My mind was a whirlwind of excitement as she began to lower herself to me. I wondered if I'm a cuckold while I watch her get fucked, then is she a cucktress as she watches me fuck? Brandie teasingly slid her pussy over the head of my dick.

That's it, I thought. Just sit that lipless little pussy down over my dick and let's go for a ride.

I looked at the stainless steel ring through her clit and wondered how much it added to her excitement.

Brandie took hold of me and I felt the head go into her.

“Stop!” Nancy ordered. “That's enough.”

Brandie let go of me as she stood back up.

“You've had enough fun for one day,” my wife joked, as the others laughed at my frustration.

“Cucks don't fuck,” Joan quipped.

I felt my face redden as the guys laughed

“The idea is for the wife, as the superior person in the marriage, to enjoy herself,” Gregg stated. “It is the job of the husband to service.”

“Well, that he has done,” my wife said.

“You know, Sis, with some training he'll make a real good cuck.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” she answered, unsure of how she was supposed to take her sister's remark.

“Anyone want another piece?” Joan asked, as she grabbed my wife by her ankles and spread her legs apart.

Nancy smiled, but I could see in her eyes that her sister's actions bothered her.

Both men declined, while their eyes were locked on her pussy until Joan released her. I was both thankful and disappointed.

“Anyone want to see the cuck jerk off?” Joan went on.

Again there was no interest.

“To show her gratitude, I think Harriet should dress them,” Joan interjected. “How about it, Sis?”

“A-I guess so,” Nancy answered, as she looked over at me.

Again there were a few chuckles.

“Harriet,” Nancy said as she pointed at our guests.

I went about dressing each of them. I began with their underwear, and with both of them, they teasingly slapped me in the face with their dicks. My wife and her sister laughed, and both of the guys chuckled. I think Brandie stood there in silence. I played along by trying to grab the head with my mouth. I did my best to avoid eye contact with them, as I was just not comfortable putting clothes on a grown man. I dressed Dan and then Greg.

“Would you like a copy of the recording Dan did of me de-lipping my bitch?” Greg asked as I finished tying his shoes.

“What?” My wife almost shouted.

I looked over at Brandie, and she stood there looking at the floor.

“I have her de-lipping, along with her tattoos and piercings,” Greg bragged.

“He's had me record a lot of their stuff,” Dan interjected.

“Take a copy,” Joan insisted. “That was the reason I asked those questions. It was to pique your interest.”

“Well then, yes,” Nancy said. “I would like a copy.”

“Okay I'll bring it the next time we get together.”

Next time? I thought.

“I look forward to it,” Nancy said.

Wow Hun, you're really starting to get into this.

When I went to dress Brandie I had to begin from behind, as I was not allowed to look at her body. It was good for a laugh by the others, and I did as I was told. I was surprised when I had finished and she was told to dress me. In complete silence, she did as she was told. She was then told to dressed my wife, which she did in that same silence.

After some more talk they said their goodbyes.

“Well, it has been a pleasure,” Dan said, as he stood up.

“Yes it has,” Greg agreed.

He then looked at Brandie who immediately dropped to her knees and bowed all the way to the floor.

Nancy looked at me and I at her, we were both puzzled by her actions.

“Ma'am I wish to thank you for allowing a skank piece of shit like me into your beautiful home,” Brandie began. “I pray that I have not offended you nor discredited your home.”

Nancy was briefly taken aback by her actions, before realizing they were a part of the couple's games.

