Katie-5

Note: If you don't like stories of women in intimate, sexual situations with each other, stories about femme women with butch girls, stories about male impersonators or if you're not old enough to handle any of the above, please do not read this story.

Tony was right, actually. Lillian and I had this connection like long lost sisters... lovers... playmates. I was surprised. After all, Lillian is so much older than I am. Hell, she's got daughters older than I am. She has a completely different perspective on the world. At the same time, she spent so much trapped in her marriage that going to school and "playing the field" seems to have unleashed this insatiable tigress that has the means and savoir-faire to satisfy herself.

That Christmas break, I couldn't go home. Mom and Dad were going to Grandma's for the holiday, and I had to be back at school much sooner than they were returning. So, I stayed at school with Lil. With just the two of us (and few others) in the sorority house, we didn't have a lot holding us back. So, for New Year's, we tried something different.

Downtown, there are a few drag clubs where men dress as women and sing. "Birdcage" kind of stuff. We heard through the grapevine that there was another drag club. Kind of a reverse "Birdcage". Women dressing as men! Now, I'd seen a whole thing on MTV about these and, at first, I wasn't interested. What I'd seen had women dressing up as Eminem and other rappers that, to be honest, did nothing for me.

I changed my mind when Lil did some investigating. Her girlfriend, Karen, knew the place. Very high end. Actually owned by a guy who owned one of the other clubs. Insisted on flash. Insisted on showmanship.

O.K., that's the rationalization. In reality, I saw the brochure. Call me crazy, but I've always had a thing for the young Wayne Newton. When I saw that the headliners were "Wayne Newton" and "Elvis Pressley" (Lil went weak at the knees at the thought), I ran out and got tickets for the New Year's show.

That night, we were dressed to the nines. Lillian actually went out and bought a new dress. Lots of sequins. Very sparkly. Of course, I liked that it was backless. After many early mornings looking on her naked back, I liked that others were going to be able to see it too. I, on the other hand, took another approach: white blouse, black skirt almost to my ankles but with a long slit up the side, thigh high stockings and heels. Underneath, I wore a matching lace bra and panty set. Red. Something told me that was the color. As if to say, "Yes, I'm THAT hot!". Finally, I put on my Grandmother's pearls.

The club was nice. Not lavishly decorated, but classy none-the-less. They'd apparently been open for a couple of months. The owner had a reputation for rewarding clubs that did well. So, when they opened, decorations were a bare minimum. When they made more money, they looked like they made money. His other club, the one with the boys pretending to be girls, started out in the remnants of an old strip club... and not a nice one either. Now, it was the belle of the ball.

Once inside, we checked our coats and found our table close to the stage. On the way there, we met with some friends of Lil's, Jacqueline and Iliana. Actually, Jackie and Iliana. Jacqueline looked more like a Jack or Jackie than a Jacqueline... if you know what I mean. Iliana, on the other hand, was stunning. She and Lil apparently liked to shop together, or so I got that impression. Jackie greeted me warmly. So did Iliana. They both gave Lil a look that says, "I'm impressed."

Later, Lil explained, kind of cryptically, that they had helped her admit who she really was. No reservations. Knowing Lillian's appetites as I had over the previous few months, I almost felt like I should thank them. But, considering they were out for the night without their two girls, I figured it best to leave them by themselves.

"Ladies, ladies, ladies... and gentlemen," the emcee looked vaguely like Ed Sullivan, but she had the voice down pat, "welcome to our New Year's eve show! For the next two hours, we promise to show you an array of talent unlike anything you're ever seen. Talent that's rock solid. Talent that's stronger that steel. Talent with the stamina of a mountain ram." The barrage of sexual innuendo was getting to be too much.

Just in time, some one in the back, obviously with a head start on celebrating, shouted, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, but will they fuck me?!?"

Ed Sullivan blushed. "As I tell all the boys in back, whatever happens between you and the ladies stays between you and the ladies."

The show soon started with a comic looking a lot like Rodney Dangerfield. Certainly not as funny. Then, there were a couple of other groups that, honestly, did noting for me. Next, Lillian's favorite.

We played it up! Screams! Wild applause! Lillian, along with half a dozen others, threw their panties on stage! I can see why too. This Elvis was something! He was the young Elvis too. White jumpsuit. Cape. Hips swiveling all over the place. Lillian was melting in her seat.

