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            K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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About Doing Cassandra
by Anonymous Author (no address provided)

***

A story where a male and female change sex roles. A 
teenage boy's personality and memories are switched with 
those of his scientist mother when an experiment gone 
wrong. (FM/m-teen, FF, underage, inc, bi, mast, oral, 
rom, sci-fi)

***

CHAPTER 1

Cassandra, my Mom is a remarkable woman. She is, or I 
should say. was, a professor of psychology at a 
prestigious East Coast university. She was in charge of 
the Human Sexuality Laboratory. Her specialty was the 
investigation of the Persistent Sexual Arousal Syndrome 
(PSAS), or as it is now called, PGAD. She also held a 
dual appointment in the psychophysics department of the 
university and was deeply involved in the techniques of 
computer assisted personality measurement. Indeed she 
had devised a method of electronic transfer of learning 
from one animal to another which was undergoing its 
first tests on humans.

Mom and Dad got married right after graduating high 
school and I was born about 4 months later. I was a full 
term baby so you can draw your own conclusions. Our home 
life seemed happy enough. When I was young, both Mom and 
Dad were busy attending college and pursuing their 
individual career paths. I spent a lot of time with my 
grandmother. My younger sister, Stephanie, came along 
just five years ago, a few months before Mom and Dad 
divorced.

Dad was just as remarkable in his own way as was Mom. He 
had been a well regarded professor in the biology 
department of the university and was the owner of a 
small company devoted to manufacturing and marketing 
products used in biological research. After the divorce, 
he left the university to devote full time to his 
business. A couple of years ago he sold the entire 
company, patents and all, to one of the big 
pharmaceutical companies for many, many millions. 
Clearly money was not the cause of Mom and Dad's 
divorce.

What I didn't know about my Mom is that she suffered 
from PSAS herself. She was also transgendered, believing 
that she was a man trapped inside her woman's body. 
Apparently that problem precipitated the split between 
herself and my Dad. She told me often that she loved him 
but they had irreconcilable differences. She wouldn't 
elaborate further, telling me that I was too young to 
understand.. 

The woman's body that Mom hated was, in fact, gorgeous. 
She was a cross between a Playboy Bunny and a Sports 
Illustrated swimsuit model. Mom had big breasts, a thin 
waist and great legs. Workouts at the gym kept her fit. 
Her face was attractive, almost girlish looking, perky 
and intelligent, but she was not a classic beauty. She 
generally wore her dark hair pulled back in a pony tail, 
dressed in loose, generic GAP style clothes, and used 
the minimum of makeup. A pair of horn rimmed glasses 
generally perched on her nose was the only thing that 
stopped her from looking like a Playboy centerfold. She 
was nearsighted and needed glasses for driving and 
seeing anything much further than an arm's length away.

Me, I was big for my age. Well, fairly big. I was taller 
than my Mom but not big enough to make the basketball 
team. The school guidance counselor felt that I was a 
bright boy and enrolled me in all the AP science 
classes. Stephane, my five year old sister was a cute 
bouncing brat, a typical younger sister.

Mom's college classes seemed to attract both the horny 
male students and lesbian female students. What made Mom 
most appealing was the way she moved. She literally 
exuded sex appeal with every action. It was totally 
unconscious on her part. She wasn't aware of what she 
was doing. I overheard one of her students say that when 
Mom walked into a room, every straight male got an 
erection and every gay woman wet her panties. Each group 
seemed to see in Mom what they wanted to see. Both had 
fantasies of sleeping with her. 

My high school buddies all lusted after her as well, 
calling her the mega-MILF of the neighborhood. It took 
me some time to find out what MILF meant. After I found 
out, I didn't know whether to be insulted or proud of my 
Mom. Probably a bit of both.

Even I lusted after my Mom a bit. What hormone driven 
teen ager wouldn't? I tried to sneak peeks at her when 
she was dressing or undressing, look down her cleavage 
or up her skirt. I found it hard not to get an erection 
when she stripped down to skimpy shorts and a sports bra 
to work out on the exercise equipment we had in the 
basement. I even had the impossible Oedipal fantasy of 
making love to her. But that would have to be satisfied 
by masturbation. She was my Mom after all. 

There were just the three of us in our house, me, my Mom 
and Stephanie. Every few months my Mom would call in 
sick and hide a few days in her bedroom, leaving me to 
take care of my sister. I didn't really understand it at 
the time but she was in the throes of PSAS, suffering 
from intense sexual urges with feelings in her genitals 
that drove her to give herself repeated orgasms without 
getting any real satisfaction. These episodes lasted for 
hours or even days. She hated being a woman and worse, 
she hated sex as a woman. But her condition literally 
forced her to masturbate repeatedly, fingering herself 
to unsatisfactory climaxes over and over again.

Mom often brought her university work home. She wrote 
papers and books on our computer and tinkered with lab 
apparatus in a small workroom. I was a bit of a tech 
geek and tried to help her whenever I could. One day, 
just at the end of the school year, she asked me to help 
her calibrate a new device for measuring brain waves. It 
resembled an EEG machine, the kind you see in doctor's 
offices. She attached some electrodes to my temples with 
medical paste and then did the same to herself. Nothing 
would happen, she told me. It was basically a brain wave 
recorder. She was just getting baseline readings. 

The brain, she explained, was a very complicated organ. 
Most of its real estate was devoted to making sense of 
our perceptions, storing memories and other information, 
controlling our movements and maintaining the functions 
of our bodies. Only a small group of cells in the medial 
parietal cortex, the central part of the brain, was 
responsible for our consciousness. Mom wanted to map 
that area.

She specifically wanted to determine if there was an 
anatomical difference between male and female brains. 
The reason she needed me as a subject was because I was 
her son. We were genetically similar so differences in 
cerebral structure due to inheritance would be minimal 
but the sex difference would remain. It all seemed to 
make sense to me - but what did I know?

We both sat at the worktable while she turned on the 
apparatus. Lights blinked and the paper tape recording 
our brainwaves started moving. Then she flipped another 
switch. I felt a sharp twinge in my head and blacked out 
for a couple of seconds. Contrary to most science 
fiction stories there was no flash of light or strange 
sounds. But instantly my Mom and I changed places at the 
table. I found myself looking at Steve, that's me. I was 
Mom and she was me. We had traded bodies, or rather our 
bodies stayed in the same seats but our consciousness 
and immediate memories had traded places.

"Mom. What happened!?"

Mom looked at the dials and checked the tape readout for 
a few minutes.

"I guess the apparatus worked differently than I 
expected." Mom replied. She was in my body and it seemed 
weird to hear my voice explaining the experiment.
 
"The brain wave recorder scanned our minds and shifted 
our consciousness from my body to yours and your body to 
mine. I frankly didn't expect it to work the way it did. 
It was just supposed to be a calibration trial. This is 
the first time I ever tried it on human subjects. I 
thought that it would just record the electrical 
activity of our brains. Something must have short 
circuited."

"When can we shift back?" I asked.

"I don't know if the machine will let us switch back. It 
wasn't designed to be reversible. I think the change may 
last a while. You will just have to be me and I will be 
you until I find out what went wrong and work out a way 
of undoing the transfer."

Mom looked worried and fussed around with the apparatus, 
adjusting controls and reading dials. She flipped the 
start switch several times. Each time I felt a little 
jolt and blacked out for a second but when I opened my 
eyes I was still in Mom's body and she was in mine.

"This may take a while," Mom said. "I will have to do 
much more research. We have some time to solve the 
problem but I will have to work hard on it. It may take 
a couple of weeks."

This was unsettling news. Mom, that is... Steve, removed 
the electrodes from his temples and stood up. He leaned 
over to take off mine. I shut my eyes and put my arms 
around her seeking a reassuring hug. It felt strange, 
even a bit disturbing, touching my alter ego. 

As our bodies pressed together it felt like I was 
hugging Mom through a pillow. It was my breasts, or 
rather Mom's breasts, pressing against my former body. 
I'm ashamed to say that I had the unbidden thought that 
perhaps a temporary switch wasn't so bad after all. I 
could touch all those forbidden places on Mom's body 
that I was curious about. I could be my own centerfold 
girl for a while. All I needed was the time and some 
privacy. I guess I was a horny teen after all.

Fortunately school had just ended for the year. During 
the summer vacation Mom didn't have any classes or 
meetings to attend so I would not have to impersonate 
her at the college. For my summer vacation I had planned 
to go on a long bicycle trip in Europe with a Youth 
Hostel group. She would take my place. That would avoid 
complications and the confusion of our friends. We had 
plenty of money from my Dad's divorce settlement and Mom 
had invested it wisely so there was no worry on that 
account.

Mom had a lot to do before leaving for Europe. She had 
to gather all the things that she would need for several 
months of biking, fortunately not too much since touring 
bikers tend to travel lightly. She had to get the family 
finances in order and arrange for all our household 
bills to be charged directly to our bank account. 

She made sure that the household maid service would 
attend to cleanup and laundry needs. She even arranged 
for the local supermarket to make a weekly direct 
delivery of healthy foods and vegetables to our address 
since she knew I probably wouldn't buy them on my own. 

Then she had to show me how to take care of her body, a 
woman's body. She fully expected to find a way to 
reverse the personality transfer and she wanted me to 
keep it in good shape until her return. Although she 
hated being a woman, she enjoyed being in good health.

Mom worked out in the college gym three times a week and 
for a half hour a day on our home treadmill. She 
expected me to continue her fitness routine and warned 
me to wear a sports bra when jogging or my nipples would 
get sore. This is the first time I remember her 
acknowledging that her body actually had breasts. 

Her tutorial consisted of showing me how to bathe and 
wash my hair without leaving a tangled mess, how to tie 
it in a decent ponytail, how to clean myself after going 
to the bathroom, how to apply the rudiments of makeup, 
at least a bit of lipstick, and how to deal with her 
menstrual periods. 

As bad luck would have it, Mom's body, the one I was now 
in, was in the middle of a period right at the moment so 
I had a hands on demonstration of how to use and change 
tampons. I was curious about the process but it must 
have taken real determination for Mom to show me how to 
put my fingers in her vagina and pull the tampon out.

Mom had a cleanliness fetish and took a shower morning 
and evening. She abhorred body hair and showed me how to 
remove it with an electric razor. Mom's pussy was 
completely hairless. I did't find out why until later.

I seemed to be a quick enough learner and Mom was 
confident that I could fake being a woman for a couple 
of months provided I didn't spend too much time with her 
friends.

She had much less to learn about being a teen age boy. I 
mean, after all, she raised me from a baby. I suspected 
that she would wash and shower more than I did and never 
go out without her hair combed. She even knew how to 
ride a bicycle pretty well. But she did have one 
problem. The morning after the transfer she came down to 
breakfast in a loose floppy set of sweats and wouldn't 
take them off even though the house was warm. A couple 
of times during the first day she had to sit down and 
was reluctant to stand up. 

Once it happened while she was showing me how to wash 
under my new boobs, another time when she explained how 
I was to wipe myself when I went to the toilet. Finally 
it dawned on me that she was having trouble controlling 
her teen age erections. Steve's body, even though it had 
Mom's consciousness, still had a hard time dealing with 
the fact that I was a near naked Playboy type female. 
His/her hormones and penis obviously didn't understand 
the familial relationship.

Finally, a couple of days before her departure, she 
broke down and asked me, "Steve, is there anything I can 
do about not getting an erection at inappropriate 
moments? It is very embarrassing."

I tried to explain that I always had an erection in the 
morning. It was a teen age fact of life. And that I 
would get four or five more during the day, usually 
every time I looked at a pretty girl, sometimes just 
when I thought of a pretty girl, and sometimes just 
because. I thought it would be indiscrete to say that I 
got erections when I looked at her in her exercise 
clothes too. I told her that erections generally fade in 
time but the only guaranteed way to make an erection go 
away quickly was to masturbate.

I could see by the bulge in his jeans that my former 
body had a raging hard on. Me, I had just taken a shower 
and I was wearing a loose bathrobe. I wasn't used to my 
Mom's body and I suppose that as the robe flopped open 
he could get a good view of my naked breast. That was 
all that Steve's hormones needed.

"Just lie back Mom, and I'll see what I can do to help 
you." I pushed Steve's body back on the couch and 
unzipped his jeans. His erection sprung forth through 
the fly in his shorts. It was bigger than I expected, 
but I was looking at it now from a different angle. 
Relieving erections was something I knew all about.

I wrapped my now feminine hands around the pole and 
started a gentle up and down motion. Steve stared at me 
in disbelief. His Mom was giving his cock a hand job. 
Drops of pre-cum oozed from the end and lubricated the 
head. I watched his face transform from shock to 
enjoyment as the pleasures of cock stroking got to him. 
While I was rubbing his stiff penis he raised his hand, 
put it inside my robe and fondled my bare breast. 

I suppose that it was an automatic motion but it was 
just what I would do if I was still Steve. The more I 
stroked, the tighter his grip became. It was the first 
time that I felt my new woman's body touched in a sexual 
way. It didn't feel bad at all. He gave my breast one 
last squeeze just as his penis erupted in an impressive 
spurt of semen. It shot a couple of inches in the air, 
all over my hand and his cock.

Steve sat up and kissed me on the cheek. "Thank you. I 
really needed that. Now I know what to do." 

"Well, that's the only surefire way to get rid of an 
erection quickly, Mom. If you don't do anything about 
it, it can last for a long time. If you need help again, 
let me know."

Still a little shaky from my therapeutic gift, he/she 
staggered off to bed.

Late the next night I heard my door quietly open. Mom 
came in and sat on the side of my bed. 

"Steve," she said. "I need your help again. I've got 
another erection and I can't make it go down. I tried 
doing what you did yesterday but it just makes it get 
harder. I may not be doing it right."

"It's OK, Mom. Lie down and I'll try to help."

It must have been a strange sight. Steve was lying on my 
bed, his cock sticking straight up, as stiff as I had 
ever seen it. While I, as Mom, leaned over him and 
started giving him a hand job. The end of the cock got 
wet as little drops of pre-cum emerged. As Steve I had 
relished the taste of my own pre-cum. 

I had the end of my cock in my hand and I could reach 
over and suck it if I wanted. It would be easy. What the 
hell, it may be my only chance to do it before Mom 
switches us back. I realized that it would be me sucking 
my own cock. I often tried to do it when I got very 
excited. 

Once when I had a really big hard on I managed to get 
the head of my penis into my mouth. I even squeezed out 
some pre-cum. But my back started to hurt and I had to 
stop. I had often imagined what it would be like to give 
myself a blow job but I was never flexible enough to do 
it to myself. Now that I was in my Mom's body the whole 
idea didn't seem so bad. So I did it.

Mom lay on the bed, eyes closed, apparently enjoying my 
hand job. When she felt my lips touch the head of her 
stiff penis her eyes opened wide and she started to sit 
up. I gently pushed her back down.

"I want to do this Mom. It will help. Just lie back and 
enjoy the feelings."

There was a little glistening drop of pre-cum on the tip 
that I licked with my tongue. It tasted pretty good. But 
the erect penis shaft was hard to stroke. Mom had just 
bathed and took great care in drying herself. The cock 
needed some lubrication. A little saliva would help.

I finally gathered the courage to take the whole head of 
the cock in my mouth and started working around it with 
my tongue. It was a mouthful but it felt nice. Mom's 
hips started moving a bit and I felt the cock sliding in 
and out. I alternated a few sucks with a stroking 
action, just the way I imagined I would like it. It's 
too bad that I couldn't feel the sensation in my penis 
myself but I knew that Mom, in my body, was really 
getting aroused. The cock felt harder than before and 
more and more juices began to leak out. I was getting 
turned on too by the thought of sucking my own cock even 
though I couldn't feel it. Perhaps, after we switched 
back, I could work on my flexibility and do it for real.

Steve started twisting around on the bed. I felt his 
hands on my body. They found my breasts, both of them, 
and really squeezed me tight. One hand pulled a nipple. 
It hurt a bit but strangely enough I liked it. My tongue 
licked the erect penis. I chewed the head gently. By 
this time Steve's hips were bucking so much I could 
hardly keep the stiff cock in my mouth. It swelled and 
before I could take it from my mouth, I felt a gush of 
semen. About two tablespoons. 

What else could I do? I swallowed it. Besides, it was my 
own ejaculation. I knew this was probably the only time 
I would ever have my cock in my mouth and I couldn't 
waste the opportunity. Too bad I couldn't enjoy the 
sensations in my penis as well.

"Thank you, thank you." Mom said. "But it would be too 
dangerous to let this happen again. I know you don't 
know what I mean." Mom hugged me tightly and kissed me. 
"Now, let's get some sleep. I have a long day ahead of 
me tomorrow."

In retrospect I realized that my quick blow job was a 
partial realization of Mom's fantasy of being a man 
trapped in a woman's body. It was her first experience 
of sex as a male and she obviously liked it.

So the next day my Mom, in Steve's body, left on that 
European trip, taking a briefcase of technical material 
to try to work out a method of a reverse switch. But 
before she left, she told me that the experiment wasn't 
quite over. I was in her body but it was being 
controlled by my my personality. Still her physical 
needs and hormones would influence my actions. She 
couldn't predict what would happen. 

And of course, the same for me. She handed me a bound 
blank laboratory book and told me to make nightly notes 
of my experiences. She would do the same. It would be 
sort of a diary. She told me to be completely honest and 
record everything in detail even if it seemed unusual. I 
was almost an adult and after what we had experienced 
the last few days, nothing I wrote should be shocking. 

I guess Mom was thinking about how I relieved her 
erections and what she showed me about changing tampons. 
If anything she certainly wasn't modest about her body. 
I don't know what else she expected to happen but she 
said that when she came back we would compare notes. 
Together we might gain some understanding of the 
consequences of the switch. She also told me to take to 
take good care of Stephanie, to bath her regularly and 
make sure she got to play school on time. 

Mom also mentioned in passing that there was a notebook 
of instructions on what to do if I got a case of PSAS. 
It was in her upper bureau drawer. She hoped I wouldn't 
have to use it.


CHAPTER 2

And there I was, a 15 year old teen aged boy, stuck in 
my Mom's 32 year old woman's body. It didn't feel much 
different except that I had breasts and a vagina. I 
didn't hate being a woman the way Mom did. I just had no 
strong feelings about it. If you discount a few hasty 
encounters with girls at summer camp and at school 
dances I was technically a virgin. Of course I had the 
sex ed classes in high school so I knew what the 
mechanics of sex were. But except for having monthly 
periods and the difference in going to the bathroom, I 
had no idea of what being a woman meant. 

In fact I felt a strange disconnect. I was still Steve 
but I was wearing Mom's body like a new set of clothes. 
I was surprised when I touched myself and felt 
unfamiliar contours or when I had to sit down to go to 
the bathroom. It will take me some time to get used to 
my new body.

The first night after Mom left wasn't so bad. I had 
cared for Stephanie before when Mom had her PSAS "urges" 
and we enjoyed being with each other. Stephanie and I 
ate a quick supper. We played games, watched a Disney 
video, and both of us went to bed early.
 
I awoke next morning when the sun streamed into my room. 
Stephanie was already awake. When I took off my 
nightgown I looked at myself in the mirror and my eyes 
fixated on my tits. I was still Mom. It wasn't a dream 
after all. I threw on a robe and fixed a breakfast for 
both of us, dressed Stephanie, and hustled her off to 
meet the school bus for kindergarten. She would be there 
for most of the day. 

Now I had to figure out how to occupy my time until I 
could sort things out. The house was a mess. Mom was a 
casual housekeeper to begin with and in the confusion of 
the last couple of days it got even worse. The woman 
from the maid service wasn't expected for a few more 
days. Well, I could certainly clean things up.

I started vacuuming the house, starting with my room and 
working my way up. I was surprised that it was such hard 
work. By the time I'd finished the living room on the 
main floor, I was sweating up a storm, especially under 
my boobs. We had no air conditioning and it was a 
particularly warm day. I decided that since no one else 
was home, I'd just strip to the buff to keep cool. I 
tossed my robe on the back of the couch and started 
vacuuming. I finished the ground floor and the stairs to 
the second floor. Then I did all the rugs in Stephanie's 
room and Mom's bedroom.

I was perspiring so much that I decided that I needed to 
take a break and maybe rinse off under my breasts. They 
were still sweating. Since I was in Mom's body, I 
figured I'd use her shower. Plus, it had nozzles that 
sprayed water sideways from both sides, to hit your 
whole body at once. It was sweet. I got the water warm 
and stepped in. Then I switched the water to the side 
sprayers and in no time, I was being sprayed from all 
sides. 

When I stepped out of the shower I caught a glimpse of 
myself in the steamy bathroom mirror. Mom was certainly 
curvy and very attractive. Although she had a few tell 
tale laugh lines in her face, I've got to say that she 
looked really foxy for a middle aged woman. To my mind, 
anyone over 30 was middle aged. Actually she looked 
really foxy for a woman of any age. 

Mom usually dressed quite conservatively when she went 
to work and changed to ordinary casual clothes when she 
was home. She was a nice looking woman but the clothes 
hid her real charms. While a bit prettier than most, she 
didn't stand out in our suburban neighborhood. But nude 
she was spectacular. Big breasts, a taut body with a 
narrow waist expanded to nice hips and a firm butt. Her 
legs would have complimented a Broadway showgirl with 
strong thighs, full calves and narrow ankles. 

I wanted to make out with that woman in the mirror. An 
impossibility, of course. Not only was that woman me but 
it was also my mother. In fact I was a little uneasy 
about examining my naked Mom so closely even though I 
always tried to sneak a peek at her when she undressed. 
But this might be my only chance to see her up close and 
personal. So I felt naughty but I looked.

"It's not like what I'm doing is wrong," I said to 
myself trying to rationalize examining her so closely. 
"After all, Mom is in my body and I'm in hers. I would 
be nuts to not take a look." 

The more I looked, the less she looked like a mother and 
the more like a desirable woman. Her face was perky and 
intelligent surrounded by a halo of dark brown hair. She 
seemed to have a smile in her eyes. Mom's figure was 
tight and toned from sessions at the gym. As I turned 
around I could see her firm butt and showgirl legs. Most 
of the time she kept them hidden in slacks or jeans but 
here they were in all their glory. My high school 
buddies would say that she had a rocking hot body. 
 
My boobs, I mean my Mom's boobs, were bigger than I 
expected. Certainly much bigger than those of the girls 
at my school. Each was about the size of half a 
cantaloupe. They didn't appear so large when she was 
dressed but they were round and full and hung down a bit 
when I bent over. I don't know how she managed to hide 
them under her clothes. No wonder they got so sweaty 
when I was vacuuming. I did a little shimmy dance to see 
them swing. Then I put both hands around one and raised 
it up to look at it more closely.

The breast was heavier in my hands than I expected. It 
was both soft and resilient. Despite the fact that I was 
in Mom's body I was still had my male teen desires. I 
had my hands on a woman's breast and was feeling it up. 
Touching it felt very pleasant, totally different than 
touching my leg or arm. I don't know why girls protest 
so much when you try to touch their boobies if it feels 
so good. 

The nipple was almost perfectly centered in a large dark 
pink areola that covered much of the end of the breast. 

All those young beautiful girls in Playboy had raisin 
sized nipples centered in quarter sized areolas on their 
nice perky tits. I guess that's the way young girls 
look. Judging by Playboy standards, Mom's tits were 
bigger than average. Mom's well defined areolas capped 
the end of each breast. They were large. Four fingers of 
my hand wouldn't cover one completely. The nipples stood 
proudly from the center of each areola like a tassel on 
a red skull cap just like those worn by Catholic 
cardinals. 

Except for a couple of glimpses of my Mom's breasts when 
she wore loose blouses, and one memorable peek at her 
when she was naked in her bedroom, I hadn't seen any 
real breasts before. All I saw was pictures in girlie 
magazines. So I carefully inspected Mom's breast. To my 
untutored eye it looked beautiful. 

I poked the nipple tentatively with my finger and was 
surprised at how nice it felt. Mom's nipples were much 
bigger than those of the Playboy bunnies. They were real 
baby feeding nipples nearly the size of the rubber 
nipples on the bottles that Stephanie had used. Mom had 
medium length fingernails. The nipple felt very sexy 
when I gently scraped the edge of a fingernail over the 
tip. The closest I can describe it is that it felt 
almost like touching the end of my soft prick. The more 
I touched, the more I wanted to touch. It was like an 
erotic itch that couldn't be satisfied. 

As I ran my finger around the base of the nipple I saw 
it start to get larger and stiffer. It became as big as 
a small acorn and got very sensitive. I lifted the other 
boob and tried to get a matching set. On an impulse, I 
squeezed Mom's breast between my fingers. They sank into 
the tissue and the nipple and areola bulged out to get 
even bigger. I liked how it felt. Mom's boobs seemed to 
enjoy being treated firmly. 

I knew that nature's purpose for breasts was to make 
milk for babies. I never really thought that women would 
consider their breasts as sources of pleasure. But I 
also knew that sucking breasts was supposed to be nice. 
I overheard a couple of my friends say that they would 
like to suck on my Mom's boobs. Well now I had the 
chance to find out. 

I raised the breast I was holding towards my head and 
lowered my face to meet it. The nipple was still stiff 
from my play. I licked the turgid blob of flesh with my 
outstretched tongue. It was pleasant, both on the tongue 
and the nipple. Mom's boob was big enough for me to 
easily take the nipple and much of the areola in my 
mouth. Holding the flesh lightly with my teeth, I ran my 
tongue around the slightly rough nipple and then started 
sucking. I could feel my cheeks hollow and swell as I 
tried to pull imaginary milk from the tit. It felt 
heavenly and very very sexy. I'm not religious but I 
could have worshiped Mom's cardinals for hours.

While touching Mom's breast with my hands felt great, 
sucking her nipple was fantastic. Her nipple seemed ten 
times more sensitive than the rest of the breast. 
Really, really sexy. With such convenient pacifiers, I 
don't see why women don't suck their nipples all the 
time. Or at least let men suck them. Even Stephanie 
still sucks her thumb once in a while. My high school 
friends were right about sucking Mom's breasts but they 
will never get a chance to find out how good it feels.

After I finished with my breast I stared at my image in 
the mirror again. I was standing directly facing it, 
legs spread slightly apart. My legs did look sexy, 
tapering from slim ankles to strong calves, narrowing at 
the knees, to muscular thighs, culminating in a tight 
butt. Her legs were so inviting. I would love to have 
legs like those wrapped around me. The angle of the legs 
formed an arrow that drew my eyes directly to Mom's 
pussy. As Steve, I enjoyed playing with my penis. How 
would it feel if did the same with Mom's cunt? Just to 
see what it felt like.

So I put my hand down between my legs and stroked my 
vulva. I could feel the wetness as Mom's juices oozed 
out and mixed with a few last drips from the shower. 
Mom's body must have been getting sexually excited by 
all my touching and squeezing. I know I was. I rubbed my 
finger around Mom's pussy lips and felt them start to 
expand. It was a heavenly sensation. I didn't realize 
that simple touching could feel so nice. Gathering my 
courage I pushed my middle finger entirely inside Mom's 
vagina and worked it in and out. It was warm and 
slippery and seemed to squeeze my finger. 

It was a revelation to me to find out that women 
actually enjoyed putting things inside themselves. I 
thrust a second finger in Mom's vagina. That filled me 
up a little better. My forefinger gently rubbed my Mom's 
clit as I moved. It felt so intense. The other hand was 
still clutching one of Mom's breasts. 

I took my two fingers out and looked at them. They 
glistened with Mom's juices. I put the fingers to my 
mouth and licked off the wetness. I enjoyed the slightly 
salty taste. My fingers had a sexy, musky smell. I 
scooped up a bit more of Mom's juices from the outside 
of her vulva and licked. Mom was beginning to leak a 
lot. I'm not sure which I enjoyed more, Mom's flavor or 
the thought of where those fingers had been.

Mom's vagina demanded to be filled. I sucked my fingers 
off a last time and put them back in their nest. Without 
thought my hand returned to its thrusting motion. In and 
out, in and out. Slowly at first then faster. This felt 
too good to quit. I began to feel jolts of pleasure in 
my body. The realization came to me that I was finger 
fucking myself. 

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Mom's reflection in 
the mirror. It didn't resemble the Mom that I knew at 
all. A beautiful woman stared back at me with the 
fingers of one hand deep in her vagina, the other 
squeezing her breast and a look of extreme sexual 
pleasure was on her face. It was Mom and it was me just 
on the verge of having a climax. I had to stop. I had no 
illusions about what I was doing. I knew that if I 
continued to masturbate myself I would end up by making 
Mom's body cum. Somewhere in the back of my mind I 
didn't think it was proper. But I didn't stop. It felt 
so nice playing with Mom's body. There were so many ways 
that she could make herself feel good. The more I moved 
my fingers the more the pleasurable feeling increased. I 
was climbing to a peak.

I brought my thumb to the areas just above my mother's 
slit and began to stroke Mom's clitoris. The sensation 
was indescribable. Almost like an electric shock. I 
rubbed the clitoris a little faster and the sensation 
grew until it encompassed me. If Mom could give herself 
feelings like this how could she ever stop playing with 
herself?