“A-a, it was a pleasure having both of you here,” she said.

~~~~~

“I've never understood your fondness for that,” Nancy remarked as she looked down at me, my face between her legs.

“Fondness for what?” I asked as I looked up from her pussy.

“Eating cum.”

“I don't know,” I said as I raised up to look her in the face. “It took a little getting used to the taste, but the idea of cleaning you up really excited me, and still does.”

“I know, but it just befuddles me,” she quipped.

“Befuddles?” I joked. “Think I'll befuddle your pussy.”

“You just finished licking your befuddle out of my pussy,” she said. A soft smile came to her face that filled me with warmth.

“I love you,” I told her.

“And I love you.”

After everyone had left, Nancy took a shower while I picked up the house. I made it a point to remain dressed as Harriet. After she had dried off, she came into the kitchen, hopped up on the counter, spread her muscular thighs and asked me, “Do you think they enjoyed my pussy?” I walked over, bent down and kissed her pussy, and then assured her that they had. This action was so out of character for her, but it told me that things were indeed changing in our house. To test these changes I asked her to help me fix my make up. She did, and while doing so made the comment, “You're gonna have to learn to do this yourself.” Her statement surprised, shocked and excited me.

We made a plan for my fast disappearance if any family had stopped by, but it went unused. Nancy wanted to run to the store and she made me go with her. This told me that she was truly enjoying herself. To keep my mind off of being dressed in public, I went over and over in my mind, our recent activities. It had, so far, been truly an enjoyment. Watching her get off with those guys made me feel like the first time that I had sex. Her orgasms were so mentally satisfying for me that I could hardly wait to see her do it again. I loved having people watch as I performed clean up, being dressed as Harriet, and of course, her clean-shaven pussy. It seemed that all I was going to have to do was follow instructions and embrace what her sister called my “very strong femme side.”

Nancy's support of this change was evident when she helped me remove my make up, remarking that, “It gets easier the more you do it.” I mentioned my problems of walking and mannerisms, and she simply replied, “Give it time, and it'll be as normal for you as it is for me.” Her words left no doubt in my mind that not only had I become a cuckold, but I was to be a cross-dressing sissy-cuckold. The thought of this was a mix of worry, comfort, and joy.

“So, tell me about you and your sister,” I said after I'd slid back up and wrapped my arms around her.

I'd left the lamp on so I could see her. Her face turned a very dark red.

“Damn her,” she finally said.

“Tell me, do you still have your sixty-nine sign?”

“Damn her!”

“Incestuous lesbianism,” I joked. “And mom knew.”

“Damn you, Joan,” she said as she sat up. Her inch long nipples stood out.

“Your sister must have a very sweet pussy because your kisses have always been very sweet,” I went on as I looked at those fully erect twins. “Did she enjoy sucking on those tits of yours as much as I do?”

“Yes, but I think mom enjoyed it more,” she answered, as she avoided eye contact.

“Your mom!” I shouted.

“There are a few things my sister doesn't know. Goodnight,” she teased and laid back down, her back to me.

“Oh, no,” I countered. “You're not getting away this easy.”

“Good night,” she giggled.

“Nancy!” I protested.

The room was silent for a minute or so. I kept my eyes on my wife, who kept her back to me.

“If I tell you this, you cannot think bad of my mom,” she said, her back still toward me.

“I could never think bad of your mom,” I argued. “She was the best mother-in-law a guy could have,”

“You have to promise never to speak to anyone of this, not even my sister,” she said, her back still toward me.

“I can tell that this is weighing heavy on you,” I began, my voice calm. “I will never mention it again unless you wish to talk about it.”

After a while she sat up against the headboard, her eyes looking at the dark wall across the room. I know whatever she was about to tell me was going to come from some very deep and dark corner of her memory.

“It happened after we got home from Joan and Mark's wedding reception.”

Her words were slow and void of any emotion. I was certain that what she was going to tell me, she was not at all comfortable talking about.