After a couple of songs, Elvis sang "Love Me Tender" and picked Lillian out of the audience to serenade. She was smiling and laughing. She was almost crying too! I've rarely seen her get this emotional outside of talking about her girls or Karen. This performer had it all: moves, songs, weeping women. I was impressed.

Afterwards, Lillian calmed down and had a couple glasses of wine. Then, as my main event was about to take the stage, she turned to me. "Katie, " she had this look like she was about to ask permission for something, "would you be upset if I went..."

I put my hand on hers. "Go ahead, baby. I've got my hands full with Wayne!" Her smile was infectious. "But I want details later!" She kissed me and scurried off like those girls you see running after the Beatles... or, N*Sync... if twelve year olds wore evening gowns and two hundred dollar pumps.

What is it about Wayne Newton that gets me so revved up? Keep in mind, the current Wayne Newton does nothing for me. In the same vein, the thought of being with the old Elvis has Lillian saying she'd rather be with her ex-husband. I'm much the same way.

The young Wayne Newton, however, is "da bomb". I'd noticed girls ever since I hit puberty, but once I saw tape of the young Wayne Newton, I was a goner. At that age, I can't tell whether he's a "he" or a handsome looking "she". Then, I noticed girls that looked like him. Masculine. Almost androgynous. The most beautiful person in school could make a pass at me and I'd be unfazed. I'd handle it like a champ. If one of these girls would ask me about homework, I'd be lucky to spit out a coherent sentence.

So, imagine my state as Wayne Newton took the stage and started serenading us. Actually, he serenaded me. To everyone else, he gave the searing, performer's professional gaze. With me, he connected. I know, that's what he does. He's that good. Everyone else is thinking he loves them too.

He brought women up for each of his songs. Sang to them while looking into their eyes. Everyone melted. I wasn't the only one with a love for Wayne. Afterwards, he'd lead them to their seats, hand on the small of their backs. Finally, he sang "Luck Be a Lady Tonight" and brought me on stage. Oh, I was amazed. It wasn't a romantic ballad, but I was his. I was totally his. The energy. The electricity.

Once the next performer took the stage, I was starting to wonder about Lillian. But, I figured she must have gotten her audience with The King. So, I wasn't going to worry. I was just going to sit here, accept drinks form the occasional woman, have some small talk and then diffuse the situation when I mention I'm waiting for my girlfriend to finish balling Elvis. Just like guys, most butch women, at least in my experience, take blunt hints the best.

Another one approached. Actually, the tuxedo told me something was up. Only the club employees wore tuxes. She was tall and broad shouldered. Hair slicked back. She crouched down and handed me a card. "Miss, are you available to meet with Mr. Newton?"

Shocked, I looked at the card. "I would love the honor of meeting you. If not tonight, any time that's convenient for you. `Wayne'"

The Tuxedo said, "Ms. Lillian is in with Mr. Pressley. We'll keep your table and look after your things. If Ms. Lillian comes out, we'll be sure to let her know where you are."

Backstage, the Tuxedo opened the door to the dressing room. "Ms. Katherine, Mr. Wayne Newton." There he was in all his splendor. Tuxedo jacket. Bowtie. Like a cherub version of Dean Martin.

"Ms. Katherine," he said as he walked across the room, "so pleased to meet you. Thank you for coming back and agreeing to meet with me."

I extended my hand. He took it gently and kissed it just around the knuckles. I wanted to just gasp. Instead, I said, "My pleasure."

"Would you like some wine?" It was the same wine I'd been drinking all night. Damn, I was so flustered. I could barely talk. So, I decided to take the approach that many do, "Let them talk. I'll pretend to listen while I fantasize about their hot perspiration dripping on my equally flushed skin." But, Wayne wouldn't hear of that. He kept asking me questions. Who was my companion? Was it serious? What brought me to town? Was there some jealous person he should keep an eye out for? I spoke as well as I could, but it was difficult. The sight of him. The cologne. The atmosphere. The feel of his hand on my ass.

"Would you like to dance?" I smiled and nodded. Before I knew it, I was wrapped in his strong, teddy bear-like arms. At first, we were at arm's length. Slowly, we drew each other closer. Eventually, my arms were around his neck and his hands were back on my behind. Strong hands. On my flesh. I rested my head on his shoulder and enjoyed it.