The almost electric feelings from my cunt spread all 
around my body, to my legs, to my belly, to my tits. The 
sensations were growing. It was like climbing up a 
sexual hill. If I stopped now I would roll back to the 
bottom but I also knew that if I continued to rub my 
clitoris and drive my fingers in and out of my pussy I 
would reach the top. I felt that indescribable delights 
awaited me on the other side. 

I was startled to hear Mom's voice whispering "Ohh.... 
fuck me... fuck me..." I began to whimper almost 
uncontrollably as I began to feel my body twitch all 
over and spasm. My pussy muscles clenched my fingers 
ever so tightly inside of myself. I drove my fingers in 
and out, harder and faster, harder and faster.

Then I felt it.

The twitching in my pussy.

The bucking of my hips.

The feeling of an explosion.

The spasming of my entire body.

I was giving myself an orgasm. In my mother's body.

I let out a long, loud and throaty scream... 

I cried, "Oh my, I'm going to climax. YES, YES! I'M 
CUMMING!" 

In my Mom's voice. In my Mom's body.
 
I had given my Mom a big climax. And it felt so damn 
good.


CHAPTER 3

Things went on as normal for the next couple of weeks at 
our house. I kept the house reasonably clean between 
maid visits and did the shopping. Once in a while I 
attended a book club meeting at the college. I didn't 
say much, of course. Just showed up.

I knew that after breakfast and seeing Stephanie off to 
school I would have a few uninterrupted hours of 
privacy. After the first big climax in the shower it 
didn't seem so hard to give her another, and another. 
Giving Mom that orgasm in the shower was like getting 
that the first olive out of the bottle. The rest came 
easy.

I used my privacy both to explore all the secret places 
in Mom's body and all the nooks and crannies in the 
house where she would hide stuff she didn't want me to 
see. She had a lot of pictures stuffed in the back of 
her desk drawer. There were photos of me and Stephanie 
as babies and a few of Dad. Everyone looked happy. 
Younger, of course, but it had obviously been a pleasant 
marriage. So why had they divorced?

Rooting around in Mom's desk I discovered that she had 
left her wallet with her driver's license, some of her 
credit cards and ID cards. They all had her picture on 
them so they would be of no use to her in Steve's body. 
I knew how to drive but I didn't have a license of my 
own. No problem. 

To all intents and purposes I was Mom. We had a small 
new Volkswagen Beetle and I found the extra set of keys. 
Stephanie and I shopped for food and went to a few 
movies. She asked about Steve and accepted the idea that 
he was off on a long European trip. She played with her 
friends and went to kindergarten and her play school. I 
kept the house in reasonably good condition and even 
mowed the grass. Mom was right about finances. We had 
more than enough money for our expenses.

My wardrobe was simple. I wore Mom's underpants and bra 
since my old underwear wouldn't fit my new body shape. I 
dressed in slacks and sweatshirts. My hair was simply 
tied back in a ponytail. I didn't know how to apply 
makeup so I just didn't wear any. Clothed, I was 
certainly plain looking. And only I, and I suppose my 
Dad, knew what I looked like nude.

Having the house to myself gave me the opportunity to do 
a few things that I couldn't do freely when Mom was 
home. The first thing was to watch a lot of porn movies 
on TV. Mom would be appalled. Basically I wanted to see 
what grownups did when they made love. It was an 
education - Applied Sex 101. They never told us about 
any of those things in sex ed classes.

My only prior experience with sex was playing with 
myself and a few hasty gropes with girls. I was blown 
away by the wonderful feeling of having an orgasm in 
Mom's body. I wanted many more of them. I had so much to 
experience.

Mom's body was a novelty at first and I was determined 
to explore it fully. I know that she didn't appreciate 
the depths of sexual feeling it contained but I was 
getting familiar with it now and thought that I could 
have fun playing with it. I mean, after all, that since 
I would be in it until Mom figured out a way to switch 
us back, I might as well enjoy it as much as I could. I 
would never get another chance to have a sexy woman's 
body as my personal plaything. 

Every night when I went to bed I would try to recreate 
my first really sexual experience in her body. I could 
do anything I wanted to get her off as long as I didn't 
hurt or damage her in any way. I didn't want her to know 
how much I lusted after her. Despite what she looked 
like, Mom was a bit of a prude. I don't think she would 
consider it seemly for a son to want to fuck his mother.

At first, when I gave my temporary body a climax, I 
couldn't see what I was doing. I did it mostly at night 
or in the shower. I guess I was ashamed to do it in 
broad daylight just in case someone should walk in while 
I was pleasuring myself. Fat chance of that. Anyway I 
would lie in bed and touch Mom's genitals, and play with 
her pussy lips. When they became swollen and excited I 
would stroke her clitoris. I felt that they were still 
Mom's body parts. I hadn't identified with them yet.

While pleasuring myself - "pleasuring" was really the 
operative word - I discovered that Mom was really a 
screamer. Well not exactly a screamer, more like a "sex 
talker." She said a lot of things in the few seconds 
before climaxing that sort of surprised me. I always 
thought she was quite reserved but apparently not about 
sex. 

One interesting discovery was that Steve's personality 
lost control of Mom's body when she was completely 
aroused. She didn't behave like the Mom I knew either. 
It is like Mom had a distinct sexual personality, a 
sexual autopilot, that kicked in when her body was about 
to have an orgasm. 

In that few minutes between getting aroused and actually 
having a climax she would turn into a totally sexual 
being, saying and doing things that neither she or I 
would say or do during our more placid moments. The 
first time I heard Mom, that is, me, vocalize her 
feelings while climaxing, I was startled. I couldn't 
believe that my mother would so blatantly express her 
feelings during sex.

Touching Mom's clitoris would get me really excited. By 
now I knew what was happening to me. I would lie in bed 
with both hands in my cunt, The fingers of one would 
slip inside my while the other circled and pulled at my 
clit. My finger motions became faster and faster and the 
feelings spread from cunt to my whole body. I started to 
shake, my muscles tensed, my legs started an involuntary 
dance as the lovely feeling of exquisite torture 
encompassed me. It grew and grew. Just when I felt that 
I couldn't tolerate any more, I climaxed.

Despite being a novice at pleasuring a woman, I found 
that I could make Mom's body have a very nice orgasm in 
just a few minutes by fondling her genitals and playing 
with her tits. Her body knew the drill. Her hands seem 
to guide themselves to all the right places without me 
thinking about it. She didn't seem to need much build up 
at all. It was like she went from 0-60 in one second 
flat.. I didn't know it at the time but this rapid 
arousal was the precursor of a PSAS episode.

Mom's climaxes were much like those I got when I did it 
to my penis. Except that they came slower and were less 
localized. When I played with my cock as Steve, it was 
all cock. But in Mom's body the orgasm was total, from 
toes to nose, so to speak. But cock and cunt climaxes 
were enough alike that it is hard to say which I 
preferred. I loved them both. Any sex is good to a horny 
teen.

I became obsessed with Mom's breasts. Every time I 
looked in a mirror or took a shower, there they were, 
hanging out in front of me. They swung when I moved, 
always catching my attention. I even had trouble putting 
on a bra, stuffing my new tits in the cups and trying to 
fasten the damn thing in the back. Women's clothes seem 
far less sensible than men's clothes. No wonder girls 
like to wear boy's shirts and jeans.

When I got dressed in the morning, it was hard for me to 
leave Mom's breasts alone. I loved to play with them. 
Any teen age boy would. Breasts are the big difference 
between boys and girls. Girls don't have a cock but when 
both are wearing jeans it's hard to tell unless the guy 
has a hard on. But breasts, they bulge out and are 
impossible to miss. They are magical body parts. They 
look good. They are nice to touch and they feel good 
when they are touched. And I can suck my nipples even 
though I can't suck my cock. At least when I was Steve I 
couldn't suck my cock. And I know for sure that Mom 
can't suck her own cunt. I tried last night and I 
couldn't do it.

So every time I went to stuff Mom's breasts in her bra, 
I got distracted and played with them. It really felt 
too good to stop. I realized that I had to wear a bra to 
get dressed or my floppy bits would be too distracting, 
not only to other people but to me. Right after Mom left 
for Europe I dressed in a fuzzy sweatshirt and jeans to 
jog around the block. My boobs bounced and my nipples 
rubbed against the inside of the sweatshirt so much that 
I got too excited to continue. Mom was right about the 
sports bra. I had to walk home. Of course when I'm alone 
I can use Mom's breasts in any way I want. I mean, after 
all, they are mine. At least I have custody over them 
until Mom switches us back.

Still thinking about my mammary endowments, I raised my 
sweat shirt and pulled out a big breast out of my bra. 
It looked absolutely lovely, soft and heavy in my hands. 
I examined the nipple closely and watched it grow under 
the touch of my fingers. As long as I had it out, I 
might as well make good use of it. I stretched the 
breast up to my face, tilted my head down. and started 
licking the nipple. I pushed the tit up further so that 
I could put the nipple and areola in my mouth. It was 
fantastic. 

The nipple seemed to be even bigger and more sensitive 
than the first time I explored Mom's body. With a little 
effort I could could even pull both big breasts up to my 
mouth at the same time and suck both nipples 
simultaneously. Mom's tits weren't that big but if I 
bent my head down and pulled hard I could do it. Sucking 
one nipple was great but both were something else. It 
was like each sensation reinforced the other. Stereo 
sucking. The feeling was wonderful.

I knew I should stop this. I was beginning to feel very 
aroused. If I kept sucking my nipples I would soon have 
to give myself a climax. I bit down hard on the nipple 
that was between my teeth. Even the pain felt good. I 
was getting myself excited without meaning to. 
Reluctantly I let my tit drop and decided to take a cold 
shower. I would use Mom's bathroom again.

The cold water tingled against my skin. I showered for 
as long as I could take the cold, then stepped out and 
grabbed a towel from the rack. Despite my shivering, I 
couldn't resist looking at Mom's body in the full length 
mirror. My God, what a lovely woman. Mom's nipples were 
pinched from the cold and stuck out nearly an inch from 
the ends of her breasts. 

I watched a drop of water fall from my hair to the upper 
slope of my breast, flow slowly downward, and cling for 
a moment to my turgid nipple before falling to the bath 
mat. I grabbed a Turkish towel from the rack to dry 
myself. I rubbed the towel between my legs to get 
thoroughly dry. The slightly rough surface of the towel 
sent little electric pulses through my sensitive parts. 
If I kept this up I would certainly cum. 

Reluctantly I stopped and turned toward the mirror to 
continue drying myself. Mom's skin was unblemished, pink 
and healthy. I loved Mom as a mother but I lusted after 
her body as a sexual playground. If I were still Steve, 
I certainly would have wanted to fuck my Mommy. But now, 
since I didn't have a cock, that pleasure was denied to 
me. After we regained our own bodies there was not a 
ghost of a chance that Mom would let me do it to her so 
I might as well get all the sex I could from Mom's body 
now. I couldn't actually fuck her but I would enjoy 
giving her, and myself, plenty of orgasms.

After I dried myself I went back to Mom's bedroom and 
sat on the edge of her bed. The sun streamed in through 
the curtained windows and brightly illuminated the room. 
Mom had a full length dressing mirror on the wall in 
which I could see my reflection.

What would it look like, I wondered, if I masturbated in 
front of the mirror? I wanted to see if I looked like 
the women on the porn TV channel when I had an orgasm. I 
would like to watch myself giving my body a climax. It 
would be really naughty but I became excited at the 
thought. Should I do it to myself now? Despite my 
curiosity I decided I really needed an orgasm this 
morning. After all, it was my body now, at least 
temporarily, and I could do what I wanted with it.

It wasn't as if giving Mom an orgasm would cost me 
anything. There were plenty of them locked up in Mom's 
body just waiting to be released. I was in charge of her 
body until she switched us back. I could do anything I 
wanted as long as I didn't leave any marks that she 
could see. Besides, I really liked what it felt like 
when I made her cum. After all, Mom owed me something 
for making me change places with her. 

Sitting naked on my bed, I turned to glance at my 
reflection in the full length mirror on the wall. I 
remembered to put on my glasses so I could see 
everything clearly. I might never get to see myself 
making Mom's body cum so closely again and I didn't want 
to miss any detail. She might find a way to switch us 
back at any moment.

I stretched my long legs in front of me. A couple of 
days ago, as Steve, my legs were just legs. Now Mom's 
limbs insisted that I touch them. I reached down and ran 
my hands over one from the ankle up to my thigh. As I 
leaned over to reach my calf my nipples rubbed against 
the top of the thigh, adding to the sensation. 

I grasped the thigh with one hand, pulling it up towards 
my chest. With the other hand I rubbed the nipple of the 
dangling breast over the thigh's smooth skin to increase 
the erotic friction. Then I spread my legs apart and got 
a glimpse of my pussy. My thighs were particularly 
inviting. Round and firm, they led like walls of a 
sexual canyon directly to my vulva. I stroked the inside 
of my thighs upward to my pussy. I was wet but not from 
the shower. 

I caught a whiff of the musky, sweet smell of Mom's 
pussy juices. Cupping my fingers, I scooped up a bit of 
her exudation and brought it to my lips. I licked my 
fingers savoring the taste and smell. Thinking as Steve, 
I would love to bury my head between those thighs and 
suck the juices from Mom's cunt. What would it look 
like, I wondered, if I masturbated in front of the 
mirror? I would like to watch myself giving my body a 
climax. Should I do it to myself now?

I was totally nude except for Mom's horn rimmed 
eyeglasses. It was strange. All the Playboy bunnies 
shown on the magazines seemed to have perfect eyesight. 
I, on the other hand, looked like a wanton librarian. 
Never mind. I would just check my own body parts out 
instead of a book.

I admired my dark hair, deep blue eyes, and creamy skin. 
My gaze wandered over my large breasts, soft globes of 
flesh that seemed to invite caresses and fondling. I 
slipped my hand down across the front of my chest, 
lightly passing over one nipple, feeling it harden 
beneath my palm's passage. My nipples seemed ready to 
stand at attention at the slightest touch. I blushed 
with arousal as I felt an electric tingle in my clit. 

I took Mom's hand mirror and held it so I could see my 
pussy close up. With the fingers of the other hand I 
spread the lips apart so that I could get a better view 
of the pink inside. The lips were already partly swollen 
from my excitement, and I could see the tiny knob of my 
clit poking out of its nest. I put a finger inside and 
felt the wet, slick tunnel of my vagina close around it. 
Two fingers would feel even better.

I watched myself in the mirror moving my fingers in and 
out of my cunt. My fingers seemed to move by themselves. 
It was automatic finger fucking. My hand moved of its 
own volition while I simply watched. The pussy lips 
swelled even more and my clitoris reared its head like a 
little prick. I dropped Mom's hand mirror and started 
stroking the clit with the forefinger of my other hand. 
Mom's body was directing my motions. 

I was just doing what it wanted me to do. My hand 
motions were making my cunt feel just like my prick used 
to feel before I came. If this was what women felt every 
time they touched themselves, how could they ever get 
anything done? Why didn't they have their hands in their 
cunts all the time? I mean, just wiping myself after I 
peed made me a bit excited. I knew that a man's penis 
goes into the vagina when adults fuck. At least I 
learned that much in sex-ed. I didn't have a penis to 
use but my fingers were a good substitute. I liked it 
before so I'll go with what works. 

My breath increased and my heart raced as I felt myself 
get aroused. I closed my eyes once more, and allowed my 
fingertips to rub rhythmically against my clit in 
mesmerizing circles. This sent little waves of pleasure 
through me. I moved so that my left hand palmed a 
breast, while my right continued to work on my clitoris. 
My clitoris was giving me little shocks of electricity. 
My eyes stared at my flushed face in the mirror. I 
didn't dare to touch my clit directly anymore. It had 
become far too sensitive. 

I thrust my fingers in and out of my vagina. First two, 
then three fingers. I needed to fill up my empty vagina. 
It desperately needed something inside it. I would have 
loved to do this with my cock but my Mommy had it with 
her in Europe. Back and forth, in and out. Faster and 
faster. I was really finger fucking myself now and I 
liked it. More than liked it. I loved it. My pussy 
quivered, sending throbs of arousal through me. There 
was no turning back now. I knew that I was going to make 
myself cum and I wanted to see what I looked like when I 
had an orgasm.

My legs opened as my fingers pumped in and out a little 
faster. My rear rubbed against the soft sheets and my 
eyes fought to stay open. I needed to see everything up 
close. I managed to rise from the bed and approached the 
mirror, staring intently at my erect nipples and sweaty 
thighs. My breasts were swollen and pink. I pushed my 
fingers into the folds of my pussy and rubbed the 
tingling nubs of flesh buried just inside. 

I gasped and felt my entire body quiver with involuntary 
shakes. My free hand found a nipple and squeezed, 
increasing the sensation even more, then my hand joined 
its mate in my vulva. I repeated the movements again and 
again, my engorged pussy lips and buzzing clit let me 
know that I was about to cum. My orgasm began to build 
deep inside my body. My thighs started to vibrate. The 
muscles in my belly contracted and relaxed. Waves of 
sensation coursed through my body. Then everything 
merged into one overwhelming feeling of sexual ecstasy. 
My thighs became rigid. I strained to keep my balance.

My hand moved faster and faster, fingertips running in 
circles across my pulsing clit, the fingers of the other 
plunging deep inside me. I wasn't doing it to myself 
anymore. It was all automatic. I simply looked on as I 
watched myself draw ever closer to total release. 
Somehow I forced myself to remain standing, my eyes 
glued to the motions of my fingers. My hand tortured my 
clit, stroking it, ever harder, until I exploded in a 
climax.

But the reflection that saw in the full length mirror 
wasn't me at all. It was a strangely beautiful woman 
with swaying breasts, trembling legs, and both hands at 
her cunt giving herself a massive orgasm. I hardly 
recognized the face in the mirror. It was contorted with 
an agonized look of sexual tension. I saw all this in 
the instant before I came.

After what seemed an eternity the tenseness left my 
body. I sighed as the orgasm receded into an afterglow. 
I paused another moment, taking one last look at my 
fulfilled body in the mirror then turned. On wobbly legs 
I reached the bed and sat. I had never felt like this 
when I masturbated before, either as Steve or in my 
brief few times as Mom. I was literally blown away by 
the experience.

I felt terribly guilty. What have I done? I feel almost 
as if I have raped myself, if such a thing is possible. 
I have violated Mom's trust. I'm sure she would have 
been shocked at how I was using her body. 

But right now I'm tired. I'll lie down on her bed for a 
few minutes, perhaps watch a little TV on her bedroom 
set.

I propped up a pillow and turned the small TV on with 
the remote control. The mid morning soaps were all that 
were on unless I wanted to watch Sesame Street or the 
Home Shopping Network. The soaps all basically had the 
same plot. There were a few scenes of set up dialog and 
then a dark haired man and a blond bimbo would start 
taking their clothes off while protesting that they 
shouldn't be cheating on their respective spouses. I 
watched, channel hopping for about half an hour. 

The soaps were boring but the sight of so much naked 
flesh had a strange effect on me. I started caressing my 
breasts and fingering my nipples. The nipples were just 
as stiff as they had been when I left the cold shower. 
They hadn't gone down at all. I bent my head down and 
took the engorged tips in my mouth. I started sucking 
without thinking. I could feel my cheeks hollow and 
swell as I tried to suck milk out of my barren breast.

I held one nipple in my mouth with one hand while the 
other sneaked down to my pussy. My clit was still 
swollen and sensitive from my last orgasm. I jammed 
three fingers into Mom's cunt and moved them back and 
forth. It didn't take long to bring me to another 
climax. Especially since I rubbed my clit with my thumb 
on each stroke. The musky scent of orgasm filled the 
air. My fingers were wet from Mom's gushing pussy 
juices. I put them in my mouth and sucked them clean. 
Mom has a very tasty pussy.


CHAPTER 4

What was happening to me? I feel so horny. I had two 
orgasms in a row and it was still morning. My pussy 
craved still another. In my exploration of Mom's room I 
spotted a vibrator in one of her dresser drawers. It was 
one of those big industrial types, the kind that you 
plug into the wall with a big handle and a vibrating 
element the size of a tennis ball. I tried to deny to 
myself that she had ever used it for self fulfillment, 
just as a muscle relaxer. How wrong I was. 

I ran to the dresser and found the vibrator in the back 
of the drawer behind her panties. I threw myself down on 
Mom's bed, plugged it in, turned the vibrator on, and 
pressed it right into my vulva. I tossed and squirmed on 
the bed, thrilling to the intense vibrations of my labia 
and clitoris. I pulled on my nipples and ran my fingers 
over my wet pussy lips and clit, squeezing my fingers 
between my longing flesh and the vibrating element. I 
came hard but I kept the vibrator pressed against my 
pussy.

After the first vibrator induced climax, I pinched my 
clit so hard that I winced with pain. a pain that was 
soon forgotten as the next climax started to build. I 
plunged my hand back into my cunt. Between the feeling 
of the fingers in my cunt and the vibrations of the 
vibrator, my back arched, my hips rose to meet my hands, 
my legs turned rigid, my body shook uncontrollably and I 
came again. 

After that orgasm faded I began to realize what had 
happened. I had given myself four climaxes since 
awakening and it wasn't even noon. I must be having an 
episode of Mom's PSAS sex "urges. I would have to find 
the notebook she told me about and try to get some help 
to relieve my symptoms. My passion seem sated for a 
while. I was all sweaty and drenched with the juices 
still flowing from my vagina. I sucked my fragrant 
digits as I staggered to the drawer to find the 
notebook. 

But in the back of my mind I thought that if this was 
PSAS it wasn't so bad. Sure I made myself cum a lot this 
morning but I did it to myself and all the climaxes were 
pleasant. A couple were more than pleasant and I really 
enjoyed them. Who is to say that I wouldn't have given 
myself this many climaxes anyway. Of course my morning's 
orgasmic session was seen from the perspective of a 
teenager for whom any sex, no matter how bad, is great. 
I was sure that I could cope with PSAS. But, of course, 
I didn't have any idea what I was talking about.

Mom's notebook contained information about the sexual 
arousal condition I was experiencing and cited a number 
of internet references. When I opened the notebook a 
folded sheet of paper dropped out. Written in Mom's hand 
it appeared to be a first draft of a letter describing 
her condition. Judging by the dates mentioned it had 
obviously been written a few years ago, just after her 
divorce. She wrote:

"My name is Cassandra and I am 28 years old. I have been 
living with PSAS for as long as I can remember. But 
there are many things with the PSAS diagnosis that just 
didn't fit me. I never had the desire to act out or put 
myself in sexual situations with strangers. I had been 
married for 10 very faithful years and less than a year 
ago my husband and I split. I believe that one of the 
largest reasons was my affliction and my lack of 
understanding of my husband's needs."

"I live with a persistent fullness and throbbing in my 
genitals. It was always a joke between my husband and I. 
It started when I was in high school. When I started 
dating him I never needed a long foreplay session before 
making love. I was ready at a moment's notice. I could 
never get enough sex. I was not satisfied after having 
two orgasms or more. The throbbing would begin anew 
anywhere from immediately after to 20 minutes after 
lovemaking and build up once again to an unbearable 
level. Even when he and I had regular sex I still had 
the need to masturbate at least once a day, sometimes 
several times a day. This was not a desire for pleasure 
but a very large need. I had to masturbate frequently to 
be able to concentrate on my studies and lead what I 
assumed was a normal life."

"When I have a PSAS episode, getting relief is 
constantly on my mind. It is hard to work and function. 
I want to manipulate my genitals without stopping. It is 
not a strong desire for sex but rather an itch and a 
tension that only a physical sexual climax will 
alleviate. So my life has been anything but normal. My 
husband and I started dating when we were high school 
sophomores. We were immediately attracted to each other 
and started making love on our first real date. 

Every one of our many dates after that ended in sex. We 
made love in his car, in the movies, on picnics, at 
school dances and once in a while, in vacant classrooms. 
He and I got secretly married just after starting our 
senior year in high school. We were just old enough to 
get a license without parental consent. I was thoroughly 
pregnant at graduation. He was a wonderful guy and I 
loved him. But most important, he could come close to 
satisfying my insatiable physical needs."

"PSAS has, at various times, and depending on its 
intensity or my situation, interfered with my work, my 
marriage and my psychological well being. I needed to 
learn how to focus on my work while being distracted by 
a sensation over which I had no control and that 
wouldn't go away. I would come home from work at the 
college exhausted. I felt as if I had two jobs: one was 
my real job, the other was suppressing the demands of my 
body in order to get on with my real work. Even my 
exercise and leisure activities hung under the cloud of 
PSAS."

"My interest in normal sexual intercourse declined and 
my physical relationship with my husband suffered. In 
depression, I began to pull away from my relationships 
with people, and at one point I told my husband that if 
I knew there were no possibility of getting better, I 
would consider suicide."

"Often, in the middle of the day, I would start feeling 
sexual like urges. It didn't go away. It got worse. It 
became a constant state of arousal. My breasts tingled 
and swelled. They pained me all the time. My clitoris 
felt like it was sticking out so far that people could 
see it. My entire pelvic area hurt and my vaginal lips 
were always swollen. When I lay down I jerked and 
twitched and spasmed just as if I was in the middle of 
an orgasm but I never could get any satisfaction. 

My legs shook, sometimes even my hands. It wasn't that I 
wanted sex, just that my body demanded that I manipulate 
my genitals until I achieved relief. My husband 
volunteered to satisfy me but I was embarrassed to ask 
him so often. I wouldn't let him make love to me when I 
was not in the middle of a PSAS episode because I was 
afraid that it would set me off. My life has been lonely 
and shame based. I was scared. I didn't want to talk 
about it to anyone. I hate what my body makes me do. I 
hate being a woman."

Mom described in full clinical detail the symptoms of 
her arousal and the techniques she used to give herself 
a climax. The notebook was one part diary, another part 
medical treatment manual. She expressed anger at her 
woman's body for forcing her to endure this 
uncontrollable sexual misery. She wrote that she hated 
all of her sex organs, her breasts, her vagina and 
especially the condition that made her dependent on 
manipulating them to get relief. 

She found it particularly ironic that she was multi-
orgasmic, especially during a PSAS episode. She 
apparently could have repeated climaxes with no apparent 
limit. She suspected that she could also have multiple 
orgasms with normal sex but she never dared to find out 
for fear that it would set off a PSAS episode. She 
became guilty about having to ask my Dad to give her so 
many climaxes during a PSAS session. Afterwards she 
tried to avoid sex with him entirely, a situation which 
undoubtedly contributed to their divorce. 

Her notebook mentioned that her first sign of a PSAS 
urge was a unusual fullness in her groin. It felt like 
she had to urinate but when she went to the toilet, 
nothing came out. The fullness spread to her entire 
genital area, all around her pussy and even into her 
vagina. It was like an intense itch that couldn't be 
relieved by scratching. In just a few minutes the 
fullness spread to her breasts. They would swell with 
blood and her nipples would engorge. Her breasts started 
tingling and swelling. The feeling was painful. It 
wouldn't stop. In her mind, her clit felt as big as a 
man's erected penis. Her entire pelvic area hurt with 
the constant arousal. 

Mom wrote that by concentrating on some other task she 
could resist the need to give herself relief up to this 
point. But eventually the feelings became too strong and 
dominated her consciousness. They became an irresistible 
desire for physical relief. She could only achieve that 
by direct stimulation of her inflamed genital area. All 
she could think of was giving herself a climax before 
her tits and cunt exploded. 

If she was alone she usually started by plunging her 
fingers directly into her vagina manipulating her pussy 
lips and clitoris until she quivered through a joyless 
physical climax. If with other people she excused 
herself to go to the ladies room, locked herself in a 
stall, and masturbated. She noted that in this initial 
urge, the faster and harder she finger fucked herself, 
the quicker she could relieve the immediate tension. 

She felt no emotional pleasure from her orgasms but they 
did serve as a safety valve and gave her a few minutes 
of respite during which she could deal with her 
immediate situation. If an overwhelming urge for a 
climax came while she was driving, she would pull over 
to the side of the road, park the car, and satisfy her 
need. If in class or a meeting she would plead a 
migraine headache and excuse herself. If at home, she 
would turn off whatever was on the stove and escape to 
her room.

Subsequent buildups were slower, but just as intense. 
She had to deal with all the areas affected to get total 
relief. Much as she disliked doing it, she had to hold 
and stroke her big breasts, raise them to her mouth and 
suck the nipples. Otherwise they would be in agony the 
rest of the evening. Kneading a breast with one hand, 
she would massage her pussy with the other to purge 
herself of the intense physical need.

Mom wrote that she was thankful that she could give 
herself an orgasm fairly quickly. Some of the women that 
came to her laboratory clinic required long periods of 
masturbation before they could climax. Mom's body, on 
the other hand, was sexually responsive. She wrote that 
during a PSAS episode her entire body seemed to become 
an erogenous zone. Any manipulation of her breasts and 
genitals would trigger off a behavioral sequence that 
would result in a climax. 

These climaxes were as inevitable as a knee jerk caused 
by a doctor's rubber hammer hit on the patellar tendon. 
She wrote that there was little physical gratification 
in these climaxes, no more than having a sneeze. The 
orgasm just served to temporarily relieve the immediate 
symptoms. She knew that she would have to do it again 
and again. 

