The Greatest Lie Part 8

I surveyed the array of skimpy, sexy, fuck me dresses and tops, color-coded neatly in her closet. "I don’t know, Tran. You sure don’t dress like a college girl."

"Sure, but I can suck cock lot better than a college girl."

"Don’t be so sure, Tran. You can get Randy’s opinion later tonight. He’s an expert on getting blown by college girls." We both giggled at our naughtiness. When we T-girls talk to each other, we get raunchy: perhaps because we’ve sat on both sides of the aisle; or because we can abandon both our good girl pretenses and sex kitten act; or because we’re most at ease with one another. That night, as we dressed and made up, our talk ranged from X to XXX. Tran and I had popped a couple of my Desoxyn and she had poured some Grand Marnier. The drugs and booze combined to put me into a horny, edgy haze.

Tran had found one of her old pre-boob job party dresses for me, and its post boob job replacement for herself. It was a short, tight, black, spaghetti strap shift. It plunged at the neckline, and displayed my small, firm breasts demurely and appealingly. On Tran, the plunging neckline and her push up bra exposed her quivering breasts nearly to the aereole. As she curtsied playfully for me, her boobs swayed and strained against the tight rayon of her dress. "Tran, you should use less foundation and eyeliner, and soften up your hair. Try to look more like a college girl in a party dress, and less like a whore on the make. Pulled back, your hair is so severe: try clipping it in a half ponytail." Tran replied "What’s the matter with looking sexy? Don’t you like to be sexy? Don’t you want Rick in your slutty little ass."

"Actually, I want both of them to fuck my slutty little ass. Don’t you?"

She giggled excitedly and gave me a hug. Her warm breasts flattened against mine. She joked "I was all wrong about you. You’re a nice, generous T-Girl." She smiled and I kissed her.