A not-so-lazy Sunday afternoon and evening. You will never look at Chicago-style pizza the same way again.

Betrayed Ch. 05
by Cherysse St. Claire  ©

Chapter Five: All You Can Eat

We slept until eleven Sunday Morning, made leisurely love, then showered.
It was decided this would be a casual day for Dianna and Lisa; jeans,
T-shirts, and athletic shoes. With Dianna's help, I still looked good
enough to eat — at least, she thought so. Dianna looked… damn, no woman
had a right to look so sexy in such a sexless outfit. She filled
everything out to perfection, tying off the T-shirt below her boobs to
show off her twenty-two-inch waistline and navel ring. Turnabout is fair
play. I wore her suede high heels the night before. Now, she fit perfectly
into a pair of my Reeboks. Is it scary we wear the same sizes, or kismet?

She attacked my wig with a styling brush and comb, moving errant locks
this way and that, restoring the fabulous 'do to respectability.

"There!" Dianna pronounced triumphantly, "maybe not as good as Angelo
would do, but it will do for today."

"Angelo?" I questioned.

"He does all our wigs, Sweetheart," she informed me. "He's been around for
ages. He used to be the stylist at Broadway Wigs. Now he has his own shop.
We wouldn't think of using anyone else. When this needs to be cleaned and
re-styled, I'll take you to him and introduce you."

We knew neither of us could bear to part with the beautiful hairpiece, so
I made plans to send money with Dianna to reimburse Mimi. My lover assured
me Angelo would be able to obtain the replacement before the following
weekend.

Sunday was another shopping day. First, we went back to the same lingerie
store in Water Tower Place. This time, we purchased lingerie for me. A
stop at the MAC store netted makeup 'essentials' — about two shopping
bags' worth. Dianna promised she would have me a genuine makeup artist by
the time of the fashion show. Who better to teach me than a showgirl who
had appeared on stages all over the Midwest since age sixteen?

Our next stop was the furniture store from which I had furnished my condo.
I purchased a second, matching dresser for Dianna's things in accordance
with our avowal that my home was now her home as well. The same bedroom
collection offered a jewelry armoire and vanity table. We snapped up both,
then paid a premium to have the three pieces delivered that same day.

We motored on to a theatrical makeup and supply store on the Northwest
Side to acquire some special items Dianna professed I would need the
following day. It was a short trip from there to Paul's studio, where I
was measured for additional corsetry I would need for my ongoing figure
training. Upon completion of my fitting, we hurried home to await the
delivery truck, ordering a stuffed pizza from Edwardo's en route. Both
arrived shortly after we did. After having the delivery men array the new
furniture to our liking, I tipped them and sent them on their way. They
looked crestfallen to have to leave, after having feasted their eyes on
the stunning brunette and blonde 'roommates' for a half-hour.

We had a heart-to-heart discussion over pizza, concerning my future.
Dianna admitted the figure training alone, in conjunction with external
prosthetics, plus her makeup and deportment lessons, would probably be
enough to get me by for the fashion show. The word 'probably' had hung
heavily in the air between us. I knew without pressing she wanted more — a
lot more. She had enumerated the options available, both surgical and
otherwise.

Oh, how she wanted me to get a boob job! She didn't say so in so many
words, but I could tell.

"Do you remember Sugar?" she murmured.

I nodded slowly. How could I possibly forget? Sugar also frequented
Ringers. She and Dianna bore more than a passing resemblance. In fact,
some in the past have mistaken one for the other — until they looked below
the neckline. Dianna had full, firm D-cup breasts. She hadn't wanted to go
bigger than that, avowing she liked the "All-American Girl" look. I had
stifled a laugh when she told me that, thinking how much our perceptions
of "All-American" were changing. Sugar, on the other hand, possessed the
kind of fantasy chest that made men's eyes bulge out of their sockets and
pre-cum surge like a river.

Dianna's eyes glazed over and her breathing became rapid and shallow as
she described Sugar's choice of size, the procedure itself, and helping
her friend through her post-op recovery period. My lover's eyes regained
their focus, and she hurriedly added she just thought I should know what
to expect, should I ever decide to go that route. I got the distinct
impression there was — or at least, had been — more going on between the
two than just 'friendship'.

Dianna tread delicately on the subject of hormones. The benefits were
softening of skin and muscle tone, thickening and improved luster of the
hair, development of so-called 'secondary sex characteristics' — boobs,
hips and buns — not to mention increased sensitivity, particularly in the
nipples. There were consequences, too. Some girls experienced hot flashes
and pronounced mood swings. Others claimed the hormones made them sleepy.
There were some medical risks as well, although there didn't seem to be a
high incidence of them in girls our age. Of course, there was also the
potential for loss of male sexual function….

My companion had been massaging my crotch as she related all of this. She
had spoken those last words softly, almost reverently, as she gazed in the
direction of her hand. She lifted her head; her eyes met mine. She leaned
into me and kissed me tenderly. No other words were spoken on the subject,
but she left no doubt where her feelings lay.

