Facebook 'Live Writing' Part 1 and 2 of 'Her Birthday Gift'

Geoff was unaccustomed to the rush hour traffic. Slowly crawling along behind the red double decker bus - which seemed to have decided that the bus lane was far too easy an option - he drummed his fingers in frustration. The delay ate up the extra minutes he had stolen by leaving two hours earlier than usual, though he still had an hour and a half in hand. Glancing down at the clock on his iPhone had nearly sent him into the back of the bus several times already, but his frustration overcame common sense and once again he checked the glowing rectangle.

Naturally the bus chose this moment to pull up once again. With an unpleasant crunch he drove his beautiful BMW into the back of the Routemaster, confirming the demise of his planned surprise.

The black cab pulled up abruptly; had it not been for his seat belt, sensibly clicked into place before the vehicle had moved off from the garage where his BMW was to spend the next few weeks, Geoff would have landed on the floor amongst the detritus.

 He had drifted into an uncomfortable semi-waking slumber as the cab driver had done his best to extend the journey unnecessarily and ramp up the glowing digits as high as possible.

Although Geoff knew the streets of London as well as any cab driver with the knowledge, even he could not keep track of the circuitous route being taken when he was asleep, even half asleep as he was.

He paid the driver without thinking, stuffing a handful of crumpled notes into the outstretched hand and failing to notice either the colour of the notes or the happy grin or greedy glint in the cabbies eye.

With his briefcase under his arm, he stumbled out of the cab, throwing the door shut behind him. The cab drove off swiftly, as if the driver feared realisation, retribution or
the recovery of unearned payment. Geoff, oblivious to the vehicles departure, was gazing up at the large Victorian houses that lined the street, at one particular house, at one particular floor, at one particular window.

Standing at the window, she had watched the cab arrive, watched him stumbling from it and watched it drive off. She was not angry, not anymore. It was not his fault he was an idiot. She realised she was now grinding her teeth. That's all she needed, a visit to the dentist. She forced herself to stop.

Maybe she was being unfair. Driving in London was far from an easy task these days, though he could have taken the tube 'Or even the bus he had crashed into,' she said aloud, her usually pretty mouth twisted in disgust.

'What's up?'

She turned around and smiled at the questioner.
'Nothing, he's here.'

'Mr Harcourt?'
'Yes, my husband, Geoff, your boss,' she laughed, 'are you going to put some clothes on?'

*

'Tea?' Geoff offered.
Thank you Mr Harcourt, yes, I'd love one, thank you, sir.'
'For God’s sake Barnes, call me Geoff will you?'

'Sorry Mr...sorry...errr...Geoff.'

'I hope you are spelling that right,' he paused, 'how many sugars?'

'None for me Sir...Geoff.'

'Sadly I've not yet had that honour.'

'I'm sorry?'

'Joke Barnes...do you have a first name?'

'Ben.'

'Nice...here.'

Barnes took the proffered mug.

'Thank you sir.'

Geoff ignored the mistake. The guy was obviously no stranger to a gym, he did not look at all comfortable in his tight fitting jacket, but he was not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

 'Sit,' Geoff almost exploded with laughter as soon as he issued the instruction, he'd be throwing sticks for Ben to catch next.

The big man pulled out a chair from the dining table and swung it around and between his legs in that macho way that alpha males like to do. Geoff remained standing, he already felt intimidated by the rugged handsome features, jutting jaw and impressive physique of this man from the theatrical agency. True he wouldn't score highly in an IQ test, but he would make a damn fine model, would not be out of place in one of those dreadful porn movies.

Geoff suddenly felt something else, something besides the intimidation of being so close to such a physically imposing individual. He suppressed the feeling, sipped his tea.

'Sorry I was late, did Mrs. Harcourt keep you entertained?'
Was that a smile quickly suppressed or had he imagined it?
'Yes Sir...I mean...Geoff.'

'I spoiled the surprise, well, a bloody London bus did.'
'Its OK Geoff, you didn't.'
'Hello again Jean...Errr...Madam.’

The big man had risen and was smiling broadly, perfect white teeth bared.

'First name terms already?' said Geoff.

His wife returned his question with an innocent smile and no reply.

It dawned on Geoff that she was wearing her black satin robe, was barefoot, she was positively glowing.

'Am I missing something?' He asked, looking from his wife to Ben and back to his wife again, 'Did you...start without me?'

Still without answering him, still smiling into his eyes, she tugged at the belt of the robe...it slithered like a snake from her waist to the floor and the robe parted like the curtains in a west end show. Although the satin clung to the mounds of her breasts and did not open wide, he could clearly see that under its slippery folds she was completely naked.

