Being
Misty
by Sabrina Qedesha
Being
Misty
| Matt
and Misty usually spent social time together along with their significant
others, all four as a group: Matt and his girlfriend Angela, and Misty
and her boyfriend Jon. Somehow, Matt and Misty found in each other what
they had not in their own partners: someone as wildly and creatively erotic
as themselves. They discovered this series of sexual facts through conversations
they had, as often close friends do: over beer and chips, each carefully
taking in mental notes about the other, although they had never discussed
this desire even once before acting upon it.
One evening, Matt and Misty had gone out to rent some movies and to pick up some pizza for the group. On the way back, Misty reached over and unfastened Matt's pants while he drove, and performed the most frenzied blow job either of them had ever experienced. Surprisingly, and still a bit stunned, the two of them then rejoined the others a moment later, as though nothing had even happened. This sexy encounter led to a series of meetings at least once a week, usually during lunch, sometimes in hotel rooms, sometimes in the car, sometimes in public. Once they made love in the kitchen shared by Matt and Angela, Misty seated on the counter, Matt with jeans around his ankles, while Jon and Angela ate pretzels in the next room watching the TV. They began to introduce various toys and kinks, tying each other up or sharing the bed with a second woman, an old friend of Misty's. This brought a number of surprises to light: Matt's fantasies about crossdressing, for example, and Misty's desire to be dominated. Jon had been Matt's friend since junior high, a fact that added no small level of guilt to their trysts. This guilt became in a way a central feature of their escapades; by making love they were already breaking rules, and this gave them in a way the permission they needed to explore the fantasies they had forbidden themselves. Jon was sometimes present, in a way, as Misty would describe the way he liked this or that in bed. The lovers were distant relatives, and it did not escape their notice that they looked very much alike, in complexion, face, body shape, and size. There was only a difference of an inch of height between them, and not only they were of the same weight, but their weight was distributed almost identically, as Misty had an almost boyish figure. So, one afternoon while Jon wasn't expected to be back in town until late, Matt and Misty went into new territory, making up Matt so that he looked like Misty. They had bought a blonde wig and cut it to match her style, and after bathing with her scented shower soap and dabbing on her perfume, they set to work with the makeup. His facial hair didn't show at all, and once they were both decked out in matching red teddies and garter belts, they were stunned by how alike they looked. They looked and smelled almost identical. They almost didn't want to move from the mirror, but slowly they worked their way to the bed, where they made love in silence. Matt's voice broke the spell, but they learned that Matt could whisper like Misty, so they whispered their desires to one another, and joined as one in a way they had never imagined before. They had brought out the straps and blindfolds, but tonight intercourse alone was kinky enough. It was almost as if they were sharing Matt's penis, as though half the time it was Misty's and she was the one penetrating him. "I don't know where you begin and I end," she whispered at one point, and he mimicked her, whispering, "I don't know where you begin and I end," sounding just as she had. For Matt, the feel of the smooth silky fabrics against his skin was as erotic as it ever was, when Angela or Misty was the only one wearing it. He had looked in the mirror and seen Misty looking back at him -- Misty, the most desirable woman he'd ever known, the other self who lay beneath him now. He slid his hands from her side to his own, and didn't know when he had stopped touching her and began touching himself. "You are so beautiful, Misty," Matt whispered, thrusting deeply, but so gently the bed made no sounds. "You are so beautiful, Misty," she whispered back, and arched her head back while her body shuddered with pleasure. As frequently happened, her orgasm hastened his, and they stared into each other's eyes as they climaxed. She had called him Misty, and it was not inappropriate that evening, for sexually they were so well attuned they almost were one and the same. He fell asleep under the covers with this thought in his head. They'd left the lights low to enhance the illusion, and Misty kept them low while she went about the room throwing on clothes. While Matt lingered at the edge of slumber he heard Misty say, "I'm going out for half an hour; there's nothing to eat here. How's Chinese sound?" Matt, or was it Misty?, opened his eyes and looked at the clock. 8:47. "Sounds fine," he murmured. Misty chuckled at him. "What?" he asked, a little louder. "Did you realize you sounded almost like me?" No, he hadn't, he thought. "You know, I like you dressed up like that, it will almost be a shame to take all the makeup off." Mmm, yes, it would, Matt thought to himself. Well, he'd lay here for a while, and enjoy the feel of the sheets over the silk and nylon, and be Misty just a little while longer. He woke to the feel of motion on the bed, as someone slipped under the sheets behind him. He glanced at the clock. 