“We'd both had too much to drink,” she began, her voice soft and hesitant. “In fact, neither one of us should have been driving, but mom drove anyway. Brought home three bottles of wine, half a bottle of tequila, a six-pack, some cake, and a used rubber.”

“A used rubber?” I nearly shouted.

“It was in the bottom of the box under the tequila,” she flatly replied. “Mom picked it up, looked at it and remarked, 'what a waste'.”

“That's a bit gross,” I remarked.

“Anyway, we opened a bottle of wine and drank a toast to the newlyweds. I made a remark about them enjoying their honeymoon. They were going to St Thomas, and then mom made the remark about me going without.”

“Going without?” I quizzed.

“I was puzzled too, and then she joked 'your sign'.”

I chuckled as I too finally got it.

“Now, I not sure who said what or how, but it seems like it wasn't but a few minutes and the two of us were in bed,” she paused, and I could hear the apprehension in her voice. “Together.” Then another pause. “In her room.”

I took her hand in mine, but said nothing.

“We, we-”

“It's okay,” I assured her.

“What still bothers me is that it was wrong, we both knew it was wrong, but we enjoyed it,” she went on, still not looking at me.

“You guys had been drinking, so-”

“But that doesn't excuse it,” she countered. “Afterward, we drank more and did it again.”

I opened my mouth to speak when she exclaimed.

“Oh my frigging Gawd!”

“What?”

“That's why I never liked for you to shave me!”

“Huh?”

“Mom had always kept herself shaved, and after that first time, she shaved me. I remember when she had finished and wiped me off. She patted me and called me her 'baby girl.' That hast to be it.”

“So why was it okay for Peter to shave ?” I asked, having quickly understood her epiphany.

“He isn't family,” she replied, as she looked over at me. “He was a stranger. A stranger with a woman, not a baby girl.”

“And now?”

“I want to start going to your hair removal place and get it all removed,” she said, as a smile came to her face.

“That's great,” I said. “Legs and pits too?”

“Yes. I'll get with Peter,” she went on.

“Peter?”

“He wasn't my mom patting my pussy.”

“Oh, she patted you on your pussy?”

“Yes,” she said, as her tone went back to earlier. “After she patted me, we talked a little and then we did it again. Then we drank some more and did it a third time.”

“It's okay, alcohol-”

“I can't blame it on alcohol, as we did it again the next day.”

I could tell that she was deeply troubled by what she was telling me, and what made me feel worse about the matter was I was getting aroused.

“The next morning when I woke up, mom was already up. I walked into the kitchen to find her in her robe making breakfast. I was standing there naked and all she did was smiled at me and say 'hello sleepy-head,' like she'd done my whole life. Once she had it ready we sat down to eat. It was a first for me as it included the beer.”

We both chuckled.

“Never once, during the entire meal did she ever mentioned anything even close to what we had done. Finally, when she pour us coffee, she put a little of the tequila in it, as asked, “So how was my pussy?” I about fell over.”

Her chuckle told me that she was coming to terms with the matter.

“Just to bring this to a conclusion, we spent all of Sunday eating each other.”

“Wow. I'm sorry, but I have to ask, how much longer did you guys-”

“Not long.”

Her tone spoke of regret, and I was certain she wanted to bring this subject to its conclusion.

“We were both adults,” she went on. “We knew. In fact, it wasn't until I became a mother that I began to feel the shame of our actions. On a positive note, I learned to love my body and how to give really good oral.”

“No complaints, and no ill thoughts of your mom,” I said as I hugged her.

“I'm glad we did it, but I also wish we hadn't.”

“I just thought of something,” I said in an effort to change the subject. “In the old days, they referred to a woman's legs as 'pins'.”

“So?”

“Well, you're gonna start doing laser hair removal,”

“Yes. But what do pins have to do with it?”

“When I'd go to my appointments, I always called it 'plucking', right?”

“Right.”

“You said that you're gonna get your legs and armpits done too, right?”

“Right.”

“So, you're getting your pins, pits, and pussy plucked.”

She looked at me, my joke had failed to elicit a response.

“I'm very glad you have such a good job,” she began after an extended silence. “Because we would have starved to death if you had tried to make a living as a comedian.”

Without another word, she rolled over, turned the lamp off, and farted.