Wayne pulled back to look into my eyes. "Katherine, thank you for coming to see me. I do appreciate it." I just closed my eyes and parted my lips.

"Please," I said in my mind, "read the signs. I can't speak. I need you to know..." Just then, soft, wet lips pressed against mine. The hands slid from my ass to my back. My arms pulled him closer if it was possible. I just knew I had this teen idol in my arms and his tongue was teasing my lips on its way to my throat. When it passed my lips, I sucked on it, demurely at first, but I got a little carried away with myself.

"Whoa!" Wayne pulled back. "You are a feisty woman. Aren't you?" I still couldn't speak, so I did the only thing my brain could come up with. I started pulling off his jacket. He put his strong hands on mine. Stopping me. "Hey, I'm up for anything you are, Katherine, but I need to know. Are you a demure little flower or a feisty, passionate woman?"

I had to breathe. In. Out. In. Out. "I can start out demure, but eventually, I've very passionate."

"Good. Now, you want to take off my jacket?" I nodded, and he held out his arms as if to say, "Do what you will."

So, I did. I took off the jacket and the tie. I tried for the shirt too, but he stopped me. "It takes too long to get back on before my next set." So, went for the pants. The sight of us must have been incredible. Me, this almost puritanical looking girl with her hands on his pants. Obscene.

Actually, that's what I thought when I pulled the pants apart and found his boxers. Sticking from the side leg was the head of his penis. The gel-filled, latex head peeked out as if to say, "Wanna play?" And who was I to refuse an invitation?

I walked him to his couch and sat him down. Like a true groupie, I knelt before him between his legs. Pulling the flap apart in the middle of his shorts, I fished out that phallus. Oh, lord. What a unit it was! Pink! Gel-filled. Thick and veiny. Wayne's body heat radiated from it. Oh, I was in trouble.

Slowly, I licked the sides of his cock. After each lick, I'd look into his eyes as if to say, "Tell me if this feels good." With each lick, he'd stroke my hair as if to say, "Oh, yeah." After a few minutes, I couldn't help myself. I was trying to be demure. I was trying to approach it like I figured so many others had. Slow. Let him take the lead.

But, I couldn't wait. My hand wrapped around the base of his shaft. Pushing it against him. As the leather pressed against him, I could hear him gasp from the sensation. Immediately, I sucked the shaft down my throat. I just wanted it. I wanted it deep inside of me. To feel his heat inside my body. To have him feel what it's like to be taken and at someone else's mercy. My other hand reached up the leg of his shorts to beneath the harness. Hot, swollen lips peeked out from his pussy and I stroked them. As my mouth went down on the shaft, my fingers stroked down on the lips. The stroked up when I came up. When I started this, Wayne's face went from one of contented pleasure to one where his eyes rolled up in the back of his head.

Wayne eventually spoke up. I looked in his eyes the entire time I sucked his penis or stroked his vagina. Look at me, I was saying, I want this to be good. "Oh, my dear, you are so good. Let me see you."

So, I stood and he took me to a full-length mirror. From behind, he reached around to unbutton my blouse. One button, one kiss. One button, one kiss. Each new bit of flesh that was exposed needed to be adequately caressed and worshipped. The entire time, I felt his erection against my behind. Straining. Throbbing.

As the blouse fluttered to the floor, his hands cupped and caressed my breasts. I welcomed his tongue to my mouth again. God, I was so hot, but I didn't want it to end.

Next, my skirt. "You know why I like long skirts, Katherine," he asked. I shook my head. "Only girls with killer legs are willing to wear skirts that long. I'm not talking about those flowing, full-length skirts and dresses like you see some big girls wear. The thin, slit up the side skirts. Like this." One. Two. Three. Four. And the zipper.

I stepped from my skirt and Wayne gathered it and my blouse to put aside. He returned to look at my half naked form. Behind, I could feel his legs. I could feel his cock. I could feel him. I wanted him. But, he knew what I really wanted.

Suddenly, I was in his arms being carried across the room to a waiting bed where he set me down. Next, he climbed on top and kissed me as passionately as before. I just wrapped my legs around his waist to pull him closer, but he had other plans.

