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Archive-name: Changes/daylife.txt


Archive-title: Day in the Life, A

   I wake  up early,  with that  same eagerness  I had often

felt  as  a  child  on  Christmas  morning.  A light, tingly

feeling bubbles up inside  me, until I can  scarcely contain

it.   I feel  as if  I have  to do  something with  all this

energy, or  I will  explode.   Unable to  think of  anything

else, I bounce out of bed and into the shower.  The steaming

water ca!esses my skin,  adding an element of  sensuality to

my euphoria.  I begin singing something I heard on the radio

the other day, slightly off key, humming where I don't  know

the words.   The  song has  a nice  beat, and  I can feel my

pulse moving in time with it as I pick up a bar of soap  and

begin spreading creamy lather  over my body; first  one arm,

then the  other, followed  by my  shoulders and  down to  my

breasts.  My nipples are erect, poking comically through the

soap, and the  gentle abrasion of  the washcloth makes  them

even stiffer.   I cup one  breast in my  free hand, stroking

the hard point with my thumb, and delighting in the slippery

smoothness  of  it.    I  close  my eyes, losing myself in a

moment of private erotica.   Slowly, more from  gravity than

any conscious thought of my own, my hand slips downward.  It

crosses my stomach easily,  gliding like an ice  skater over

my  frictionless  skin,  and  comes  to rest among soft, wet

curls.  I run my fingers idly through those curls for a  few

minutes, not seeking  stimulation, simply enjoying  the feel

of them against  my fingers.   Gradually, however, my  touch

grows bolder and  I slip my  index finger between  the warm,

soapy folds.   When  I brush  my clit,  a thrill  runs up my

spine.  I  touch it again,  more confidently this  time, and

rejoice in the little explosions it sparks.  I begin rubbing

it slowly, then increase the pace slightly.  That same  song

I had been singing earlier  is now running through my  head,

and I match my rhythm to  it.  I am feeling slightly  dizzy,

so I lean back against the  cool tiled wall.  My other  hand

has now joined its mate, and is exploring the deeper regions

of my cunt.  Faster and faster, my fingers dart in and  out.

I  can  feel  the  pressure  mounting  inside  me with every

heaving breath  until it  finally boils  over.   I thrust my

fingers deep inside, then hold them there as shudders engulf

them.  The walls of my cunt grip my fingers tightly, pulsing

aggressively,  as  sticky  juices  flood  around  them.  The

throbbing  subsides  slowly,  replaced  by  a  sensation  of

satisfied warmth and fullness, as I withdraw my fingers  and

rinse the remaining soap from my body.

   Refreshed from the shower, I vigorously towel myself  dry

and slip  into the  pink lace  underwear and  bra I know you

like so  well.   My legs  are tanned  and clean-shaven, so I

decide to  forego stockings  today.   I seat  myself at  the

dressing table  in my  room and  brush out  my long,  blonde

hair.    It  curls  damply  around  my  face, moist tendrils

cascading  over  my  shoulders  and  partway  down  my back.

Leaning close to the mirror, I carefully apply a soft  blush

that makes  my cheeks  glow, and  accent my  blue eyes  with

blue-grey eye shadow.  Mascara next, then eye liner and soft

pink lip gloss.   I scrutinize  my reflection, pleased  with

what I see.   A quick glance at  the clock shows that  it is

only 7:30 - you won't  arrive for another hour.   Sighing, I

pick up the hair dryer.  Dry, my hair fans down my back in a

golden cloud and curls around  my face like an airy  picture

frame.  I look at the clock again - 7:53 - open the  closet,

and debate silently over  what to wear.   I pull out a  pale

pink dress, holding it against  myself as I turn toward  the

mirror, then shake my  head and put it  back.  A blue  skirt

and flowered blouse follow, then  a green dress and a  black

one.  Impatiently, I  rifle through the clothes  and finally

select awhite knit dress that clings intimately to my body,

displaying my  flat stomach  and rounded  hips nicely, while

hinting at the hollow between my thighs.  It leaves my  arms

bare, and the scooped neck reveals just a taste of cleavage.