In an almost clinical fashion Mom noted that while 
stimulating her genitals her legs would start to shake 
out of her control. If she was lying on a bed her legs 
would tense and relax as if doing a dance. The legs 
would extend as she approached the climax and the 
muscles in her thighs would get completely rigid, almost 
like they were made of marble. This was an infallible 
sign of her body's arousal. When her legs tensed, Mom 
knew that she would cum in just a few more seconds. 

The sexual urges during the peak of her PSAS episode 
came about an hour apart. Allowing for the time 
necessary to raise her body to its climactic peak each 
time and for the general feeling of lassitude after 
orgasming, she only had 30 minutes of respite between 
climaxes. That gave me the clue as to why she shaved the 
hair off her pussy. Otherwise her vaginal juices would 
stick on her pubic hair and it would turn into a matted 
mess.

The constant need to attend to her urges left her 
exhausted. She would try to sleep but her body jerked 
constantly as if she was having sex. When she lay down 
she would twitch and spasm as if she was having an 
orgasm but did not get the relief of one. The only way 
she could get to sleep during a PSAS episode was to take 
a hot shower, lie down in bed, and give herself a 
prophylactic climax even if her body did not demand one 
immediately. She would try to fall asleep during the 
refractory period following her orgasm. 

She awoke in the morning after a fitful night, her 
breast usually cupped in one hand, the fingers squeezing 
and stimulating her nipple, the fingers of the other 
hand were buried deep in her vagina. Her nightclothes 
and sometimes the sheets were damp with her pussy 
juices. It was obvious that she had been unconsciously 
attending to her body's needs while she slept.

As I read on I could feel the twinges in my pussy 
telling me I would have to satisfy myself again soon. 
But I was still rational. Perhaps I could test some of 
the things that Mom described. Her legs, that's it. I 
could watch what my legs did when I gave myself a 
climax. When I masturbated as Steve I never thought 
about my legs. It was all cock. My legs were just my 
legs. This time I would watch Mom's legs, my legs, as I 
was cumming. I propped myself up in her bed with a 
pillow behind my back. In the meantime I could feel the 
increasing tension in my genitals. I would try to hold 
out as long as I could. I continued to read through 
Mom's notebook, searching for more information on her 
PSAS condition. Finally I had to give in and submit to 
the urges of my body.

My demands of my cunt became overwhelming. It required 
satisfaction NOW! This time I had no need for tit play 
to raise myself to a peak. I had to grasp my pussy and 
shove my fingers directly into my vagina. Quickly. I was 
masturbating for the fifth time today. This one would be 
a big one. My fingers plunged in and out. The fingers of 
my other hand rolled and twisted my engorged clit. I was 
doing myself again. In the brightly lit room I could see 
the muscles start to quiver. It was like I was standing 
apart, looking at myself. 

I watched my body start to thrash and vibrate. My hands 
were moving of their own accord. I tried hard to keep 
myself from having a climax. My eyes were glued to my 
legs. They were stretched out in front of me. Both legs 
began a little dance on the bed, shaking, bending a 
little. My hips moved slightly from side to side. Then 
they started raising to meet my hand thrusts. 

It was just as if I was being fucked by an imaginary 
lover. I could no longer control my body from the waist 
down. Then, exactly as Mom described, the muscles in my 
thighs began to spasm. I could feel it and I could see 
it. I was rising closer and closer to a climax and my 
thighs tensed up completely. I forced myself to take a 
hand away from my pussy and feel my legs. 

Removing my fingers from my vagina was one of the most 
difficult things I ever did. My legs had become extended 
and stiff. My toes were pointed just like a ballet 
dancer. My calves were tensed. But my thighs, my 
magnificent thighs had become rock hard. They were 
sculpted out of marble. I tried to press into the flesh 
with my finger but I couldn't dent the surface.

My pussy insisted that I put my hand back and continue 
masturbating myself. I couldn't resist anymore. I drove 
my fingers back into my vagina and filled my needy cunt. 
In and out, in and out. I was almost there. Still 
staring at my sculpted legs I started counting off 
seconds. Suddenly it was my Mom talking, not me. 

"One thousand and one, one thousand and two. I feel that 
I'm going to cum. One thousand and five. I'm going to 
cum now. One thousand and eight... One thousand and... 
My orgasm, my climax is NOW! I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING!"

So Mom's notebook seemed to be right on. It was just 
like a countdown at Cape Canaveral. When my legs became 
rigid I had perhaps eight, at the most ten, seconds 
before I blasted into orbit.


CHAPTER 5

Often Mom used her vibrator to hasten the process of 
stimulation. Her notes told exactly where to place it 
and how long to keep it in position for the maximum 
effect. She was a dedicated scientist even when the 
subject was her own body's sexuality. In the notebook 
there were careful entries of each exact time Mom 
orgasmed. In one PSAS episode she had 22 real climaxes 
and a number of small semi climaxes in one 24 hour 
period. She was forced to masturbate all day and all 
night. No wonder she hated her body for forcing her to 
endure this demeaning self abuse.

During a PSAS episode Mom's physical desires increased 
to the point where she was incapable of doing anything 
but manipulating her genitals until she climaxed. She 
wrote that she hated touching her female parts. The 
mental agony was worse than the physical agony. 

Throughout Mom's notebook there were passages that 
implied that she grew to dislike all forms of female 
sexuality. She especially disliked having to suck her 
own nipples to relieve the tension in her breasts. Nor 
did she like the taste and smell of her own body fluids. 

Contrary to what Mom wrote, I did get a lot of sexual 
pleasure from doing just the things that she hated so 
much. While Mom felt that she was transgendered I knew 
outright that I was a man, actually a teenage boy, 
wearing a woman's body like a suit of clothes. For me 
the experience of female sex, in fact any sex, was a 
delightful experience. Of course PSAS was an unexpected 
problem. 

If I didn't give myself a climax when my body demanded 
it, I would be in agony until I did. So PSAS, while 
annoying, was not the curse for me that it was for Mom. 
I just resented the inconvenience of having to 
masturbate over and over. I don't hate my new body. I 
just hate what it makes me do. 

Internet medical articles described PSAS, or PGAD as it 
is sometimes called, quite well. It is a condition 
caused by a wide variety of physical or psychological 
conditions which produce unquenchable sexual like urges 
unrelated to any person or situation. 

The orgasms, the internet articles said, were physically 
identical to those of a normal woman. The physiological 
response was the same as for a woman having normal 
intercourse but there was no psychological sexual 
satisfaction. Mom recognized her problem clearly. She 
wrote in her journal that while climaxing "her body knew 
the words but not the tune."


CHAPTER 6

The next few days were spent in a haze of orgastic 
delirium. Mom's "condition" seemed to fluctuate. It was 
both the fantasy of a sex orgy and a chore that occupied 
most of my waking hours. 

During my periods of respite I tended to Stephanie, 
cooked meals, and cleaned the house. I shopped for food 
at a large supermarket to supplement the weekly 
deliveries, making sure that I bought enough on each 
visit to last for a week or so. Just in case I couldn't 
leave the house during a PSAS episode. Stephanie 
accepted my condition with equanimity. Mom was just 
having another one of her moods.

Once a PSAS episode started it was out of my conscious 
control. All I could do was lie there and watch Mom's 
body try to get some release by satisfying itself. Her 
hands moved over her torso, clutched her breasts, and 
gravitated to her vulva. I could see her flesh ripple, 
her hips heave, and ultimately feel the stiffness of her 
legs. Mom's body let me have encompassing and fulfilling 
climaxes but, once started, I couldn't control them. 

They seemed to have an existence apart from my physical 
being. I had no say in what her body would do or how the 
orgasm would develop. It obeyed certain laws and had 
certain properties and ways of combining with other 
stimuli, and there's nothing I could do about it except 
watch and try to understand what was happening to me. I 
felt it all, every touch, every twinge, every spasm, the 
breathless rise to a climax and the final spasm of 
cumming - but I couldn't alter a thing. I couldn't stop 
masturbating until I came. 

I loved Mom's body. It was beautiful and sexy. It let me 
have the most exquisite and fulfilling climaxes. It was 
everything a teen age boy could dream of in his wildest 
sexual fantasies. But, as she said in her notebook, I 
hated what my Mom's body was making me do to myself. I 
wanted to have more control over my sexuality.

I was both curious and fascinated by what my hands and 
mouth did to my body as I made myself cum. But I got too 
distracted to concentrate as a climax approached. All I 
could think about was orgasming as soon as I could. I 
certainly couldn't hit a rewind button on myself like on 
a VCR and watch the interesting parts over and over. But 
the idea of a VCR triggered my imagination.

Rummaging through Mom's desk I found her video camera. 
She and Dad had used it on vacations. It was old but 
still worked. I charged the battery and then set it on a 
tripod so that it had a good view of Mom's bed. It was 
broad daylight and the room was brightly illuminated. 
Stephanie was in school so I had plenty of time. 

I figured that I would start the video camera recording 
when I felt a PSAS urge coming on and then look at the 
video afterward. Not a moment too soon. Just as I had 
the camera set up I began to feel twinges from my pussy. 
For once I almost welcomed my obsession. After spending 
so long getting the camera running, I was curious to see 
how it worked. It almost felt like I was doing a 
scientific experiment.

As the urge started to grow, I prepared myself. I took 
off my clothes then straightened the bed. I positioned 
pillows at the head of the bed so that I could sit up 
and face the camera. I even brushed my hair. After all, 
it was my video debut and I wanted to look good. My 
final act was to switch on the camera. The feelings from 
my genitals were now so intense that I was ready to 
climb the wall but I managed to hold off long enough to 
position myself on the bed so that the camera was aimed 
at my body. I must confess that I "mugged" a bit like 
most people do when they are being photographed. And 
then I "did" myself.

I leaned over and stroked my legs from ankle to thigh 
and spread them a bit to show my pussy. I spread my 
pussy lips apart with my fingers to show the pink 
insides. After all, since I was making this video for 
educational purposes I might as well reveal everything. 
By this time the urge was so intense that I could barely 
control my actions but I managed to sit up, grasp a 
breast between my hands and show it to the camera. 

I ran my fingers around the nipple to make it stiff and 
repeated with the other breast, then raised each breast 
to my mouth. My breasts demanded more attention than 
usual. At first I was aware of the camera but but as 
caressed and played with my breasts I forgot all about 
it. I pulled my nipples. I chewed and sucked my titties. 
I squeezed a soft full breast with my fingers and pushed 
it into my mouth almost as if I was trying to swallow it 
whole. 

But now my pussy demanded attention. I held a breast in 
my mouth with one hand and lowered the other hand to the 
valley between my legs. My consciousness was now totally 
centered on my vagina. I became only a throbbing cunt. I 
had no idea how long I fingered my labia and clitoris 
and sucked my nipple. It could have been seconds or it 
could have been minutes. All I knew is that I couldn't 
stop doing it to myself. Just before I came the world 
seemed to vanish. I saw nothing and all I could hear was 
my muted scream when I orgasmed. 

I had a natural teen age male curiosity to see what I 
had done to Mom's body. After I recovered from my orgasm 
I removed the tape from the camera and put it in the 
VCR. I was transfixed. It was like watching a porn movie 
with me as the star. I could see the fingers of one hand 
moving in and out of my vagina while the fingers of my 
other hand squeezed and rolled my nipple. I could watch 
my nipple grow and my breast turn pink as it became 
aroused. I could see my pussy lips swell and my clitoris 
become engorged. I could clearly see myself drive the 
fingers of my hand further and further into my vagina 
until I was afraid that they would come out of my mouth. 

Even the squishy sounds of my fingers moving were picked 
up by the video camera's microphone. On the TV screen I 
could watch my body quiver in response to the electric 
sensation as my thumbnails scratched over my clitoris. I 
could hear myself gasping and moaning as I neared the 
peak. I could see my body start to vibrate as the climax 
approached. I watched my hips rise and fall as they 
tried to coordinate their motions with the flailing 
hands in my cunt. Finally I could see my legs get rigid 
and my whole body spasm as I came.

When the video finished I was covered in sweat. Just 
watching my image masturbating on the screen made me go 
through all the emotions of having an orgasm. My legs 
ached and my cunt was dripping like a faucet. My actual 
climax on my TV debut was pleasurable but I'm sure that 
Mom would have found it frustrating. 

Since I had the camera set up, I videoed myself having 
an orgasm several more times over the next few hours. 
Once I aimed the camera at my face the whole time. I 
didn't get any more insight into my condition but I 
enjoyed making the tapes. I became intrigued with the 
idea of filming myself. I guess I had two motives. The 
first, at least the one I told myself, was to try 
understand Mom's condition by using the videos as an 
outside point of reference. The second, which I hardly 
admitted to myself, was that the videos really turned me 
on. I would keep the best ones hidden in my closet and 
masturbate to them after Mom switched us back. 

So during my next PSAS episode I videoed myself from all 
angles, setting the camera by the bedside and aiming it 
to get a good view of my body, my breasts, my cunt, my 
legs, and even my face as I did myself. I have to admit 
that there were times when, even without the demands of 
PSAS, I masturbated in front of the camera to get a 
particularly sexy picture. When I did it for fun I could 
take all the time I wanted displaying my sexual 
attributes. 

On one video I spent nearly an hour on breast play in 
front of the camera. My nipples became very red and big, 
like huge cherries on my white vanilla ice cream 
breasts. Finally I gave into temptation and sucked my 
tasty nipples while finger fucking myself to completion. 
I was delicious.

It's too bad that Emmys weren't given for porn videos. 
Mine would have been serious contenders. There was no 
acting. It was all real. I watched my video collection 
several times to see if I could get any additional 
insight into Mom's condition but all I gained was a real 
appreciation of my mother's beauty and sexuality. It 
seems strange to say but I really lusted after Mom, 
after myself I guess. The good news is that I could have 
myself any time I wanted. Probably more often than I 
wanted thanks to Mom's PSAS condition. The bad news is 
that I would really miss enjoying Mom's body after she 
figured out a way of switching us back.

The very thought that Mom would come back early with a 
procedure for reversing the switch was both pleasing and 
disquieting. I would dearly love to be Steve again but 
regretted the idea of losing all those lovely climaxes I 
had experienced in Mom's body. Even though they were 
female climaxes, sex is sex to a teenager. Besides I had 
no basis for comparison. 

I spent a lot of time planning what I would do both 
before and after she came back. First I would use Mom's 
body as much as I could while she was away. I would 
masturbating at every opportunity, to store up as much 
sexual experience as I could. I could always blame my 
enthusiasm on PSAS in case Mom got suspicious. Not that 
I had too much to worry about on that account. The 
condition manifested itself every couple of weeks, 
probably more often than with Mom but I obviously didn't 
fight it as much.

Second, I tried to imagine a way to fuck my Mom after 
she returned. This would be much harder. I was her son. 
Even with my upcoming birthday I would only be half her 
age. Further Mom's notebook described how reluctant she 
was to engage in any sexual activity for fear of 
precipitating a PSAS episode. Clearly I would have to 
use subterfuge. The porn TV shows always talked about 
date rape drugs. Maybe I could get a dose of one of 
those and slip it into her tea. I had some high school 
friends who might be able to get me a supply.

So my plan was simply to drug my Mom after she switched 
us back, crawl into bed with her, and fuck the bejesus 
out of her. If I could get a couple of doses of the drug 
I could do it twice.

That night I went to sleep fantasizing about my plan. I 
dreamt that Mom had come home and switched us back. I 
was Steve again. I fed her the date rape drug, she 
yawned and went to bed early. I waited until the drug 
took effect, opened her door, and crept into her bed. 
Her legs were spread exposing her pussy. I slipped my 
cock into her. She opened her arms and welcomed me to 
her body. We tirelessly fucked and fucked until dawn, 
climaxing over and over. Wouldn't that be wonderful?.

When I awoke the next morning I was still Mom. I 
realized how stupid my plan was. The drugs probably 
wouldn't work as I expected and Mom would be furious at 
me. I would just have to make myself cum as many times 
as I could and trust to memory.

Mom's PSAS condition waxed and waned. Sometimes after 
climaxing I could go for several hours before the 
tension in my genitals insisted on being relieved. 
Sometimes only a few minutes. On my breaks from PSAS 
symptoms I usually fixed a bit of lunch or took a 
shower. With a really long break I tried to keep the 
house clean or even read a bit. 

One day when I was getting a bite to eat in the kitchen 
I had an overwhelming need for a climax. It came on very 
suddenly without advance warning. My cunt demanded 
instant attention and I was totally unprepared for a 
masturbation session. Usually when I "did" myself I 
adjourned to Mom's bedroom or bathroom where I had 
access to a soft bed or couch and a washcloth to wipe up 
my pussy juices. But there was no time. I grabbed the 
first phallic looking object I saw from the 
refrigerator, a long cucumber. 

I quickly shed my jeans, pulled aside my panties, and 
plunged the cucumber directly into my vagina. Then I 
collapsed on a kitchen chair, amazed at what I had just 
done. I stared in disbelief at the end of the cucumber 
protruding from my cunt. It was almost a foot long and 
my cunt had swallowed most of it.

Still, it felt particularly good. The cucumber was cold 
and quite soothing. It gave my fevered vagina a moment 
of respite. I reached down and grabbed the protruding 
end to pull it out. As I pulled, the little bumps on the 
cucumber stimulated my pussy lips and clitoris. The 
feeling was wonderful. It felt quite different from my 
fingers. I had to try it again. So I pushed the cucumber 
back inside me and pulled it out. 

Again the wonderful feeling. I did it over and over. It 
filled me fully. I worked the cucumber in and out, 
staring at it all the while as it moved between my 
vaginal lips. I was astounded at what I was doing to 
myself. I was actually fucking myself with a cucumber. 

So this is what getting fucked with a cock feels like, I 
thought. I love it. I've got to find someone to fuck me 
for real before Mom switches us back. My legs stretched 
in front of me and started shaking. My thighs were 
getting rigid. My God, I was going to cum. I could 
hardly believe that I could do this to myself and how 
good it felt. Mom's unconscious mind must have had a 
wildly erotic imagination. I never realized that there 
were so many ways to excite a breast or use a cunt. 
Women are so much more imaginative than men. 

Of course I had an orgasm. A big one. The cucumber was 
still inside me when I climaxed. My full cunt made the 
orgasm something special. I didn't even have to touch my 
tits. After my climax I pulled the cucumber out. It was 
covered with my pussy juices. I intended to wash it off 
but I was still hungry so I took a little bite off the 
end. Mom's pussy juices are tasty and believe it or not, 
they make a great salad dressing. So I sliced the 
cucumber up and ate it. It was like eating a lover. I 
must be a really sick puppy.

After the first few days I learned that if I stopped 
fighting her PSAS, I could actually enjoy the buildup to 
the climax. Like the old phrase, "If rape is inevitable, 
lie back and enjoy it." Again, that's from a male 
perspective. 

Often I masturbated to completion in front of the big 
bedroom mirror. Maybe I could see something that I 
didn't capture in the video. The sight of my 
uncontrolled hands manipulating my naked body added a 
perverse element of excitement to the scene. Mom might 
come back from Europe at any time and I wanted to have 
as many orgasms as I could in her body before her 
return.

I was still not comfortable with the idea that I was in 
my Mom's body. Every time I looked in the mirror I 
expected to see the image of a teen aged boy. I watched 
myself masturbating Mom's body in the large mirror 
almost as if I was looking at a porn movie. It was as if 
I was watching an actress in a movie doing unimaginable 
things to her own body. I pulled and sucked my nipples, 
caressed my clitoris, and vigorously finger fucked 
myself. 

Eventually I had to collapse on the bed or the couch 
because in the final buildup to a climax my quivering, 
shaking legs could not support me. It was only after my 
thighs turned rigid and I felt the final seizure of 
orgasm that I realized that it wasn't a movie. It was 
me.

On one occasion, rather than look at my body, I stared 
at the reflection of my face, or rather Mom's face. The 
face had a look of longing on it before I started. As I 
manipulated my tits and cunt the face relaxed only to 
grow more intense as I approached a climax. My mouth 
opened a bit and I licked my lips. I had of look of 
intense concentration. My eyes glazed over but I forced 
myself to keep staring at them. They pulled me in. I was 
looking directly into Mom's tortured soul. She was 
possessed by a carnal demon. It was no longer me looking 
back but a succubus that wouldn't release Mom's body 
until it orgasmed. 

This vision into the darker recesses of Mom's mind was 
disturbing and more than a bit frightening. I sensed 
that she had a hidden and self destructive agenda which 
might emerge in unguarded moments. I never repeated the 
attempt to probe into Mom's psyche. Rather I simply 
watched myself masturbate Mom's gorgeous body, enjoying 
the pleasure without trying to understand the deep 
seated psychopathology.

I would sit on the edge of the bed, extend my legs 
before me and run my hands from my ankles to my mound. 
My fingers would sink onto the flesh of my body. For 
some reason it felt much more sexual when I knew that I 
was about to give myself a climax then when I touched 
myself while dressing or undressing. My teen age mind 
must have unconsciously realized that I was about to 
fuck the woman of my dreams. I would cup my breasts, 
excite the nipples until they bulged, then raise one to 
my mouth and suck on it. My free hand would find my 
pussy and I would start finger fucking myself. I would 
look at myself in the mirror, legs extended, one hand 
deep in my vagina, sometimes sucking a tit. It was both 
exciting and perverse. 

As I raised myself toward a sexual peak I would lay back 
in bed, feel my legs become stiff and extended as Mom 
described in her journal. I could see my hips rising and 
falling to meet my fingers. I could watch the woman in 
the mirror rise toward a climax. I wasn't saying 
anything but I could hear Mom's cries of sexual agony.

The woman in the mirror screamed "YES, YES! I'M FUCKING 
MYSELF, I'M MAKING MYSELF CUM! I'M GIVING MYSELF A 
REALLY FUCKING BIG ONE! IT FEELS SO GOOD! I'M CUMMING! 
OH GOD!- - - FUCK, FUCK! YES!" I was always surprised 
that the screams were in my Mom's voice. I had nothing 
to do with it. She was narrating her own sexual ecstasy. 
Just before cumming, I could see the face of the of the 
woman in the mirror become contorted, gasping and 
screaming "YES, YES!" as she climaxed. 

I could feel everything but it was not me or the Mom 
that I had grown up with in the mirror. It was a 
strange, but beautiful woman writhing on the bed as she 
masturbated to orgasm again and again. It was only after 
I climaxed that I realized that it was me after all. I 
was the star in my never ending sex story.

My PSAS urges continued for several more days. My tits 
hurt, my thighs ached, my pussy was sore. Still I would 
wake up in the morning and have to give myself a climax. 
Then I would fix Stephanie some breakfast and get her 
off to school.

I must confess that I loved touching Mom's body even 
when I was not driven by the demands of PSAS. After the 
school bus picked Stephanie up in the morning I would 
deliberately try to arouse myself in a slow leisurely 
manner, resisting the temptation to climax quickly. I 
felt that by taking the initiative I could exercise a 
measure of control over my sexual desires. So still 
seated at the breakfast table, I ran my fingers around 
my pussy lips. They were already lubricated by my 
fragrant cunt juices. When Mom gets excited she has a 
very wet cunt. I paused from time to time to lick my 
tasty digits. I enjoy Mom's flavors. Too bad she didn't.

In the hope that pain would suppress my PSAS induced 
arousal I even even tried sticking pins through my 
nipples. After a shower I sat on the stool in front of 
Mom's bathroom mirror so that I could see what I 
intended to do from all angles. I rolled my nipples and 
watched them get stiff. Ever conscious of sanitation, I 
doused a sharp pin and my nipples in alcohol. When 
everything was ready I grasped the pin and put the point 
against the nipple intending to stick it in. I know that 
I didn't want to leave any marks on Mom's body that she 
could find after she changed us back. But I felt that 
she might not see the pin pricks on her nipples. She 
rarely inspected her tits anyway. 

But I couldn't do it. I knew it would hurt and I didn't 
have the guts. My nipple had gotten soft and the point 
slithered across the surface. Still I was determined. If 
Mom's body was that afraid of pain, nipple torture might 
abort her PSAS episode. What to do? 

Perhaps if Mom's nipple was firmer, I could stick the 
pin in. Ice, that's it. After it got hard I could put a 
little tourniquet around the nipple that could keep it 
stiff long enough to stick a pin in it. I was still a 
science nerd at heart. I must confess that I got so 
caught up in the mechanics of the problem that I almost 
forgot that I was preparing to torture myself. 

I took an ice cube from the fridge and rubbed it over 
the end of my breast. The cold made the nipple firm but 
the moment it warmed it softened up. I stiffened the 
nipple with the ice cube again, then before it had a 
chance to get soft, I wrapped a little rubber band 
around it and pulled it tight. I found a small plastic 
hair clip in Mom's dresser that would hold my nipple 
while I tied it. The open clip fitted over the nipple 
and the spring tension held it firm. I wrapped half a 
rubber band around the nipple two times, stretching it 
as I encircled the fleshy base, then tied it off. Moving 
the clip to the other nipple, I did the same thing.

The contracting rubber bands squeezed the nipples and 
kept them hard and stiff even after they warmed. The 
nipples bulged out as big as I had ever seen them, each 
the size of a grape. They begged to be played with, even 
sucked, but this wasn't what I intended at all. I 
intended to hurt myself not pleasure myself. I realize 
now that I was still afraid and was just putting off the 
inevitable pain that I would feel while I mutilated 
Mom's precious nipples. If that's how her body reacted 
to thoughts of torture my plan might work after all.

I had to do it. No putting it off any more. I moved a 
low stool right up to the edge of the bathroom counter. 
Leaning forward I rested both breasts on the edge near 
the sink. I was just being practical. If I bled I wanted 
the blood to run into the drain, not on the rug on the 
bathroom floor. The bright bathroom light and the sight 
of my full breasts with their bound, reddened and 
swollen nipples resting on the white formica counter top 
made me feel as if I was in an operating room or, at 
least, a medical laboratory. I tried to make believe 
that they were no longer my breasts, just slabs of meat 
on a table. I wasn't was doing it to myself but to a lab 
specimen like I did in biology class in school.

I gathered my courage and pushed the point of the pin 
into the base of a nipple while I held it in position. 
The pin indented the skin, and then with a little pop 
penetrated into the flesh. I watched myself do it with a 
mixture of horror and fascination. It hurt when the 
nipple pierced the skin but not as much as I feared. 

I pushed the point entirely through the nipple. It was 
like sticking a skewer through a hot dog. Once the pin 
had penetrated the skin it moved through the nipple 
flesh relatively easily. I watched it bulge out the skin 
and come out the other side. That hurt. While I still 
had the courage, I did the same to the other nipple. I 
couldn't believe that I was actually sticking pins into 
myself, into my sensitive nipples, but I would do almost 
anything to get control of my desires. 

I took off the rubber band tourniquets and looked at my 
tortured boobies in the mirror. The nipples were blood 
red and each had a long pin sticking though them. I was 
my own S&M porn model. But instead of getting repelled 
by the scene, I was strangely excited. This wasn't 
working the way I expected.

I simply couldn't believe what I had done. It didn't 
feel as if I was punishing my body but merely arousing 
it in another way. It hurt more as I pulled the pins out 
of my nipples than when I put them in. One pin came out 
without incident but a bit of blood spurted out when I 
pulled the other. I raised the bloody breast to my mouth 
and sucked the nipple clean. I saw that in a vampire 
movie once. The blood tasted salty but seemed to have no 
effect. I didn't become a vampire. I could still see my 
image in the mirror.

I only did the pin through the nipple trick once for a 
couple of reasons. First, because it simply didn't work 
the way I wanted and second, because I cringed at the 
thought of mutilating myself. I would have to be careful 
about not hurting Mom's body or I would suffer the 
consequences after the PSAS "urge" had passed. Besides I 
would have a tough time explaining the damage after Mom 
switched us back.

Overall, I discovered that while I couldn't turn off 
Mom's insatiable craving for sex while her body was 
having a PSAS urge I learned to exercise some control, 
at least when her arousal was at a moderate state. I 
also learned to appreciate how much effort it took for 
her to appear "normal" in front of us kids and at work. 
After a time Mom's PSAS episodes would wind down and I 
could live a relatively normal life. That is if you can 
call inhabiting another person's body normal. I had 
short PSAS episodes every few weeks but the rest of the 
summer passed fairly uneventfully. 

I watched my video movies a couple of more times. While 
I appreciated the scene, it was almost like looking a a 
complete stranger pleasuring herself. I almost winced at 
the sexual torture that the poor woman in the video was 
forcing on her body. Her breasts were squeezed and 
stretched to an almost grotesque length. Her teeth 
clamped around her nipples until I was sure they would 
be bitten off. Her cheeks hollowed and filled with the 
strength of her sucking. Her pussy lips were swollen and 
seemed to clutch at her fingers as she plunged them in 
and out of her vagina. Even her clitoris inflated like a 
little cock as she jacked it off unmercifully. The final 
screaming climax came as a relief for both the woman in 
the video and me as an observer.

