textfiles/sex/EROTICA/D/daylife.txt

Archive-name: Changes/daylife.txt
Archive-author:
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
suggestively.

   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
up.
   "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
aloud.

   "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
am.

   "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
sleep.

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