I add white  pumps and a  bit of jewelry,  then smile at  my

image in the mirror.  I  know your tastes well, and am  sure

you will like it.

   Finally - 8:30.  I  listen eagerly for the doorbell,  but

it  stubbornly  doesn't  ring.    The  clock  ticks away the

minutes, tick-tock, tick-tock, and still you aren't here.  I

should have known you'd be late - probably just to get  even

with me for all the times  I've made you wait.  I  giggle at

this touch of  spite, knowing full  well that you've  looked

forward to today as eagerly as I have.  Finally, I hear your

shoes clicking down the hall, and have the door open  before

you  can  knock.    I  greet  you  with a huge hug, our lips

meeting in a passionate kiss.   After a moment I  step back,

pulling you into the apartment, and close the door.

   "Happy birthday, Jacki!"  I exclaim cheerfully.  You have

just  turned  24,  and  we  are  going  to  spend  the   day

celebrating, just as we have  done for the past four  years.

I notice you eyeing me approvingly, and feel a soft,  tingly

glow build  up inside  me.   Grabbing your  hand, I lead you

eagerly to the bedroom where I help you to undress.  When  I

remove your  levis, I  gasp in  mock horror.   "Jacki!   You

didn't shave  your legs  this morning!"   You  look slightly

embarrassed as you admit  that you'd forgotten, but  we both

know it is all a sham - you just prefer having me shave them

for you.  Accordingly,  I have already prepared  a luxuriant

bubble bath,  and lead  you to  it.   You sigh  as you lower

yourself  into  the  thick,  scented  bubbles, and your eyes

close blissfully.  For a long moment you just recline there,

totally absorbed in the hot water lapping against your skin.

Then, as if remembering that you aren't alone, you open your

eyes, stretch lazily, like a  cat, and extend one soapy  leg

toward me.   Carefully, so my  dress won't get  wet, I grasp

your foot, tickling the bottom  of it until you giggle,  and

pick up a razor.   I begin at  your slim ankle, then  stroke

slowly up  the graceful  curve of  your calf.   The  bubbles

allow the razor to glide smoothly over your skin,  stripping

away  hairs  and  revealing  soft,  bare  skin.  When I have

finished your lower  leg, I move  on to your  firm, muscular

thigh.  I gaze admiringly  at it, stroking the newly  shaved

surface and  clearing away  stray bubbles.   I  can see that

you've been out in the sun  quite a bit, because you have  a

beautiful golden-brown tan.   I notice the conspicuous  lack

of a tan line and  grin, easily visualizing you lying  naked

on the  beach.   The image  is very  tempting, and I briefly

consider changing  today's plans  to include  a trip  to the

beach.  Perhaps another day...

   When I finish shaving your legs I drain the tub,  running

a little warm water to  rinse away the last of  the clinging

foam.  Then, hand in hand, we return to my bedroom, where  I

open the drawer I  keep just for you.   First, I take  out a

pair of white silk panties, trimmed in lace.  You step  into

them, and I slide them up your long, graceful legs.  I  note

with approval  that the  short, dark  curls nestled  between

your thighs are faeshly trimmed, an I ruffle them playfully

with  my  hand  before  covering  them  with the white silk.

Next, a matching  silk bra.   I stand behind  you, caressing

your chest as I fasten it around you.  You lean back against

me, revelling in the sensuous touch of silk, and I can  feel

your nipples growing  harder.  Knowing  your love of  frilly

things, I next select a lacy white garter belt which I  help

you into.  Finally - stockings.  I bunch the nylon up around

my hands, then slip it over your foot and carefully ease  it

up your leg.   As I fasten the  garters to the stockings,  I

allow the  back of  my hand  to lightly  brush your  crotch.

From  your  sharp  intake  of  breath,  I  know that you are

aroused.  Now that  your undergarments have been  taken care

of, I turn to the closet and pull out a cheerful red  dress.

You put it  on, and I  step back to  admire you.   The short

skirt shows off your legs  beautifully, and when you turn  I

see that  it also  fits snugly  around your  cute ass.   The

bodice is cut low in back, slightly higher in front, so that

no cleavage  actually shows,  but the  impression of  small,

pert  breasts  is  clear.     Your  tanned  arms   are  left

deliciously bare.   The final touches  - a slim  black belt,

jewelry, and low heeled black pumps.

