by Zoe Brown
I smiled at her, indulgently, reaching across the bar, under her chin, and lifting her face up towards mine. “It suits you,” I complimented her, and I meant it. Jade was a truly beautiful and charming young woman. She blushed again, glowing a little bit. “But you said, ‘two reasons,’” I reminded her, “what’s the second one?”
“Oh, right.” Her eyes widened again and she laughed, biting her lip self-consciously as she winced. “Well, the second one’s kind of… eh… a little naughty?” She lifted one shoulder in a disarming display of awkwardness. “I mean,” she rolled her eyes and huffed out a breath, and leaned across the bar to whisper in his ear, her cheeks a bright, scarlet red as she did so, “You’ve fucked so much pussy that it’s gotten a little boring for you, so… why not try being the one with the pussy for a change, on the receiving end of the fucking?”
My cock stiffened up so hard and so fast beneath the bar top at that suggestion, and at the recently banished fantasy that popped back into my mind when whispered it to me, that when I sat up and back a little bit, I accidentally bumped it against the underside of the bar top. Ouch. Yep – that was definitely an idea that got my motor revving. Jade saw it too. When I sat up, and sat back, pulling away from her whispers and reaching out impulsively for another drink, she saw something in my eyes. I don’t know what it was, but whatever it was made her eyes light up, and her smile curled with excitement and victory. “Ah-ah-ah—!” She called me out, jabbing a finger into my lapel as I tremblingly poured myself a drink. “I saw that! You DO like that idea! You like it a lot!”
I couldn’t deny it, but I refused to admit it. I’d spilled a few drops of liquor on the bar top, my hands were trembling as I lifted my shot glass up to my lips, and at first I couldn’t quite get the guilty, conflicted look off of my face, but I forced an angry, defensive scowl in its place instead. With a sexy, lustfully-naughty feeling tingling away inside of me, I knew that the woman on the other side of the bar – just like Brianna a couple of nights before – was right. They were both right – I was turned on about the idea of becoming a beautiful, sexy young woman. I was turned on about the idea of being a hot, sexy young woman and having sex as one. I was turned on… but I… didn’t want to be. I kept trying to bury it under a mountain of denials and excuses and pretenses and… I’m a fucking man, god damnit!
“No, I really don’t,” I hissed out a roughly whispered denial at last, sipping my drink and glaring furiously down at the bar. “I just think it’s really sexy when someone else does it. I’m really turned on about sleeping with hot, beautiful women – like yourself,” I gestured at Jade, roughly, defensively, “who chose to be women, who went out and decided that was what they wanted to be, even if it wasn’t entirely legal. That’s all!” I lied, passionately, even though inside of my heart I knew it was a lie. “Promise.”
Jade watched me sip my drink in silence for a minute after that, my eyes veiled and cloudy with defensive frustration as I concealed my desires and buried them down deep within me. She didn’t press me. In fact, she moved down along the bar a little bit for a minute, checking in with a couple of other patrons and topping up their drinks or offering them a refill before she started moving back in my direction again. It was clear that she wasn’t entirely sold on my refutation, but she seemed to be making her mind up to accept it at face value – she kept nodding to herself and shrugging. Maybe she sensed that there was something I was keeping back, but if so she was content to let me get to it on my own. As for myself, well, I was less content. I could not comfortably reconcile the sexy fantasy of trying Werewoman for myself with the conception of masculinity that I had built my life around. The two simply could not exist side by side with one another in my mind. If I was the pinnacle of masculine perfection that I had always strived to be: hot, sexy, desirable to women, successful in business, reckless and thrill-seeking, then how could I also simultaneously want to become a beautiful, sexy young woman for a while?! Wasn’t that a betrayal of everything my life up to this point represented? Why did the fantasy intrigue me so!?
Unable to find an answer in the increasingly crowded space of the bar, or in the depths of my shot glass, I sighed, blew out a breath, and ran a hand through my foxy silver locks. Perhaps what I needed in order to puzzle this out was a change of scenery: A little fresh air, a few glasses of wine and some mentally stimulating music, under the stars… my gaze slid slowly down the length of the bar to where the beautiful Jade stood, conversing softly with another pair of patrons but occasionally casting a discretely interested glance in my direction as well, … and perhaps a few gloriously anxiety-relieving orgasms and some thought-provoking conversation about how a certain pretty bartender got started on gender-bending pills herself…?