'Ah...I see,' said Geoff.

She shrugged the robe from her shoulders and it slipped lifelessly, silently, to the floor at her feet.

'I'm afraid you missed the action, Geoff,' she said, lifting her hands to allow her thumbs to stroke her newly exposed and fast burgeoning nipples, now as swollen as a pair of ripe raspberries, 'your birthday surprise came early, if you pardon my pun.'

He sensed rather than saw a movement behind him, glanced away from his wife. The big man had risen from his chair and, staring at Jean, was unbuttoning his shirt with one hand and his belt buckle with the other.

Ambidextrous, thought Geoff, stupidly.

Geoff turned back to his wife, she was staring past him, her eyes wide. Her tongue was painting her lips with a sheen as good as any lip gloss

Without looking at him, she spoke to him in an assertive tone unlike any he had heard her use before.

'I want you to undress now Geoff, you will look out of place, strip Geoff.'

 Her husband did not move, but stared at her, jaw dropping, mouth open, gaping at her like a fool. She continues to watch as the big man allowed his trousers to fall, stepping out of their pool at his feet, as gracefully as a dancer despite his size.

Had Geoff thought to look he would have noticed that the other man had not been wearing any footwear or any socks.

Seeing his wife's lips spreading into a smile, he followed her gaze.

The big man was an undeniably magnificent sight, now wearing only high thigh briefs which bulged with impressive promise.

His visits to the gym had clearly paid dividends, but had not resulted in an overdeveloped physique. He was, Geoff thought not uncomfortably, a beautiful man, an Adonis.

He found himself staring at the bulging white briefs...his wife interrupted his thoughts and his focus snapped back to her.

'What part of the instruction was unclear, husband, STRIP.'

He balked at the way she had mouthed 'husband'. Something about it was disparaging, almost insulting. Was his position as her husband now uncertain, did he no longer deserve the position, the role? Or was it the role itself that no longer held any value to her? Reluctantly he began to undress.

He did not undress in any way as well as Ben had. For a start he forgot to remove his shoes, hopping about trying to pull his trouser legs over them - watched by his naked wife and the almost naked Adonis, they were clearly enjoying his discomfiture, both barely suppressing giggles and glancing at each other in delight.

Once he had removed the trousers, he quickly unbuttoned his shirt, but too late realised how ridiculous he must look in socks and shoes and underpants.

He sat down and unlaced and slipped off his shoes, throwing them without aim away as if it would remove the memory of this humiliation.

Naked, apart from his own much less impressive briefs, he stood and waited for his wife's next instruction, glancing nervously toward the grinning Ben but focusing his main attention on the woman who had borne his children but was now, he suspected, about to assume a whole new position in his life.

‘Oh Geoffrey,' said Jean, gazing pointedly at his briefs, 'you seem to be getting a little excited.'

Both Geoff and Ben turned their attention to his underpants, or rather to the cock that was protruding at an angle from them like some alien probe.

He vainly tried to push it back inside but it was too big and seemed reluctant to assist, adding to his embarrassment and humiliation by rewarding him with an emission of warm wetness from the tip over his hand.

'Fuck Geoff,' said his laughing wife, 'you idiot, just take off those underpants and stop being a dick.'

He capitulated, defeated, pushing the underpants down. They dropped like dead thing to his feet and he stepped quickly out of them, grabbed them and used them like a rag to wipe the stringy wetness from the end of his quite obviously fully erect cock.

'Just throw them away, idiot,' said Jean, and he noticed that she had one hand busy between her legs, the other pulling at a nipple.

'Now, darling husband, I have a job for you.'

He waited, nervous, humiliated, naked...but absolutely undeniably aroused to a point that he had never before experienced. He was apparently unaware that his right hand was unashamedly pumping his cock.

'Mr Barnes is still wearing his underpants...go and help him out of them.'

'Uhhhhhhhh....oh fuck...uhhhhhhhh.'

'Oh for Gods sake Geoff, you wanker,' she muttered, 'I can't believe you did that.'

There was nothing he could have done to stop it. The thought of removing Barnes's underpants, Mr Barnes's underpants, had tipped him over the edge; his orgasm had swelled through him like a tsunami, and just as irresistible.

He bent and recovered the discarded briefs and used them to mop up while his wife and Barnes exchanged comments at his expense.

When he had finished, he carefully placed the underpants on the floor.

He had bent over at the waist to place the sticky soggy garment on the floor and was about to stand up when he felt hands on his hips, the touch was gentle but firm, elegant female fingers with long sharp nails.