   When we are satisfied with your outfit, I seat you at  my

dressing table  and begin  brushing your  short, dark  hair.

You offer a token protest that you are perfectly capable  of

brushing your own hair, but I know that on this one  special

day you want to be pampered  a bit, and I am only  too happy

to oblige.   Freshly washed, your  hair is already  soft and

fluffy and  needs only  a few  touches from  my curling iron

before it feathers back charmingly from your face.  Finally,

I am ready to start your makeup.  You don't need much - just

a little blush to highlight your cheekbones, a touch of grey

eye shadow over  your sparkling brown  eyes, and a  delicate

coating  of  lip  gloss.    At  your  request I add a bit of

mascara, though your lashes are already long and silky.  The

overall effect is  stunning, and I  feel my insides  turning

flip-flops as we  look at each  other, side by  side, in the

mirror.  You turn to me, and we exchange a deep,  passionate

kiss, then grab our purses and leave the apartment.

   We decide not to drive,  since the weather is so  lovely.

Besides, it is nearly impossible to find parking places on a

Saturday, so we walk half a block to the bus stop.  While we

wait for the bus, we  glance at each other nervously.   Will

it work?   Can we pull  it off?   Or will we  be caught this

time?   Every time  we go  out together  like this, the same

questions torment us for the  first few moments.  Then,  the

bus pulls up and we climb on, pay our fare, and look  around

for a seat.  The bus is crowded today, and there are no open

seats, but  a pair  of chivalrous  young men  near the front

stand when  they see  us looking  around, offering  us their

seats.  The  lusty admiration in  their glances is  obvious,

and we exchange a  relieved smile as we  sit down.  The  two

men hover over  us, making small  talk, as the  bus trundles

through the streets.  Flattered by their attention, we  chat

politely  with  them,  flirting  ever  so slightly, until we

reach our stop.  Then we  thank them for the seats, say  our

goodbyes, and leave.

   As we step  down, I am  monetarily blinded by  the bright

sunlight.  It is going to get hot today!  I check my watch -

9:56  -  and  set  off  at  a  brisk pace across the crowded

parking lot with you by my side.  Though it is still  early,

I can already feel heat  radiating up from the asphalt,  and

breathe   a   sigh   of   relief   when  we  step  into  the

airconditioned mall.

   "Where would you like to start?"   I ask.  You shrug,  so

we start wandering down the corridor, looking into windows.

   "That would be cute on  you!" you suggest, pointing at  a

black  leather  teddy  in  the  display window of a lingerie

shop.  Intrigued, we  enter and start rummaging  through the

racks.  Before  long, we have  each found several  appealing

outfits and  retire to  the dressing  room to  try them  on.

Fortunately, the rooms are large, and we decide to share one

so that we can see how  each outfit looks.  The first  thing

you try  on, a  frothy confection  of pink  and white  lace,

reminds me of cotton candy.   I giggle, commenting that  you

look  good  enough  to  eat.    "Maybe  later"  you  whisper


   I slip into the teddy  that had caught your eye,  and you

lick your lips approvingly.  My breasts nearly spill out  of

the tightly laced  bodice, and the  seat consists of  only a

leather thong between my well-toned buttocks.  "Nice..." you

purr,  running  your  fingertips  lightly  up the back of my

thigh and over my exposed rump.  I arch my back,  stretching

luxuriously,  and  one  of  my  breasts does tumble from its

precarious perch.  The other is about to escape as well, its

nipple  already  peeping  impudently  over  the leather cup.

Standing behind me, you put your arms around me, cupping  my

breasts in your hands.  My nipples stiffen instantly at your

touch, and  you tweak  them playfully.   Your  breath is hot

against  my  ear,  and   your  hands  are  soft.     Sighing

blissfully, I recline against your body for a moment.   Your

hands roam easily over my breasts, evoking shivers and goose

bumps with your light, teasing touch.  I moan softly as  you

lick the edge  of my ear  then nibble gently  on my earlobe.