But the video had an odd effect. Thinking as Mom I 
appreciated the agony of the woman, almost forgetting 
that I was the person on the screen. Still it aroused 
me. My nipples got hard and I felt little twinges in my 
cunt. But when I looked at it from a masculine 
perspective as Steve, it was wildly erotic. Had I still 
been a horny teen ager, I would have masturbated in an 
instant.


CHAPTER 7

Despite my anger at myself for not being able to control 
my desires when I had an "urge" I often used my body, 
Mom's body, for amusement when I had nothing else to do. 
To tell the truth, I certainly enjoyed sex when I wasn't 
being compelled to do it. In that regard I was a normal 
teen age boy. I loved the touch and feel of Mom. Running 
my hands over her body was an absolute joy. 

Her nipples would stand up like little soldiers as I ran 
my fingers around them. I caressed her beautiful legs 
from ankle to crotch spending an inordinate amount of 
time fondling her voluptuous calves. It's too bad that I 
didn't have a cock. Fucking a woman would be much more 
fun than watching a mindless sitcom on TV. While I 
couldn't fuck myself I could certainly feel myself up. 
And, naturally it was much more enjoyable because I 
every touch of my exploration. 

In the evenings, after I had put Stephanie to bed, I 
would plop myself down on the living room sofa and turn 
on the television for an hour or two before going to 
sleep myself. If the program became unusually boring, I 
would amuse myself with a little sex play. I had 
inhabited Mom's body for a several months but I still 
had Steve's psyche. When not in the throes of PSAS, I 
made love to Mom's body as a teen age boy would do, 
caressing it, stroking it, sucking it, always happy to 
have this compliant woman at my disposal. 

It was even better than that since as Mom I could feel 
all the wonderful sensations of my hands loving my body. 
I thought of my breasts and cunt as special pets, always 
with me, always anxious to please, a source of exquisite 
pleasure. My welcoming pussy had become a favorite pet. 
So if there was nothing good on TV in the evening I 
would spend the evening playing with my menagerie. They 
never disappointed me. 

True, I missed my penis but I could get similar exciting 
sensations by rubbing and caressing Mom's clitoris. It 
didn't matter much whether I had a cunt or a cock. 
enough attention to either one would make me shudder in 
bliss. Although it did seem strange at first finding 
that I could having my vagina filled.

But my breasts - they were different. There is no male 
parallel to having a set of large boobs sticking out of 
the front of your chest. I was my own centerfold, but 
better because I could feel as well as see what I was 
doing to myself. I would roll a nipple between my 
impatient fingers, then put both hands around the fleshy 
mound, raise my titty to my mouth and suck on my nub 
until it became swollen and aroused. Then I would do the 
same to the other. 

When both nipples were as hard as I could get them, I 
would grasp the bulging teats between my teeth and start 
chewing to make my sensitive nipples hurt a little. My 
breasts were truly my mammaries. I could suck on them 
for hours. I even fantasized nursing from my own 
boobies, drinking my own sweet essence. At the time I 
didn't appreciate the fact that having a baby was 
required to get milky tits.

I wondered if Mom ever played with her own breasts or 
tasted her own milk after she had us kids. Probably not. 
But if it was me, I would have played with my tits for 
hours and after they filled with milk I would have 
drained myself dry.

My goal was to work myself up to a sexual plateau trying 
to hold myself just on the edge of cumming as long as I 
could.

I would even talk to myself, commenting on the pleasures 
I was forcing Mom's body to endure. Although I had been 
in Mom's body for some time I still thought of making 
love to her as a male. Except, of course when I was 
having a PSAS episode. Then whether I was Mom or Steve 
didn't matter. All I could think of was giving myself a 
climax as quick as possible. I just wanted the body that 
I was in to cum. But when I used Mom's body for pleasure 
I imagined that I was Steve doing what I always wanted 
to do to my sexy mother.

"Play with Mom's big titties, Steve," I would say to 
myself. "You can do anything you want to with them. 
Squeeze them. Make her nipples get really big and hard. 
Suck them. I know that you want to do naughty things to 
Mom. Go ahead. Do them. She left her body for you to 
use. You can make her cum as much as you want. Orgasms 
don't leave a mark. She will never find out." 

"Feel Mom's pussy lips. Rub your fingers around. They 
are swelling so nicely. Her pussy lips are so soft. Now 
put your fingers into Mom's vagina. Move them in and 
out. Touch Mom's clitty. Rub it, stroke it, squeeze it. 
That gets her real excited. If you do it too long you 
are going to give her a climax and then we will have to 
start all over. But doesn't playing with her clit feel 
good? You can feel that Mom's body really likes it. 

"Now finger-fuck your Mom's cunt. Harder! Listen to the 
squishy sounds. Taste your fingers. Don't you wish you 
could suck Mom's cunt? Look at how her legs are shaking. 
Wouldn't it be nice to wrap Mom's legs around your head 
as you sucked her cunt? But now you better stop playing 
with Mom's body or you will make her cum." Then I would 
try to back off, wait a few minutes, and do it all 
again. 

I was trying to give myself small sips of sexual arousal 
rather than a big gulp. Sometimes I could keep myself 
almost on the edge of having a climax for most of the 
evening. I saw that as a triumph over my carnal desires. 
But once in a while I got carried away and the desire to 
have an orgasm was too much to resist. 

I clutched my labia, drove my fingers into my vagina and 
rolled my clitoris with enough force to make me scream 
in ecstasy. When my thighs got rigid it was too late to 
stop. I plunged headlong into the abyss of orgasm. As I 
fell, my legs spasmed, my body shook, and wonderful 
sensations radiated from my cut to my entire body. I 
didn't wait for my Mom to scream. I shouted to myself 
because I knew no one would hear me, "I love you Mommy. 
I'm making love to my Mommy. I'm making my Mommy cum. 
Mommy, Mommy, I'm doing it to you! I'M FUCKING MY MOMMY! 
MY MOMMY IS HAVING A BIG ORGASM! MOMMY, I'M MAKING YOU 
CUM! CUUUMMMMING! YES, YES. OH, MOMMY, WE ARE CUMMING 
NOW!" 

After I came down from the orgasmic high I would say, 
"Steve, you naughty boy. Look what you made your Mommy 
do to herself. Now you better let her rest a while 
before you play with her sexy body again." 

When I did that a couple of times an evening, who cared 
what was on TV. Mom's body was a sexual carnival and I 
had a free pass on all the rides.


CHAPTER 8

I kept up Mom's sessions at the gym and worked out on 
the exercise equipment at home. Mom's notebook said that 
physical exhaustion would keep PSAS urges at bay. At 
least for a while. When I felt the need for an orgasm I 
would put on my sweats and go for a long run. Mom's body 
was in better shape than Steve's and I could run for 
several miles without building up too much of a sweat. 
It seemed to work, at least for a while. I still had to 
give myself climaxes but not as frequently as when I 
failed to exercise.

At the end of the summer I got a message from Steve, 
still in Europe, saying that he was unable to figure out 
a way to reverse the personality transfer. He had 
corresponded with experts in field, sent them the 
circuit diagrams, specifications of the device and 
printouts of the experiment. They all agreed that the 
exchange was irreversible. Our brains had been 
permanently altered. 

We would have to stay the way we were. The news was a 
big disappointment. I had expected that my time in Mom's 
body would be sort of a summer vacation and that I would 
be Steve again. Now I would have to deal with the 
realities of being a mature woman. 

Steve wrote that he liked being a man so much that he 
was happy to keep my male body as his own. He was sorry 
that I was the one that got the bad deal in the switch 
but there seemed to be nothing that anyone could do 
about it. Besides being a man was how he felt that he 
was meant to be. He wrote that he loved having a man's 
body, even if it was only a teen aged boy. 

He had discovered the joy of having a penis, and, he 
said, jacked off nightly for the first several weeks. 
After that he linked up with one of the girls on the 
bike tour and discovered the joys of heterosexual 
fucking. Considering the way I lusted after Mom before 
the switch, I suspect that if Steve's body was 
influencing his sexual behavior the way Mom's body was 
influencing mine, his girlfriend probably had big tits 
and nice legs.

Steve wrote that he would not be coming back from Europe 
soon and that I should resign myself to being a woman. 
He was sorry about leaving me and Stephanie in the 
lurch. I could have Mom's body to use as I wanted. It 
was in very good shape and Steve hoped that I might 
enjoy it better than he did. I certainly had mixed 
feelings about it. 

If Steve is right I will never have a cock again 
although the only woman I ever really wanted to fuck was 
Mom. And I knew that I never had a ghost of a chance of 
doing it. By that time I had had so many fulfilling 
climaxes in Mom's responsive body that I sort of 
welcomed the opportunity to stay as I was. 

Money wouldn't be a worry. Steve had a large trust 
account, originally intended for his college education, 
that he could draw on when he needed cash. Since I was 
Mom, for all intents and purposes, I could simply take 
money out of the bank. The interest from my share of the 
sale of the business would keep me financially fixed for 
the remainder of my life.

Steve's news was a shock. Even with her PSAS I enjoyed 
my "vacation" in Mom's body. I had a chance to caress 
her magnificent legs, something I had always wanted to 
do. I sucked her nipples and played with her beautiful 
breasts. I had my fingers in her cunt, along with the 
other things I managed to put in, and gave myself 
orgasms both at my convenience and hers. I felt that I 
could cope, even with Mom's bouts of PSAS. At least I 
didn't mind pleasuring my sexual parts. Now it appears 
that I won't regain my male body. The only fucking I can 
look forward to is in Mom's body. But with whom?

All this time I had been faithfully recording the events 
of the day in the blank book that Mom had left me. Every 
night before I went to sleep I wrote a few paragraphs. 

Writing in the diary was one of the high points of my 
day. It gave me some focus. I would try to remember what 
had happened and enter it in as much detail as my 
limited experience would allow. I didn't know all the 
technical or scientific terms which best described what 
I had done and the feelings I experienced but I tried to 
do my best. Often simply describing how I felt when I 
touched Mom's sexual areas turned me on so much that I 
had to masturbate before I could continue. One of the 
problems of being an author, I suppose.

As I read over my diary I noted that I spent a lot of 
time writing about Mom's legs. I seem to be obsessed 
with them. They are my legs now and they are beautiful. 
I have strong thighs culminating in a tight round butt. 
The surfaces bulge slightly to accommodate the muscles 
within. But I really love my calves. They are full and 
nicely curved, dancer's calves.

My diary was my security blanket. I felt like a test 
subject in an experiment and writing in the diary 
confirmed it. It was a lab notebook after all. What was 
happening was just science. It wasn't real. In due time 
Mom would come back and the experiment would be over. 

But now I had to admit to myself that it was real. It 
was hard to believe that I would never be Steve again. 
It wasn't the sex part. I had had plenty of good 
climaxes as Mom. It was the realization that I would 
never get a chance to do all those male things that I 
had planned for my future. I was devastated. For the 
first time I cried myself to sleep. It must have been 
Mom's female hormones taking control. But I didn't go to 
sleep before I entered the day's events in my. At least 
that was a stable aspect of my life.

A couple of months later, Stephanie and I had a visit 
from Dad. He was exercising his annual visitation rights 
with the kids. I always loved my Dad. He was strong and 
warm and kindly and rather good looking. Mom said that 
she loved him too. When I was younger, their divorce 
always seemed a mystery to me. I understand the reasons 
now but I certainly didn't then.

I dressed nicely in one of the few feminine items I 
found in Mom's closet, a short and tight red sheath 
dress made of some clingy fabric. The dress wasn't new. 
It was probably a leftover from her college years. But 
even at 32 Mom's body, my body, still had the figure for 
it. It accentuated my boobs and you could see my 
protruding nipples. I don't know what I was thinking. I 
just wanted to look nice for my Dad. My glasses were the 
only thing that stopped me from looking like a whore. It 
was a college town so I could have been that wanton 
librarian that I saw in Mom's mirror. 

Dad was diplomatic about the dress, saying that he 
hadn't seen me wear it in many years but he always liked 
it. We went to a good restaurant for dinner and had 
several glasses of wine. I was not used to drinking wine 
or alcohol of any sort. My body was 32 but my mind was 
only 15. I didn't have the experience to cope with the 
blurring of the senses that alcohol brings.

Our conversation was easy, interesting, and funny with 
none of the verbal barbs that Mom and Dad used to sling 
at each other during the last years of their marriage. 
At the end of the dinner Dad said, "I don't know what 
has happened to you Cassie. You seem much more relaxed 
and at ease with yourself. I certainly like the new 
you." I must have been slightly looped. 

Dad asked if I had found a new boyfriend or lover yet 
and seemed relieved when I told him I hadn't even had a 
date since our divorce. He sensed my reservations about 
discussing my recent life. He also wanted to know where 
Steve was. I simply said that he was in Europe on a bike 
trip. We returned home and put Stephanie to bed. 

After a lot of hesitation and another big glass of wine, 
I told him the full story. By this time I was definitely 
looped. Perhaps it was the wine but our conversation was 
unusually frank. Nothing was off limits. I told him 
about the personality transfer, discovering Mom's 
sexuality and my bouts of masturbation during the PSAS 
episodes. I even described the intimate details of how I 
gave climaxes to Mom's body. 

Dad listened with interest but didn't appear shocked. 
According to her notebook Dad was instrumental in 
satisfying her needs during PSAS episodes. Dad had been 
married to Mom for over a decade and well knew what she 
did to herself. But Dad's eyes opened wider when I told 
him the details of how I made love to Mom's body for 
recreation. Particularly how I talked to myself when I 
made Mom's body cum. Apparently she never did that to 
herself when they were married.

He asked if I liked sex as a woman since my Mom never 
did. What could I say? I told him that I loved sex 
except when I was being driven to do it by Mom's 
condition. The only things I had missed out on was 
having a partner, someone besides me to make love to my 
body. That, and actual intercourse with a man. 

"Are you sure that there is no way to reverse the 
transfer, " Dad asked. 

I told Dad that I had carefully researched it on the 
internet and in the college library. I even showed him 
Mom's notes and circuit diagrams of the apparatus. Mom's 
co-workers had confirmed that experiments with animals 
showed that there was no possibility of reversing the 
change. I also mentioned that Mom had talked to several 
other scientists in the field. All had told us that the 
change was permanent. Their opinion was that Mom's 
"experiment" was a tragic mistake. The procedure should 
have been carefully vetted on animals first. My 
personality was burned into Mom's female body, the one I 
am now inhabiting. I was a teen aged boy, in a sexy 
woman's body. The change was permanent. I would never be 
Steve again. I would just have to get used to living as 
a woman.

Dad asked me a number of questions about the experiment 
and re-examined the notes that Mom had left behind. He 
asked me about how I had responded to the physical 
change in gender. 

I told him everything. I assured him that while there 
were a few difficult periods I had learned to deal with 
them. I especially appreciated Mom's erotic 
sensibilities. Unlike Mom I enjoyed touching all my 
womanly body parts. It would be nice if I could find 
someone else to touch them too. I told him that I 
enjoyed sex as a woman. Fortunately I didn't share Mom's 
ambition and I wouldn't have to prove myself at the 
university.

Finally Dad asked, "Have you accepted your new life? Are 
you content with being a woman? Is there any way I can 
help you?"

We were sitting in facing armchairs in the living room. 
I had taken off my shoes to get comfortable and my 
clingy dress had hitched halfway up my lap. My bare legs 
were stretched out in front of me. I noticed that Dad 
found it hard to keep his eyes off them. Looking at my 
legs and breasts, he obviously liked what he saw. Dad 
and I had still another glass of wine. When I poured it 
for him I leaned over and gave him a good look at my 
cleavage. I also jiggled my titties a little just in 
case he hadn't quite realized that his son was now a 
sexy woman. Remembering that he asked what he could do 
to help me deal with the situation. I somehow got the 
courage to ask him the big question.

"Will you make love to me?" I blurted out. "Since I've 
been in Mom's body I've never had sex with a man. All 
I've done is make myself cum. I want to feel a penis 
inside me and I can't think of anyone better than you to 
do it. It's not like you're a stranger. After all, you 
and Mom were married and your cock has been in me 
before. Please do it to me again. Please make love to 
me."

Dad looked startled. I don't think that he had that in 
mind when he asked how he could help me. Several 
emotions played at once across his face. He was such a 
decent man that I knew I had to push a little harder.

"Take a good look at me before you answer my question," 
I said. "If the answer is yes, what you see is all 
yours." This might have been the wine speaking but what 
happened next I definitely did of my own free will.

While I was talking I loosened the back zipper on my 
dress. I stood up and the dress dropped to the floor. I 
was wearing only the slightest excuse for a bra and the 
briefest of panties. I must have been quite a sight. 
Well toned and slim with long, showgirl legs blending 
into a beautiful rounded ass. My breasts were the size 
of half melons. 

My long dark hair cascaded around the upper slopes of my 
breasts, framing them and highlighting their whiteness. 
I was both frightened and excited by my behavior, 
brazenly flaunting my sexual attributes and begging to 
get fucked. I was so excited by my behavior that my 
nipples had grown painfully stiff. It was too late to 
retreat now. I had to press forward.

"Well, I don't know..." Dad started to say. I cut him 
off in mid sentence.

"Please say yes, I'll be a good lover. Here is what you 
will be getting." 

I put my hands under each breast, raised them out of my 
bra, and offered my big mammaries with their erect 
nipples to my Dad. As I talked I pulled my breasts 
forward almost as if I wished to stretch them from my 
body to his face. The flesh rippled on the surface. They 
were heavy in my hands. How I longed for Dad to take 
them.

"Do you remember my titties? Do you like them? Take my 
breasts, pull them toward you, suck them. They are all 
yours. They are aching for you to handle and knead and 
stroke and suck." I said. 

"Look at my legs," I continued. "Don't my legs look 
sexy? You couldn't keep your eyes off them all night. 
You can play with my legs as much as you want. You can 
rub your hands over them and kiss them from my ankles to 
my pussy. I'll wrap them around your body when you make 
love to me. I will press your prick into me with my 
beautiful calves on your back" 

What I said must have shocked Dad and it surely shocked 
me. I never thought I could say those things, certainly 
not to my father. It was a crude attempt at a seduction 
just like those I had seen in late adults only TV 
movies. What did I know about adult love? I was just a 
kid.

"Take my breasts. Please hold them," I pleaded. 

Dad reached out his hands and grasped the offered 
breasts. I looked down and saw his strong fingers close 
around each tit. My nipples had become stiff and turgid. 

"That feels wonderful!" I exclaimed. "Will you consider 
my offer? I'm not asking you to make a commitment. I 
just want you to fuck me. I need to feel your cock 
inside me."

I've got to hand it to Dad. After blinking a couple of 
times he said quietly and slowly, "If you're sure that 
you can't change back and that you are happy as a woman, 
I guess I can help. I loved your Mom but our sexual 
needs were too far apart. You are now an adult, at least 
your body is adult, so I hope you don't think that I'm 
taking advantage of you."

"No, Dad. I'm the one taking advantage of you. I know 
that you and Mom are not married anymore. But I know 
that despite your differences, Mom really loved you. And 
I love you. And Mom's body desperately wants and needs 
you."

Dad took me in his arms. I could feel the bulge growing 
in his pants so I guess my question was answered. Thank 
heaven Dad accepted my offer. My posturing and posing 
had so turned me on that my cunt was dripping and my 
nipples were painfully erect. I wanted him to fuck me so 
badly that If he had not said yes, I might have zipped 
open his pants, grabbed his cock, and shoved it directly 
into my cunt. 

He carried my nearly naked body up the stairs to Mom's 
bedroom. In the dim light filtering in through the 
window, he stripped off the rest of my clothes then 
removed his own. Dad was the same age as Mom and was in 
excellent shape. He lifted me and laid me in bed then 
crawled in beside me. My arms reached towards him.

"Let me do it all," he said. "Your mother needed sex but 
she hated being a woman. She never seemed to enjoy 
herself in bed during the last years of our marriage. 
All she wanted was a climax. But you seem to love sex. I 
started wanting you halfway though dinner, even before 
you told me about the transfer. I wanted to rip off that 
dress and ravish you. Tonight I want to do everything to 
you that your Mom wouldn't let me do to her. Don't think 
of me as a pervert. I know you're my son but you have 
Cassandra's magnificent body. I've dreamed of it every 
night since our divorce."

"Dad, I want you to love me too. We can do everything to 
each other. The last few months have shown me how much 
Mom missed by not enjoying sex with her wonderful 
husband. I may have been your son but I've adjusted to 
life as a woman and, if you want me, I will be your 
woman. Just make me a complete woman by fucking me."

He started with massaging my back until I was totally 
relaxed. He moved his hands all over me, caressing all 
my sensitive and naughty parts. Then he gravitated to my 
boobies. He fondled and sucked my nipples until they 
almost exploded with desire. He worked his head down my 
body, kissing all the way to my mound. His hands spread 
my welcoming thighs and he lowered his head between my 
legs. His tongue penetrated my vulva. His lips encircled 
my clitoris. 

My cunt was getting the sucking that it always wanted 
but I could never give it. I wrapped my thighs around 
his head to hold him close. His hands stroked my legs 
then moved up to press them tighter around his head. I 
lowered my hands to my cunt and held my pussy lips apart 
so that he could reach the juicy parts inside. 

I pushed my clitoris up to meet his tongue and stroked 
it with my fingertips. I wanted it to stand proud for 
his lips to wrap around. It was a truly cooperative cunt 
sucking. He caressed, fondled, and gently chewed my 
cunt, pussy lips and clitoris until I was writhing on 
the bed in ecstasy. 

I desperately wanted, no needed, him to shove his cock 
into me. And he did. His penis pushed past my pussy lips 
and plunged into my vagina. I had the wonderful feeling 
of my body being filled. My cunt grasped at his cock 
like hugging a long lost friend. In and out, in and out 
for what seemed an hour of wonderful fucking. I felt us 
rising to the peak, dropping back, then rising again 
together. I felt that indescribable agony in my crotch 
that told me I was going to have a climax. Dad clutched 
me tightly. We both came in earth shaking simultaneous 
orgasms. I was a complete woman at last!

Exhausted by the emotions of our first fuck, we wrapped 
our arms around each other and dozed off. I don't know 
how long we slept, probably less than an hour. I was 
awakened by Dad's penis gently penetrating my still wet 
vagina. It moved in slow, smooth strokes in a delicious, 
leisurely fuck.

"Oh yes," I moaned, "fuck me, make me cum again."

Dad's lips encircled one of my nipples and he sucked as 
he fucked. My body started a long slow climb to an 
orgasm, this time secure in the knowledge that I was a 
real woman. I could feel Dad's prick throb. He was going 
to have a climax too. I tried to hold back, hoping that 
we could cum together again. But no such luck. 

My body was responding as if on autopilot and there was 
nothing I could do to slow my rise to orgasm. I started 
to shake and my legs got stiff, just as Mom had 
described in her notebook. It was like a runaway train. 
I couldn't stop it. To be honest, I didn't try very 
hard. I wanted that orgasm in the worst way. I wanted to 
feel my body explode in ecstasy. 

I wanted to cum, cum, cum. And I did. What started 
slowly became a mind blowing climax. 

Just before his climax Dad whispered in my ear, "Cassie 
or Steve, whomever you are, I love you. You are the 
woman I always dreamed about. I love you." Then he came, 
clutching my body, and pumping what seemed to be a 
gallon of jizm into my greedy cunt.

I was awakened by sunlight streaming into the bedroom. 
The clock on the night table showed that it would be 
another hour until Stephanie woke up so I slipped out of 
bed and pulled the blind closed to darken the room for a 
few more moments of delightful sleep. It was hot so we 
had been sleeping without covers. As I crawled back into 
bed I saw that Dad had a huge morning erection. I didn't 
know that grown men had those. I thought it was just a 
teen thing.

I looked at his cock closely. It was hard to believe 
that such a big thing could fit in my pussy but it 
certainly did. Twice. Dad's penis looked really nice. I 
was beginning to forget about Steve's teen age cock. It 
had been months since Mom and I changed bodies. I got 
really close to Dad's hard on and then, on a whim, I put 
it in my mouth. I wrapped my lips around the end of it 
and started giving Dad a little blow job. I had no 
intention of going all the way. Just a taste. But it 
tasted pretty good. A bit salty and I could detect some 
of my pussy juice flavor on the penis head. I started 
moving my head up and down as I filled my mouth with 
Dad's cock. A couple of short strokes and then a long 
one. Short then long. I was doing Dad just the way I 
would have liked it as Steve.

I felt hands around my ass and my legs ware moved apart. 
I had awakened Dad and he was determined to reciprocate. 
His tongue found my pussy lips and he moved up to my 
clitoris. My clit was being licked and sucked. It was 
heavenly. We were lying in a 69. My mouth was working on 
his cock while Dad was expertly sucking my clitoris. We 
lay there, simply enjoying stimulating each other. But 
it couldn't last too long. Last night had so primed us 
for sex that one of us was sure to cum. This time it was 
Dad.

I could taste his pre-cum. It wasn't bad at all. In fact 
I sort of liked it. I always licked it from my fingers 
when I masturbated as Steve. But I knew that pre-cum 
would soon be followed by the real thing. Do I take his 
prick out of my mouth before he cums or do I let him cum 
in my mouth? What the hell. I started this thing so I 
might as well go all the way. I liked how Steve's jizm 
tasted and Dad's might be just as good. I made my 
decision just in time. I felt Dad's body start to 
quiver, his cock began to throb, and then he ejaculated 
a full load into my mouth. It tasted great but it was 
almost more than I could swallow. But I did. And then I 
licked his penis clean.

As I licked, I could still feel Dad sucking on my clit 
and it was really getting me excited. He reached his 
hands down my legs and started stroking from the full 
calves up to the tender thighs. Then he started lightly 
chewing me, sending delightful sensations to my whole 
body. The combination of clit chewing and leg massage 
carried me over the edge. My body quivered and I came, 
and came. I don't know how much pussy juice I leaked but 
Dad sopped it all up. I hadn't intended this morning to 
turn into another sex orgy but I'm glad it did. Dad and 
I seem to be sexually well suited to each other. Tough 
shit, Mom. I won't give your body back even if you 
figure out how to reverse the switch. And Dad loves me!


CHAPTER 9

To make a long story short, Dad moved back in. We became 
an almost normal family. Dad had both of his children 
again although one looked exactly like his former wife. 
Dad and I made love almost every night. Sometimes a 
couple of times a night. We hardly ever sat through a 
boring TV show. He did his best to satisfy me on my 
thankfully infrequent PSAS episodes - and he succeeded 
remarkably well. 

I had never really given up the idea of returning to my 
male body. The thought was always in the back of my 
mind. But I enjoyed being Mom. I was like an actor 
playing a role which enabled me to behave in ways which 
I never could in my normal persona. Naturally I missed 
my friends and all the things I could do as a young man 
but that was more than compensated by my experiences as 
a woman. 

I loved Mom's body, it's shape, it's sensitivity, and 
most of all, it's erotic capability. It could give me 
the most shattering and fulfilling climaxes. Much more 
gratifying than I ever got by masturbating my prick. I 
could "do" it to myself with my fingers or much better, 
Dad could "do" me again and again with his magnificent 
cock. Of course I didn't have much perspective in the 
matter but it seemed the best of all possible worlds.

My experience seemed to be a classic case of mind-body 
dichotomy. Some of the internet medical articles that I 
had read discussed the influence of the mind on the body 
and vice versa. Just after my switch with Mom, my mental 
attitudes and emotions were clearly those of a man, 
actually those of a hormone driven boy. Even though my 
physical body was now that of an attractive woman, all 
of my teen age male desires remained, especially 
regarding sex. 

I was astounded to find that I had Mom's extremely sexy 
body at my full disposal. I could suck her tits, play 
with her legs, and give myself lovely female climaxes 
with her cunt. What normal young man wouldn't want an 
opportunity to find out what sex as a woman feels like. 
Provided, of course, that he could switch back to being 
a man when he wanted.

So at first I felt that I was a man inhabiting a 
beautiful woman's body. I thought the way a man did 
although I felt every physical sensation as a woman. I 
loved what I could do to myself, the way that I could 
make myself feel. Every time I gave my body a climax, 
even when I was forced to by PSAS, I felt as if I was 
still Steve fucking my Mom. Except for not having a 
penis, of course. But that was easily overlooked in the 
thrill of an orgasm.

But over time my female body, it's cycles, it's 
hormones, altered the way I thought. I came to accept 
that there was no going back. I became a woman in mind 
as well as in body. Well not entirely a woman. Perhaps I 
was a hermaphrodite, at least in mind. I still had the 
male appreciation of my beautiful female body. I still 
wanted to fuck my Mom. If not necessarily my Mom, a 
woman that looked exactly like her. 

But that seemed to be changing too. Before Dad came 
back, I often dreamt that I had a cock so that I could 
fuck Mom's body. The nearest I came to being fucked was 
with that cucumber. I felt the sensation in my cunt as 
Mom but I couldn't feel it in a prick as me. Now I'm 
glad that Dad has a cock so that he can fuck me. It's no 
longer Mom's body any more. It's mine. I just love my 
cunt because Dad uses it so well.

