Date: Wed, 9 Sep 2015 23:49:43 +0000 (UTC) From: Beaumonte Bill Subject: Marsha Under Cover Part 6 Marsha Under Cover (part 6) How does a straight man deal with a truly beautiful cross-dresser, even when he knows her secret? I hope you enjoy this work of fiction. –––––––––––––––––––– The next morning I awoke and looked at Marsha with desire – not just sexual desire, but there was a growing emotional connection between us. I wondered if I would even begin to love Marsha. The idea was attractive, but somewhat problematic. Falling in love with my partner would certainly complicate things – plus I wasn't sure where it could lead. Marriage might be possible, but it would be a long road indeed. I decided to just let this unfold and not to try to force anything. As I watched Marsha's face, her eyes fluttered and she awoke. "Good morning beautiful," I said. She smiled at me and then panicked and touched her head, realizing that her wig was gone. "I pulled her to me and kissed her and said, "your wig is over there – remember you agreed to take if off for me." "I must look horrid," she said. "Not to me," I said, "it will be nice when your hair grows out, but I do like you 'natural' like this." "I don't understand why this 'natural' business is so important to you," Marsha said, "but I'll go along with it – but only in private." "That's exactly what I want," I said, "in public you need to present yourself as you feel most comfortable." "There is a very good reason I want you to be 'natural' when we are alone," I explained, "I want you to know for sure that it is YOU I like and desire, not some fantasy." "That is so sweet," she said, once again tears forming. "You treat me just like a real woman," she said. "As I keep telling you," I responded, "because you ARE a REAL woman – and I hope I can one day convince you." "I appreciate your help in connecting me to people to help me transition," she said, "I feel like I am not doing this alone." "You aren't," I agreed, "we are doing this together – and if you will let me, I'll go with you to the doctors. You can tell them I am your boyfriend." "So you would be willing to pretend to be my boyfriend?" she asked. "I hope not," I said, "I want it to be for real!" Marsha's eyes lit up at that, and she kissed me enthusiastically. Marsha reached down and felt my hard cock, smiling that I found her desirable even in her "natural" state. She stroked me to full erection and moved down to take me into her mouth. I pulled her onto me so that we lay there in a 69 position. She lay there sucking me, with her pretty ass inches from my face. I put my hands on her hips and pulled her toward me and proceeded to rim her as she sucked me. That heightened her enthusiasm and she sucked me even more eagerly. Kissing her luscious ass added to my arousal and soon I was cumming. After I climaxed I repositioned Marsha, taking her hard little clitty into my mouth. I slipped a finger a little way into her rosebud. Since I had just climaxed, my sucking was not motivated by sexual desire, but by emotional desire – I was really caring for Marsha and wanted to do my very best for her. Soon Marsha climaxed, and I welcomed her juice, which was beginning to taste good to me. We lay there for a few minutes and then kissed, exchanging traces of our juices. "Marsha dear," I said, "we may have started out pretending, but this is getting VERY REAL!" "I hope you mean that mister," she replied, "because I intend to show you how good a wife can be!" I sincerely did want to be Marsha's boyfriend, and not as a gay boyfriend. I didn't have anything against the gays, but wanted Marsha, and I wanted her to be a woman, as she wanted as well. We got up and had breakfast and went into the station. Agent Sanders had brought in six other Federal agents to meet with us in the conference room. We discussed our assignment and made final preparations. We would be flying out to Las Vegas on Saturday morning for a two week vacation. We were to go to a variety of entertainment sites and look for exchanges in a money laundering operation. They showed us videos of what to look for. They gave us small cameras to use to document what we saw. We took a few practice shots to familiarize ourselves with their operation. As a married couple we would easily blend into the crowd. They gave us fake driver's licenses that showed us with the same last name. We looked at each other's licenses and I really admired seeing Marsha shown as a female – I wanted to find out what it would take for that to happen for real. At the end of the day Agent Sanders talked to us privately and said that everyone was impressed by how natural we seemed together. If we could sustain that through the assignment there was a great chance of success. Barry and Ed approached us as we got ready to leave. They wished us well on our new assignment and they both remarked on how nice Marsha looked. Off to the side, Barry said to me, "damn, I'd fuck her myself – hope you get lucky!" That really pissed me off, but I went along with it, not wanting to give anything away. We drove from the station to a jazz club where we had a light dinner and enjoyed the music. Marsha asked what Barry had said, and I told her. Marsha blushed, and I said it was really crude, but was a tribute to Marsha's beauty. "So are you anxious to fuck me?" she asked. "It's not quite like that," I said, "but I do look forward to our joining when you are ready for it." "I'm not sure when I will be ready for that," Marsha replied. "There is no hurry," I said, "it has to be right for you, so don't feel rushed." As much as I enjoyed intimacy with Marsha, I wanted to show her a good time outside of the bedroom. My desire and caring for her was growing, and I wanted everything to be perfect. We danced, and I was surprised at how well Marsha danced in her heels. I knew that many would disagree, but I knew in my heart that Marsha was a real woman – and the woman I wanted! –––––––––––––––––––– To be continued ... Feel free to contact me with your comments or requests. –Bill (oral_guy_2000@yahoo.com) Please support this website by donating to nifty.org