin to sample the taste that was Malena's. And there she remained, as her kiss was reciprocated. Savored. Their eyes flittering closed in ecstasy.

And below, their nether lips resumed their own never-ending kiss. But it was joined now by a new sensation. A sensation stemming from each's tiny, but hardened, horny, erected, and ever-so-sensitive clitoris. From their rosy, feminine flesh, each now poking not quite so subtly from the folds that had incubated them. Their womanly buttons woke, met, maturing - and just now beginning to bloom in earnest. Sticking out but a small ways from the fleshy hoods they had called home, a miniscule protrusion of nerve-wracking flesh curling outwards and slightly upwards. Each the size of a fingertip, nothing more.

But filled with potential, with desire. With a need to satisfy their direction.

Ashley felt again the tightening, quivering contractions of her womanly muscles. She bathed in them, basked in them. Another orgasm, building, and breaking, and receding to join the residual waves, the quaking muscular shudders of its predecessors. But most especially, Ashley felt herself increasingly submerged in the growing, straining, needy impulse in that newly-prominent organ.

And she moaned with pleasure as she pressed it against the heated length of flesh sent to meet it. For she wanted it to be touched. More than anything, she wanted it to be sexed.

And she wanted to be able to sex her partner with it. To fuck her flesh with all that she had.

Her clit stood out prominently from her folds. Scraping, stimulating, twisting and cramming itself against the firming protrusion now blocking its upwards path. And Ashley succumbed gladly to it.

And, as both women began to focus on that point of their pussies, behind them, below them, the lips, the CORE of their vaginas pressed out almost imperceptibly further. Became almost unnoticeably more bloated, more engorged, even as their sensation was steadily robbed from them, transferred to the cheery buttons atop. As if pouting, sulking. Each as if was wishing, begging to be given the same treatment now afforded its apex.

Summer only felt the muscles of her vagina pulse, and pull, and push again, as sublimely as ever. Though, she hazily thought, her head consumed with the taste and feel of Malena, this time it did feel a bit...fleshier. If not at all moist.

---

Leon wasn't sure how it had happened. It seemed improbable. Impossible, even. But the truth of the matter was before him, and he wasn't so thickheaded as to deny it.

His two starlets were doing well. The scene was good.

Hot, even. Arousing, even to him. He could feel himself BECOMING aroused, could feel the flesh within his trousers beginning to stir and grow, begin to pulse with his OWN unwanted, unwarranted desire. But he concentrated, stifling himself, controlling his own body. Ordering his own flesh to desist, denying the ache he felt blooming within his own groin.

It shocked him somewhat - almost sickened him, even. It was entirely unlike him, and Leon couldn't fathom why his body would betray him so. This was no place to be aroused, he knew. He was a professional, after all, not a...participant. He was the man who directed - and nothing more.

But what he directed had become undeniably hot.

He couldn't see their genitals, of course. Or hear them. That was probably the biggest thing, Leon told himself. To justify what he felt, to set his mind at ease. His own skills, his own instructions - they were rewarding him. That was all. The sight of their sopping, smacking holes; the sound of the quivering, malformed wounds he knew they each sported - they would've likely ruined it all. It was mere happenstance, mere LUCK that they were managing this. Managing, perhaps, to craft the beginnings of an actual convincing, impassioned scene, even as they ground against each other.

Much as they had many times prior, yet now distinctly...different.

All rather surprising, when compared to their recent performance, their recent attitude. It didn't seem...quite natural, to him. Even with his own undeniable talent serving as guide.

And yet somehow, regardless of likelihood, it WAS different. His ego couldn't argue that point, much as it would like to. For Leon hated them, truly he did. That had not changed. They had already displayed their true colors, their true unpleasantness to him; they, at least, had not, could not have improved.

And yet, what they were making before his eyes...

Somehow, it was ART. Passionate, emotive, and genuine.

And so Leon watched, with increasingly rapt attention, as they slid against each other. Their voices subdued, quiet, natural - but heady with the subtle, sensual signs of lust. Of pure, mutual attraction. Of legitimate arousal, palpable longing. Their teats pressing against each other lovingly, neither willing nor able to break free. Their nipples only occasionally peeking out, breaching as if to breathe, as their bodies wavered back and forth. Erect, brightly pink, and potent, but nonetheless beautifully lonesome; isolated islands of sensitivity upon the rounded slopes, the ever-joined summits of their chests. Each a sole, solitary reminder of the innately female sexuality and pleasure they represented.

Leon felt - though he could hardly believe those feelings - that he wanted to see more of them. Of those chests, of those bodies, of those women. They seemed...tasteful, somehow. Their sexing forms appearing more beauteous to his eye than ever before they had.

MUCH more so.