Unable to restrain myself any longer, I turn around and kiss

you.  Your lips  part eagerly, welcoming my  probing tongue.

I  explore  your  mouth,  tasting  your sweet breath and the

smooth hardness of your teeth.   You tongue joins mine  in a

slippery, undulating dance.

   Abruptly, you break  away.  With  one hand on  each of my

shoulders, you  push me  gently back  until I  feel the hard

edge of a bench against the backs of my knees.  You continue

to  exert  a  steady  pressure,  easing  me down, until I am

sitting on  that narrow  ledge.   The mirror  is directly in

front of me, and I have an exciting view of your ass, framed

in pink and white lace, as you bend over me.  My knees  open

easily  at  your  touch,  and  you  spread  them further.  I

shiver, feeling suddenly vulnerable and exposed, with only a

flimsy  bit  of  leather  between  us.   Your nimble fingers

quickly overcome that obstacle, the snaps popping open  like

firecrackers at  your touch.   As  each snap  gives I feel a

coolness,  a  slight  draft,  creeping  across my pussy with

silken  fingers.    Your  breath  steams against my thigh, a

turbulent  contrast  to  the  cooler  breeze  that  whispers

through  my  hair.    In  the  mirror I see your dark curls,

poisedU like  the  heart  of  some  sweet flower between the

petals of my thighs.   As the last  snap gives, you meet  my

gaze with laughter dancing in your eyes.

   I  moan  softly,  anticipating  your  touch,  nor  am   I

disappointed.  Cupping my buttocks in your hands, you  slide

me  forward  until  I  am  perched  on the edge of the seat.

Then, still  caressing my  rear, you  lower you  mouth.   At

first there is only the warm, sensuous brushing of your lips

over my  soft fur.   I  close my  eyes, so  absorbed in  the

sensation that I  hardly notice your  hands sliding over  my

hips and thighs.  I only become aware of them gradually,  as

you part  my labia.   Dimly,  my lust-fogged  brain realizes

what you are about to do, and my body coils like a spring in

anticipation.    Your  lips  close  over  my straining clit,

triggering the pent  up energy and  causing my hips  to jerk

spasmodically against your face.

   The  only  sounds  are  my  ragged breathing and the soft

slurping noises  you make  as you  suck gently  on my  clit,

applying your teeth occasionally with delicate precision.  I

am focused so completely on that tiny button of flesh that I

never notice your fingers  creeping into me, until  suddenly

they are  there.   You are  using fingers  from both  hands,

stroking me in several directions  at once.  It feels  as if

my cunt  will fly  apart under  your darting  touches -  now

deep, now shallow; aggressive, then butterfly soft.  My eyes

pop open in shock and are captured by the mirror.  The sight

of your head reflected between my twitching thighs and  your

fingers flashing, wet  and slippery, in  and out of  my cunt

stoke the  blaze inside  me to  greater heights.   A wave of

consuming heat crashes over  me, blanking out my  vision and

ringing  in  my  ears.    Convulsions  begin deep inside me,

spreading outward from a  molten core.  They  ripple through

smooth internal  muscles, clenching  around your  fingers in

successive contractions.

   As the feeling dissipates I  become aware of hot pain  in

my chest, and realize that I am holding my breath.  I let it

out  slowly,  cocooned  in  a  sense of well-being.  Inhale.

Exhale.  Inhale.  Exhale.   Each measured breath builds  the

calm within me.  Finally, I open my eyes and give you a weak

smile.   Your face  is flushed,  and your  hair is  slightly

tousled from my hands running through it.  You rise  slowly,

drawing me into your arms as we stand.  Your lips brush mine

softly, and I  taste the faint  saltiness of my  juices.  We

stretch languidly, like two cats in the sun, before changing

back into our own clothes.  I carefully brush your hair  and

repair your makeup, then we emerge.  I purchase the  leather

teddy, because I  know we will  enjoy it again  another day.

Perhaps next time you will be wearing it?