Dad turned out to be a wonderful lover. He had years of 
experience, particularly with Mom, and knew exactly what 
to do to turn her on and satisfy her needs. He and Mom 
had been having sex since they were 16 years old and had 
probably screwed a thousand times, maybe more. He knew 
all her erogenous zones and the intimate places on her 
body that she liked having touched. He could bring Mom's 
body to the brink of climatic ecstasy in moments. And he 
did it to me. I loved his hands on my body as well as 
his cock in my cunt. Dad was the master. I was the 
student.
  
Dad told me that in later years Mom's PSAS condition 
interfered with their sex life. She was so determined 
not to enjoy herself when she had an orgasm that it 
forced them apart. She was afraid that any enjoyment 
would trigger off PSAS episode. Mom accepted full 
responsibility for ruining their marriage and confessed 
about it in her notebook. But Mom really didn't know 
what she had missed out on. I, in turn, was a novice. I 
had been in Mom's body for less than a year and was just 
learning its erotic potential. I had also reasonably 
well accommodated to her PSAS condition. I learned to 
use it as a justification for exploring the depths of 
Mom's sexuality. When life gives you lemons, make 
lemonade. For a teen age boy even bad sex is wonderful.

By conventional standards Dad and I were both oversexed 
but our desires matched perfectly. Genetics, I guess. 
Dad seemed to sense my mood. He was forceful when I 
needed to be dominated and gentle when I needed 
gentleness. He could anticipate when my body wanted sex 
and when I just wanted to be held close. 

Dad couldn't get over how much my attitude toward making 
love had changed. Of course I pointed out that Mom and I 
were entirely different people, at least in personality. 
He told me that he started going with Mom in high 
school. She had been assigned as his lab partner in 
sophomore chemistry class. Both were the class nerds, 
members of the Science club and the junior Honor 
society. 

Mom, although attractive, rarely wore makeup, and 
dressed in loose jeans and boy's shirts. She always kept 
her endowments hidden in floppy sweatshirts. She rarely 
wore a bra. Their lunch break was right after chemistry 
class so they often ate lunch together. Dad said that 
they got along well and liked each other's company. 
Neither had many real friends in school. After all, who 
wants to pal around with a nerd?

Their first date was accidental. It wasn't even a real 
date. It was a school excursion to a regional science 
fair. Mom and Dad sat together. Dad put his arm around 
her as a friendly gesture. On the darkened school bus 
ride back home, Mom fell asleep against his shoulder and 
he could feel the heaviness of her body pressing against 
him. Thinking she was sound asleep Dad took a chance and 
slipped his hand under her sweatshirt to sneak a feel of 
her boobies. 

It was during the height of the Woman's Liberation 
movement and few of the high school girls wore bras. Mom 
awoke, leaned forward so her breast slipped out of her 
loose slip and pressed Dad's hand tightly against her 
naked tit. Reflexively, Dad closed his fingers only to 
find that he was clutching a handful of soft breast 
meat. He could feel her big nipple pressing against his 
palm. Mom looked at him and smiled, then snuggled up 
against him to continue her nap. They gave each other a 
goodbye peck at the end of the ride. It was the first 
time either of them had had any intimate contact with 
the opposite sex.

Dad said that their first sexual experience happened 
during a study session for the mid-term exam. It was a 
week after he had fondled her tit in the school bus. Dad 
went over to Mom's house with an armload of books. He 
said he really intended to study. Her parents were away 
for a monthly bridge game and wouldn't be back for three 
or four hours. 

She invited him up to her room. The next thing he knew 
they were groping each other and within five minutes 
they ended up naked on her bed, his virgin prick inside 
her virgin cunt. She winced when he broke her cherry 
although there was very little blood. Mom had almost 
worn it to extinction by pushing objects into her vagina 
during her frequent masturbation sessions.

Unlike most teen cherry busting dates, they enjoyed 
their first fuck immensely. Both had real and very 
satisfying orgasms. Then they washed up, had a bite to 
eat, studied for a few minutes, and fucked until both 
climaxed again. Mom put her breast in Dad's mouth as his 
cock penetrated her vagina. They explored each other's 
body parts until just before her parents were scheduled 
to return home. Then they dressed, sat side by side 
looking at class notes, and appeared very studious when 
her parents came in. Both aced the exam.

By the end of their sophomore year they were sleeping 
together regularly. Dad told me that every date, no 
matter how casual, ended in intercourse, sometimes two 
or three times in one evening. They fucked in bed, in a 
car, and once in a while just up against a wall. Mom and 
Dad couldn't keep their hands off each other nor their 
genitals apart. 

Neither of them knew it at the time but these were the 
initial stages of her PSAS condition. He said that Mom 
was angry at herself for wanting so much sex but she 
couldn't resist. Mom and Dad had enough sense to get 
married when she got pregnant. I was born just after the 
end of their senior year. Fortunately both were bright 
enough to be awarded full tuition college scholarships 
and their careers took off.

Dad complained that within half a dozen years after 
their marriage Mom's PSAS condition got much worse. 
Their sex life disintegrated. Mom rarely wanted to make 
love for fear that it would trigger off a PSAS episode. 
It was like turning off a faucet. The only time they had 
sex was during one of Mom's PSAS urges. Then they fucked 
like bunnies, four, five, even six times a day, 
satisfying her needy body in every way they could 
imagine. Dad helped Mom to additional climaxes after he 
was fucked out. 

She hated herself after these episodes and believed that 
if she had been a man, the way she felt that nature 
intended, she wouldn't be in thrall to her genitals. 
Their relationship became increasingly bitter. Mom 
needed Dad's prick, lips, and hands during a PSAS 
session but never during the rest of the time. They 
slept in separate bedrooms. Stephanie was conceived 
during an accidental slip up during a PSAS urge. It was 
the final straw that broke their marriage.

No wonder Dad felt that I was different. I enjoyed sex 
immensely and I especially enjoyed it with him. We loved 
on the same wavelength. To make our time in bed more 
enjoyable for both of us I tried to keep my body in 
great physical shape. I exercised in the gym and on our 
home workout equipment. It was not entirely a chore. I 
liked to feel my boobs bounce around as I ran on the 
treadmill. When I jogged without a sports bra my nipples 
rubbing against the inside of the sweatshirt made me 
hot. I'll bet that's why some women like to train for 
marathons. Getting there is half the fun.

I watched my weight and ate the right things. Thanks to 
a combination of exercise and good genes I looked very 
much the same in my mid 30s as I did in my 20s. My body 
was firm, my breasts had only a slightly sexy sag, my 
waist was still thin, and my legs were to die for. I 
liked what I saw when I checked myself out in front of 
the full length mirror in our bedroom. I was still, as 
Steve's high school friends put it, a mega-MILF.

Of course I am biased. I imprinted on Mom's body early 
when I sneaked looks at her dressing and undressing. 
After Dad left, Mom was very casual about clothes at 
home. She rarely wore a bra and her legs were always 
bare. When she bent over to pour me a glass of milk at 
breakfast I always tried to look into her blouse to try 
to catch a glimpse of her breasts. A couple of times I 
was rewarded by the sight of her nipple. 

Once when an after school soccer game was cancelled, I 
returned home early. I heard moaning sounds coming from 
her bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. Through the gap 
in the door I could see her thrashing around naked on 
the bed, one hand holding a big breast, the wet fingers 
of the other moving in and out of her cunt. Her legs 
flailed around in a spastic dance. She was having one of 
her PSAS episodes and was vigorously attending to her 
needs. Her face was flushed and her hair touseled. Her 
eyes were tightly shut. 

While I masturbated frequently, just like most teen aged 
boys, I never realized that grown women did it to 
themselves too. I knew that I shouldn't be looking. It 
was a private moment. But I didn't leave. I stared at 
Mom's writhing naked body. It was infinitely more 
revealing than trying to sneak a peek up Mom's skirt or 
trying to look down her cleavage. The breasts that I 
tried so hard to see were in clear view, large, pink and 
with very stiff nipples. How could I look away?
 
Sexual passion mixed with anguish contorted Mom's face. 
I stood fixed to the spot, not daring to make a sound 
while she pleasured herself. Now, with the benefit of 
hindsight, I'm not sure that she would have heard me 
even if I had walked into the room whistling "Dixie." 
Nor would I say that she would think of what she was 
doing to her body as pleasure. It was pure and simple 
masturbation. She was desperately trying to give herself 
an orgasm as quickly as possible.

Even in disarray, she was absolutely lovely. Her motions 
became more frantic. She squeezed the breast she was 
holding so tightly that the end bulged. The nipple and 
areola expanded to two, maybe three times their normal 
size. Then both hands were in her cunt, moving almost 
violently. The wet fingers on one hand thrust in and out 
of her vagina while the fingers of the other moved on 
what I would come to know as her clitoris. I watched as 
she raised her body to a climax. 

I saw her thighs become stiff, the muscles in her legs 
etched in sharp detail. I watched her calves contract as 
she toe danced into ecstasy. She moaned and and 
shuddered as she climaxed. Her body formed a perfect 
arch on the bed, supported only by her thrown back head 
and her heels. Her orgasm seemed to last and last. 

It must have been the of the biggest she had had in some 
time. I was fortunate to have witnessed it. Then, with a 
final gasp she collapsed into a flaccid heap on the bed. 
Her pussy was red and dripping and her abused breast had 
dark finger bruises. She was lovely. I quietly went to 
my room to masturbate. That was the only time that I 
ever saw my Mom fully naked. Now I see that same woman 
naked whenever I step out of the shower. But I never 
forgot that first time. I remember that scene in all its 
vivid detail. She was sex personified. 

To my teen mind, Mom was the most desirable woman in 
creation. You remember the old song, "I want a girl, 
just like the girl, that married dear old Dad." Well, 
now I was that girl. Just the sight of my nude self in 
the mirror turned me on. Now Mom's tits and legs are 
mine to use any way I want. Clothed, I am not 
exceptional. Nude, I am a super hot fox. I'm not 
bragging here, just telling it like it is. I would 
dearly love to have sex with that person I see in my 
mirror, either as a man or as a woman. The wonderful 
thing is that I can have me any time I want. Or rather 
Dad can have me. I'll just go along for the ride.  To 
put it bluntly, I think I am a great piece of ass and 
Dad certainly agrees. 

I like to see Dad use my body, pleasure me, raise me to 
a peak where all I can think about is having him make 
love to me. I want to be his sex toy. It isn't carnal 
loving anymore but personal and intimate communication. 
His cock and my cunt talk to each other in ways that our 
voices never could. 


CHAPTER 10

Dad had to work a couple of hours each day as a 
consultant to several drug firms. He kept in touch with 
them by telephone or with his laptop. Stephanie was in 
kindergarten for most of the afternoon. I used this 
leisure time to keep up with my reading. I still went to 
Mom's book club and didn't want to appear a total idiot. 
After Dad finished his work we would have a light lunch. 
I particularly enjoyed those special meals when I was 
eaten for dessert. What's a meal without a mouth 
savoring ending?

My wardrobe was limited to what Mom had in her closet 
when we switched. There were a few formal "go to 
meeting" suit dresses and a lot of slacks and exercise 
clothes. The very informal nature of the college dress 
code meant that Mom could conduct most classes while 
wearing jeans and sweatshirts. I usually dressed that 
way at home too. 

Dad said that he would take me shopping to replenish my 
wardrobe with some more feminine articles. He didn't 
want me looking like a waif when we went out to dinner 
or even a hockey game. I welcomed his advice. I had the 
fashion sense of a toad. My choice of a slutty red dress 
on Dad's initial visit confirmed that. Although it 
certainly had its desired effect.

I wore a bra when I went out but I didn't often wear one 
at home. I usually found it too confining. Besides, I 
enjoyed the sensation of my tits jiggling when I moved. 
Dad obviously appreciated it too. I especially liked to 
have Dad make love to me in broad daylight. Dad usually 
started by sitting down next to me on the couch while I 
was reading. He would lay me down with my head on his 
lap, raise my sweatshirt and expose my naked boobies. 
His hands roamed over them, touching me in all the right 
places. He would handle and caress my large breasts. I 
would lie passively, watching his fingers roam over my 
boobies, circling the areolas and gently exciting the 
nipples. 

I loved watching my nipples grow under his fingers. He 
would tweak them and roll them until they cried out for 
his mouth. But he wouldn't kiss them yet. His hands 
still had a lot of touching to do. I was entranced by 
the sight of Dad's caressing. My breasts seemed to 
belong to someone else, a big busted figure model in an 
art studio perhaps. My titties were putting on quite a 
show for both of us. I loved to see what he was doing to 
my boobies and, of course, I felt every delightful 
sensation. 

When my nipples were virtually bursting with 
anticipation, Dad finally lowered his mouth and sucked 
them. He sucked one nipple, biting it artfully while 
rubbing the other one with a feather-like touch that 
made me moan. I was now thoroughly aroused through my 
tits. I gave over my full body to his touch - not that I 
had any other choice - I enjoyed letting him play on it 
like on a fine instrument - and playing he was. Like a 
concert pianist.

Then he would move lower on my body.

He would fondle my legs and cup and massage my calves. I 
knew my legs were sexy but I always thought that my 
workouts made them a bit too developed. They certainly 
didn't look like the legs of models in the fashion 
magazines. But Dad thought they were just perfect. My 
muscular thighs narrowed at the knee and then expanded 
into full calves. Dad claimed that I could crack walnuts 
between my thighs. I don't know about that but I do know 
that I enjoyed having them around him when we fucked.

I loved my legs. They were sensuously full, and to my 
formerly male mind, very erotic. As Steve it was all I 
could do not to get an erection when Mom would sit in 
front of me with her legs crossed. When she crossed one 
leg over the other her calf, pressed over the opposite 
knee, made the most sensuous curve. Her full thighs 
stretched the seams of her short tight skirt. Even the 
soft sound that Mom's legs made as thigh slithered over 
thigh when she crossed them made my cock get hard. I 
wanted to put my hands around her legs, knead her 
calves, raise her skirt, and run my face up her thighs 
to her crotch. 

I don't really know why I was obsessed with Mom's legs 
as a teen ager. I just wanted them around me and I 
wanted to explore what was between them. Maybe it was 
because all my Superhero comic books showed girls with 
impossibly long shapely legs. The girls all had bulging 
breasts too but they were always covered by some 
discrete shreds of fabric. 

Naked tits must have seemed too obscene for young 
readers but there was always plenty of leg. Now that the 
legs were mine, I had the chance to stroke them, caress 
them and do what I always wanted with them. Whenever I 
played with my legs and masturbated after the switch, I 
always came quickly, half expecting Mom to enter and 
demand her body back. I didn't realize I was there for 
the duration.

Dad used my legs well. He would stroke them from ankle 
to pussy until I squirmed in ecstasy. He licked me all 
over, my toes, the back of my calves, the inside of my 
thighs, and under my breasts. Then he took care of what 
was between them.

When I came, he sucked my pussy juices then shared the 
taste with me by a long kiss. Seeing him play with my 
body was completely erotic. I was the star in the porn 
movie of our lives. Just the thought of what he would do 
to me turned me on. We would make love most of the 
afternoon until it was almost time for Stephanie to 
return from school. Then Dad and I would clean up and 
become a proper suburban family again.


CHAPTER 11

Delicious smells wafted though the house. I heard Dad 
call, "Wake up Cassie. Dinner is in half an hour." I 
took a quick shower and cleaned myself up. Combed my 
hair and tied it back in a pony tail. I even put on a 
little lipstick and dabbed a bit of perfume between my 
breasts. I really wanted to look nice for my Dad.

The dining room was set as for a party. Dad had prepared 
a scrumptious meal. All my favorites. Candles were it. 
There was a bottle of cold champagne on the table and 
two glasses.

"What's the occasion?" I asked.

"In case you've forgotten, it's our anniversary," Dad 
said. "It's exactly a year to the day that I came to 
visit my children. Who could have expected that my son 
would seduce me and become my beautiful wife. These have 
been the happiest months of my life."

We the gourmet food and drank the champagne, but to tell 
the truth, I could hardly wait to give my Dad his 
dessert. And I did. Right after dinner. We ascended the 
stairs to our bedroom, hand in hand like two teen age 
lovers. I had very few clothes to remove, and those that 
I did came off easily. A sign of good planning. Then I 
stood my Dad in the middle of the room and took off his 
shoes, socks, shirt, pants and underwear, item by item, 
making sure to rub my breasts against his body at every 
opportunity. 

We tumbled into bed in a slight champagne haze, my mouth 
on his prick, his mouth on my cunt. We sucked and 
stroked until we felt each other start pre-orgasmic 
shaking. Then we reversed positions. Our anniversary 
fuck was long, slow and gentle. Rising to a peak, then 
falling off until we rose again. His cock was in my cunt 
for over an hour. I held his balls and he sucked my tits 
while we fucked. Finally Dad said, "it's time." I 
certainly agreed.

He drove into me so hard that his cock bottomed against 
the end of my cunt. Over and over. I loved it. I held 
his body and wrapped my legs around him. He would never 
get away. I could feel my calves bouncing against his 
back with each of his thrusts. My thighs tightened the 
way they did earlier this afternoon but I ignored them 
completely. I was going to fuck until I screamed. 

Finally we came in unison. I don't know about my Dad but 
this climax was the most intense in my brief life as a 
complete woman. Wow. Between this afternoon and tonight 
I was completely exhausted. Just before I fell asleep, 
my Dad kissed me and said. "Happy Anniversary, darling." 
I love him.

Oh yes, I almost forgot to mention that I am pregnant. I 
missed my period a month after our anniversary party and 
a visit to the gynecologist confirmed that I am knocked 
up. Dad and I were so hot for each other that we often 
neglected to use contraceptives. As a transformed boy 
I'm a little afraid of having a baby but Mom's body has 
had two kids already so everything should come out all 
right. Just an obstetrical joke. I really look forward 
to having milk in my tits. I plan to breast feed 
everyone. The baby, Dad, and myself if there is any left 
over. My tits are certainly big enough for an ample 
supply. I can hardly wait.

I will be both the mother and brother to the little baby 
and Dad will be both the father and grandfather. 
Stephanie will be the baby's sister and aunt. It will be 
tough to explain.

The other night, if you were a fly on the wall, you 
would have heard me say, "Let's snuggle a bit before we 
go to sleep. Your hands are squeezing my breasts. I like 
it. What are you going to do with my boobies? Whatever 
you're doing feels so nice but it's the second time 
tonight. Keep playing with my breasts. Don't stop, it 
feels so good. You can be a bit rougher on my titties. 
They like it. Squeeze them hard. Pull them towards you. 
Roll my nipples between your fingers. That's it. Look 
how big you have gotten my nipples. Sucking them feels 
so good. Suck them. Bite them. Let me push one breast up 
to my mouth so I can suck one nipple while you do the 
other. After we have the baby you can milk my tittie 
while you fuck me. You have almost my whole tit in your 
mouth now. I love it." 

"I want you to suck my milk from my breasts. As much as 
you want. I want to breast feed my wonderful Daddy. Why 
are you pulling my legs apart? You know that stroking my 
thighs gets me hot. Are you going to eat my pussy again? 
Oh, yes, eat me good. Lick my sweet cunt. Suck my pussy 
juices. Chew my clit. Rub your sweet cock head against 
my pussy lips. It drives me wild. Eat me!" 

"I'm getting so hot that if you don't put that cock 
where it belongs I'm going to cum all over your face. I 
can feel your prick on my pussy lips. Put it in me. Move 
it, push it, drive it. Your prick is fucking, fucking, 
fucking my cunt. Soon you can suck my milk and fuck me 
at the same time. I can hardly wait. I love what you are 
doing to me."

I'm losing control of my body. 

"My legs are getting tense. I know I'm going to cum. I 
feel my legs shaking. My calves are starting to spasm. 
My hips are rising. My thighs are getting stiff. My 
thighs are rock hard. I'm going to cum soon. Make me 
cum, Daddy. Give me an orgasm. I can feel it spreading 
from my tits and legs to my cunt. I'm all on fire. My 
pussy is exploding. It's swallowing me. I've become 
nothing but a big cunt that's going to cum. My whole 
body has become my cunt. 

"There is no Cassie anymore, just Cassie's cunt. I'm 
just a big fucking cunt. A cunt that is about to cum. I 
can feel it grow and grow. I'm a glorious cunt that is 
going to cum. Yes, I'm starting to cum. I want to cum. I 
need to cum. It's happening NOW! I'M A CUNT THAT'S 
CUMMING! OH DADDY, I'M CUMMING NOW! I'M A CUNT THAT'S 
CUMMING I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING! I'M CUUUMMMMING!"

"That was so wonderful. Thank you so much Daddy. Can we 
do it again tomorrow?"


CHAPTER 12

I wrote all of the above passages several years ago and, 
on more mature reflection, think I may have left the 
wrong impression. My life, after the inadvertent switch 
with Mom, was not a continuous sex orgy. Bear in mind 
that what you have read was the interpretation of a 15 
year old teenager to a grown woman's sexual awakening. 
As we all know, a teenage boy interprets everything in a 
sexual context. 

After Dad moved back, our life was ideal. We fulfilled 
all each other's needs, both in and out of bed. We went 
out frequently, traveled until my pregnancy made it 
difficult, and, of course, made love almost every night. 
I was the woman he had always wanted and he, in turn, 
was my passionate lover. 

The incest thing bothered us a bit at first until we 
realized that, both biologically and legally speaking, 
it was not incest at all. Regardless of my 
consciousness, attitudes, and behavior, my body was my 
Mom's body, DNA and everything. It was the same one that 
Dad loved, screwed, and married in high school. As Mom I 
was not biologically related to Dad at all. That 
realization was strangely reassuring. I was also happy 
to realize that from high school on Dad's prick was the 
only one that had ever penetrated my cunt.

Our baby was born right on schedule, a bit less than a 
year and a half after Dad came back. It was an easy 
birth. Mom's body had had two kids already and 
apparently knew the drill. Dad did as well and taught me 
all the tricks of child care and diapering. Stephanie 
was overjoyed to have a baby brother, a real living 
doll, that she could show off to her friends. We named 
him Robert in honor of my late grandfather.

Now for the juicy parts. My tits grew at least another 
cup size and pumped milk like a prize Holstein. Feeding 
little Robert was a mixed pleasure. For the first months 
he demanded to be fed every four hours, six times a day, 
day and night. I found it hard to get more than four 
hours of continuous sleep and I always seemed tired. On 
the other hand I enjoyed him sucking at my tit. That's 
what breasts were really made for. And almost every time 
he nursed I had a mild orgasm. Not the mind blowing kind 
but an orgasm nevertheless. The baby books mentioned 
that about 20% of nursing mothers get sexual pleasure 
from feeding their babies. I was one of the lucky ones. 

I don't know if my Mom ever breast fed me when I was a 
baby. Judging by her aversion to all of her sexual 
parts, probably not. I'll have to ask Dad. I know that 
she always used a bottle with Stephanie. 

I would play with my milk engorged breasts and watch the 
nipples grow almost as a curiosity. I had anticipated 
that my nipple would have a distinct opening, just like 
a cow's tit or Dad's cock. But the first sight of milk 
coming out surprised me. When I squeezed the end of my 
tit I could watch little streams of milk emerge from the 
tiny pores around the nipple.

When little Bobby finished without draining a breast, I 
bent it up to my mouth. II had to use both hands to 
raise it. The nipple and areola had darkened but seemed 
even more sensitive. I started by just licking up the 
driblets of milk but then tried to suck it directly. At 
first I tried sucking the nipple like a straw but 
nothing came out. Then I gathered my courage and shoved 
the whole nipple and most of the areola between my lips. 
I pressed down on the areola with my lips and teeth and 
was rewarded with a slight stream of my milk. I guess 
that the secret is to pretend that you are a baby. I 
mean, after all, humans are mammals who nurse their 
children. I had to start thinking of myself as a cow. 
Moo.

Anyway, I found that pressing down on the areola and 
sucking at the same time would give me plenty of milk. 
More than that, it felt wildly erotic. I mentioned that 
when Robert nursed I would get little climaxes. But when 
I sucked my own tit, my climaxes were much bigger. So I 
sucked and sucked, and climaxed, and sucked some more. 
My milk tasted delicious. Certainly it did to me. 
Thankfully my big boobies produced a plentiful supply of 
Grade A. Robert never went hungry. Mothers milk tastes 
so sweet that one of the Victorian writers whose book I 
read for Mom's book club called milk filled boobs "the 
Devil's Candy." I agree. I love my bountiful tits.

I don't think that there is a nursing woman alive who 
hasn't tasted her own breast milk. The La Leche internet 
site, the one devoted to encouraging breast feeding, 
suggested that women sample their own breast milk to 
show that it wasn't disgusting. I guess the idea was to 
take the mystery out of nursing and to prove that it was 
a normal human activity.
 
Nursing myself seemed a fitting climax to those hours of 
tit play when I was in the thrall of Mom's "urges." I 
wondered why all nursing mothers didn't empty their 
breasts by sucking their own breast milk. It would be 
such a waste not to do it. Nursing yourself would keep a 
plentiful supply of milk flowing. Why bother with breast 
pumps? I sucked myself dry after most feedings but I 
never did it in front of Dad. It seemed too indecent. 
Still Dad looked longingly at my tits when we got ready 
for bed.

Robert cried to be fed at 2 a.m., Dad picked the baby 
out of the crib and brought him to me. I snuggled the 
baby in my arm and opened the flap of my nursing bra, 
pinched the nipple to make it stand up, and guided it to 
Robert's mouth. His sucking sounds were like a lullaby 
and my eyes closed. I felt the flap of bra on the other 
breast being opened and Dad's hand closed around my 
nipple. How sweet, I thought. He wants to play with my 
tittie. 

Then his mouth closed around the nipple and he started 
sucking. It was the first time Dad had actually nursed 
on my milk other than licking up a few drops during sex 
play. I put my arm around him and pulled him close. When 
the baby had his fill, Dad burped him and put him back 
in his crib. Then he came back to bed, put his cock in 
my cunt and wrapped his lips around my nipple.

"Suck all you want, Daddy. I have enough for all of us." 
The pleasure from both my tit and my cunt was 
indescribable. This time I really came hard. It's a 
wonder my shuddering and thrashing didn't bounce us all 
off the bed. I'll bet Mom bottle fed Stephanie and me 
because if she had experienced Dad fucking her while 
sucking from her milky tit she wouldn't have given up 
her body so easily. It was heavenly. And I'm going to do 
it again and again, as least as long as my milk holds 
out.

One memorable night, Robert slept through and missed his 
2 a.m. feeding. He was beginning to wean himself and 
liked eating baby food. My breasts became full and 
started to feel uncomfortable. Dad felt my restless 
tossing in bed and asked me what was the matter. I told 
him that my swollen breasts were beginning to hurt. 
Within a moment Dad had his head in my lap and, with a 
bit of effort, grasped both of my dangling nipples in 
his mouth at the same time. He sucked and swallowed, 
sucked and swallowed until the swollen breasts were 
empty. 

I was in heaven breast feeding my Dad. It had been a 
really perverse fantasy on my part, especially having 
him suck both tits at the same time, but I finally got 
to do it. We ended the al fresco meal with a quick fuck 
and then we both went back to sleep.

So Dad and I and the two kids lived an ecstatic, 
glorious, fulfilling life. We loved each other dearly 
and we both forgot that I was his son living in Mom's 
body. It was only when we made love that I realized that 
there were three of us in the relationship. Dad would 
use my body with skills honed by years of practice. He 
knew all my erogenous zones, exactly where and how hard 
to touch me, and could bring me to an erotic peak in 
seconds. I still had enough of Steve's naked lust for my 
Mom in me to supplement Dad's actions. 

Dad would love one part of my body while I loved 
another. He would make a glorious meal of my cunt while 
Steve, my alter ego, sucked sweet milk out of my full 
nursing breasts. I was being fully used at both ends. It 
was like two people making love to me at the same time. 
Finally as Mom, the third person in our relationship, I 
felt all the exquisite sensations from both lovers at 
the same time. My body writhed in passion. I would have 
multiple little orgasms culminating in a massive climax 
when Dad drove his cock into me, fucking me for real. I 
was the centerpiece of our three way orgy. How 
wonderful.

The only reminder of our previous life was our names. 
Dad called me Cassie but I continued to call him Dad or 
Daddy. Our friends simply thought it was a term of 
endearment. Which it was. Even my PSAS episodes became 
infrequent, lasting only a short time. I guess enough 
real loving does that. We loved to fuck and we fucked 
because we were in love. 

We cemented the legitimacy of our relationship by 
actually getting married to each other. On a trip to Las 
Vegas we visited a quickie marriage chapel and tied the 
knot. Our friends thought it was simply a remarriage but 
we both knew better. I was now Dad's permanent wife as 
well as his passionate lover. We celebrated our wedding 
night by making love until morning. We also won big at 
the roulette table.


CHAPTER 13

And then it all came crashing down. Literally. On a trip 
to Paris for a business meeting, Dad was a passenger on 
Air France 880, the jumbo jet that exploded over the 
Atlantic with the death of all on board. I was desolate. 
I felt that I had lost the main pillar of my life. Sure, 
I had my two wonderful kids and plenty of money but my 
Dad, my lover, my life, was gone.