And then his gaze shifted downwards, settling despite himself on the tightly-clamped clefts of their bodies, the twisting length of their entwining legs. Bobbing and weaving together in sensual, grinding rhythm, sliding up along each other's bodies, almost as high as the belly of their quietly panting partner, each in turn. First summer gasping as her partner - seemingly almost her lover, Leon found himself thinking - slid steadily upwards along her body from below, stalled, and then fell back from whence she came. Then Malena echoing her as the roles reversed, the older woman's mouth opening in a silent shriek that no longer seemed so obscene to Leon's eyes, her lips surfacing from the confines of their shared kiss with a moistened pop as Summer ground gradually upwards, the smaller woman's eyes slammed shut, her lip quivering as she glided up, up, up the body beneath her.

Then, for a moment, Leon thought he saw something in the cleft between their crotches. A quick flash of pinkish flesh meeting flesh. A small start, a stutter, a brief stop in the motion between the two as they seemed to connect, catch, caress. But then Summer gasped, a lusty, satisfied sound. A visible, audible sign of her pleasurable, orgasmic release as the obstruction seemed to be passed, her body released. To continue the cycle anew.

He felt like he wanted to see more of that flesh. It seemed...right.

He was again made aware of his own groin, the subtle tightening quickly contested by his own will. And, as he watched the scene before him, as he grappled with his penis and his pride both, as he began to reconsider his statements of so recently, he began to feel that there was work yet to be done.

He was the Director, after all. If he had molded the scene into one so on the verge of adequacy, could he not, then, bring it even further? Could he not capture it, not shape to his tastes the uncut, unformed beauty he had begun to recognize before him?

Not share it with his camera, with his audience?

And, almost not believing his own actions, Leon shakily began to pace to one of the lower, more offset emplacement. Altering its positioning slightly, filling the frame more fully with their ever-more striking forms. Adjusting the angle slightly lower, against all his prior instincts.

Increasing its magnification, only by a bit. Just enough for it to more clearly capture the rosy, pointed flesh he had only yet caught glimpses of. To present it prominently, against all his earlier inclinations.

And suddenly, without even realizing he was saying anything until the words had already left his lips -

"Go a bit harder if you could, you two. Give me a little more to work with."

A twin series of shudders mirrored each other along their two naked forms, causing both to shiver slightly in each other's arms as the women paused and glanced his way, slowly, reluctantly. Eyes unfocused and clouded with lust, but ears, at least, attentive.

A pang of embarrassment shot through him at their gaze. This still seemed wrong, to him. Stopping such...beauty. It had to go on. He had to let it continue. This was no longer a matter of his pride. It was a matter of professionalism. Of artistry. Of PASSION.

And he would support them in it. He was the Director. The show must go on.

"You're...well, I won't lie. You're actually starting to look pretty hot. If you could just show me a bit more flesh, maybe put a little more angle into it, get just a tad more oomph down there, you might actually be going somewhere with this. You two might really manage to pop. Honestly, this could even end up usable. It's like...you're RIGHT on the verge of getting something here. Something special. Something ballsy.

So...keep doing what you're doing. But more so. Show me more."

"Mnngg."

Each issued forth a primal, sexual noise at that, seeming almost to savor the request.

And they turned back towards each other, obediently beginning to reposition themselves. Pulling upwards, then apart. Slightly, only slightly, exposing now their groins, their nipples. Their breasts sticking sweatily to one another, wetly stretching apart as they were revealed; their nipples stood tall and majestic, straining with visible joy as they separated.

Exposing, for a moment, their vulvae - bright-red, blood flushed, engorged, ugly things. The effects of the stimulation they'd been subjected to made clear to see.

And, most importantly, exposing the flesh he'd been hungrily seeking atop those puffy lips. Exposing the cherry-red, inch-long, slightly thickened lengths of pure, erotic tissue they now, impossibly, cradled. Exposing them to the light, to the world, the air, the cameras; the newborn flesh granted its first breath of life beyond their bodies. Each cylindrical, smooth, and stiff, jutting out insistently from the flesh they sprouted from, each pointed apex winding briefly back towards its source, before widening slightly at the base, spreading and stretching the fleshy hoods that encircled them. For all the world appearing as if each organ had been grabbed bodily and yanked away from its owner; as if each clitoris had been stretched outwards from the women's bodies, been made to be far longer, far thicker, far more erect than ever was normal for them.

For a normal woman, at least, a buried voice from within him seemed to correct. A spark of unknown, never-felt desire within the man waking, watching, and lustily crooning within as it began to recognize the beginnings of a fetishistic form in them. Began to recognize a shape that, perhaps, could right the fatal imperfection of the women's bodies.

A shape that to it, to Leon, might well represent that which he had for so long sensed was MISSING from their garish groins.

Leon felt his penis, erecting despite his efforts, begin to twitch. Once, twice, and no more.

Then, before his captivated eyes, Leon saw those lengths spasm, as if in response to the sudden light allowed to grace their forms. A slight, jerking, muscular motion radiating through them from their roots, sending them happily hoping against the women's bodies, sending their owners into a brief spasm of their own. Backwards, then forwards, bobbing along. The clitoral flesh bowing and bending upon their bodies.