Soon, that magical tongue was deep inside of me. I'd honestly give you a better description of how it got there, but I don't know. Maybe I was so delirious that I blacked out. All I know is that I was kissing Wayne wanting him inside of me. Next, his tongue was bathing my clit and he was making me scream. I tried to be quiet, but he kept saying, "I can't hear you, Katherine. How will I know unless I hear you?" I wasn't sure what else it meant other than, "LET IT OUT!" So, I did. I moaned and screamed. I hollered and yelped. I begged and received.

At last, Wayne climbed up and removed my bra. As he gingerly tossed it aside on the chair with my panties, skirt and blouse, he suckled my breasts like few have. Vigor. "Oh, baby, suck my tits. Yeah! Feed on me, baby. Take all you want." And he did. He sucked and sucked and sucked. My nipples had rarely been harder or more sensitive. My mini-orgasms had been popping all evening, but I could feel a big one brewing thanks to his talented tongue.

With timing that... well, was miraculous, Wanye turned over to put me on top. "My shorts. Take them off and then get back up here." I did as he asked. That gel-filled, pink penis was almost too much to resist, but I had a feeling I wouldn't have to wait long. As I climbed back up, he sat up straight. "Sit on my lap." I got up and, as I straddled his waist, he guided his cock into my open, waiting sex. I sank onto that shaft in one swift motion and couldn't breathe or speak or cry. I was frozen. The electricity inside of me was overwhelming. What got me going was Wayne sucking on breasts again. And his powerful legs lifting me up and down. Up and down. Taking me. Using me. Sliding into my center to show me heaven.

I just looked on as the cherubic stud massaged my breasts and sucked my nipples. Watching his passion. Watching him. As I did, the fire burned. As I did, it swelled. The pearls on my neck reminded me of who I am. Grounded but passionate. The elastic holding my stockings on my thighs reminded me of who I can be. Sexual. Animal. I was the lioness. He was the lion. Taking me. Using me. All to continue. All to live. I all to keep the pride alive.

Each breath fanned the flames. Each thrust poured gasoline on it. In. Out. In. Out. I moaned and shrieked. I yelled and begged. More. More. Fuck me harder, Wayne. Come inside me and make me cum all over your god damned, blessed cock!

It was going to take me a minute to get oriented. Must've passed out. "Where's...?"

"Wayne's out front doing another set. It seems that someone made him late for his midnight show." Suddenly, I realized who that someone was. Me. "So, he asked me to come back and look after you. He said we could use his driver to go home."

"Oh, O.K. I better get dressed. Hey, where'd my bra go?" On the chair, there was just my blouse and skirt. No bra. No panties.

"I think Mr. Newton has a collection," replied Lil. "I was wondering why there was a red bra in his jacket pocket when he came out.

The driver, a thin girl named Cassidy, had already gotten our coats and warmed up the car. As we pulled out, Lil and I sat in back of the Town Car. Big. Luxurious. I put my head on her shoulder.

"Besides, who'd have thought that a butch in a jumpsuit would be as bad a lover as the real Elvis?"

"Once I told her about the girls and that I've been married, she didn't wasn't going down on me no matter what."

"Something about not being that interested in the taste of a breeder. I dunno. Certainly turned me off."

I patted her chest reassuringly. "It'll be O.K. We'll fix you up. Besides, what does Elvis know? He liked drugs better than girls."

"Is Mr. Newton someone that spends a lot of intimate time with his fans? Lots of sex?"

"Um, not that I'd be at liberty to say, if I knew, but let's just say there's plenty to not tell," came the reply.

"Because, there's nothing that turns me on like a woman in need." I caressed her thighs. Slowly working my way up. Past the stockings. Up the elastic of her garter belt.

"If there were to be some `intimate time' back here tonight, would that get back to Mr. Newton?" I wanted him to think I went straight back home and dreamt of him.

Cassidy smiled. Paused. Licked her lips. "You know the club motto? Same goes here. `Whatever happens between you and the lady stays between you and the lady.'".

My fingers brushed the exposed hair of Lillian's hot, moist sex. Someone else had lost their underwear. I kissed Lillian softly on the lips as I slid my fingers inside of her.

Questions and comments are always welcome at msraspberryswirl@yahoo.com. I opted to post thi sstory in HTML instead of my usual text. Please let me know if you like one over the other.