by Tina Majors
My jaw was dropping faster than you could say twerk that booty for your bull.
As shocked as I was, I couldn’t deny that I was also majorly turned on by this somewhat unexpected event. The woman eased me off the table and moved me towards the full length mirror in the corner of the room.
“Wow, yes, excellent,” She said, turning me around to have a full look at my new body.
“I, don’t know what to say,” I exclaimed.
“Well, that could be because you’re an airhead, basic bimbo!” The woman replied, laughing.
I started to move my arms over my stomach.
I couldn’t believe this, not at all.
I just wanted to touch myself, feel the sensation of my incredible new body and face. My hair was so long and shiny, my lips so plump, my cheekbones higher than Snoop Dogg and Willie Nelson at a legal weed factory outlet on the first day of the Black Friday Sales.
“Just go for it,” the woman said. “It’s important that you get to know the new you.”
To be fair, that was all the encouragement I needed.
I began by running my fingers over my new super luxurious and feminine lips. They weren’t ridiculous massive Botox lips, no, they were very natural but super plump like Angelina Jolie.
I then moved on to my titties.
I began by running my fingers lightly over my nipples and areolas. It felt incredible, so nice, so tingly. At this point the sales woman, who had revealed her name to be Candice, gave me some assistance – and I wasn’t going to say no to that!
“Here,” She said. “Pull on them a little, stretch them out.”
She gave me a demonstration on my own nipples, pulling them, putting a little twist in herself, before releasing them and nodding for me to try it. I certainly did try it and felt my pussy get hotter, wetter – to be honest it felt like it was going to explode down there such was the surge of sexual energy I was feeling. But something else was very clear too, I had enjoyed the feeling of Candice feeling me and playing with my hot body too.
I looked over to Candice and saw that she was removing her clothes. I couldn’t believe it, she looked incredible. She had an almost identical body to me, it was sensational to look at.
Wait, if I was a woman now, did this make me a lesbian?
I must have looked a little nervous. Sure, I was massively turned on, but I definitely was apprehensive. It was a new situation for me to be a woman, let alone a woman who was about to get involved in a full on woman on woman situation.
“Hey, just relax,” Candice said as she put her hands on my shoulders and began to gently ease me downwards.
“Now, put my nipples in your mouth, one at a time, swapping over,” She said. “Good, suck on them, mmmmmmmm, that’s it!”
I followed her instructions, after all she was an expert in the female body, I could see that for definite. Under her guidance I began to lick her perfect, lightly-abbed stomach and then found myself on my knees, totally naked myself, with my faces millimetres away from her pussy lips.
“You know what to do,” Candice said. “But I’ll tell you anyway: kiss my wet, swollen lips you filthy slut.”
That was all the encouragement I needed and I began to gently at first, and then deeper, with increasingly breathlessness, began to kiss and tongue her pussy. Of course I’d eaten pussy and loved it as a man, but as a woman it just seemed better somehow.
It’s hard to place why exactly but it drove me wild, maybe it was that it felt taboo?
Maybe because it was the feel of a woman on a woman?
Either way, I loved it and soon found myself pushing my own fingers into my pussy as I ate Candice out.
“Oooooh, yeah,” Candice said. “You work yourself over as you eat me, that’s it slut, have no shame, fuck yourself silly, pump that wet hot pussy until you cum.”
Candice’s words almost sent me over the edge.
In fact I only lasted another couple of seconds and found the unbelievable and powerful force of the female orgasm rampaging through my body soon enough, hitting every corner of my body and my mind. It felt incredible and I just collapsed on the floor, facing upwards and looking, dazed, at the spectacular body of Candice above.
“Well,” Candice said. “You may be finished but you’ve still got work to do on me bitch.”
With that she laughed and squatted above my face, her dripping pussy so close to my mouth I could have stretched my tongue out and penetrated it without lifting my head.
Well, I wouldn’t have to worry about that for much longer as Candice dropped herself, full weight, onto my face and began to grind and ride on my face and tongue. She did this until she went into a full, long, wet orgasm all over my face. The sound of her moans and orgasmic screams must have been heard all over the gym, which set off some questions in my mind about what she had said earlier to the receptionist about having me ready to go in thirty minutes.
I wondered what that comment meant, still half dazed from not only my own powerful orgasm but also the shared moment of pleasure I had just experience thanks to the incredibly hot Candice and her even hotter (not to mention wetter) pussy.
I would soon enough find out exactly what she had meant.
**
I looked at the clock in my kitchen and realised that I had been misreading it, I was an hour behind and this meant that I actually only had half an hour before they would be arriving and I had to get everything ready.
I felt like panicking,
I could feel the sweat build on my forehead and a bit drip down my back. Wow. After what had happened at the gym I couldn’t believe I had left it so late to get everything, including myself, ready.
