("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2012. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- In Claire by Anonymous (address withheld) *** Divorced but very attractive college professor Claire suffers from PSAS, a condition requiring here to give herself repeated climaxes. She engineers a permanent personality switch with her teenage son. He now inhabits her body while she inhabits his. Son is forced to cope with all the ramifications of female sexuality including PSAS and a succession of male and female lovers. Very explicit lovemaking and masturbation episodes. (F/m-teen, ped, inc, bi, mast, oral, mc) *** YALE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY During an inventory of cataloged books, this printed manuscript was found on the shelves of the Human Sexuality section and an electronic copy had been placed in the University library database. It is hard to believe the events described although there appears to be some external evidence of validity. A search of the University records reveals that a decade ago Professor Claire Donahue was the director of the Sexuality Laboratory. Her husband, Professor David Donahue was Chair of the Biology Department. After they divorced David Donahue resigned his professorship to devote his full time to his business. Claire Donahue resigned five years later. Some of the other names mentioned also appear in the university records. As the manuscript states, David Donahue was killed in an airplane accident. A memorial ceremony was held in the University Chapel. Several years later Claire Donahue married Professor Eric Williams and still lives in a suburb of New Haven. Other than these facts, little is known about the incidents cited in the document. It will be cataloged but because of the explicit nature of the events described, it will be placed in the restricted section. E. Shrdlu, Chief Librarian, Yale University Library *** CHAPTER 1 Claire, 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 6 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 her 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. Big boobs, 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 ponytail, dressed in loose, generic GAP style clothes, and used the minimum of makeup. 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 five year old 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, massaging her tits and clitoris with a vibrator and finger fucking 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 had traded places. "Mom, what's happened?" I asked in Mom's voice. Mom looked at the dials and checked the tape readout for a few minutes. "I guess the apparatus was more powerful 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. This is the first time I ever tried it on human subjects. It was just a calibration trial. I thought that it would just record the electrical activity of our brains." She flipped a couple of more switches. Lights blinked on the machine and the tape moved. Nothing happened. We were still in each other's bodies. She tried again with the same result. "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 work out a way of undoing the transfer." Fortunately 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. 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. Mom had a cleanliness fetish and took a shower morning and evening, paying special attention to cleaning her genital area. She worked out in the college gym three times a week and for a half hour a day on our home treadmill. She abhorred body hair and showed me how to remove it with an electric razor. 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. Mom 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, five or even 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 looking at her too. But I did tell her that the only guaranteed way to make an erection go away was to masturbate. I could see by the bulge in his jeans that Steve's body had a raging hard on. I had just taken a shower and I was wearing a loose bathrobe. I wasn't used to my woman's body and I suppose that as the robe flopped open he could get a good view of my naked tit. 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 and put it inside my robe and clutched my bare breast. 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. Finally he gave my tit one last squeeze and erupted in an impressive spurt of jizm. 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 see what I can do." 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 relished the taste of my own pre-cum and even the globs of my jizm that I scooped off my penis after masturbating to the mental image of Mom. I often tried to suck my own cock 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 managed to squeeze out some pre-cum. But then my back started to hurt and I had to stop. But here 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 I would be me sucking my own cock. I had often imagined what it would be like 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 was lying on the bed, eyes closed, apparently enjoying my hand job. When she felt my lips around the head of her, Steve's, 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 precum on the tip that I licked with my tongue. It tasted pretty good. But the erect penis was hard to stroke. Mom had just bathed and took great care in drying it. It needed some lubrication. A little saliva would help. I finally gathered the courage to take the whole end of the cock in my mouth and started working around it with my tongue. It was a mouthful but it felt sort of 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 pinched a nipple. It hurt, but strangely enough, I liked it. 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 jizm. About two tablespoons. What else could I do? I swallowed it. Besides, it was my own jizm. 