There was probably something fundamentally irrational about having a
rational discussion with my paramour about methods to transform me
permanently into a more feminine image. If there was, I didn't see it. At
that point, it was just a discussion; nothing more. Dianna wasn't
insisting on anything; she was merely offering options. To be honest, my
mind was elsewhere at the moment.

Our distraction made us careless. Dianna was taking a bite of pizza and
watching me, instead of what she was doing. A big piece of sausage tumbled
out of the inside and plopped on her bare, taut belly, filling her navel
like a jewel. She laughed and reached to retrieve it, but I was quicker.
My face was there in a flash. I scooped up the errant bit of meat in my
mouth, chewed, swallowed, then gently lapped up the grease in her
bellybutton with my tongue. In so doing, I flicked her belly ring a couple
of times. I felt her body tremble, just a little, when I did that. I
glanced upward and met her eyes. We just stared for a moment, silently.

I took the pizza from her hand and gently dragged the tip across her
belly, smearing tomato and meat juice in a broad swath across her flesh. I
followed with light, delicate laves of my tongue, cleansing her skin where
I had soiled it. She trembled again. Goosebumps covered her soft flesh. I
made my way higher, peeling her T-shirt over her head with my free hand. I
dripped juice on one breast, then the other, licking and sucking each in
turn. She was trembling openly, continuously now, mewing quietly and
holding my head with both hands. I had never before seen her nipples so
erect, straining. Nor had they ever tasted so good!

I had to lay the pizza down. I needed both hands to pull her from the
sofa, lay her on the floor, then peel off her shoes, socks, jeans, and
panties. This time, I left a trail of sausage, pepperoni, onion, green
pepper, mozzarella, and elephant garlic across both thighs. Then, I
feasted my way upwards, alternating from one side to the other, nipping
tenderly at her quivering flesh as I snapped up each delicacy in turn.
Dianna's mews turned to soft moans as I approached the "V" where her
thighs met.

Her magnificent clit stood tall and turgid before me, vibrating with need.
I slathered it generously with rich, tomato-y goop, then set upon this
next hunk of 'sausage' with my mouth as though possessed. Every luscious
lick, nibble, and slurp was a four-star taste sensation, mixed with her
own flowing 'juice'. Dianna was thrashing back and forth wildly, her moans
replaced by shrieks. I had to hold her wrists firmly to prevent her
bucking me off before I was good and ready to release her. From what I
could tell, release was close at hand.

I didn't anticipate the strength the adrenaline rush would give her. She
broke free of my grasp, twisted her body to one side and hurled me towards
the couch at the same time. I landed on my knees, slumped over the
cushions. Dianna was on me in a flash, straddling my thighs and pinning my
body with her own.

"What an exciting dining sensation you have come up with, Sweetheart," she
purred in my ear. "Let's see if it is as good the other way."

She held me down with one hand between my shoulder blades. I heard the
rustling of cardboard behind me. The first tentative drippings down my
spine tickled. They were followed by heavier plops as something more
substantial landed on my skin. The soft, feathery touch of her lips and
the tip of her talented tongue were sweet torture. She began at the nape
of my neck and worked her way downward, alternately licking, nipping, and
sucking as I had done. Moments passed like hours, caught up in the agony
of sensation and anticipation.

She shifted her knees to the inside of my thighs, spreading them apart. A
thick wedge of pizza was dragged between my spread cheeks, sloughing off a
thick layer of juice, sauce, and ingredients. She took her time with teeth
and tongue, slurping up this concoction from her 'bowl'. Her tongue probed
my love blossom, opening it up, making it slick with tomato and meat
juice.

"I am so glad you are not a Vegan," Dianna cooed behind me. "I like my
dinners… meaty!"

She timed her lunge with her words. Her slick, greasy fuckpole mated with
my equally-slick, greasy love nest in one quick thrust. I grunted aloud —
from surprise, not pain. After the previous two days, I was well beyond
hurting from her sexual advances. At the same time, her greasy hand softly
stroked my own rigid love rod.

I raised upright on my knees. Dianna held me close, thrusting in and out
firmly. She continued to stroke my 'clit' with one hand while pinching my
nipples with her other. I felt my heart hammering in my chest. My eyes
focused, unseeing, on some point high on the opposite wall. My entire
being was focused on the points of her triple assault.

"Baby," she murmured, "I can't begin to tell you how much I have enjoyed
dinner. Let me take care of dessert."

Was the torrent of molten lava from her volcano, or my own? I couldn't
tell. Every nerve synapse in my body seemed to fire at once. I jerked
repeatedly, spasmodically, and would have fallen over if she were not
holding me. Then again, Dianna didn't feel all that steady, either. She
held on tight and we somehow managed to remain upright. The slick heat
from within me confirmed both volcanoes had erupted at once.

Her hand covered my mouth. I opened, and was treated to the most
incredible, aromatic elixir of tomato-basil-oregano-flavored cum. I gulped
it down greedily, then lapped the remnants from her palm. I felt her hot
breath in my ear as she gently nipped my earlobe.

"Emeril Lagasse has nothing on you, My Love," she purred. "So, what can
you do with Barbeque?"