I cried for almost a week despite realizing that it 
wasn't seemly for boys to cry. But then I was no longer 
a boy. I was a needy and very lonely woman. And I had a 
raging PSAS episode which, thankfully, kept me sane. My 
tits and cunt demanded so much attention that I had very 
little time for self pity. Kindly neighbors helped me 
take care of Stephanie and Robert.

After two weeks. my PSAS symptoms receded. I could go 
back to what passed for a normal life. I played with the 
kids and cared for the house. Stephanie was now a 
Brownie and hoped to join the Girl Scouts. I even became 
a den mother. She also developed an interest in sports 
and was on a junior soccer team. Soccer had been one of 
my passions as Steve. I had been on the high school JV 
squad and I actually knew something about the game. 
Enough to become an assistant coach for Stephanie's 
team.

I also realized that despite Dad's death, my own life 
was not over. I had to plan for my future and that of my 
children. We would have no financial problems. Dad's 
estate was more than enough. But, although the world saw 
me as a former professor and a respected scholar, I 
realized that I, personally, had no formal education 
beyond that of a high school sophomore. I would have to 
do it all with what I had. So one evening I stood before 
the mirror to take stock of my assets. 

I still had Mom's magnificent body but it was now 40 
years old. Not yet decrepit but to my teen aged mind I 
was into middle age. Steve, wherever he is, was not a 
teen ager any longer. He would be 21, going on 22. My 
face, never my strongest point, showed a few "laugh" 
lines but otherwise was OK. The"laugh lines" just gave 
me character. Below the neckline I was still a fox. My 
breasts were large and shapely. The nipples and areola 
had darkened slightly but I heard that breast feeding 
does that to you. 

Thanks to sessions at the gym my belly was flat, and, if 
anything, my legs were as good as ever. Pregnancy had 
not altered my figure much. Perhaps I weighed a couple 
of pounds more but most of the weight seemed to be added 
to my tits. I didn't mind a bit. It just made them more 
sexy. My nipples were the only erogenous zone I could 
reach with my tongue. I dearly loved my cunt to be 
sucked but I was not yet ready to have another man go 
down on me. Too bad I had no one to take advantage of my 
assets. Living with Dad made me appreciate good sex. 

In the context of a college community, my life as a 
single mom before Dad died would have been quite 
ordinary. I kept the house in good order, looked after 
Stephanie's and Robert's well being, did shopping, and 
mowed the lawn. I attended to some of Mom's social 
obligations and participated in her weekly book club 
meetings. I even read some of the books that were to be 
discussed. Although I must confess that some of her 
friends found my book interpretations "refreshingly 
naive."

On a whim I bought a dildo from an internet sex shop. 
Sex toys always seemed to work in TV porn movies for 
sexual fulfillment.. The dildo looked just like a man's 
cock made out of rubber. I tried to get one that 
resembled Dad's cock to ease the shock of going without 
him. After a few drinks I would shove it into my cunt, 
move it in and out, and pretend that Dad was fucking me. 
I had to be pretty drunk to make it believable. 
Regardless of the artificiality of the situation I would 
force myself to cum and then cry for a while. And then 
make myself cum again.

There are many attractive unattached men in a college 
community.
With the kids now in school every day my time was 
largely my own. Despite being 40 Mom's body was still 
brimming with sex appeal. Older men probably considered 
me a suitable dating companion since they assumed that 
we we could discuss the same musical groups before going 
to bed. Younger ones seemed to be attracted to me 
because I reminded them of the mother or older sister or 
aunt that they always had the hots for. 

So I gave in. I made it a point not to sleep with 
undergraduate students but everyone else was fair game. 
While not the campus whore, I was an easy lay. It didn't 
cost me anything and it avoided the necessity of 
meaningless conversation. My typical date consisted of 
an expensive meal, a play, movie, or sports event, 
inevitably followed by an evening of passionate 
lovemaking. 

On one memorable day, while suffering from a PSAS urge, 
I had three successive dates, one in the early 
afternoon, one for dinner, and one in the late evening. 
Every one of my dates sucked my tits, ate my cunt, and 
fucked me until they were exhausted. I had my fill of 
climaxes and orgasms and for once I didn't have to do it 
to myself. Promiscuous sex was a wonderful antidote to 
self-pity. While I was cumming I tended to forget how 
lonely my life really was.

But to tell the truth, few of the men I slept with 
really excited me. I loved the total body feelings that 
I used to get when Dad and I made love and I never 
experienced them with any of my partners. I knew my own 
needs better than anyone else and since my husband died 
my best sexual experiences were with myself. Sex for one 
was often better than sex for two. 

So nights when I didn't have a promising date, I dated 
myself. No mincing words here. I simply masturbated. I 
could love myself in just the way I wanted. I could use 
my body as I pleased. I didn't have to answer to anyone. 
I could suck my tits, plunge cucumbers into my cunt, 
lick my pussy juices off my fingers, caress my beautiful 
legs and give myself orgasm after orgasm until I dropped 
from exhaustion. As I said, I could 
pleasure my body any way I chose. I was free to enjoy 
all its delights.

Most of these self-indulgent evenings started with a 
frank assessment of my assets. I stripped, then stood in 
front of my large bedroom mirror. I turned slowly from 
side to side. As always I was entranced by the 
view. The reflection showed a well-toned woman with my 
bountiful breasts and great legs. I was truly the girl, 
now the MILF, that all the high school boys wanted to 
fuck. I was a bit older, perhaps, but I knew I would 
still be great in bed.

So tonight I raised my tits to my mouth and planted a 
kiss on each nipple, looking reprovingly at my mirror 
image as I did so. Then my eyes wandered downward. My 
legs were great too. Firm with strong thighs and 
muscular calves, leading to a very welcoming pussy. 

I moved closer to the mirror and spread my legs to get a 
better look at my genitals. My hands clutched my ass 
cheeks then wrapped around each thigh kneading the 
resilient flesh. Soon my fingers gravitated to my pussy 
and pulled the folds of flesh apart. I love the sight. 
If only I could suck my own cunt.

I lay down on the bed and ran my fingers around my 
vulva, gently touching and massaging my pussy lips and 
clitoris. Just the slightest touch of my engorged clit 
caused little electrical pulses to spread through my 
system. My touch became sexually exciting. It felt so 
good. Better than the touch of my campus lovers. The 
sensations spread from my clit to my breasts and legs. 
My fingers now invaded my cunt. I realized that I was 
about to give myself a climax.

Years ago Mom had written that some PSAS victims had 
contemplated suicide rather than give in to the 
incessant demands of their body. I knew what she meant. 
I was furious at myself. How weak could I be? I wanted 
to resist pleasuring myself. Had not being married to 
Dad matured me? But I couldn't stop. 

My hands continued their practiced seduction by 
themselves. Don't do it my mind begged. I was pleading 
to my hands. "Don't make me cum." But my body wasn't 
listening. I wanted to cum. I needed to cum. I have to 
make myself cum. NOW!

I clutched the soft tissues on my vulva and felt my 
pussy lips and clitoris start to engorge. My clitoris 
needed to be fondled. Three fingers of the other hand 
penetrated my vagina and I began furiously finger 
fucking myself. In and out, in and out. I was rising to 
a climax. My legs started to shake toward their ultimate 
rigidity. I heard a soft whimpering sound and realized 
that it was coming from me. I must have always made such 
sounds when orgasming but I never realized it until now. 

I hated what I was doing. I tried to stop my hands from 
finger fucking my cunt but I couldn't. I angrily stroked 
my body to a peak, driving my fingers harder and harder 
inside. I hated what I was doing to myself. I was 
obsessed with making myself cum. I pulled and twisted my 
clitoris with all my strength, ignoring the pain in my 
climb to a climax. I was raping myself.

My mind turned inward toward its orgiastic nirvana. I 
wanted to dive into my cunt and never come out. I wanted 
to forget about the world and have a perpetual orgasm 
for the rest of my life. In the ten seconds of lucidity 
between the time that my thighs turned to marble and I 
blasted into a climactic paradise, I realized that this 
wasn't PSAS. It was pure self indulgence. 

My mind shouted, I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING. I shook, I 
spasmed, my breasts bulged and my nipples, my pretty 
nipples, seemed to explode. I felt the high tension 
jolts of a climax run through my system. It took me 
minutes to come down from this sexual high. I just lay 
on the bed gasping for breath as involuntary muscle 
contractions made my body quiver. When it was all over, 
I started to cry. I cried and cried. The tears streamed 
down my face. I felt ashamed at my weakness.

I knew then that I was truly addicted to my orgasms. I 
wasn't angry at the men who took advantage of my body 
for their personal sexual gratification. Satisfying 
themselves also satisfied me. I loved to cum whether I 
did it to myself or other people did it to me. I 
realized that my path to an orgasm was almost 
irrelevant. No matter how I reached a climax, the actual 
orgasmic feeling was always the same. 

Before cumming I would feel twinges of sexual tension 
radiate from my clit to the rest of my body. They grew 
bigger and stronger and enveloped all my senses. My cunt 
expanded to encompass me. My mind turned inward. All my 
thoughts would vanish into the exquisite feelings from 
my cunt. My body heaved, my hips would rise, my legs 
would shake then all my muscles contract. I would spasm 
and cum. Then I would relax, and, for a moment all my 
anxieties and worries would vanish. The act of cumming 
was like hitting the reset button on my mind.

Mom, the original, had no such problems. She hated her 
sexuality and gave herself climaxes as a relief from her 
PSAS symptoms. She would be perfectly happy to never 
have a female orgasm. When I took over Mom's body, 
making myself cum was the realization of a teen age male 
fantasy. Here I was, a mature woman with a teen age 
psyche. Mom's body was my own personal sex toy. I could 
do anything to my tits, cunt and legs that I ever 
dreamed of doing to a beautiful compliant woman. And I 
did. 

I used myself over and over, rubbing and sucking and 
fingering my body to the heights of orgasmic tension 
just to feel the roller coaster ride of cumming. I 
learned to appreciate all the little pre-orgasmic 
feelings, the sexual agony, the loss of body control, 
the mental blackout. I welcomed the shaking and rigidity 
of my legs, even my marble hard thighs, because I knew 
that I would soon receive the benediction of an orgasm. 
I had become my own sex slave. My clitoris had become my 
anodyne, my salvation. I was in thrall to the sexual 
narcotic needs of my own body.

There was even a rational component to myself love. I 
realized that Mom's body, the body that I had lusted 
after as a teen ager and inhabited as a woman was 
growing older. I had to work harder and harder to keep 
fit. I felt determined to use it to the fullest, at 
least sexually, to store up memories that would last a 
lifetime. I still got appreciative glances when in my 
leotards at the gym and was often hit on by attendees at 
faculty parties. For a while, after Dad's death, I 
simply gave myself to anyone who wanted me. I needed to 
be fucked. It didn't matter who fucked me, man, woman, 
or even myself. What I wanted was the thrill of a 
climax.

But I wasn't always this way. When Dad fucked me it was 
a total joy. He was so much more than a lover. I truly 
loved him as a person, as a sexual partner and as a 
husband. He would caress my body, fondle my erogenous 
zones, raise me to such a sexual peak, that I would 
literally beg him to make me cum. I didn't have to think 
about it. I just reveled in the feelings. The orgasms 
were lovely and there were no feelings of shame or 
regret. Our bodies and souls were one. I was happy that 
I could give as well as get. Sometimes it's better not 
to have to do things yourself.

I finally realized that I would have to avoid 
involuntary or casual sex situations in the same way 
that an alcoholic avoids an offered drink. I needed to 
get involved in some activity that would occupy my full 
interest. Whatever I did, I would have to avoid spending 
so much time with my own body. It must have been a 
growing sign of my maturity. Perhaps I was becoming an 
adult.


CHAPTER 14

I couldn't get over how much of a woman I had become in 
the last half dozen years. I felt just like a girl that 
first night with Dad. But I was now the same woman as my 
Mom but without many of Mom's hang ups. I loved Mom's 
totally carnal body. When I touched myself I no longer 
felt that I was a teen aged boy feeling up a beautiful 
woman. Rather I luxuriated in the sensuous feel of my 
flesh. 

I appreciated the bountiful softness of my tits, the 
sensitivity of my nipples, the resilience of my legs and 
thighs. I loved the fact that I could touch myself 
everywhere without feeling shame or embarrassment. I 
enjoyed the taste of my cunt and would sometimes 
pleasure myself, not because I wanted an orgasm, but 
because I wanted to lick the fingers that had been in my 
vagina. In short, I was happy being me.

I still had occasional episodes of PSAS. Some intense, 
some just mild. The pattern had changed over the years. 
When Mom and I first switched bodies I was subject to 
periodic bouts of PSAS which required me to masturbate 
for hours on end. Now I still get a rare violent episode 
but mostly I get occasional urges, usually triggered off 
by some event. 

I know that I have only a few minutes to find a secluded 
place where I can suck my titties and finger fuck myself 
to an immediate climax, maybe two or three, or something 
worse will develop. I still hated being forced to 
masturbate but I knew that if I acted quickly the 
symptoms would soon pass. I guess this was called 
"coping."

I grudgingly admitted to myself that I loved "fucking" 
my own body. The climaxes, even the forced ones were 
still good. It's just that I disliked not having the 
freedom to pleasure myself when and how I wanted.

About a year after Dad's death I heard the doorbell 
ring. The kids were in school, Stephanie in grade school 
and little Bobby in kindergarten. When I opened the door 
I got the shock of my life. Steve was standing there. I 
mean, my real Mom in Steve's body was on the doorstep. 
He had grown a few inches and matured. In fact he looked 
a lot like Dad. I asked him to come in and hugged him. I 
welcomed him into the house and offered him a beer. We 
talked for a while trying to catch up on each other's 
lives. We offered each other condolences on Dad's 
untimely death. Finally it was time for the big 
question.

"Why did you come back?" I asked. "Have you worked out a 
way of reversing the switch?"

"Unfortunately, no," said Steve. "When I heard that your 
father died I came back to pay my respects. Despite our 
divorce, I really loved him. I'm going to have to leave 
tomorrow for a job interview in California but I wanted 
to come by and see how things were with you and 
Stephanie."

When the kids came home I introduced Steve. I said that 
he had been going to college and was now living in 
Europe. Stephanie vaguely remembered him as her older 
brother. Little Bobby was shy but Steve made friends 
with him quickly. I told the kids that Steve would be 
staying for the night but might have to go back to 
school. 

After dinner Steve and I had a long talk. We each had a 
couple of glasses of wine which certainly lowered our 
inhibitions. He told me that he kicked around Europe for 
a couple of years, getting used to his new male body. He 
felt thankful that he was free of the PSAS urges but had 
a tough time handling his new hormones. 

He had the unplanned erection problem, of course, but he 
also found that he would lust after an attractive girl, 
especially one with big tits and nice legs, devote his 
entire attention to her, screw her a couple of times, 
and then lose interest. It was Europe so he had no 
trouble finding compliant women. But he couldn't 
understand the fickleness of his emotions. I had the 
instant insight that he was attracted to women who 
resembled his mother, me. Steve's body still wanted to 
fuck his Mommy.

At first Steve felt that his entire life was being 
dictated by his cock. He learned to control his emotions 
after a few years, then held a variety of assistant jobs 
in university labs where they weren't too particular 
about work permits. Eventually he found that he missed 
his life in the U.S. and wanted to return. Dad's death 
was the catalyst. 

When the long delayed news reached him he took the 
soonest flight over. Just as I was blown away by seeing 
him at the door, he was blown away by the sight of his 
Mom. I was the woman his body always wanted to fuck in 
person. No imitation nymphet. I was the real thing. It 
didn't matter who he was inside. His physical body was 
controlling his behavior just like Mom's body had 
controlled mine.
 
When it came my turn to talk, I told Steve how angry I 
was at him for leaving me in a woman's body, especially 
one afflicted with PSAS. I told him that it took months 
to learn to cope with my sexuality and then I chided him 
by telling him how much I liked having orgasms in his 
former body. I told him that if he had had accepted the 
fact that Mom's body was a wonderful sexual playground, 
he would never have left it. Then I described in detail 
my blatant seduction of Dad on his visit. 

I told him of our physical intimacy, our falling in 
love, and the birth of our child. I couldn't resist 
turning the knife a bit. I knew that Steve, as Mom, 
loved Dad even though they were sexually incompatible. I 
concluded by telling him about how much we both enjoyed 
playing with my breasts and, after Robert was born, how 
Dad made love to me while sucking my milk. I choked up 
when I told him about it. The emotions were so intense. 
I must have had tears in my eyes. Steve got out of his 
chair, came over to me and kissed away the tears.

Naturally Steve stayed the night. I put him in the spare 
bedroom and we both went to bed before 10 p.m. I was 
exhausted from the events of the day. About midnight I 
heard a quiet knock on my door. 

"It's Steve. Can I come in?"

I slipped out of bed, turned on the lamp on the bedside 
table, and opened the door. Steve came in.

"I wanted to apologize for ruining your life." he said. 
"The personality switch was a pure accident but I should 
have tested the equipment much more before trying it it 
on us. I never planned any of it. I know that the 
outcome of the switch was unfair. I thought that I got 
what I wanted most. A man's body that was free from my 
excessive sex needs. I hated my woman's body. I hated 
touching my genitals, I thought that my tits were gross, 
like cow's tits. Most of all I hated all the climaxes I 
had to give myself. I never realized that I would curse 
you with the same problem."

"Steve, the PSAS was indeed a problem. But I didn't hate 
myself because of it. I hated having so little control 
of my body. But I really should thank you for the body 
that you left me with. I loved playing with your tits, 
your cunt and your great legs. I thought of them as your 
legs, Mom's legs, legs that I lusted after and would 
never get to handle. I especially loved your calves, 
full and beautiful. Stroking them turned me on. I would 
play with your legs and your big tits every night and 
then I would masturbate to a climax."

"Of course when I had PSAS episodes I hated what I had 
to do to myself. I didn't mind the orgasms. In fact I 
enjoyed them. What I disliked was having to give them to 
myself over and over. I just didn't have the ability to 
stop doing it. As you saw today, I guess I still don't."

"Falling in love with Dad changed everything. I told him 
the full story and he accepted me as I was. Dad told me 
about all the sex you had as teenagers but Dad was so 
much more that a cock and a libido. In a way I'm glad 
that you never discovered what a compassionate and 
understanding lover Dad was. If you had, I never would 
have gotten a chance to find out. He taught me so much 
about how to feel like a woman. You didn't curse me with 
the switch. You left me with a magnificent body and a 
new and different life. It took me with a while to get 
used to it but my years with Dad were the happiest I 
could ever imagine."

Steve looked relived that I didn't heap blame on him. We 
both knew that the experiment leading to the personality 
switch was a mistake but we also knew that nothing could 
be done about it. Each of us gained something but not 
what we expected.

As Steve talked, I began to fidget, crossing my legs and 
wiggling my butt on the bed. My hands drifted up to the 
front of my nightgown and I unconsciously started 
rubbing the area over my nipples. Steve seemed to get 
the clue right away.

"Are you starting a PSAS episode, Cassie?"

What could I do but admit it. I was within a minute of 
plunging my fingers into my pussy.

"Let me help you," said Steve. "I remember that you once 
helped me in dealing with my teen age erections. I know 
all about PSAS and what you need. Just think of what I'm 
doing a therapy."

He stood me up and stripped off my confining garments 
the he laid me back down on the bed. I felt odd, a 
mature woman lying nude, squirming in front of a young 
man that had been me several years before. Steve must 
have felt the same way. After all, I was by all physical 
appearances, his Mom.

"How do you want it? I can use my fingers, or I can do 
it the old fashioned way."

I could tell Steve wanted to do it the old fashioned 
way, at least judging by the tent in his pajamas. I was 
tempted too. Unfortunately, I couldn't keep from 
thinking that it was my Mom in Steve's body and I just 
couldn't do it.

"Use your fingers," I decided. "It'd be too weird 
otherwise, okay?"

"Okay," Steve said. "The climax will just be mechanical. 
You may not feel sexually aroused. Don't try to control 
it. I've had plenty of experience with PSAS. Just shut 
your eyes and let yourself go. Your body knows what to 
do."

I spread my legs to give Steve easier access. But he 
didn't do what I thought he was going to do. First he 
put his hands on my shoulders and slowly massaged the 
tension out of me. The hands gravitated to my breasts. 
He worked his fingers around the bottom of my boobs and 
then up to my nipples. I could feel them getting hard 
and more and more sensitive. The fingers 'milked' me 
pulling outward and downward with each stroke. 

After a few minutes of tit stroking he put his hands on 
my leg and slowly worked them up to the inside of my 
thigh, caressing and kneading the soft flesh as he moved 
higher and higher. When he got to the top he gently 
worked the fingers around my pussy lips and slowly 
spread them apart. Regardless of Steve warning that my 
climax would be strictly mechanical, when touched my 
clit, I was strongly aroused. I felt erotic shocks right 
away. Maybe it was the anticipation, but I could tell I 
was getting very wet.

When Dad and I made love I was in the process of 
discovering my new body and finding out what felt good. 
Steve, on the other hand, knew exactly what to do to 
give a quick climax to my body. It was apparent that he 
had done this many times before when he inhabited Mom's 
body. 

I was desperate for the orgasm. I needed it badly. I 
arched my back, getting into the feeling of Steve's 
finger on my clitoris. He pulled his legs up and sat 
Indian style next to me, always gently moving his finger 
on my clit.

The next thing I knew, Steve put a finger of his other 
hand inside me and slowly moved it in and out. I just 
lay there, at least I thought I was lying there. I made 
no attempt to move but my body responded automatically 
to the erotic massage by twisting and writhing in time 
with the finger movement. I was really feeling it now, 
that familiar hungry, empty feeling inside that told me 
I was getting seriously aroused.
 
Without thinking, I instinctively reached over and 
grabbed his cock through his pajamas and just squeezed 
it rhythmically, in time with his stroking of my clit. I 
was rotating my hips in time with it too, the feeling 
building and building, my need getting stronger and 
stronger.

I suddenly made a decision and grabbed his arm, pulling 
his fingers away from my clit. I reached for his pajama 
bottoms and started pulling them down. Steve was only 
happy to help. He quickly shed his garments and moved on 
top of me. His cock was rock hard.

He pushed into me and the craving to be filled was 
satisfied. I couldn't help but grunt with the force of 
the insertion, the shock all up and down my vaginal 
walls as his cock slid inside. It was like a jackhammer 
as he moved in and out as fast as he could. I wrapped my 
legs around his waist and could feel the flesh of my 
calves hitting against his back. Any embarrassment or 
unease I felt at being fucked by Steve vanished. All I 
could think about was that impending orgasm. The 
sensation grew stronger and stronger. I could sense the 
climax building. I hadn't been fucked in over a year and 
my body really, really needed it. 

I screamed, "I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING!" I hadn't 
screamed like that since Dad died.

When the climax hit, I could feel it down to my toes, 
keeping me from being able to breathe. I was still in 
the middle of my orgasm and I was rising to a second 
peak when I felt Steve pulse and come inside me. 
Contrary to most of my PSAS climaxes, it was thoroughly 
satisfactory.

Steve stayed with me helping me have one climax after 
another. Sometimes he fucked me. Other times he sucked 
my cunt, Still other times he played with my tits while 
he finger fucked me to repeated orgasms. It was much 
better than having to do it all myself. 

Steve tried to make amends. "Cassie, is there anything I 
can do to help you? Anything at all?"

"Steve," I said, "Rest a while. We both can have another 
glass of wine then make love to me again before you 
leave. I want you to simply fuck me. It's not PSAS this 
time. It's what I dreamed of doing to my Mom when I was 
you. I want us both to cum together. At the same time. 
We have the whole night before us."

"What!" he exclaimed. "Fuck you."

"I know you made me cum but that was simply therapy. 
This time I want you to really enjoy it. I want you to 
pant and shiver when you ejaculate into me. I want to be 
able to scream. I want you to make my nipples explode 
and I want you to make my thighs rigid. I guess you know 
about that. You wrote about it in your notebook." 

"I know when you look at me you think of me as the 
person you used to see in your mirror. But I'm not the 
same person at all. I've changed a lot. I don't hate 
being me anymore. I still have some PSAS issues but now 
I get real enjoyment from my body. When I catch a 
glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror I have a real 
longing to fuck the woman that I see. If I was a lesbian 
I would be down on me in a second."

"When I was Steve I lusted after my Mommy. Before we 
switched I used to sneak looks at you when you put on 
your exercise clothes. Once I even saw you masturbating. 
It was a high point of my life. I got a hard on whenever 
you put on your exercise shorts and bra. I had to go to 
my room to take care of it. That's how I knew what to do 
to relieve your teen age erections. I always wanted to 
make love to you but I never had the chance to do it."

"Now I'm begging the new Steve to fuck his Mommy. I want 
you so badly. You can play all you want with my 
beautiful breasts. I don't think you ever appreciated 
them when they were yours but they are really lovely and 
very sensitive. Pull them, caress them, squeeze them, 
suck them. Wrap my legs around your body. Play with my 
full sexy calves. I know you don't love them as much as 
I do but when I was Steve I would have given anything to 
suck your pussy and have your legs wrapped around me." 

"When you fuck me you can use me any way you want. You 
can even pretend that I'm not your Mommy. Think of me as 
one of your big-titted girl friends. Maybe you can work 
it out of your system so you won't be so attracted to 
bimbos with huge boobs and nice legs."

"Cassie, I didn't come here with the idea of making love 
to you," Steve said. "I just wanted to visit. You are 
me, at least the me that I gave up. Now that I'm a man I 
see that you are the woman I wanted to be. You seem at 
peace with yourself. You have even managed to 
accommodate to your PSAS urges. That was something I 
could never do. I know that you are physically my mother 
and I think you are a very sexy woman but I'm all mixed 
up." 

"Steve," I pleaded. "I really need you. I want you to 
make love to me before you go. My tits are starting to 
hurt. They need to be stroked and rubbed and sucked. 
Play with my breasts. See how beautiful they are. Chew 
my nipples. Play with my lovely legs. Wrap them around 
you. Fuck your Mommy. Please put your cock inside me and 
fuck your Mommy."

I sat naked in front of Steve. His eyes were fixed on my 
big tits. They were indeed beautiful, full, and 
symmetrical. 

"Steve, darling, why don't you suck on my nipple. You 
may not have liked doing it to yourself but I sure you 
will like doing it to me." I raised a breast in my hands 
and offered it to him. His eyes bulged but he took it 
and soon I heard his passionate slurping sounds. I held 
his head to my breast with one hand while I reached for 
his penis with the other. My hand had no trouble finding 
its way through the loose fly in Steve's pajamas. His 
cock was erect and hard. His psyche might have scruples 
about fucking his Mommy but his body obviously didn't. I 
stroked his cock while he mouthed my nipple. His cock 
got even harder.

I raised my leg and stretched it over Steve's lap. "Look 
how nice my legs are. I've worked hard to keep them in 
good condition. I look at my thighs whenever I make 
myself cum. You were right about them. They really do 
get rigid, just like slabs of marble when I'm about to 
have a climax. Feel them. They are soft now but if you 
play with my pussy for a while they will get as hard as 
your cock." I put my hand around his cock and rubbed the 
head against my calf.

"Doesn't that feel nice? Your prick loves my legs as 
much as your hands."

I bent over and took his cock between my lips. No 
pretense now. Steve's cock in my mouth let me realize 
the boyhood dream of  giving myself a blow job. Steve's 
cock was smooth and tasty. I licked up his pre-cum and 
sucked the end to try to get more. I lightly chewed his 
cock and let my teeth scrape over the end. My hand slid 
around the shaft and started an up and down motion. 

I was masturbating his penis as well as sucking. I felt 
his hand clutch my breast just as he had done many years 
ago. This time I welcomed his touch. I glanced up at his 
face. It had the same expression on it as when I 
relieved his teen age erection many years ago. A mixture 
of of amazed disbelief and intense pleasure. His Mom was 
giving him a blow job. How sick is that?

I could feel my legs twitching and getting stiff. Signs 
of my arousal. I was getting caught in my own trap. I 
meant to make Steve fuck me and here I was, giving him a 
blow job. If I kept it up, we would both cum and I 
wouldn't get fucked. So I stopped in the middle of a 
suck.

"Please Steve. Fuck me. Fuck me now. I want you to make 
me cum. I think you like to fuck just as much as I like 
getting fucked. I'm asking you to make love to me. Don't 
think of me as your Mom but as a bimbo with big tits and 
sexy legs. Then stick your cock in me. We only have a 
few more hours before you have to catch your plane."

Steve seemed a bit hesitant so I took matters into my 
own hands. I pushed Steve on the bed and began rubbing 
his penis again. It became even harder. I thrust it 
directly into my vagina. It slipped in easily. My cunt 
was sopping wet as if I had been fingering it for a long 
time.  

"That feels so good!" I exclaimed. I pinched my left 
breast until the nipple was hard, then jammed it into 
Steve's open mouth. 