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. Before she left, she told me to take good care of Stephanie. She 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 34 year old woman's body. It didn't feel much different except that I had tits and a cunt. 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. 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. But I couldn't sleep. I was so tired, why couldn't I sleep? It was 1:00 AM. I had been lying here for two hours. My nerves were on edge. I was beginning to sweat into my pillow, hair damp with perspiration, legs twitching. I rolled on the bed, never getting comfortable, lying on one side, then switching sides. I turned to my stomach forgetting for a moment that I was in Mom's body. That position for some reason hurt my breasts. I turned to lie on my back and instinctively my hand began to search out my penis. But it wasn't there. Instead I felt the smooth contours of Mom's pussy. I had forgotten again. My finger brushed against my clitoris and I felt a quick twinge, sort of like touching the end of my cock. It was so hot in this room. I threw off the covers. My hand, still lingered on Mom's vulva. I pressed down and my middle finger entered my vagina, I took a deep breath, my body trembling, shaking at my two-inch digital insertion. Minor relief came at once. I turned to reach for the cover that I had dropped on the floor. A twinge of pleasure shot through my thighs and pelvis. A gasp escaped my lips. I looked down at my hand. Its middle finger was hidden inside my abdomen, buried into soft moisture. The turn had made my vaginal walls wrap snugly around my finger while pushing my clitoris against it. I wasn't sure what was happening to me but it sure felt good. I turned back over and moaned softly, staring at the ceiling above. I pushed my finger deeper into my opening as I rolled to my right side, away from the blanket on the floor. I buried my face into my pillow and began to rub my vaginal walls with the single digit. It was heaven. The tenseness left almost immediately. With each motion of my finger the pleasure increased. I turned again onto my back. It struck me odd that my breasts weren't sore from lying on them. I slid over to the center of the bed, looked at my hand with my middle finger pushed up to the knuckle into my leaking canal. I could feel liquid on my fingers and on my palm. I lifted my shoulders from the mattress and looked down on what I was doing to myself. In disbelief, I watched as I made two large, slow circles with my hidden hand rubbing against all the walls of my vagina. A long, loud moan came from deep within my throat as my finger moved. I couldn't keep my shoulders off the mattress any longer. My head collapsed into the pillow. My hips lifted off the bed as if my head and pelvis were on opposite ends of a seesaw. Another deep moan escaped me. My legs spread apart and their heels dug into both sides of the mattress. My left hand placed itself on my clitoris and began to massage it wildly. A second finger somehow found its way into my vagina and danced with its partner. The muscles of my body tensed. They seemed to be all connected to the small area between my legs. I felt the moist skin of my cunt squeeze against my fingers, let go, and then squeeze over and over again. The feelings from my cunt spread over my entire body and I started to shake. I was overwhelmed by the sensation and, if I had known what to call it at the time, I would say that I had a real feminine orgasm. My only prior experience with cumming had been masturbating my penis. This was entirely different. When I was rubbing my cock while looking at the centerfold in Playboy, it grew stiff in seconds. The feeling was intense and rose to a peak very quickly. The sensation was located almost entirely in the red and enlarged head of my cock. As I stroked, I felt a tension in my balls and the base of my cock. A few drops of clear fluid came out of my slit. Once I tasted it and it was OK, just a bit salty. About a minute after I started rubbing it my cock would erupt in what, to my mind, was a massive ejaculation. A couple of tablespoons of white sticky cum would shoot out the end and cover my prick and hand. The feelings I got when I was cumming were great but the whole thing was over in just a couple of minutes. But in Mom's body it was different. The buildup was slow and I could feel it all over, in my pussy, in my torso, in my breasts, in my legs and all over my groin. Cumming wasn't just a matter of shooting out a lot of jizm but was an entire body sensation. And it took many minutes to get there. I learned quickly that in the sex race girls were the tortoise, boys the hare. I lay back in bed, exhausted from the feelings in my body. Slowly, my fingers left my vagina, wet from the juices inside. I put them in my mouth to lick them off and was pleasantly surprised by their taste. It was my very first experience with female sexuality and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Still sucking my fingers, I fell asleep. I awoke next morning when the sun streamed into my room. Stephanie was already awake. 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 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 wasn't a neat housekeeper to begin with and in the confusion of the last couple it got even worse. Well, I could certainly clean things up. I started vacuuming the house, starting with my room and working my way up. I'll tell you what. 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 my shorts 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, Stephanie's room and Mom's bedroom. My half clothed body was perspiring so much that I decided that I needed to take a break and maybe rinse off under my boobs. 