9:05. Why, Misty hadn't been gone half an-- "Oh, I see you arranged a surprise for me, hon," said Jon, behind him. "This outfit is new. Mmm, I definitely approve." Jon was home. He'd been caught, and... no, wait... the outfit and perfume was so convincing, Jon thought he was Misty! Still, how was he going to get out of this? Misty would be home in a few minutes. Jon's hand moved up his side, gliding over the silk towards Matt's padded busom. Matt moved from his touch before the hand got to the padding that would have given him away. Think, Matt, think! Just as Matt knew Jon was going to ask why he was being so coy, he heard Jon voicing surprise at something. Jon sat up, and felt around at the end of the bed. "I was wondering what that was. Just what did you have in mind with these straps?" Straps! They'd left the straps and blindfolds on the bed. Matt now had a plan -- he would be Misty for a while. Just long enough to escape. Misty turned to face him, and whispered, "Lay back and find out." Without a word Jon did so, and Misty saw as she gathered the straps and blindfolds that Jon was naked and half erect. Jon complied willingly, grinning, while Misty used the straps to tie his arms to the headboard. "I can do whatever I want now," she whispered again, and kissed his hairy chest, licking the nipples. "You are under my control." "Ooh, yes!" he moaned. Misty sat up and gave him one last display, drawing her hands up her side and cupping her breasts, massaging them in circles. They were padded, of course, but Misty could almost feel the sensation. Grinning, she leaned forward and slipped the blindfold over his eyes. Now what? She couldn't just leave. She had to wait for the other Misty to get back. This should be any minute now. She rubbed her hands up and down the length of Jon's body, slowly, finding she liked the feel of his hairy chest and legs under her hands. By 9:20 Jon was showing signs of frustration. Misty had done everything she could think of, rubbing her hands, tongue, even her stockinged leg over Jon's body. Jon was rock hard, but starting to wiggle. Misty knew the straps wouldn't keep him down if he really struggled. This was the time for decisive action. "Hold still, sweetie," she whispered, and took his cock in her mouth. Matt had never dared to think about doing this... but as Misty, it was okay. Misty loved to give head, so in a way, this made his experience as Misty complete. Matt had taken careful notice of how Misty gave head, because it was the most exquisite pleasure he'd ever felt. She was slow and attentive; loving, almost worshipful. Every motion was a facet of a crystal being carved of motion, pressure, speed, and saliva. Every placement of hand or hair or tongue or lips had its place in the symphony. Misty was afraid that Jon could tell the difference, that some imperfection would give away the ruse. If Jon thought anything was odd, he certainly gave no indication of it; his legs were clenching and relaxing, clenching and relaxing, rubbing forward and backward against the silkiness of Misty's teddy. As
Misty increased her speed, moving almost frantically now, the bed squeaking
from her motion, more thoughts came into place. Was it realistic
to think that Jon wasn't aware of their trysts? With all of the risks
they had taken, was it more likely that Jon knew what was going on?
And that maybe he had some kinky fantasies of his own... why had he chosen
a girlfriend who so resembled the friend he grew up with? Was this
just unlikely coincidence... or was this some fantasy of Jon's being played
out, a
Jon's orgasm ended these thoughts. Misty hadn't orgasmed, though she had come close from the sheer joy of giving pleasure. Slowly, Misty rose from Jon's penis, from the bed, heading for the bathroom-- The other Misty stood in the doorway, totally aghast. For a full moment they studied each other's eyes, so many unvoiced questions passing between them. The other Misty answered these with a sudden grin, and a finger, wiping a few drops of nectar from Misty's lip. "You missed some," she whispered low, where only Misty could hear, and licked her fingertip. The other Misty then knelt, to enact a replica of the attention Misty had just lavished on Jon. "Hon," Jon said then, "Where'd you go?" The other Misty, still busy with Misty's penis, motioned towards the bed, as if to say, You'd better answer him. Misty's mouth opened, and the other Misty's voice came out clear as day. "Just a moment, sweetie." Copyright © 2000
Sabrina Qedesha. All Rights Reserved.
About
The Author:
Sabrina *Qedesha is a 30-year-old tranny who lives in New Orleans with her wife and their three cats. Her primary goal in life is to achieve communion with the Divine via the occult, sex, drugs, and rock and roll. Her essays have been published in The Sistrum and Zibaq!; she also had a story printed in Lost Worlds of SF and Fantasy. Recently, an erotic work of hers was accepted for publication in suspect thoughts: a journal of subversive writing. * A "qedesha" is a temple courtesan of the ancient Middle East.
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