   Our next stop is a shoe store.  The moment he sees us,  a

pimply high school boy rushes over, nearly tripping over his

own  feet.    We  giggle  at  his puppyish eagerness and the

almost reverent way he handles your foot as he sizes it.  He

is trying so  hard to be  charming, you can't  help flirting

with him just a little.  He blushes adorably, even his  ears

and neck turning red.   Stammering terribly, he  admits that

today is his first day on the job, school having just  ended

for the summer.  Though you  do not buy any shoes, you  blow

him a kiss as  we leave and I  see the other clerks  glaring

enviouly at him.

   We  wander  through  several  other  shops,  just looking

mostly, trying a few things on.  To any casual observer,  we

look  like  sisters  or  best  friends.    After a while you

comment that  you are  hungry.   We check  the time  and are

amazed to see that it is almost 1:30.

   For lunch we go to Pierre's, just like we do every  year.

It is small, styled  after the Parisian sidewalk  cafes, and

the food is good.   As we take  our seats, the owner  rushes


   "Bon jour!"  he greets  us ecstatically.   Only  years of

practice enable me to keep a straight face at his outrageous

accent.    His  real  name  is  Peter  O'Donnell,  and   the

ridiculous  "french"  accent  he  affects  does  nothing  to

disguise his Brooklyn origin.

   "Bon jour, Pierre!" we reply cheerfully.  This is a  game

we have played many times  before.  He knows our  secret; we

know  his.    We  are  all  friends, and the secrets make no

difference.    Still,  I   wince  as  I  remember   Pierre's

disastrous attempt to seduce you.  He failed, of course, but

it forced us to  reveal ourselves to him.   That was in  the

past, however,  and today  the sun  is shining.   I  grin as

Pierre rattles  off the  day's specials,  then leaves  us to

greet another customer.

   We scan the menus briefly, then you whisper your order to

me.   When the  waiter comes,  I order  for both  of us.  He

raises an eyebrow in surprise, but does not comment.  It  is

the same every year, but it does not grow dull.  Every  time

seems like the first time.  Our food comes, and we eat.   It

is good, just like it always  is.  After the meal I  pay the

check and bid Pierre a fond adieu.  I kiss him on the  cheek

as  we  leave,  and  while  he  clearly enjoys it, he shifts

uncomfortably when you approach.  You wink mischievously  at

him.  "Maybe next time, Pierre..." you purr.

   It is almost 3:00 now.  I ask what you would like to  do,

already knowing the answer,  but asking anyway just  because

you like to be  asked.  You pretend  to think for a  moment,

then suggest a movie.  There is a theatre nearby that  shows

foreign  films  every  Saturday  afternoon.    You like them

because they are sad and make  you cry.  As we walk  the few

short blocks to the theatre, you say that you hope it is  an

Italian show.  They are your favorites, because they are the

saddest.    When  the  marquee  comes into view, we discover

gladly that it is a Fellini film - of all the Italian movies

we have seen, his  are the best.   We buy our tickets,  then

slip into  the cool  dimness of  the auditorium  just as the

lights go out.

   I haven't seen  this film before,  and I don't  think you

have either.  It is very good, and very sad.  I glance  over

at you and see tears  streaming from your eyes.   You always

forget to bring a handkerchief,  so I give you mine.   While

you dab at  your eyes, I  rest my hand  comfortingly on your

knee.   Slipping my  hand under  your skirt,  I stroke  your

thigh gently throughout the remainder of the movie.  When it

is over, we  sit quietly for  a moment before  leaving.  The

sunlight dazzles us and  I reel slightly, disoriented  after

emerging from the dark theatre into daylight.