I tipped my head in the direction of that ‘certain pretty bartender’ and mustered up a meagre smile, then placed several large bills on the glossy, finished top of the bar beneath my fingers and slid them across the surface towards her: there was more than enough to cover my drinks and hers there, along with a generous tip – a thank you for both the attention and the conversation. But while the pretty, young Latin-slash-Mediterranean-looking girl counted up the cash and zeroed out what remained of my tab, I took a deep breath and reached across the bar top to tap my empty shot glass against hers.
“Jade…” I began quietly, “Why don’t you come home with me tonight?” The bartender’s head snapped up, away from the money she was counting, and her eyes got big and wide at my sudden invitation, but I held up a hand and bought myself another moment before she could voice any of her possible objections. “Not just for sex, although…” I looked her up and down again, and grinned as I shook my head, “I’d be lying if I said that hasn’t been on my mind since I met you two weeks ago.”
I leaned across the bar, lowering my voice and running a nervous hand through my hair. “Look, Brianna was lovely, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself with her, but it’s you that I haven’t been able to get out of my head ever since I met you, ever since you told me about yourself.” I felt my cock twitch inside of my pants again, as I once more contemplated the possibility of taking the illicit gender-bending drug myself, watching my body undergo the same sexy, sensual metamorphosis from male to female, surrendering my masculinity and my cock to become a hot, sexy young woman just like Brianna, just like Jade, and like a thousand other beautiful women I’d known throughout my life time. But even as I started to enjoy the fantasy again, I felt myself recoiling from it once more as well. A frightened, panicky reaction shoved the idea aside and buried it deep down again, under layers of denial and refutation – No! I’m a man! I’m a man! I sleep with women, I don’t become one! No! Never! – that sounded increasingly hollow and brittle to my mental ‘ears.’
“I have no desire to use Werewoman myself,” I lied, softly, and much more persuasively, despite the agonizingly sexy fantasies spinning away inside of my head and roiling my loins. “But I’m fascinated by the fact that you do.” I kept my voice low and discreet, conscious of the gradually increasing volume of patrons circulating through the bar all around us. “I was hoping, maybe, we could talk about it some more later tonight, after you get off work? I’d love to find out how you got into…” I gestured minutely at her body, and from the intrigued flick of her eyebrows, I could see that she had picked up on the gist of my meaning, at least, though the arch of her eyebrows suggested that she wanted a little bit more clarification on exactly what I was asking. Gently clearing my throat, I adjusted my collar, loosening my tie by a couple of inches and unbuttoning the top two buttons of my Oxford shirt. “I mean… I’d love to learn a little bit more about how a racing-obsessed gear-head-grease-monkey…” I saw the pretty dark-eyed girl’s eyebrows shoot up with surprise and alarm, “found his way into high heels, tight skirts, and the bed of one particularly oversized Bouncer,” her cheeks colored with bashful embarrassment yet again, “not to mention my own.” I slipped an expensively-printed business card out of the inside pocket of my suit jacket
and tapped it on bar top, then slid it across the smooth surface towards her.
“Think about it,” I told her, sliding out of my seat and waving away her first response before she could speak it. “I’d love a chance to show you just how well I know my way around an ‘engine chassis,’ as you put it. If you decide you’re interested, text me the time that you get off and I’ll meet you out front… in a 2017 Lipstick-red Ferrari Eight-One-Two – which you can drive, of course.” I saw the pretty dark-chocolate-haired girl’s eyes light up with excitement and poorly-concealed hunger when I name dropped the one of the hottest cars on the planet, and smiled smugly to myself as I collected my coat and slipped away, leaving her standing there, motionless, behind the bar, clutching my details card to her ample chest and gazing after me with a lustful, glazed expression on her face.
She’d come.
Chapter Nine
Timestamp: Friday, Tenth of August, 2018. Forty-Nine days ago.