'Stay like that,' she said, slowly releasing her hold when she was sure he understood and had complied.

He remained bent over at the waist, acutely conscious of his nudity and his audience, the word presenting occurred to him and he shifted uncomfortably, but relaxed when the solid and hirsute legs of his employee appeared in front of him, a high backed kitchen chair was positioned and he took hold of it for support. As soon as his hands gripped the warm oak, a strong pair of hands clamped them in place. Instinctively he tried to free himself but it was to no avail, his captor’s strength defeated him. He relaxed in surrender as he watched another pair of hands, elegant and with manicured pink nails, wrap a grey silk tie which he recognised as his own around his right wrist. Pulled tightly enough to hurt, it was followed by another, bright red, around his left wrist. He recognised this one, as it was secured it hurt more than the first, but in a different way - it was the tie he had worn at his wedding twenty years before. Jean knelt down beside him, taking his chin in her hand, lifted his head and gazed into his eyes. He forgot his predicament. Her fingers were gentle, her eyes warm a warm deep brown. The years had dissipated and he was 25 again, she his bride.

She kissed him on the mouth, her lips full wet warm, her tongue pressed and his lips opened and welcomed it inside like an old friend, a welcome lover. His rising cock stiffened further as her right hand closed firmly but gently around it.

He did not immediately realise that the hands that clamped firmly on his buttocks could not be hers. For an instant he sank into almost delirious pleasure, then pulled his mouth sharply away from her, turning to confirm his abrupt fear - the hands belonged to Barnes. For the first time in his fifty years on the earth, a man was massaging his buttocks. He jerked his thighs away in an effort to escape the suddenly unwelcome touch that had been so pleasurable an instant before.

One hand released him, but his instant relief was short lived, he had not shaken free, the hand now moved and he felt the palm of a large hand placed on his tightly stretched scrotum. His cock remained firmly erect despite his internal rejection of this intimate male contact, his wife was gripping it at the root to prevent the blood escaping with his arousal. Though to his embarrassment and shame, he was actually no less aroused. In fact the contact and humiliation was having an unexpected effect on his libido and his cock was oozing warm fluid once again.

‘Oh my,' said Jean, feeling the warm wetness trickling onto her now moving hand, 'we are a naughty boy aren't we?'

 'Fuck Jean, what are you doing to me,' he groaned, his thighs beginning to gently roll with the stroking motion of her grip.
'Giving you what you need, you naughty, naughty, boy,' she whispered, her lips brushing his ear, 'and now so will Master.'

Her hand was gone, now both were flat on his chest, fingers scissoring his tiny erect nipples sending shivering sensations across the network of his nerves from nipples to cock...where now another hand was gripping, slithering and sliding along the swollen shaft. Now he was oblivious to taboo, had allowed himself to slide down an irresistible slope of pure pleasure where gender was irrelevant and social norms had vanished like the morning mist.

Jeans breasts were in easy reach of his searching tongue, she smothered his face with their soft plumpness and he sought out her erect nipples, gripping them in his teeth, testing their resistance and flicking them with his tongue, she gasped and groaned at his attentions and he grunted as if in response, though his stimulation was sourced elsewhere.

Barnes was deliberately spreading fluids down the shaft of his employers cock, changing hands to spread the wetness on his ass cheeks and closer to his objective. Jean had made her wishes explicit, her husband was to be turned.

The rattle of the doorbell froze the tableau.
'No, God no don't stop, leave it please,' said Geoff, thrusting his thighs back as far as he could, the chair dragged backwards its feet squealing in protest, Barnes held his ground but Jean was able to disengage.

'No Geoff, we can't ignore it, we are expecting visitors.

'Visitors, who?'

'Won't be a moment, don't move a muscle,' she winked conspiratorially at Barnes, slipped her robe back on, tied the recovered belt and disappeared through the door.

As soon as she left, Geoff felt uncomfortable. Alone tied and naked in the presence of the man with the impressive physique, a man wearing only his briefs and with his hands still holding Geoff's fast softening cock, the hidden taboos came rushing back to the fore.

'Do you mind letting go of me?'
He felt the response, a tightened grip on his cock and balls. Despite his feelings, his body betrayed him. His cock stiffening once again. This time Ben began a gentle rhythmic squeezing which, despite himself, silenced Geoff and his thighs responded in time, gently thrusting. Unable to prevent the ministrations of this man, he closed his eyes and tried to imagine it was a woman's hands, but soon gave up; he was fast realising that his arousal was actually enhanced by the scenario he had found himself in.