   It  is  growing  late,  so  we  decide  to  return  to my

apartment.  On the way back, however, we pass a bar and  you

suggest stopping for a drink.  Our entry creates a bit of  a

stir among  the other  patrons, most  of whom  appear to  be

businessmen in their  early thirties.   One of them  wanders

over to our table and  sits down beside you.   He introduces

himself and offers to  buy us a round  of drinks.  I  accept

for both  of us.   The  drinks arrive  and we  sip them idly

while  chatting  about  inconsequential  things.   Though he

politely includes me in the conversation, it is obvious that

you are the  one he is  interested in.   Knowing your strict

disinterest in men,  I am curious  how you will  handle this

situation.  You are already beginning to shift uncomfortably

in your chair and mumble periodically that we really must be

going.  Undaunted, he sets his hand lightly on your knee and

begins stroking up your thigh.  You freeze, panic  stricken,

a  look  of  such  horror  on  your face that I almost laugh


   "Come on, Jacki.  We really do have to get home."  I  say

nonchalantly, taking you by the  arm.  You nod woodenly  and

stand, shaking off your would-be seducer's hand.  He  glares

at us, muttering something  about frigid bitches.   I ignore

him, leading you firmly out of the bar.  You sigh in  relief

as we step back onto the sidewalk.  The laughter I have been

suppressing  finally  bursts  forth.    You glare at me, not

amused, but as the tension eases you finally begin to smile.

By the time the  bus arrives you are  laughing as hard as  I


   "Did you see  his face?" you  gasp, tears streaming  from

your  eyes.    "He  looked  so  mad,  I thought he wanted to

strangle you right there!"

   "Yeah, but he  would have been  even madder if  you'd let

him continue!  I'd love to  have seen his face then!   Maybe

we should go  back and invite  him home with  us.  I'm  sure

he'd accept."  You scowl  at this suggestion and stick  your

tongue out at me.  Except for an occasional stifled  giggle,

we ride the rest of the way back in silence.

   When we arrive  at my apartment  we walk slowly  into the

bedroom  without  saying  anything.    A  pervasive  sadness

overcomes me as the  day draws to a  close.  We've had  such

fun, and I don't want it to end.  You look slightly downcast

too.  Sighing, I  take you in my  arms and give you  a long,

slow kiss.  "Goodbye, Jacki..."   I whisper.  "I'll  see you

again next year..."  A single tear trickles down your  cheek

as you turn and leave the room.

   For a moment I  stare sadly at the  door, then I force  a

smile to my lips and  begin undressing.  When I  am stripped

down to my underwear I step in front of the mirror and brush

out my hair.  Static electricity crackles through the golden

cloud that  swirls around  me.   I meticulously  touch up my

makeup, then lie down on the bed to wait.

   I do not have to wait long.  After only a few minutes the

door  creaks  slowly  open  and  you  walk in.  Your freshly

scrubbed  face  glows,  and  your  hair is damp and slightly

askew.  You are naked, bronze muscles rippling gracefully as

you stalk across the  room.  Our careful  transformation has

been reversed, and you are now every bit a man.

   I sigh delightedly as you  take me in your arms,  my head

resting against your broad chest.  The primitive rhythms  of

your heartbeat stir tides of passion within me.  Your  warm,

masculine scent clouds my  senses like some exquisite  drug.

Surrendering to your embrace, I  raise my lips to meet  your

own.   Your kiss  is fierce  and demanding.   My  head swims

dizzily as you seem to suck the air out of my lungs.   Every

fiber of my body screams for your touch.

   You ease  me down  onto the  blankets, a  hungry gleam in

your  eyes.    Slowly,  you  remove  my  lacy undergarments,

kissing  every  inch  of  flesh  that  is  exposed.   I moan

slightly, squirming as you brush your lips teasingly over my

belly.   Your hands  find my  breasts, exploring  their firm

softness and stiff nipples as if for the first time.   While

I twine my fingers through your hair, you engulf one swollen

aureola with your lips.  Your  mouth is hot and moist on  my

breast.  The fluttering dance of your tongue draws my nipple

to an  even stiffer  peak which  you nibble  eagerly.  Then,

with agonizing slowness, you  begin blazing a trail  down my

chest and stomach with your kisses.