“Unnhhhh—! UNNNHHHH—! AHHHHHHHH—!”
Jade cried out, over and over again, running the long, elegant fingers and shiny bronze nails of one hand up into and through her cascading dark-chocolate locks while she alternatingly screamed, whimpered, moaned, and gasped for breath, her massive mounds of perfectly white, soft, milky breasts hanging, high and firm, off of the wall of her chest and gently jiggling up above me with the powerful inhalations and exhalations of her breath as she climaxed at the peak of yet one more powerful, nearly overwhelming orgasm that was rocking her supple and curvaceous frame. “AHHHHHHH—!”
Sagging back into the mattress beneath her, beneath me, with a long, low groan and several grunts of panting release, I knew that I was no less satisfied than she with the results of this, our third smashingly-orgasmic sexual romp of the evening, but from the sound of things, I was enjoying that satisfaction a helluva lot less. Balancing her quivering, still-orgasming body delicately above me with her knees clapped tight to either side of my narrow hips and tight waist, her hips locked tight with mine and with my slowly-softening manhood still buried six-inches firmly up inside her wet, gripping pussy, Jade was propping herself up above my face with one long, elegant arm weakly clinging to the top of the headboard. Her perfect, passion-fruit-tasting mouth hung open in a frozen gape of throbbing, continuous pleasure and her eyes were locked closed, squeezed tightly shut as her tight, curvy body bucked sporadically against my hips and towards the headboard, her long, dark brown hair bouncing softly around her shoulders as the knock-on-effect of what felt to me like several consecutive orgasms hitting her in quick succession rippled through her. “AHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh—!” Towards the end of her series of orgasmic peaks, the ferocity and intensity of her frantic screaming, moaning, whimpering pleasure slowly started to taper off, and she gasped at last, wildly, for breath, sagging forward against the head board (her breasts and chest collapsing into my face as her body drooped) and sliding slowly down my body to lie on top of me, my condom-wrapped and slowly-wilting cock popping softly out of her vagina once her hips passed the top of my thighs.
I pulled the spent condom swiftly and deftly off of my cock, wiped the sticky residue it left behind on my cock off with a tissue from my bedside table, and then tossed the both of them into the small trashcan by the head of my bed. Then I wiped my hands off on another tissue paper, applied some hand sanitizer, and then a minute later some scented lotion, and slowly began to caress the ample curves and soft skin of the beautiful woman lying atop me. “That was breathtaking,” I whispered down into the top of her head.
“Nnnnnnnnnnnggghhhh…” The beautiful, temporarily-spent goddess lying atop me groaned long and dully in sensual and physical exhaustion as she gulped down air with deep, gasping breaths, her perfectly formed breasts squished somewhat uncomfortably between her chest and my own, and her lovely, delicately-formed face tucked so close under my chin that I could feel her breath upon my throat and along my collarbone. In normal circumstances, I would not have cared much for this particular configuration of bodies after such an extremely-passionate and physically-exhausting lovemaking session, but tonight I was so thrilled and delighted to have this foxy vixen in my bed and in my arms that I didn’t even care that her face was partially obstructing my airway, or that the weight of her chest and her breasts was slightly impeding my own ability to recover my breath. As my tired, gentle hands tenderly caressed the flowing curves of her slender waist, full hips, and round, firm posterior, I decided that she could stay like that, exactly as she was, for as long as she liked.
It didn’t take her too long to recover the strength to roll off of me, however, and to curl her body back against mine in a much more comfortable spooning position instead. Still gulping down huge gasps of air, and with her heart thrumming so loudly in her chest that I could feel it through her rib cage and inside my own chest as I wrapped my own arm snug around her middle, Jade slowly began moaning with the persistent and gentle recurrences of pleasure – little aftershocks – that were still rippling through her system during the first few minutes of afterglow.