By the time his wife returned, now accompanied, Geoff had been edged to the point of orgasm several times. Either Barnes had an incredible knack of recognising the point of no return and skillfully had been pulling him back from it, or he had been desensitised by having already cum once. He did not believe the latter for a second and the former was evidenced by slightly aching testicles.

Without ceasing his attention to Geoff, Barnes welcomed the new arrivals, they were on first name terms, three men, Steve, Ray and Bruno.

They were not introduced to Geoff, further enhancing his humiliation. In an odd way it helped him to deal with the situation, consigning him to the same category as the room furniture; he needed to be no more embarrassed than the chair to which he remained bound.

He barely noted one of the men toss a small object to Barnes, who naturally caught it effortlessly in one hand, yet still continued to maintain Geoff's arousal. Expertly, with the hand that had caught the jar, he spun off its lid, which clattered to the floor. He dipped three fingers into the jar and scooped out a large blob of its content.

Geoff started, interrupting his rhythm; cold Vaseline unexpectedly applied to ones anus is always going to cause that.

'What are you doing Barnes?' he yelped. His outburst was rewarded with a stinging slap on his ass cheek.
'No, cocksucker,' said Barnes, 'you refer to me as Master now.'

‘I’m not a cocksucker.’

His denial earned him another hard slap on the other cheek.

“Not yet, cock sucker,’ retorted Barnes, ‘not yet.’

The threat of this new humiliation caused him to swiftly look around at the faces of the new arrivals. All were stony faced, though he felt they were hiding their amusement for a reason other than for his benefit.

His wife did not hide her amusement, instead, she pulled her belt again and this time the robe slipped straight to the floor. He looked at the faces of the three men again. They were grinning now, staring with undisguised delight at his wife.

'Actually I like Master Ben...' THWACK!

'I'm sorry...Master Ben,’ to Jean’s ears it was the satisfying whimper of a broken man, ‘what are you doing?'

'Preparing you, Harcourt.'

'Preparing me…for what?' he had a good idea what, he could feel fingers applying the Vaseline, none too gently either.

'Oh don't panic Harcourt,' Ben chuckled, 'you don't think I'd try to put my cock into this tight little hole do you?'

They all laughed, Geoff noted that there was a female chuckling as loudly as the rest.

'We will ease you in gently, let me introduce you to Ray. Ray is also known as Rayanne. Rayanne is going to introduce you to her little toy'

One of the men stepped forward, he was one of those stunningly handsome men who visually bordered the genders, almond eyes, full lips, a narrow face with high cheekbones and a complexion like bone china. Like the others he wore a suit, those his was somehow more elegant, closer fitting and paler grey than the other. He also wore a pale lilac cravat and a matching handkerchief neatly folded and protruding from the breast pocket of his double breasted jacket. He smiled and nodded greeting, but remained silent.

'Go and get Rayanne ready, Ray, Geoff is very keen to get to know her.'

*

The big man was apparently satisfied with the administration of the gel and was wiping his hands on a towel, provided without the need for a request by the still naked Jean. He remained wearing only underpants, bulging, though with a less visible shape. Geoff could see him again now, as he had moved around to the chair. To Geoff's discomfort, he turned to Jean, lifted her chin and kissed her fully on the lips. She responded with obvious enthusiasm, her nipples becoming more apparent as they stiffened. Ben's hand strayed to her breast and he lifted it in his palm, thumb and forefinger coming together to pinch the nipple and draw a squeak evocative of either pain or pleasure from Geoff's wife.

The two other men watched the display of affection with obvious interest. Geoff wondered what their role would be.

That would be revealed soon enough.

Part 2

‘Looking good Rayanne.’

The transformation was incredible, though brought about through quite subtle changes.

He, or now she, still wore the same suit jacket, but the trousers had been replaced with a perfectly matching skirt. The skirt was split high enough to reveal that the black nylon she wore on her long slender legs was all it promised; glimpses of a dark patterned band were teasingly flashed as she walked toward the group. A silk lilac blouse that matched her cravat and handkerchief had replaced the white shirt she had worn on arriving and she now wore a plain cotton bra, visible through the transparent lilac silk of the blouse. She was stunningly beautiful, a handsome man transformed into a very beautiful woman, although the cravat no doubt his her secret, she could easily be mistaken for a woman even under the closest scrutiny. It was true that her face was as pale as alabaster, necessarily a little heavy on foundation to cover the slight shadow of facial hair, but her dark mascara tastefully selected to match the lilac trims in her clothing set off the faint blue in her otherwise pale grey eyes beautifully. The fullness of her lips had been enhanced with bright gloss red lipstick.

