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 caresses 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 pussy. 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 pussy 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-gray 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 a white 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 freshly 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, reveling 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 gray 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 air-conditioned 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, poised 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 pussy 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 pussy 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 enviously 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 pussy 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 pussy, 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, as I was meant to be filled. When you withdraw, 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 pussy 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.