Well, I say I couldn’t believe it, perhaps I could – I was kind of notorious in work and personal circles for leaving everything until the last moment, and here was more proof of that particular personality trait. Quite why I was so bad at failing to prepare in time adequately I genuinely had no idea, even though it was something that had only really started to become a problem recently, as prior to that I always seemed to be able to bluff my way out of situations.
I think it was because now I had taken on more responsibility at work it was harder to avoid the increased expectation levels and the pressure that comes with that. In many ways it was a bit of a catch twenty two situation and while it had caused me inconvenience and annoyance at work, it was always manageable – but in this case it would potentially have huge consequences for me that I couldn’t just bluff off to a manager.
I looked around the apartment and saw the dishes piled to the side of the dishwasher (seriously, why hadn’t I just stuck the dishes straight in the washer!?), some clothes on the floor by the washing machine (ditto to my last parenthesis!), and general crap lying about the place.
I whipped the clothes in the washer, slammed the dishes in the dish washer, and gave the place a speedy hoover.
I was boiling, cleaning in a hurry was hard work.
I had a nagging feeling I was forgetting something, but it seemed like the more I thought about it, the harder it was to remember if that makes any sense?
Well, what more could I do, I couldn’t literally force myself to remember something I had forgotten now could I? I thought.
I did some generally tidying, keeping a watchful eye on the time and then decided enough was enough and poured myself a glass of water and infused it with a slice of lemon.
It was just what I needed to cool me down.
I turned on the television and by some chance it happened to be on the channel that regularly shows Simpsons episodes old and new. All sane people agree that The Simpsons hasn’t been good for years, apart from a brief renaissance a few years back, but I thought why not I’ll give it a go and see if it helps me to relax and take my mind off things.
My mind was swirling, but possibly the family known as Springfield’s Finest would help?
Well, it was a new-ish episode, from 2013 as the description told me on screen, and it is fair and true to sa
y that the laughs were thin on the ground, almost as thin as the non-existent plot.
I barely cracked a grin, which was sad, but it did prompt me to think back and remember what it was about this show that I used to love back in the day, as they say. It used to be a programme that was woven together so seamlessly, like it was made by the finest Turkish rug expert. The way that the jokes flowed and made you laugh with the family and their up and down exploits was both comical and empathetic; this was lacking in the newer episodes which just seemed as if they were all about exposing Homer Simpson (the titular patriarch) as a grotesque stereotype rather than a fully three dimensional character with his own hopes and dreams.
I think I must have seen the classic episodes at least a dozen times each, possibly more in some cases (and less in others, if you can catch onto that somewhat scatological drift), and I could almost recite some of the episodes line by line – of course, I am exaggerating, but I think spiritually and non-literally I could, in so much as I understood the episodes and felt them so deeply.
Anyway, as I continued to watch this new-ish episode I did consider switching over and seeing what else was on but in the end I decided to stick it out. There was a reasonably funny joke about the fallen Hollywood and TV actor Charlie Sheen, but even this felt like it lacked a certain funny stick moment, you know the kind that really tickles your satirical ribs, really gets you guffawing like a giraffe who has just gestated some funny grass, if you know what I mean?
Anyone? Anyone?
Well, yes, but the episode did indeed come to an end and I felt as if I had been put out of my misery at this fallen giant of comedy. It got me thinking, perhaps the show itself should be taken and removed out of its misery (yes, I am talking about it being cancelled!)?
Only time would tell.
After the somewhat disappointing episode of The Simpsons that served to confirm my thoughts that the programme was firmly past its sell by date, I flicked through the channels available on my full package rather aimlessly. In truth, there were other things on my mind, but I thought it best to keep myself occupied with other things for the moment.
I tried watching a film about a robot that had developed a conscience and found it a little dull although the world the director had created was brought to life fairly effectively and some of the minor characters seemed to have been given a fair bit of background thought as they seemed elevated beyond the usual one dimensional cardboard cut-out that you can expect to see in a lot of Hollywood fare.
Anyway, as I say, the film was not exactly grabbing me by the nuts so after a bit I continued on my channel hopping (and why is it called hopping? I don’t know where that phrase came from, but it doesn’t quite work for me, but plus la change as they say!) and came across a programme about individuals who enjoyed testing themselves in the most extreme conditions imaginable such as ice, wind, fire, heat, proximity to deadly gasses. It was a strange programme and the fast editing style was off putting in that it didn’t allow the danger of the moment to be realised effectively, nor any suspense to be built.
I guess perhaps I just wasn’t the target audience, although I certainly did know a thing or two about situations that are outside of the norm!
Well, as you can imagine, I continued my channel cruise (see what I did there?) and ended up watching an episode of one of these reality shows were drunk young people end up making absolute fools of themselves when put together in a house and provided with copious amounts of alcohol. It was an interesting watch I suppose, although it was clear that the producers had a heavy hand in putting the various scenarios in place and guiding the action to meet their own ratings-fuelled requirements.