And as they did, Leon watched. Watched as one of the two, the slighter of the pair, the waving salmon-hued flesh attached to the woman named Summer, throbbed mightily - and grew larger. If only briefly, if only for a moment, Leon watched, bearing witness through his camera, as a vein pulsed out along its length, crawling swiftly up the inch-long nub of flesh. As the flesh twitched in response. And as it swelled, ballooning upwards and slightly outwards, the inch slowly becoming ever so slightly more.

And Leon watched as, bewildered, he thought he saw the smallest bead of fluid begin to gleam on its tip, glimmering under the brightness of his lamps. A tiny drop of feminine slickness seeming to have somehow escaped eradication. Leon could almost swear it was so.

But alas, he saw no more, as the two bodies then resumed their motion, their naked flesh beginning to slide, and to press, and to rub against once more. Details becoming hazy and blurry, impossible to clearly discern. Though no longer quite so hidden as before.

The women beginning to ensure a healthy separation was kept between their bodies, between their groins. Exposing themselves as best they could for him.

As they were made again as one.

As they were again compelled to obey his words.

**********

Within what mind was left to them, each felt it somewhat familiar.

Malena found herself recalling, not unpleasantly, a sexual experience she'd once shared in the past. A fetishistic session shared with another, a woman noted and notable for the uniquely sizeable shape of her groin. Recalling how the woman's clitoris, stuck out slightly and drooping limply from her vaginal apex, had felt against Malena's own flesh, how it had squished and softened against her as their hips had pressed together in sessions long past.

For Ashley, a scene between her and her boyfriend sprung to mind. Memories and phantasmal sensations of his chiseled, sculpted torso, standing with dominance over her. Of the love, the anticipation she had felt. Of his member, manly, meaty, erect. Of how he would take it, mount her, and slide it roughly against her. Teasing her with foreplay, allowing it to cleave between her nether lips without yet entering within her. Edging and pressing forcefully to and fro against her without yet penetrating deeper within.

But each such past experience was sorely lacking compared to their present sensations.

For Malena's partner was no longer the only one sporting that size, nor was either length nearly so soft. She felt no pliancy beneath her now, no give afforded the strained, sublime contact on her crotch. Just scraping, sliding, delicious hardness. Pressing insistently, ever-more prominent against her body, against her sex.

For Ashley's sex was not being shared with a man, nor was she being dominated. Not at all. The lurching body against her was that of a woman, the breasts before her far, far weightier, far more mesmerizing than the male form she could fondly recall. Her impassioned lovemaking possessing a certain gentle grace his had not, even as the hardness spread her crotch comparably; her nipples, shaking with every shared thrust, still retaining a certain feminine vulnerability. And that face - her lovely, rapturous, beautiful features - that was most certainly that of a woman. Summer had been well acquainted with that fact, those features; her tongue pressed deeply against and between those delightful lips.

And yet, she felt herself just as just as desiring of this womanly form as she had that of her lover. As if Malena, too, was somehow important to Ashley; as if she, too, was capable of bringing her to the brink with her body alone. As if she, somehow, was a miraculous exception to the bounds of Ashley's true, heterosexual preference.

And as far as who was to dominate whom...well.

"...I'll give you a little more, all right," Ashley spoke softly, seductively, grinning as she felt the pride of an actress welling up within her. Angling her head a tad, doing her best to ensure she'd be seen, be heard by the cameras around her. Leaning back, letting her body breathe, allowing her flesh be viewed while never once ceasing her muscle's movements, her vagina's thrusts and gyrations. And, feeling suddenly confident, she loosened her hands from around her partner, reoriented herself, and, without a further word, pressed each palm against the breasts before her.

Naughty girl. He never said to stop using these, she thought amusedly to herself, beginning to rub, her fingertips already tweaking at their tips.

I'll just help you out with that~.

Oh my god, thought Malena as the woman astride her whipped her arms around, atop, and began to pinch, to pull. To push on the weighty globes of her breast, to tug and twist on each tit in turn. But "Ohhhhh my...my..." was all that made it out of her, the words stolen by the sensational bliss of her nerve-filled flesh being fondled.

And below, she felt a comparably blissful throb in her loins as her racing heartbeat rang out, sending blood coursing once more through its warping form, its newfound length. And she could feel as it palpably grew just a little longer. Sense as her length squirmed upwards, downwards, her clitoris insatiable for taste of its pair. It had nearly reached the size of her pinky, perhaps, she thought.

Mmmnggg. Her teeth nearly cleaved through her lower lip. A bit past that, now.

The two women were, of course, not completely unaware of what was happening to them. They'd have had to be fools not to notice. And it had shocked them, at least at first.

"What the FUCK", Ashley's mind had almost shouted as her lap had at last been revealed to her. As she could at last see, could feel, the inflated flesh of her clitty sticking, stretching outwards, the skin of her torso above slick with the sweat of their bodily warmth as it was rudely separated, as their embrace was made to end. And as she could feel, with a lusty, sexual start, the throbs that had begun to run along it, see the delicate, ballooning growth each left in its wake. But the words had never left her.