   Still  straddling  me,  you  turn  and  plant one knee on

either side  of my  head.   Your swollen  cock bobs above my

face, brushing against my cheeks.   Eagerly, I grasp it  and

guide it  down to  my waiting  mouth.   As I  close my  lips

around the head, I feel your mouth on my clit.  I have  been

terribly aroused all day, and now that pent up energy  seeks

release.  My hips jerk frantically, grinding my cunt against

your  face.    Simultaneously,  I  raise  my  head slightly,

engulfing your  cock.   You begin  thrusting slowly  into my

mouth, matching your  pace to the  movements of my  hips.  A

drop of pre- cum forms, and I greedily lap it up.  The salty

taste  adds  to  my  arousal.    My  tongue  glides rapidly,

flickering across your head  then stroking the smooth  sides

firmly.  I suck gently, hoping to elicit more of your  salty

fluid.  I can feel  you swelling inside my mouth,  your cock

pulsing with a life of its own.  Your balls dangle in  front

of my nose, and I breathe deeply of their warm, musky scent.

Your tongue darts erratically across my clit and between  my

slippery folds, accompanied by your fingers.  I am  writhing

desperately  beneath  you,  smearing  your  cheeks  with  my

slippery  juices.    I  am  teetering  on  the  brink  of  a

cataclysmic orgasm, when you suddenly raise your head.

   Your cheeks  glisten wetly  as you  turn to  face me once

again.  I spread my  thighs wider, allowing you free  access

to my tender core.  For  a moment you only brush the  tip of

your cock across  my lips, teasing  me.  I  twist and thrust

vainly, trying  to capture  you inside  me, and  at last you

relent.  For a moment you press against my cunt, positioning

yourself,  then  with  one  violent  shove you bury yourself

completely inside me.   I gasp  at the suddenness  of it, my

thighs jerking convulsively as  you withdraw partway, but  I

am ready for your next thrust and rise to meet it.  We lapse

into a steady rhythm as old as time, the very pulse of  life

expressing itself in our movements.   We are no longer  just

ourselves;  we  have  become  the  archetypal man and woman,

renewing  ourselves  in  this  ancient  ritual.  I am filled

completely, %s I was meant to be filled.  When you wihdraw,

my muscles tighten  and clench around  you, seeking to  hold

you yet within  me.  When  you thrust, I  welcome you deeply

with an answering thrust of my own.

   Primal tides surge high within us as I wrap my leg around

yours, pulling you deep  into me.  Wordlessly  communicating

my intention, I  embrace you tightly  and we roll  together,

trading places.   Now  I am  on top,  and I  ride you like a

thoroughbred.  I can feel your muscles tensing beneath me as

I draw my  knees up and  plant them on  either side of  your

hips.    I  shift  my  weight  off you, rising until you are

almost out of  me, then plunge  back down, impaling  myself.

The muscles in  your thighs quiver,  and your face  is tight

and flushed.   Again  I rise  up onto  my knees.   Your eyes

close, anticipating my  downward stroke.   I gasp as  I feel

your cock tearing into me,  hot and urgent.  Another  stroke

and we are both  hovering on the brink.   You grip my  hips,

your nails digging lightly into my flanks, as I pull off you

a final time.  Your hands  give my descent added force as  I

impale myself again.   This time  I do not  pull away.   The

muscles in my thighs convulse, suddenly refusing to bear  my

weight, and  my toes  clench.   The wild  pulsing of my cunt

makes you  lose control,  and I  can feel  you beginning  to

throb inside me.   Your hot  cum gushes into  me, wave after

scalding wave.  I contract around you, milking you of  every

drop.  The  seconds stretch out  into eternity as  we strain

together.  Finally the convulsions subside.

   One by one the fibers  in my thighs unclench, easing  the

tension.  I  raise myself weakly,  freeing your now  flaccid

cock, then collapse on top of  you.  My cheek rests on  your

shoulder, and  your arms  are around  me, holding  me close.

This is the  moment I like  best of all,  because I feel  so

close to you and so safe.   With a blissful sigh I  close my

eyes and  reflect on  how wonderful  our unique relationship

is.  As 'Jacki' you are my best friend and sometimes  lover;

as 'Mark'  you are  a superb  lover and  boyfriend.  Sex has

been  much  more  exciting  since  you  shared  your  secret

fantasies with me, because I love fulfilling them as much as

you do.  I open my eyes briefly and whisper "Happy  birthday

darling," then snuggle against  your chest and drift  off to




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