I let the programme play out and seeing that there were several episodes back to back thought I may as well leave it on this channel in case anything humorous or outrageous happened. ‘Whatever keeps your mind off things’ as some Greek philosopher probably, or not, or maybe(!), said. I was in a funny mood, perhaps understandably.
I am not what you would call a music nerd, a muso, a deep cut enthusiast of any of the myriad genres of music. But yes I do like to listen to what takes my fancy and am open minded to recommendations. This means that I did deem it worthy to shell out a little bit of my hard earned money on a sound system (aka a speaker in today’s contemporary parlance) that would do justice to whatever it was I was playing.
Well, the system I had had some very respectable performance for what would be described as a mid range product, but the base had scored very highly and it was clear why.
On this basis, I would often find myself seeking out music with good base, so a lot of it was genres like thumping house or deep funk. I also liked hip hop music as well. So my collection was eclectic but with a definite flavour of urban tunes.
My raving days were over, well to tell the truth I was never much a fan of the classic rave or the nu rave, I much preferred listening to music by myself in the comfort of my own home. The thing I hated about the rave scene was all the people, invariably tripping off their heads on narcotics, and the punishing and inescapable noise.
When listening at home, either on headphones or direct from the speaker, I could listen at a level that wouldn’t threaten the safety of my eardrums, would allow me to think, and of course – I had the luxury of the pause button, or the OFF button for that matter.
Yes, chilling over some smooth acid grooves with a salsa kick in the pleasure of my own home beat the pants of venturing out (and paying a bloody fortune!) to listen to the same tunes and some renovated tram stop or underground car garage.
It probably goes without saying but I wasn’t a fan of shelling out all the money on the grotesquely over inflated prices on the drinks either. Why pay a five for a can, when I could by six and drink at home for the same price! I would go out a lot to the pub with mates, I was into that, but I really always avoided the club scene as much as I could and ended up with mates with similar taste to me – I’m just saying that to avoid you thinking of me as a crazed loon recluse!
Well, maybe I do have that gene in me a little, but you get my drift.
Listen to me, I’m rambling.
I looked at my clock, it was time.
**
There was a knock at the door and I got up and looked at myself in the hallway mirror.
Wow, I actually kinda impressed myself.
I was new to the game of being a woman but had taken to it so quickly seeing as it was only a few hours ago I was having my face ridden and pussy finger banged by Candice.
Before I left the gym, Candice had given me some instructions for my workout and for later. I was dressed in figure hugging (to the max!) workout gear of yoga pants, tight workout bra-top and… that was it.
Candice had instructed me to squat, squat, and squat, really parade myself for all the hot men in the gym. She had said that if any of them showed me any attention I should smile, demure, and keep on working out.
She said if I could blush that would be an added bonus.
And, boy oh boy (or should that be girl oh girl?), I certainly did blush.
Well, I was certainly able to do all of this, and more.
And I must admit I had found it quite a turn on to know and see all these large, smart, rich men checking me out. My mind had wandered as I completed my hundredth squat of the session and I began to consider the possibility that as a woman it was perfectly natural that I would be looking at me and having sexual thoughts, imagining what they looked like shirtless, and of course, I’m not even going to lie… imagining what they were packing in the cock department!
But let me tell you what I was looking like right now, having followed Candice’s instructions to the letter.
I had on a sheer, powder pink bra with mesh cups that only partially hid my stiffening nipples. It felt sensational, smooth, soft, and very feminine.
Along with this I had on a tiny little thong, and I mean tiny.
Tiny, minuscule, almost non-existent in fact.
Super high cut to
reveal my toned, powerful thighs, the tiny amount of material barely covered anything at all. I was a little worried though because I could feel myself getting wet inside.
What if I got a wet patch on the tiny front?
It would be so obvious to anyone who looked, what if Candice got angry and punished me?
I would soon find out exactly what Candice had in store for me, and it’s safe to say that unless I performed to her exact instructions then punishment may well happen in the most humiliating way possible.
The door knocked again, this time louder.
It was time to stop daydreaming and see exactly what this experience was going to entail.
I opened the door and Candice looked me up and down, smiled, and then quite abruptly pushed past me.
“Come on in boys,” She declared.
Huh? I thought.
I didn’t have time to consider the nuances of what Candice had just said.
Candice grabbed me by the arm and took me to the clear area in the centre of my apartment living space. As requested, I had arranged the chairs and sofas around a large opening area.
Within moments man after man walked in.
Each one had certain things in common. They were all tall, well built, very smart in business suits and very confident demeanours.
These were alpha men for sure.
Now even as a man I had never been like this, not even close.
So as a woman I felt even more in awe and dare I say a little nervous. Each man eyed me up and some of them seemed to lick their lips in lust, or anticipation… or both.
“Okay gentlemen, take a drink from the tray and relax,” Candice announced. “First things first, this little bimbo here who you may recognise from the gym is going to give you a bit of a display. Aren’t you?”