Instead of joining the others, she turned and headed toward Geoff.

He looked back under his body to see her skirt and legs behind him, braced himself for some kind of contact. Hands clasped his buttocks and he felt sharp nails digging into his flesh, the grip was strong and the palms felt dry and rougher than those of a woman, but warmer than the big mans had been, then they were gone. He waited.

Movements in front of him caught his attention. The big man had left Jean and was coming around to watch proceedings behind him, but his wife, still naked, had found other interests in the form of the still smartly suited men, Steve and Bruno. He had already decided that the shorter and wider of the two was Bruno, a man in his fifties with greasy black hair edged with grey and dark almost leathery skin that gave the impression that he had worked long hours in the sunshine; in Geoff’s mind he suited the name perfectly. The other would therefore be Steve. He was blonde, around 5 feet eleven. He had the look of a sales person in a tailors shop, he was young fresh faced and apparently of slight build in his loose fitting suit.

Bruno, Geoff having correctly identified him as the shorter of the two, had sunk down on his knees in front of Jean and was gazing up at her. Although Geoff could not see, the position of his arms around Jeans legs would position his hands on her buttocks. Judging by her thigh movements, he was massaging them. It did not go unnoticed by Geoff that if Bruno her were to lower his gaze he would be staring directly at her pussy. Even as the thought entered his mind, Bruno’s suit tightened across his back and his head began to nod as if her were agreeing. Jean was pushing her thighs forward in time to the nodding and she grunted ‘no…please no…’ Despite her ostensible desire for him to desist, her fingers had pushed through the grease and interlocked to hold him in place.

The taller man had taken up a position behind the naked wife and was inexpertly fingering her breasts and pulling at her nipples, looking anything but comfortable. Geoff wondered if he had ever been so close to a woman, let alone a naked one, before.    

But his attention was dragged away from his wife and the two men as hands once again grabbed his buttocks. He knew immediately that it was Master. To his surprise he actually thought Master Ben and not Barnes. It was as if only in that instant did he accept that he had changed almost as dramatically as had the transvestite Ray. For a moment he considered if Ray might be transsexual, if he had actually changed his gender. Strangely the though made his heart sink, though he did not analyse the reason, he felt disappointment. He had no time to dwell on it, his attention was dragged as his buttocks were also dragged wider and another hand grabbed and was pulling at the shaft of his stiffening cock and stretched ball-sack once again. At the same time something that felt like a finger was pushing at the puckered hole, pushing and then entering. He quickly realized it was not a finger, unless it was a vibrating one. Gentle waves of trembling vibration were emanating from the intruding probe. He had never experienced such a penetration in all of his life, though he had once probed experimentally with a finger, but not as deeply as this. His orgasm was abrupt and unstoppable, the hands on his buttocks, the probing finger and the hand pulling on his genitals was too much for him. He felt the sensation of fluid coursing through the channel in his cock and dripping heavily from it as never before and had been unable to suppress a cry that was almost a roar. He did not hear it, but simultaneously his wife Jean had also screamed out her climax on the end of Bruno’s tongue and the inexpert but no less stimulating fingers of Stephen.     

Dazed and barely able to believe what had just happened to him, Geof was in that period post orgasm where a man loses interest in sex and may sometimes instantly regret what seconds before was incredibly arousing. He had allowed a man to bring him to orgasm, had allowed himself to experience orgasm through the greatest heterosexual taboo; penetration of his anus by another man at the same time his wife had been brought to orgasm on the tongue of another man, while stimulated by yet another, like a whore; worse than a whore, she had not to his knowledge been paid.

But the feeling of regret passed swiftly. He became aware of activity and realised that Rayanne was untying him. With a little difficulty he stood, took the tissues offered by the transvestite and wiped the drips from the end of his cock and the excess oozing Vaseline from his ass.

His wife was talking to him, but his attention was drawn to Rayanne. He was confused, wanted to settle that confusion, to do so, he needed to talk to her.

She was smiling at him, he returned the smile awkwardly, uncertain how to progress. She took the responsibility away from him, seizing his jaw and pulling his mouth to hers. It was an exquisite kiss.

His wife stared, her eyes wide, but he did not know and would not care. He had crossed a line, there could be no going back. Her astonishment faded and a smile crept across her lips. This could not have been going better.

He knew he was kissing a man, but when their lips parted he slipped to his knees, eagerly slid his hands up Rayanne’s nylon clad legs to lift the grey skirt above her stocking tops, above the tight garter belt straps which dipped under black lace panties.