"Fuck me, suck me, fuck me, suck me" I crooned as I 
writhed on top of him. My hands caressed his body, with 
occasional detours to my unoccupied nipple and turgid 
clitoris. His hips lifted and dropped, thrusting his 
penis into my vagina. I clutched him tightly with both 
arms. I could feel the initial vibrations of my body. My 
writhing movements pulled the nipple from his sucking 
mouth. I started to shake toward orgasm and I felt my 
thighs go rigid. It wouldn't be long now. Just as I was 
losing control I cried out urgently to Steve, "Look at 
me."

He opened his eyes. Looking into Steve's eyes while I 
fucked him was shockingly intimate, a kind of ultimate 
nakedness. Nothing could be hidden. "Don't close your 
eyes," I said. "Look at me. I have your Mommy's body now 
and you're fucking it. When I was Steve I always wanted 
to fuck you. I wanted to suck your tits and shove my 
cock in your cunt. But I never got the chance. Now 
you're doing it to me. You have your cock in your 
Mommy's cunt. Your Mommy's nipple is in your mouth. You 
know your body always wanted to do it to my body. Do me 
now. Our bodies want each other. It's not your body any 
more. I own it now. Fuck me!  Make me cum hard. Make 
your Mommy's body cum!"

For a brief moment when Steve's cock was buried in my 
cunt and his mouth was sucking my tit I had the feeling 
that we had switched bodies again. I was teen aged Steve 
doing all those things to my Mom that I dreamed of. 
Steve was me and I was Steve. But then as I felt my 
orgasm start to grow I regained my own persona. 

I gasped, "I'm getting there - now fuck me hard. Yes, 
yes, YES. It feels so good. You are making me cum. I'm 
going to cum now. Your cock is deep in Mommy's cunt. You 
are fucking your Mommy's body. You are doing to me what 
I always wanted to do to you. You are making your Mommy 
cum. Oh, Steve, you are fucking me at last."

The electric jolts flowed through my body from tits to 
cunt and everywhere in between. My rigid thighs told me 
that I was going to have a climax in just a few seconds.

"YOUR MOMMY IS CUMMING ON YOUR PRICK! YOU ARE FUCKING 
YOUR MOMMY!  MOMMY IS CUMMING NOW!  YES, YES!" 

Just at the final YES, I felt Steve's ejaculation 
explode in my cunt. 

I forced myself to hold his gaze while my hips jerked 
and I gasped with the spasms of pleasure that shook my 
entire frame. Our eyes remained locked while they we 
shuddered in release. The climax was intense.

We clutched each other in our arms, exhausted from our 
efforts. After a few minutes, I felt Steve's hands and 
lips roaming over me. This time he was relaxed and 
touched me without hesitation, freely exploring all my 
nooks and crevices. Fucking his "Mommy" had released him 
from his guilt and inhibitions. He played with my 
nipples, tweaking them and rolling them to full 
erection. He sucked my tits, first one than the other 
and managed to get both nipples in his mouth at the same 
time. His fingers explored my vagina and fondled my 
clit, He ran his hands over my legs. He even put a 
finger in my ass. Nothing was forbidden. 

We made love again that evening. It was a long powerful 
fuck. A marathon of lovemaking that lasted at least an 
hour. This time Steve took the initiative and dominated 
me, stroking, sucking, squeezing, biting. His hands 
roamed over me, penetrating every opening. He pulled my 
tits and sucked my cunt. He drove his cock into me while 
my showgirl legs, wrapped around his body and held him 
close. My calves beat a tattoo on his back. We rode to 
near a peak and then dropped back. Then we rose again, 
dropped back, and rose still again. Finally we went over 
the edge. There was no backing off this time. I was all 
his busty European bimbos rolled into one.

Just before I lost control I kissed Steve and said 
softly in almost a matter of fact voice, "You are making 
your Mommy's body cum again. I'm going to cum again. 
Mommy loves cumming on your cock. Fuck me hard, Steve. 
Mommy is going to cum."

"I'M CUMMNG," I screamed. "I'M CUMMING, MOMMY IS 
CUMMING!" 

I climaxed but I obviously wasn't done. I felt myself 
rising toward the peak again. It was sooner than I 
expected. Steve's hard cock kept driving in and out of 
my cunt. I felt my thighs go terminally rigid for the 
second time in five minutes. 

"YES, YES! GIVE IT TO ME STEVE.  FUCK ME. FUCK YOUR 
MOMMY! I'M CUMMING AGAIN. I'M CUMMING!" 

I had two independent massive orgasms on this fuck, one 
right after the other, screaming my delight at each of 
them. How I avoided waking the children I'll never know. 

When it was all over I grabbed Steve and held him, 
panting and shaking with emotion, feeling that I never 
wanted to let go. But of course I did. Steve's flight 
was later that day. We showered, dressed and attended to 
the kids, seeing them off to school.

I drove Steve to the airport. While we were waiting for 
him to board his plane, he asked if I had any regrets 
about the last evening. 

"Not a one," I replied. "I enjoyed it thoroughly and I 
sincerely thank you for helping me out with the PSAS 
urge. I'm glad we made peace with each other. You are a 
wonderful mother fucker. A really masterful one. Be 
gentle with the bimbos with big tits and nice legs that 
you meet in California. Think of me when you make love 
to them."

As he was boarding the plane, Steve promised to write 
and visit me if he ever returned to the East Coast.


CHAPTER 15

After I gave up grieving for Dad I tried to resume my 
social life. The college was a focal point of my social 
activities. Now that I had taken over Mom's role at the 
college I was officially a Professor Emeritus, that's 
Latin for a retired professor. You get to go to meetings 
but receive no salary. I attended various parties and 
the annual Christmas and New Year's celebrations.

I probably had a bit too much to drink at the college 
Christmas party. In fact I know I had too much to drink. 
As I more or less staggered to the door, a short, rather 
attractive lady came up and said "Professor Donahue, let 
me drive you home. You can pick up your car in the 
morning." It was Susan, my Mom's former graduate 
assistant, now a grown woman. 

"Thank you very much." I slurred back my acceptance. I 
lived about ten miles out of town and unlike most 
inebriated drivers I knew I was in no condition to get 
behind the wheel. 

Susan had come to Mom's college on a gymnastic 
scholarship. She had even been touted as an Olympic 
hopeful. But after a serious accident, she gave up the 
sport and turned to her studies. Like most gymnasts 
Susan was compact and muscular, but very well formed. 
Perhaps the best way to describe Susan would be to 
visualize a Playboy Bunny, then shrink her vertically by 
about eight inches but keep all of her other dimensions 
intact. She had nice breasts and strong legs. She could 
probably crack coconuts between her massive thighs. I 
remember as Steve, I thought of her as a "blivet." One 
hundred and fifty pounds of girl stuffed into a one 
hundred pound body.

Susan looked like a miniature of one of those sexy women 
featured in Steve's Superhero comic books. The ones he 
masturbated over on the nights when he wasn't 
fantasizing about Mom. In fact he felt a little guilty 
thinking about Mom while he stroked his penis but he had 
no such compunctions about Susan. He would have loved to 
have Susan wrap her legs about him while he drove his 
cock into her cunt. But alas, it never happened then and 
it certainly couldn't happen now.

Stephanie and I both liked Susan. Mom used to bring her 
home for dinner once in a while. She would play catch 
with me and always brought a stuffed animal to 
Stephanie. She threw a wicked fastball. As Steve, I 
suspected that Susan was gay but at the time I didn't 
know much about those things. All I knew was that her 
eyes followed Mom constantly, as if she was undressing 
Mom in her mind, while she totally ignored the male 
graduate students.

Susan was a sweet bubbly woman. very Intelligent, but, 
except for her sexual proclivities, very innocent. She 
was in her late 20s but her psyche seemed that of a wide 
eyed teen ager. You just wanted to scoop her in your 
arms and love her. Susan's basic problem in academia was 
that she was so short and cute that no one would take 
her seriously. After all, who would accept professional 
guidance from a middle-schooler, no matter how 
attractive and well developed. 

After she drove me home, I invited Susan in after 
dismissing the baby sitter. I put on a pot of coffee. I 
needed a cup myself. I certainly wasn't thinking 
clearly. Stephanie was staying at a girlfriend's house 
and Robert was a very sound sleeper. 

I don't know if Mom had ever gone to bed with a woman 
before. I don't think that she was sexually attracted to 
any woman. But at that moment if Susan wanted me, she 
could have me. I needed to feel someone's hands on my 
body and, in my woozy state didn't much care if it was a 
man or a woman. If Susan was indeed a lesbian I was 
setting myself up to be seduced.
 
I made coffee and offered her a cup. Susan sat on the 
couch and I had the chair in front of her. I asked her 
about how things were at the college, what courses she 
was teaching, and what her plans were. While she talked 
to me about the college, I began to pose a bit. Not too 
suggestively but I made sure that she got a good look at 
my legs, butt and boobs. In clothes, of course. I 
stretched my long legs out and pretended to massage a 
sore muscle in my calf. I had both hands down rubbing my 
leg while Susan prattled on about her courses. As I rose 
to pour us more coffee, I smoothed my blouse down, 
giving Susan a good view of the contours of my breasts. 

Susan seemed to be getting a bit nervous. "Professor 
Donahue," she said. "I really ought to be getting home."

"Call me Cassie," I said. "I'm not your professor any 
more. Just your friend,"

Susan could clearly see my erect nipples pushing out the 
front of the shirt. I crossed my legs as I sat down 
making sure Susan got a glimpse of my still firm thighs. 
I did everything I could to entice Susan short of saying 
"fuck me." 

By this time Susan was licking her lips and staring at 
me. The answers to my questions became monosyllabic. 
Whatever I was doing was having an effect. When I got up 
the next time, I made a slight grimace of pain and 
complained about doing too much at the gym. I knew that 
Susan had been on the gymnastic team and asked her if 
she would massage my sore muscles just a bit. If I could 
convince Susan to get her hands on me it would just be a 
matter of time.

Susan nodded. Yes she would give me a leg massage. 

I sat down on the couch next to her and raised my legs 
over her lap so that she could reach them easily. My 
legs are still one of my better physical assets. They 
were still just about as nice as they were when Steve 
first looked at his nude Mommy. That was so long ago but 
thinking about it still turned me on.

Susan put her hands on my legs and started her massage. 
Her fingers felt delightful. First my calves, then she 
worked up my thighs. In a few minutes all the pretense 
of a massage was forgotten. Susan was simply feeling me 
up. Her fingers reached under my dress to the edge of my 
panties. 

"Does it hurt up higher?" she asked hesitatingly. 

"Oh yes, Susan. Let me get my stockings off and you can 
work out the real soreness."

I rose to remove my hose making sure that I rubbed my 
breast across her shoulders as I stood up. In case she 
didn't get the message, I bounced my tit off her arm as 
I sat back in position. I had my ass almost up to her 
legs. A bit further and I would be sitting in her lap. 
Susan seem hypnotized. She was fighting a battle between 
her sexual desires and the propriety of making love to 
her former professor. Her fingers made the decision for 
her. They moved up my thigh, past the pants line toward 
my mound. Finally Susan gave up all pretense. She 
slipped her fingers under my panties and touched my 
pussy lips.

"That helps a lot Susan. Don't be shy. Your touch feels 
so good."

By this time Susan had one hand over my cunt, the other 
holding my ass. She squeezed my pubic region between her 
hands. It was delightful. She slipped her fingers under 
my panties and squeezed again. The pressure drove her 
fingers into the crack of my cunt and she started moving 
them around. I could feel them penetrating my moistening 
vagina. 

As I lay back on the couch I opened my blouse and 
unhooked the front opening clasp on my bra. My breasts 
spilled out. They were not as large as they had been 
when I was nursing but they were still quite big and now 
firmer and more shapely. I liked my breasts and I'm sure 
Susan did too. Without taking her fingers from my cunt 
she reached her other hand around and started feeling my 
tit. First just the broad slopes, then the areola and 
the nipple.

The hook had been set.

"Susan, we can get more comfortable if we go up to my 
bedroom. You can continue the massage there."

I sat up and took her by the hand and led her up to my 
room. The king sized bed would give us plenty of space 
to continue the "massage." On the way up Susan spun me 
around and planted a big kiss on my lips. Her tongue 
pushed into my mouth. She tasted of peppermint.

"I hope you don't mind," said Susan.

How could I mind. Just a minute ago she had her fingers 
in my cunt and would almost certainly have them there 
again.

In the bedroom I took off my panties and blouse ad stood 
before her stark naked. "This will give you better 
access to my sore spots," I said. "And," I went on, "you 
should take off your clothes too. You don't want them to 
wrinkle. Susan agreed that this was a good idea and 
stripped down to the buff.

Susan's body was much as I remembered seeing it years 
ago. As Steve I would watch her breasts bobble when she 
threw me a baseball and I could barely tear my eyes away 
from her legs when she came over in shorts. How I longed 
to have those legs wrapped around me. They were almost 
as nice as Mom's. I always dreamed of making love to 
her. Of course it was an impossibility. She was years 
older than me and thought of me as just a boy. Still I 
included her in the cast of my masturbation fantasies. 
Now that I was Cassie the situation was entirely 
different.

Susan had matured a bit and some of her gymnastic 
muscular tone had softened. She would be a real pleasure 
to sleep with. But her body was still athletic and she 
knew how to use it well.

We both lay down together. Susan continued the massage 
where she left off. In a minute her fingers were back in 
my cunt and she was working them around. This time she 
put her mouth on my breast. She licked down to the 
nipple. Then the nipple went inside her soft lips and 
she sucked and sucked, all the time working the teat 
with her tongue and gently chewing it with her teeth. I 
put my arms around her body and held her close. 

I couldn't quite reach her cunt from my position but I 
palmed one of her breasts and ran my fingers back and 
forth. Susan's tits were awesome. They were large and 
slightly pendulous. Just enough to be sexy. They were 
made to put your hands around and pull her toward you. 

The nipples were centered in large areolas, each about 
the size of a saucer. And her nipples... I thought my 
nipples were big. Erect they were the size of small 
acorns. But Susan's nipples were much, much larger. When 
I rolled them the nipples became hard and enlarged even 
more. My God! They were the size of golf balls, the 
biggest I had ever seen. I just had to get my mouth on 
them. 

Susan had very knowing fingers. I would have graded them 
A. It had been ages since someone had touched my body 
and rarely so adeptly. Without meaning to I felt myself 
getting more and more aroused. I was almost to the point 
of cumming. Not yet, my mind commanded, but my body 
would have none of it. It was forcing me to a climax. I 
found myself shaking. My hips rose to meet Susan's hand. 
I tried to get one of Susan's nipples in my mouth but it 
was too late. 

"Susan," I cried, "slow down. I'm not ready to cum yet. 
I'm not ready I'm going to have a climax. Susan you are 
making me cum. Oh my God, I'm going to have an orgasm! 
Susan, you hare giving me an orgasm, YES!" My orgasm 
exploded unexpectedly as I squirmed and shuddered in 
Susan's embrace.

Susan knew that she had given me a climax in the guise 
of a leg massage. "I'm sorry that I did that to you," 
she said. "Should I go home now?"

"Don't be silly Susan. One climax is just the start. We 
can have more together if you want to stay a while. Do 
you want to stay. We can have a late dinner together and 
you can sleep over. I'll need someone to take me back to 
my car anyway."

"That would be wonderful," said Susan. "I would like 
that a lot." 

We scrounged around the kitchen looking for a good 
evening meal. I had a pizza in the freezer. Susan 
thought would be more than satisfactory. Putting the 
pizza in the oven took almost half an hour because Susan 
kept grabbing my tits. She would turn me around by 
pulling on my boobs and then kiss me. When she wasn't 
doing that she would have her hand between my legs. I 
wasn't quite as demonstrative but there was hardly a 
part of her body that I didn't fondle. Eventually, 
though, the pizza got cooked. The pizza and a couple of 
glasses of wine were just the thing for a late meal. 
After dinner Susan and I adjourned to bed. We didn't 
want to waste a minute.

I snuggled up to Susan and embraced her warm body. 
Knowing that she had given me a big orgasm that evening, 
she asked me if I was ready to make love so soon again. 
I held Susan closely and explained that I could cum over 
and over in a short time. I had had a lot of practice 
with repeated climaxes during PSAS episodes. It was one 
of the very few benefits of the disease. Susan said that 
she wished that she could do the same but alas she was 
good for only a couple of times a night. Then Susan 
smiled. "But I can do it to you as often as I want, 
right?"

"Yes dear. You can do whatever you want to me. Whatever 
you do, I'm sure that I will love it."

Susan put her hand on my mound. "Can I kiss you down 
here?" she asked.

"You can kiss me anywhere you like. My body is all yours 
tonight. Just promise that you will let me suck your 
nipple when you make me cum."

"It's a deal," said Susan enthusiastically.

I lay down on the bed and Susan crawled between my legs. 
Her hands worked on my thighs and she pulled her way up 
to my cunt. I felt her lips gently touching me. She 
sucked for a while, running her tongue around my 
clitoris. I was getting quite turned on. Susan raised 
her head and asked, "Would you like me to give you a 
climax now?"

"Yes, Susan. Please make me cum."

Susan slithered up in bed and planted her soft lips on 
mine. She kissed and kissed, sucking my tongue into her 
mouth. I felt her hand explore my pussy. Her fingers 
moved inside, always working around. She found my "G" 
spot and stroked it with her middle finger. I could feel 
Susan shifting position on my body but her hand didn't 
miss a beat in my pussy. I tried to wrap her in my legs 
but she was too high up on my body. I always liked it 
when I could squeeze something between my legs when I 
came. Her hand was moving quicker and quicker. 

My body insisted that I cum soon. I tried to hold back 
but I couldn't. My mouth was forced open. Susan had 
shoved one of her big, big nipples in my mouth. She 
didn't forget. The nipple was huge and fleshy, an 
exquisite sexy meatball. I sucked and chewed it while 
Susan finger fucked me. Her nipple belonged in my mouth. 
It was too big for any baby.

"Suck me, suck me while I make you cum. Suck me harder. 
Suck my titties off!" Susan almost shouted.

With Susan expertly working my cunt and her nipple in my 
mouth, my body couldn't hold out any longer. I had a 
furious climax. It was almost too much to bear.

"Did you like that?" asked Susan. "I remembered what you 
said about putting my nipple in your mouth. Can I make 
you cum again?"

"In a while, Susan. That climax was intense. I'll need 
to rest up for a while. In the meantime let me do 
something for you. Spread your legs dear and let me eat 
your pussy for a while."

I guessed that Susan liked the 69 position. I gently 
moved her legs apart and lowered my mouth to her 
fragrant cunt. She had taken a bubble bath before the 
party and smelled faintly of jasmine. 

My lips skirted over her mound and then concentrated on 
her soft pussy. I spread her cunt lips apart with my 
fingers and pushed my tongue as far into her vagina as I 
could. Then I sucked and tongued her pussy, circling 
around her sensitive clit. I pulled her muscular thighs 
toward my head and buried myself in her flesh. She had 
her legs wrapped around me and was squeezing me tight. 

Susan knew how to make her legs give pleasure. It was so 
wonderfully sexy that I could have sucked her for hours. 
I was realizing my fantasy both as Cassie and as Steve. 
As Steve, ever since I saw my Mom masturbating nude I 
wanted to crawl into her bed and bury my tongue in her 
cunt. And, after the switch, as Cassie, I loved being 
eaten so much that I would have given anything to be 
able to do it to myself. Some of my moments of greatest 
bliss with Dad were when he feasted on my cunt. 
Naturally I couldn't do it to myself but the next best 
thing was eating Susan. I knew she was going to make me 
cum again. It was just a matter of time.

Susan had her own agenda. She ran her hands up and down 
my legs, stroking toward the thighs. I always liked a 
leg massage and, while this one wasn't forceful, it was 
sure erotic. I spread my legs apart a bit to give Susan 
easier access to my inner thighs. But that wasn't 
Susan's idea at all. As soon as my thighs spread she 
pushed her head between them and latched on to my cunt. 
Her hands were around my ass, pulling her head further 
inward. And then she started sucking. She was really 
working the 69 position. And then I gave in. Susan was 
having her way with me and I had no choice but to let 
her do it. After all I had told her that she could do 
whatever she wanted with me and she had taken me at my 
word.

Susan was raising me to another climax. A much more 
gentle one this time. And my sucking seemed to be having 
the same effect on her. We were building slowly, very 
slowly. We had the whole night ahead of us. We buried 
ourselves in each other's bodies for what seemed like 
hours.
 
Susan drove me toward a climax and then backed off. I 
did the same to her. I must confess that one time she 
pushed me over the limit and I came. I tried to be very 
quiet about my orgasm since I didn't want her to stop 
sucking me. I must have fallen asleep for a short time, 
my tongue buried in Susan's cunt Somewhere in the 
background I heard the grandfather clock in the living 
room strike midnight. Our night was half over. I needed 
to cum once again and I wanted to make Susan cum.

I started sucking her a bit harder, my tongue circling 
her clit. I felt Susan's thighs compress around my head. 
Then they started vibrating a bit. In turn Susan 
increased her attentions to my clit. This time we wanted 
and needed to make each other cum. When I felt Susan's 
clit engorge I gently chewed around the pussy lips and 
then gravitated directly to her clitoris. I sucked and 
tongued it like I was giving a blow job to a tiny prick. 
Susan's hips started to move in time to my sucking. Her 
leg motions began to get stronger. She squeezed my head 
between her strong thighs. The contractions almost 
pulled my mouth away from her cunt. I wrapped my arms 
around her ass and pulled her toward me as strongly as I 
could. 

At the same time Susan was working her magic on me. She 
made my clit feel the size of a beach ball and every 
inch of it was super sensitive. Then Susan took the 
entire beach ball into her mouth and engulfed it in her 
body. She chewed me and sucked me and drove my body to 
the heights of ecstasy. My thighs clamped on her head 
while her thighs squeezed me. We both climaxed at 
exactly the same time. Even after the simultaneous 
orgasms Susan and I continued to suck each other, almost 
by reflex, and we forced each other to a second smaller 
climax. It was wonderful.


CHAPTER 16

Susan became a good friend of mine and a frequent lover. 
I had her over for dinner three, maybe four times a 
month. We went shopping and to the movies together. 
Stephanie and Robert liked her a lot. After dinner we 
would put the kids to bed and then have a glass or two 
of wine. When we were sure that the children were asleep 
we would adjourn to the bedroom for a few hours of body 
rubbing and tit sucking. 

But most of the time our evenings together weren't major 
sex sessions. Often we would just lay side by side on my 
big bed and just talk. We laughed and giggled a lot. I 
would play with my big tits while Susan played with 
hers. Often we switched and caressed each other's 
bodies. Or lay face to face, Susan's big nipple in my 
mouth and mine in hers. I liked to kiss and fondle her 
athletic legs and she, in turn liked to play with mine. 
On occasion a hand would reach down to probe a cunt, 
either Susan's hand or mine. Sometimes it was hard to 
tell the difference. 

In our quieter moments, Susan said that she couldn't get 
over the fact that she was in bed with her former 
mentor. She told me that she literally slavered over me, 
actually Mom, when she was at the college. She would 
follow me around with her eyes whenever I was in the 
room. She sat in my recently vacated chair to absorb my 
body heat. She confessed that she took a set of my 
sweaty gym clothes from my locker, smuggled them home, 
draped them over her face to get the full scent, and 
masturbated for hours. She would have become my absolute 
sex slave if I, Mom, had only shown a little interest. 
Even a pat on the ass would have helped.

With Susan nothing was forbidden. We had a very giving 
and relaxed relationship. Basically like incestuous 
sisters. We would prop ourselves up on big pillows and 
talk about whatever entered our minds, news, the movies, 
and college gossip. We would speak freely about intimate 
things. I once asked Susan if she ever climaxed with a 
man. She said that she had and it was pretty good. In 
fact she had a hot thing with her gymnastics coach until 
she found out that he was married. But she preferred sex 
with women and particularly sex with me. She, in turn, 
asked me if I had ever gone to bed with a woman before. 
I told her that I hadn't. That she was my first. But I 
told her honestly that I had masturbated so much that I 
knew every nook and cranny of a woman's body. 
Particularly my own. 

I would fondle Susan and she would fondle me. It became 
a game with no winners and no losers. Our hands roamed 
over each other's bodies, exploring intimate places 
while our conversation continued. We would finger our 
own vaginas and then switch places. Susan liked me to 
run my cunt juice lubricated fingers around her bulging 
nipples and twist them until they got as hard as little 
rocks. We held out as long as we could, discussing 
profound political issues, while we were conjointly 
manipulating our most erogenous zones, forcing each 
other's body to the absolute edge. 

We gave our all to each other. We loved and sucked and 
fondled each other until we each climaxed a couple of 
times. And when we caught our breath, we continued our 
talk where we left off. It was like people who live near 
an airport. When a plane flies overhead, all 
conversation stops, only to pick up when it is again 
silent.

I was fascinated by Susan's tits and large fleshy 
nipples. She, in turn, was fascinated by my legs, 
especially how my thighs got rigid just before I 
orgasmed. I think she sucked me once or twice to a 
climax when my legs were wrapped around her head just so 
she could feel their stiffness, I didn't mind at all. 

When I asked her how her nipples had gotten so big, 
Susan told me that she had done it to herself by 
accident. She said her nipples were much smaller when 
she was a school girl. Eventually I got the full story. 
She had been raised in the Midwest in a very strict 
religious family. Pleasure of any kind was the path to 
sin. Gays, lesbians and fornicators alike were evil and 
must be punished. Susan grew up as a joyous child in a 
joyless family. 

She was a small child but she was very sexually 
precocious. She loved playing with her fledgling 
genitals and tiny nipples. Before she was 10 she had 
trained the family dog to lick her cunt by smearing it 
with gravy. After the dog finished licking her tiny clit 
she gave herself an orgasm by rubbing between her legs 
with a wet washcloth under the pretense that she was 
cleaning herself. Susan got so much pleasure from her 
young body that she knew she was going straight to hell.

As she got older Susan became confused by her own sexual 
urges and her attraction to other women. Puberty came 
early. She started having her periods when she was 11 
and her breasts grew. She would give herself climaxes 
while staring at pictures of semi-clad actresses in the 
supermarket scandal magazines that her older sister 
sometimes brought home, imagining herself in their arms. 

To punish herself she turned to sexual self torture. She 
would masturbate, then chastise her body for enjoying 
the feelings by whipping herself with a long ruler. She 
raised red welts over all the parts of her skin that 
would be covered by clothing. Her tits and cunt, as the 
primary offenders, were given extra attention. 

Susan would tie long shoelaces around her breasts, 
pulling the laces tight enough to turn the breasts 
purple. She would play with her nipples and cunt until 
she climaxed. After cumming she would strike the bulging 
blobs of tit flesh with the edge of the ruler until 
blood seeped through the tightly stretched skin. The 
coup de grace came one evening when she tried to 
literally hang herself by her nipples. She tied a loop 
of strong cord around each one then stood on a low 
footstool and fastened the ends of the cords to a light 
fixture in the ceiling. She expected to get off the 
stool, stand on the floor, and have the cords stretch 
her breasts upward in front of her so that she could 
flagellate them easier. Then she stepped off the stool.

The cords tightened around her nipples, yanked her 
breasts upward and twisted her off balance. She couldn't 
keep her footing and fell backward. Susan's body dropped 
about a foot. At that point, she told me, time seemed to 
stop. She could see what was happening as if in a slow 
motion movie. As she fell she watched her young breasts 
being pulled upward, stretching, extending. The skin 
became taut, almost transparent. She saw the cords cut 
into her tender nipples as they tried to withstand the 
force of her falling body. She knew that in an instant 
the little nubs would be ripped off her tits. 

Blood would spurt from the end of her boobs as the 
payment to Satan for her sins. In a moment of sanity, 
Susan realized that she had done an unbelievably stupid 
thing. She deeply regretted losing her little nipples so 
soon after she had discovered the pleasure she could get 
from them. She hoped that her breasts would not be torn 
from her body as well. Susan said that the pain was so 
great that she passed out for several minutes. 

She regained consciousness to find the upper part of her 
body hanging by her tits. Her arms had dropped back, her 
knees were bent and her feet just touched the floor. But 
her torso was suspended in the air held up only the 
cords attached to her nipples. The nipples were stronger 
than she suspected. The small size of her body had saved 
them. The little nipples had not torn free but had 
stretched to a grotesque length. 

Almost delirious with pain, Susan had an epiphany. She 
realized that self torture was a bad idea. She managed 
to regain her footing on the stool, then reached up and 
untied the cords. Her breasts were painful for weeks but 
they gradually recovered. All except her nipples. 
Hanging by her tits had stretched the connective tissue. 
Her nipples bulged to their present size and never went 
down. 

The upside benefit after they healed was that the 
nipples had become extremely sensitive. She would hold 
an engorged nipple in one hand and rub the end against 
the palm of the other, reveling in the pleasure she 
could give herself. As she grew Susan found that she 
could get her nipples to her mouth. Each was almost a 
mouthful. By sucking and chewing the blobs of flesh she 
could give herself small climaxes. The downside was that 
she couldn't wear tight sweaters or blouses without a 
concealing bra or it would look like she was smuggling 
prunes on her chest. 