I buried my face in the back of her hair as she gradually recovered, planting soft, gentle kisses along the back of her head and down to the base of her neck, still softly stroking her waist and her hip as I felt her breathing and heart rate slowly returning to normal. Finally, at length, she giggled, a soft, pleasant little noise from the back of her throat as she stretched her body out, limberly and languidly, both to flex tightening muscles before they locked up, and to rub her plump, perfect ass teasingly against my still-semi-erect manhood simultaneously. “Now that was some first-rate heel-and-toe action,” the beauty curled up against my body groaned, pleasantly, turning her face up so that she could grin weakly at me. Her eyes were shining. “You really got me up and firing on all cylinders.” She gave another little moan of pleasure as yet one more delicious aftershock rippled through her, and her long, sensuous black eyelashes fluttered.
“Hey, I can’t take all the credit,” I smirked back at her, gently pulling some locks of dark hair out of her eyes. I was flattered. Jade was one hot, sexy woman in the bedroom, and easily one of the more confident, skillful lovers that I had ever been with. She knew how to balance both aggressive, demanding assertions of her sexual desires with some of the most sensuous, teasing, and invitingly-submissive sexual behavior that I had ever witnessed in an intimate setting, and combined both halves of her sexual personality into a cohesive, thoroughly sexy and feminine, womanly whole that had completely redefined ‘power bottom’ for me. “You’re the one who supplied the inspiration. We both painted the masterpiece together.”
“‘Supplied the inspirit—’" Jade snerked and then giggled, grasping a pillow off of the head of the bed and pulling into her face for a moment as she snorted into it, laughing at me. “‘Painted the masterpiece?!’ Who even talks that way? For real? You sound like a walking-talking Don Juan, or something, you old, sexy cheeseball,” she batted me playfully upside the head with her pillow, and I snatched it away, boffing her back on the butt in return. “Not that it isn’t working for you,” the pretty girl clarified, a moment later, when she had recovered from laughter. “Like…” she rolled onto her back and gazed up at me in a dreamy, appraising sort of way. “Has anyone ever approached you to do cologne commercials, or menswear ads? –Oh! CONDOM ADS!” She smirked again.
I laughed. Then a moment later, I shrugged, rolled my eyes, and nodded ruefully. “Uh, yeah, okay, more than once. Over the years, I’ve slept with a number of women who worked in marketing, fashion, or television, or some other related field. Yeah, there’ve been a number of offers.”
Jade blinked up at me, not so much surprised as intrigued, “And did you…?”
I shrugged. “Once or twice. Um, there was a…” I sighed, “A cologne ad, back in the 90s, and a men’s business wear shoot a few years after the turn of the century. They both ran principally overseas – European and Japanese, South Korean markets, I think, mainly. I was flattered to be considered, of course, and
delighted to do something that could get one of the magnificently talented women who occasionally shared a bed with me a little boost in their careers, but to be honest, I don’t really crave that sort of popular fame. I’ve always rather preferred being able to walk through a crowd without any more attention than what women pay to me for my…” I let the sentence trail off, wiggling my eyebrows and glancing away.
“You mean for your startlingly dashing, foxy-older-man good looks?” Jade cooed teasingly up at me. “You and those bright blue eyes with your silver hair…” She reached up with one delicate, slender hand and her elegant fingers and gently played with the locks of that selfsame hair. “Your ridiculously soft, touchable, skillfully-conditioned silver hair…” Her eyes wandered slowly down, over my face, and she shivered a little bit, then laughed and groaned, dropping back onto the bed and scooting away from me a couple of inches as she screwed up her face and tried to keep her body from reacting to the sudden surge of desire. I grinned and let her wriggle away, taking silent pleasure in her squirming arousal.
“Nnnnggg…” She protested, playfully, “you know…” she panted softly, licking her lips and decidedly NOT looking at me – in fact, holding up a hand to block out my face entirely – “it really should not be THAT easy. That’s not fair. You’ve got an unfair advantage over … you know, all the other men who don’t look like you. Or bathe regularly enough. Or buy nice clothes. Or go to a real hair stylist. Or condition their hair. Or wear that cologne.”
I laughed again. “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry that the sight of me causes a few pairs of panties to get a little wet now and again,” I pretended remorse. “I have certainly never—” The rest of the words that I had meant to say were drowned out by the impact of a pillow launched from the opposite side of the bed.