I loved Susan's unusual breasts. I played with Susan's 
enormous nipples whenever I got the chance.  Each was 
big enough so that I could wrap a hand around it and 
masturbate it like a baby's cock. It was as least as 
long as little Robert's erect penis and much thicker. 
Some lubrication helped, usually provided by my saliva. 
Susan writhed in ecstasy it when I jacked off her 
nipples. She would move her head back and forth gasp 
incoherently. 

When her nipples got really stiff she tried to fuck me 
with them by inserting each nipple in turn into my 
vagina. Once in a while, if I was particularly excited, 
she could even make me cum. Unfortunately the position 
was too awkward to maintain for long. We compromised by 
having her titilate my clit (bad joke) with her nipples 
while I ate her cunt. More often I would mouth her huge 
nipples, sucking and chewing them lightly while she 
finger fucked my cunt. What a lovely competition. The 
winner was who could make the other cum first.

Susan seemed as fascinated by my breasts as I was by 
hers. She wanted to know what it was like to have milk 
in her breasts and nurse a baby. She had sucked her own 
nipples, and mine too. But naturally both sets of boobs 
were dry. Susan wanted to know what lactating felt like. 
Had I nursed my children? Had I tasted my own milk while 
nursing my babies? What did it taste like? Had I let my 
deceased husband nurse from my breasts?

I answered her questions as well as I could considering 
that she was playing with my boobs and rubbing my pussy 
with her knee at the time. I told her that I had nursed 
Robert for almost a year. I also had let my late husband 
suck milk from my breasts and I confessed to stealing a 
few sips from them myself. I thought it would be 
indiscrete to say that when I was nursing Robert, if he 
didn't drain me, I sucked my own breasts dry instead of 
using a breast pump. 

I liked the flavor of my own milk and so did my husband. 
It was sweet with a very slightly bitter aftertaste. 
Mother's milk had to taste good so babies would like it. 
One thing I was embarrassed to tell her was that if you 
added a drop of vanilla and some spritzy soda it would 
make a perfect New York egg cream. As Steve I always 
liked egg creams. I guess that's why I loved to suck the 
leftover milk from my own titties.

When I was nursing I felt that my breasts were being 
used for their intended purpose. Besides I was one of 
the fortunate mothers who got sexually turned on by 
lactating. The feeling of giving something of myself to 
a baby or husband was gratifying. 

Susan looked a bit downhearted until I told her that in 
the off chance that she had a baby nipples as big as 
hers would be good for a gallon a day. She told me that 
she might just try to get pregnant but she didn't think 
that the prospect of sipping milk from her own nipples 
was worth a couple of years of changing diapers. I 
promised her that if I ever became pregnant again she 
could drink her fill from my boobs. Not much chance of 
that but there is always hope. 

Susan was a fan of old movies. Mostly those comedies 
made in the 30's like "The Thin Man", "It Happened One 
Night", or "His Girl Friday. " There was little overt 
sex in these movies but they were very well written and 
each starred strong, feisty women. I had a collection of 
these films which I had videotaped from the Turner 
Classic movie channel. Susan and I would lie side by 
side in bed and look at them. 

While we were watching I would fondle Susan and she 
would fondle me. It became a game with no winners and no 
losers. Our hands roamed over each other's bodies, 
exploring intimate places while the movie flickered on 
TV and our conversation continued. We would finger our 
own vaginas and then switch places. 

Susan liked me to run my cunt juice lubricated fingers 
around her bulging nipples and twist them until they got 
as hard as rocks. We held out as long as we could 
critically discussing the films while we were 
manipulating each other's erogenous zones. Finally when 
the physical tension rose to the point where it intruded 
on what we were saying to each other, either Susan or I 
would say "Let's do it." 

We loved and sucked and fondled each other until we each 
climaxed at least once. And when we caught our breath, 
we continued watching the movie where we left off. 
Sometimes we never did see the end of the film. 

On one memorable evening Susan accidentally popped a 
tape into the VCR that I had taken of myself 
masturbating. I had videoed myself years ago when I was 
trying to understand the nature of Mom's PSAS. Mom's 
figure was made for porn but she certainly wouldn't 
behave like a porn actress. I, on the other hand, with 
the full imagination of a teen aged boy, had no such 
restraints. While I really wanted to understand what I 
was doing to myself I also wanted to keep the best 
videos to masturbate over after Mom changed us back. But 
that never happened. I had almost forgotten about making 
the tapes. 

The video Susan accidentally selected was a long tape 
and it was very hot. I had deliberately tried to show 
all the sexual aspects of my new body and did some 
pretty obscene things. I clutched and pulled my breasts, 
chewed my nipples, finger fucked and fisted my vagina, 
used dildos and sex toys, sensuously caressed my legs. I 
even shoved my panties into my vagina and slowly pulled 
them out. 

I held my engorged breasts up to the camera, squeezed 
the bulging nipples, and sucked my own titties. I don't 
think that there was a body orifice I didn't violate. 
The tape ended when I gave myself a genuine screaming 
climax. No acting here. Mom would have been horrified at 
the way I used her body but Susan was absolutely 
transfixed. She stared at the tape almost in disbelief, 
mouth hanging open, licking her lips. At first she 
didn't realize that it was me. Finally it dawned on her 
that I was the person in the video. 

"You nasty girl!" she cried. "I always thought that you 
were so innocent and pure but you're just a depraved 
bitch like me. I want you to do everything to me that 
you did to yourself. I never dreamed that you were so 
wild. Do me like you did yourself! Make me cum!"

The video seemed to open the flood gates of Susan's 
libido. She attacked me with fury, virtually raping me. 
She clutched my vulva, driving the fingers of her hand 
deep into my cunt, then twisted her body and plopped her 
vagina on my face. She was sopping, her pussy juices 
literally flowed into my mouth. 

"Fuck me, you bitch. Fuck me hard,"

What could I do but comply. Besides Susan's thrusting 
fingers in my cunt were getting me excited. I sucked and 
I tongued all of her flesh that I could reach. My lips 
encircled her clitoris and I chewed as hard as I dared. 
Susan's muscular thighs squeezed my head and I felt her 
start to shake. 

"SUCK ME, EAT ME! BITE ME! TWIST MY NIPPLES! CHEW MY 
CLITTY OFF! YES, YES, DO ME HARDER! - REALLY GIVE IT TO 
ME I'M GETTING THERE! OH YES! YES, YES, YES! YEESSS!"

With a final spasm she collapsed limply on my body. I 
hadn't climaxed but I didn't care. I held Susan in my 
arms while she recovered from her high. We made love, 
more or less violently, for the rest of the evening. My 
own cunt was sore the next day, as was hers, and I'm 
sure that she had toothmarks around her nipples. From 
that time on viewing my masturbatory video tapes became 
a part of our evening entertainment. It still turned me 
on and served as catnip to Susan. I gave her the 
fictional excuse that it was for my university research. 
I don't know if she believed me but she became much more 
sexually aggressive to me after seeing it. It worked as 
a true aphrodisiac. Not that we needed any.

Once Susan visited while I was having a brief bout of 
PSAS. She knew I had PSAS symptoms occasionally but this 
was the first PSAS episode she actually witnessed. Susan 
came over early for a planned dinner date. She walked 
into my bedroom unannounced while I was halfway through 
giving myself a climax. There I was, splayed out on the 
bed, one hand rubbing my genitals, the other squeezing 
my breast. She was sympathetic but very curious. But she 
was also helpful. Sizing up the situation in a moment 
she gently removed my hand from my cunt and substituted 
her tongue. I came much quicker than I expected. We 
skipped dinner. Susan fed the kids and put them to bed. 
Then she disrobed and joined me.

Susan stayed overnight giving me one orgasm after 
another. She kept her mouth on my cunt licking and 
sucking me to repeated climaxes. I think she rather 
enjoyed "doing" me so many times. I was her little wind 
up sex doll. "Touch my clitty and I will cum." And cum I 
did, over and over. Susan was a very good friend and a 
wonderful sex therapist.
 
I certainly was not a dedicated lesbian but I didn't 
think of my relationship with Susan as abnormal at all. 
She was a lovely person with a warm welcoming body. We 
satisfied each other's needs at a critical time in both 
our lives. Our sex play was refreshing. We had many 
fulfilling climaxes. The fact that neither of us had a 
cock was almost irrelevant. 

But, alas, good things come to an end. Susan received an 
appointment as an assistant professor at a west coast 
university. It was a big promotion and would be good for 
her career. I insisted that she take the new job and 
reluctantly bid her goodbye. My parting gift was my 
pornographic video sex tape collection. She would make 
better use of it than I. 

I still have Susan's address and phone number on my 
Rolodex. In case of a carnal emergency, you know.

After Susan left for her new job I was at a loss for 
some project. When cleaning my room I found my old 
diary. The very one that Mom had given me just before 
she left for Europe. I flipped through the pages and 
found it hard to believe that the person who had written 
all those steamy passages was me. I had followed her 
directions and told it just like it was. Each touch of 
my tits and each probe of my pussy was documented. I 
hadn't left anything to the imagination. It was all 
there.

With the passage of time I had gained considerable 
maturity. I had learned to exercise some control over my 
PSAS and could put events in the proper perspective. My 
project, then would be to convert my diary into a proper 
book to offer advice to other women with the same 
condition. If not a book, then at least a pamphlet. 
That's what you are probably reading. Parenthetically, I 
must admit that reading the first sections of my diary 
really turned me on. I found my hand inadvertently 
reaching for my nipples or my cunt. Once in a while I 
even finger fucked myself to a climax and I wasn't even 
being driven by the demands of PSAS. Susan would have 
loved it.


CHAPTER 17

My luck with men changed a few months later. Both kids 
now spent most of the day in school and I had a lot of 
time on my hands. One of the perks of being a Professor 
Emeritus is that the university lets you enroll as an 
auditor in courses without paying tuition. I mentioned 
that long ago I was a science nerd so I enrolled as an 
auditor in a course in physics.

Professor Eric Williams, a distinguished looking man a 
few years older than Mom was teaching the class. 
Professor Williams was on loan from Cambridge University 
for the academic year. He was curious about this mature 
attractive woman who was attending class in a subject 
usually unpopular with females. 

After the second class meeting he tried to strike up a 
conversation. We exchanged a few words and then he had 
to leave for another class. He suggested that I take a 
seat up front so that I could hear the lecture better in 
the large hall. There were plenty of seats in the front 
of the classroom. Most of the undergraduates preferred 
to sit in the back so they could get out of the hall 
quickly when the bell rang.

Seated up front I could certainly hear better and see 
the diagrams on the blackboard with my near sighted 
eyes. Professor Williams got a better view too. It was 
almost funny to see him attempting not to stare at my 
legs. By the end of the first month I took to wearing 
short skirts instead of my regular knee length skirts or 
jeans just to tease him. In one lecture I crossed and 
uncrossed my legs several times as he fumbled with his 
notes and tried to concentrate on his lecture. 

I also gave up floppy sweat shirts in favor of a loose 
blouse with a V neck that revealed a lot of cleavage. 
That was too much for him. One of the course 
requirements was attending professorial office hours for 
academic counseling. The professor asked me to come to 
his office to discuss my academic plans. Of course I had 
no academic plans at all but I decided to go just for 
the hell of it.

When I got to the office he showed me to a seat beside 
his desk. The office was furnished in a manner typical 
of any senior professor, a desk and chairs, a beaten up 
couch, bookcases all around, and photos and diplomas 
adorning the walls. He shut the office door and I heard 
the lock click. "That's just so we won't be disturbed, " 
he said. Then he turned to me.

"Cassie," he said, "I don't know what to do about you. 
You are very distracting. You must know that I can't 
keep my eyes off you during lectures and it makes me 
forget my place. Some of the students joke that I am 
getting senile."

"Well, I suppose I could wear more conservative 
clothes."

"It's not the clothes. Half of the girls in the class 
dress more revealingly than you. It's just that you are 
so bloody beautiful."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I'm going to have to ask you to either go out with me 
or drop the class. I just can't go on staring at you. I 
know that it is very unprofessional of me to try to date 
one of my students. It is a serious breach of academic 
ethics. But then you aren't actually a student. Auditors 
don't count."

"I suppose I could think about it."

"Please," he said, almost pleadingly. "I just can't go 
on this way. I dream about you at night and I can't wait 
for the class to start during the day. And it's just so 
I can get a look at you. I almost had a heart attack 
when you crossed your legs last week. When you started 
wearing those open neck blouses I took any excuse to 
move around the classroom so I could sneak a look at 
your breasts. You've got to help me."

I realized that I was getting a bit turned on from the 
way that the conversation was progressing. He was quite 
a handsome man. Maybe he could become more than just a 
classroom instructor.

"Perhaps we could go out," I said. "But just for a 
trial. When would you like to pick me up?" But what I 
was really thinking was "Victory! Mom's body still has 
enough sex appeal to reduce a man to a quivering puppy."

I got up to leave the office and the professor rose as 
well. While I was trying to open the lock I felt his arm 
around my waist. I turned to face him to express my 
indignation but before I could get any words out he 
smothered my lips with a kiss. It wasn't at all bad. He 
certainly knew how to kiss. The next thing I knew he had 
lifted me off the floor and deposited me on the couch. 
His hands and mouth were all over my body.

"What are you doing? Don't tear my blouse."

"If you stop fighting me I won't tear your clothes but 
I've got to have you. Right now."

"All right. I won't scream. Just let me loosen my skirt 
and take off my blouse."

I removed my skirt and blouse. I was clad only in my bra 
and panties. His eyes bulged. "My God, you are more 
magnificent than I imagined."

He pushed me back to the couch and I heard the zipper as 
he undid his fly. Within seconds he pulled my panties 
aside and pushed his huge cock into me. It had happened 
so quickly that I was still dry. It was a bit painful at 
first but my juices began to ooze. Within a few moments 
I was so wet that he slipped all the way in. I could 
feel the head of his cock hit my cervix. He drove in and 
out like a man possessed. It felt wonderful.

"Wait," I said. "If you are going to rape me don't 
forget about my breasts. They need attention too. You 
might as well give me the full treatment."

I'm sure those words startled him. His rape had a 
willing accomplice. He stopped moving, undid my bra and 
pulled out both boobs. He squeezed them and pulled them 
and shoved one in his mouth. He sucked so hard I thought 
he would swallow me. With a mouth full of tit he started 
driving in and out again. I could tell that he was 
getting close to ejaculating. I was not yet ready to 
cum. It had happened so quickly.

"Slow down a bit and we can cum together," I said. "Suck 
on my nipple a bit more. I'll tell you when I am ready."

He followed my instructions and slowed his pace. I think 
he realized that I would not shout "rape" and that he 
had more than enough time to give us both a really great 
climax. I grew more and more excited and I could feel my 
body responding. He chewed and sucked my nipples, moving 
from one tit to the other. I was getting near the peak.

"OK," I almost shouted. "Fuck me hard. FUCK ME! FUCK 
ME!" 

He did, and we both came together in a shattering pair 
of orgasms. I had not had a hard cock in my cunt for 
years and I really appreciated it. "Thank God almighty - 
I was fucked at last." 

We both lay there for several minutes. I finally sat up 
and stuffed my boobs back into my bra. He zipped up his 
fly. He would obviously have to wash the semen stains 
off his pants but I'm sure he could disguise it by 
faking a coffee spill in his crotch. Lukewarm would be 
best. I wouldn't want his magnificent cock scorched. I 
fastened my skirt, adjusted my clothes and I looked just 
like any unkempt college student. Except for the laugh 
lines on my face, of course.

"Was that quickie fuck it? Do you still want to go out 
with me?"

"Of course I do. I can pick you up tomorrow night and we 
can go out to dinner and a few drinks. I have your 
address from the class registry. Say about 7:30."

I gave him a brief kiss on the cheek. He unlocked the 
door and I left the office. As I walked out, I tried to 
suppress the smile on my face. I was happy. My body was 
happy. I had been truly well loved. The whole thing had 
taken less than half an hour, probably a record for a 
teacher/student seduction.

To make a long story short, he came over on time. We had 
a truly gourmet dinner, a few drinks, and a long night 
of lovemaking. That was the start of a wonderful 
relationship. My cunt got regularly plowed by his prick 
for the rest of the academic year. He enjoyed sucking my 
tits almost as much as I enjoyed having him suck them. 
He paid the same attention to my legs as I would have 
done to Mom's legs as a teen ager. And that's saying 
something. Eric was a powerful and attentive lover and 
discharged what seemed to be a pint of sperm in me every 
time we had sex. I am thankful that I had the sense to 
go back on the pill otherwise I might have had triplets.

We enjoyed each other's company immensely. In many ways 
he reminded me of Dad and I transferred many of the 
feelings and emotions I had for Dad to Eric. Obviously 
there was no familial baggage to deal with. Which was a 
good thing. His lovemaking style was different. Dad 
treated my body like a fine instrument and played me 
like a master musician. Eric was a force of nature. When 
Eric fucked me, I knew that I had truly gotten fucked. 

One night was particularly memorable. We had tickets to 
attend the ballet in New York. I had a baby sitter come 
over for the kids. We drove to the city and had an 
excellent dinner in a posh restaurant and then saw a 
performance of Swan Lake by the touring Royal Ballet. 
Eric knew several members of the ballet management and 
we attended the farewell cast party. By the time that 
the party was over, it was quite late. Too late to 
return home. I called the baby sitter, an older lady, 
who agreed to stay over. We took a room at an upscale 
hotel near the ballet theater.

Eric had ordered a bottle of champagne to be sent up to 
the room and we toasted each other then prepared 
ourselves for bed. We had no night clothes but the hotel 
conveniently provided a pair of terry cloth robes. I 
showered, undressed, put on the robe and sat on the edge 
of the bed waiting for Eric to come out of the shower. 
As he came out, he dropped his wristwatch and got down 
on he knees to look for it. His eyes glanced upward 
taking in my almost nude body and slightly spread legs. 
From his kneeling position he sprang up and pushed me 
backward on the king sized bed. He threw himself on top 
of me. 

My legs spread wide as I fell and then closed around 
him, my thighs gripped his waist and my full calves 
pressed against his buttocks. Our heads almost collided 
saved only by lip to lip contact that merged into a long 
wet kiss. Eric slowly worked his body down mine, kissing 
my neck and the front of my throat. He paused at the 
valley between my breasts, breathing in the heady scent 
of my body and the perfume that I had thoughtfully 
applied. He turned his head sideways and managed to push 
the nipple of one breast into his mouth for a few sucks 
before continuing down my heaving belly.

I lay quietly, reveling in the sensuous whole body 
contact. I knew where I was being taken and had the good 
sense to let Eric be the total master. I completely 
forgot that I was a man in a woman's body. Tonight I was 
all woman and I reveled in the feeling of sexual 
liberation. 

Eric reversed his body on mine. We were now in the 69 
position, Eric's head on my mound, his penis within 
grasp of my lips. I placed my hands lightly on his head 
to guide him to the right places. His head was between 
my legs and I tensed and relaxed my thigh muscles. 
Eric's mouth gently enclosed the outer lips of my 
vagina. I reached my hands down and spread my vaginal 
lips apart with my fingers giving him better access to 
the juicier parts inside. 

Eric grasped my buttocks and pulled me tightly to his 
head. I got the hint and held him captive with my strong 
legs. He put his hands back between my legs and 
intertwined his fingers with mine as we both manipulated 
my cunt lips. We were cooperating in "doing" me, both 
working diligently to make me cum. His tongue licked my 
clitoris as the tips of my own fingers fondled my pussy 
lips. It was a wonderfully intimate moment. He and I 
were both holding hands as we caressed my cunt. My legs 
started involuntary shaking. We mutually played with my 
pussy for almost half an hour as I approached and 
receded from near climaxes.

My pussy loved it. I loved it. And Eric must have loved 
it as well. We may have missed some cast party 
refreshments but Eric more than made up for it. I was 
being eaten in the most delightful way, literally 
devoured. I pressed Eric's head into my cunt. He nibbled 
my clit while own mouth found his stiff cock. No 
hesitation. I sucked and chewed his penis, paying 
special attention to the underside of his shaft. Having 
had a cock myself, even though it was so long ago, gave 
me a special expertise in cock sucking. I knew where all 
the sensitive spots were. We were in oral bliss, 
feasting on each other. 

My orgasm started from my toes and worked its way up my 
legs. My legs stretched out on either side of Eric's 
head and the thighs became rigid, a sure sign that I was 
about to cum. 

Between sucks on his cock, I managed to gasp. "Oh Eric, 
YES, YES! EAT ME BITE ME! HARDER! HARDER!"

I started to thrash around on the bed. It must have been 
hard for Eric to hold me.

"I'M CUMMING NOW! YES, YES! I'M CUMMING YES!!" 

Eric hugged my still quivering body. "That was just the 
appetizer. I'm not done yet." He massaged my body, arms, 
breasts and torso. As Eric manhandled me I grabbed his 
rigid cock and shoved it towards my dripping cunt. My 
aim was true. I felt the head of his cock separate my 
vaginal lips as his shaft plunged into me.  

I wrapped my legs around Eric's body, my full and lovely 
calves squeezing his back and pulling him in me to the 
hilt. 

"That felt so very good, Professor. Remember," I teased 
"I'm just a school girl. I love it when you eat me. Suck 
me, bite me, chew my tender clitty. Fuck my pussy. Fuck 
me, fuck your young student, Professor. Suck my big 
titties, make me cum again." 

The words were turning us both on. Eric had almost 
forgotten that I was his adoring student as well as his 
lover. My words seemed to give an illicit and perverse 
spice to our coupling. He began to move his hips, slowly 
at first, then faster and faster. My hips rose to meet 
his. His cock pistoned in and out of my well lubricated 
cunt. I looked between our bodies at every stroke to 
appreciate the vision of his cock plunging in and out of 
me. The sight excited me even further. My breasts 
squeezed between our bodies. They were my breasts now, 
not my Mom's. Really mine. My nipples were so hard they 
were almost painful. I reached up and pinched one of my 
turgid nipples, tighter and tighter. The erotic torture 
heightened my ecstasy. 

My mind exhibited a strange dissociation from my body. 
It's a phenomenon that has happened to me only once or 
twice before, usually when I was in the throes of sexual 
passion. It was if I was standing beside the bed 
watching Eric and myself make love. It was a true "out 
of body" experience. I could even critique my own 
responses even though I could do nothing to alter them. 

I watched my legs pressing down on Eric's back, pulling 
him into me. I watched the muscles of my thighs getting 
tight, my body shaking, my fingers squeezing my nipples 
until they almost burst. I could see the ripples of my 
breast flesh as I pulled on my tits. Finally the jolts 
of erotic pain from my breasts and pleasure from my cunt 
merged into a feeling of total ecstasy. 

I gasped in admiration at the sight of our bodies moving 
in synchronism, a perfectly choreographed orgasmic 
dance. Better than anything at the ballet. It was the 
most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I wanted to stay 
and look at this erotic pas de deux but I was building 
faster and faster towards my peak. I couldn't hold 
anything back. The first climax had just primed me for a 
violent explosion.

I knew that Eric was about to climax well before it 
happened. We had been lovers long enough for me to 
recognize his tell tale pre-orgasmic signs. I was 
determined to join him in a simultaneous orgasm. I 
tightened my legs around his body, squeezing my vagina 
to press his thrusting cock into direct contact with my 
swollen clitoris. I pinched even harder on my nipples. 
Within a very short time I could feel my body rising 
toward another, even greater, climax. I was on autopilot 
now flying higher and higher on waves of pleasure during 
each of Eric's strokes. There was nothing I could do now 
but simply lie back and enjoy myself.

"Damn," I thought, "I'm going to cum before he does and 
there's nothing I can do about it."

And cum I did. My physical being soared on waves of 
passion. I watched myself go totally out of control, 
clutching Eric's body, tensing and extending my legs, 
arching my back. I heard my voice shout "OH FUCK! FUCK! 
I'M CUMMING! I'M CUUUMMMING - YES!" 

I felt my body shudder and I had a powerful, earth 
moving orgasm before Eric's final thrusts. My climax 
seemed to last forever. It was one of the strongest and 
best orgasms I ever experienced.

Eric's entire consciousness was centered on his penis. 
Nothing mattered except loving me. He stroked harder and 
faster, driving his full weight onto me each time. His 
arms gripped my ass, pulling me upward as his cock drove 
down. I had never been penetrated like this before. It 
was as if all my lovers, my experiences, my teen aged 
masturbation and even my PSAS had primed me for this 
moment. There was no doubt about it. I was Eric's 
girlfriend but I was also his cunt. His super cunt. I 
squeezed him tightly. Then I began to feel it the 
tension grow again in my groin.

"My God," I thought, "I'm going to cum again."

My body was on pure autopilot now. It was not me 
anymore. It was as if Mom's libido had finally burst 
free of its restraints. This fuck seemed to be making up 
for all those wonderful moments she had missed by not 
giving in to the demands of her passion while attending 
to her needs. It was as if her body wanted to recapture 
all the missed joy from those hundreds of PSAS mandated 
climaxes. All at once. 

I couldn't control myself anymore. My body vibrated, my 
hips rose to meet his as his cock bottomed against my 
cervix. He was thrusting into me as I was absorbing all 
his thrusts. I felt electric shocks of pleasure all over 
from toes to nose. My breasts, those orbs that Mom 
couldn't bear to touch when she was cumming, begged to 
be be pulled, squeezed, sucked. The way I was feeling, 
even Godzilla could have chewed on them. The quivering 
all over my body increased. Every appendage was shaking 
with lust. I licked my lips.

I used to think that I could write about my sexual 
responses fairly objectively. Not this time. All I could 
do was lie there while Eric fucked me. My body was 
shaking. My legs gripped him tightly, my calves 
pummeling his back. I wanted to suck his cock, eat my 
own cunt, and have him fuck me all at the same time. The 
sexual tension in my groin was almost more than I could 
bear. The French call the feeling a woman has before she 
cums "The exquisite agony." Now I know why. My thighs 
started to tighten. I knew I had only a few seconds 
left. I was no longer Cassie, or Steve, or anyone else. 
I had become a free floating orgasm waiting to explode.

"Eric," I cried. "You're making me cum again. Oh God! 
I'm starting to cum. So soon! So soon!"

I started screaming "ERIC... I'M CUMMING! IT'S THE 
GREATEST! IT'S THE BEST EVER! OH MY GOD! FUCK ME, FUCK 
ME! ERIC, I LOVE YOU! FUCK, FUCK! YES, YES OH ERIC! 
CUUUMMMING! CUUUMMMING!" The last was a shout. Probably 
everyone on our hotel floor heard it. I didn't give a 
damn. 

With a mighty final thrust Eric exploded sending streams 
of cum into my vagina. His body collapsed on top of me, 
his still hard cock in my cunt. We were both totally 
drained. All I could do was hold him in my arms and 
whisper "Thank you, that was so wonderful" into his ear. 
I had been given three earth shaking climaxes in fifteen 
minutes from a man I had come to love dearly. Eric was a 
real keeper.

We continued as lovers four or five times a week for the 
rest of the school year, sometimes at my home, sometimes 
at his, and once in a while in his office. During Spring 
break we made love almost constantly. Eric didn't just 
fuck my cunt. He loved every part of me. I totally 
forgot about once having been Steve or that I was 
inhabiting Mom's body. I was simply a woman in complete 
bliss. And I was also in love with Eric. As he was with 
me.

At the end of the semester Eric's appointment and work 
permit ran out. He was scheduled to return to England. I 
would have gone with him in a minute but Eric had other 
plans. His classes had become extremely popular and his 
research in semiconductor technology had attracted 
serious funding. I don't think the university expected 
their star visiting professor to leave, assuming that he 
would apply for a work permit extension. But Eric 
insisted that there was no other choice. Cambridge 
depended on him. It was a negotiation standoff. 

Finally the university capitulated. At the last moment 
Eric was offered a tenured full professorship in the 
Physics department with a research budget big enough to 
make him abandon his cushy Cambridge position. It seems 
that Eric was equally as good a negotiator as he was a 
physicist and a lover. He proposed marriage to me that 
very day. On bended knee in the traditional fashion. I 
accepted his proposal.

I didn't tell him the full details of my life, 
particularly not the personalty switch with Mom. He 
wouldn't believe it anyway. Nor did I tell him about 
Susan. To be fair, I didn't inquire too closely into 
Eric's past either. Some things are better left unsaid. 
He was willing to accept the fact that I was a widow 
with two children and even that I suffered from 
occasional PSAS episodes. I suppose the fact that I was 
the best piece of ass that he had ever had helped ease 
any doubts about my past. We both felt that we truly 
loved each other and that our lives started the moment 
we met. Or at least from the academic counseling session 
in his office.

Eric and I have been married almost a year now. I'm in 
still in very good shape, workouts, both in bed and at 
the gym, see to that. My gynecologist tells me that I am 
not too old to have another baby. That's good news 
because I'm pregnant. I'm looking forward to the baby 
and feeling my breasts fill up with milk again. I 
reached my hands up under my blouse and squeezed my 
swelling breasts in anticipation. Eric says he likes 
milk. I certainly hope so. 

END

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is 
meant as an erotic fantasy not depicting anything in 
real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real 
life" can look forward to many unproductive years 
getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their 
local prison system.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 81