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. I was feeling a little sexy and turned on, especially when the water hit my clit. When I stepped out of the shower I caught a glimpse of myself in the steamy bathroom mirror. Mom was certainly curvy and a bit voluptuous. Although she had a few telltale 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 in ordinary casual clothes when she was home. She was an attractive 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 firm body with a narrow waist expanding to broad hips and a firm butt. Her legs would have complimented a Broadway showgirl with strong thighs, full calves and narrow ankles. I felt guilty about having the thought that I would like to make out with that woman in the mirror. Impossibility, of course. Not only was that woman me but it was also my mother. 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 doing what I was doing. "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 certainly bigger than average. Certainly much bigger than those of the girls at my school. Each was about the size of half a honeydew melon. They didn't appear so large when she was dressed but they were round and fuller 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 boob 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. Except for a couple of glimpses of my Mom's boobs 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 boob. To my untutored eye it looked beautiful. I poked the nipple tentatively with my finger and was surprised at how nice it felt. 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 boobs as sources of pleasure. But I also knew that sucking boobs 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 nipple 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. While touching Mom's tit with my hands felt great, sucking her nipple was fantastic. They 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 tits all the time. Or at least let men suck their tits. Even Stephanie still sucks her thumb once in a while. My high school friends were right about sucking Mom's titties 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 played with Mom's cunt? I know that I touched my Mom's cunt when I was in bed last night. But that was in the dark it was just to help me sleep. Masturbating in bed at night really doesn't count as sex. Everyone does it. But this would be in broad daylight and I would be looking right at it. Besides I would not be trying to give my Mom a climax. I would be touching her pussy just to feel some of the things that Mom feels when she touches herself. I know she must do it to herself once in a while. So I put my hand down between my legs and stroked my cunt. 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. Just like last night. I thrust a second finger inside. 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 rolling one of Mom's nipples. 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. Not bad, in fact I enjoyed the 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 cunt 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 from my boobs to my cunt. 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 one hand deep in her pussy, the other squeezing her tit 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 with the fingernail. 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 keep her hands out of her cunt? 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 saying "Ohh.... fuck me Steve... fuck me..." I began to whimper almost uncontrollably as I began to feel my body twitch all over and spasm, and my pussy muscles clench 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, "I'M CUMMNG! I'M CUMMING!" in my Mom's voice. In my Mom's body. I had given my Mom's body a big climax. A really great cum. And it felt so damn good. CHAPTER 3 Things went on as normal for the next couple of weeks at our house. 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 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. 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 knew 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. I knew that after breakfast and seeing Stephanie off to school I would have a few uninterrupted hours of privacy. 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 my own penis and a few hasty gropes with girls. I was blown away by the wonderful feeling of having monumental orgasms in Mom's body. I wanted many more of them in as many ways as I could get Mom to come off. I had so much of Mom's magnificent body to explore. Still curious about my endowments, I opened my robe and pulled out a big breast. I looked at the nipple closely. As long as I had it out, I might as well try to see if I could get the same feelings as I had before. I pulled 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. My tits seemed to be even bigger and more sensitive than the first time I explored Mom's body. I found that I could pull both big tits up to my mouth at the same time and suck both nipples simultaneously. Stereo sucking. The feeling was wonderful. One tit was great but both were something else. It was like each sensation reinforced the other. I knew I had to stop this. I was beginning to feel that I needed a climax. I bit down hard chewing the nipple 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 more than half 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 fuck her but I could do everything else. 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. I stretched my long legs in front of me. A couple of days ago legs were just legs. Now they 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 erotic 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? Sitting naked on my bed, I turned to glance at my reflection in the full length mirror on the wall. 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. I blushed with arousal as I felt an electric tingle in my clit. I let my other hand drop down past my tummy to caress the top of my bare thigh. 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 move my fingers in and out in the mirror. I was finger fucking myself, and it felt so good. My fingers moved by themselves 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 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. I would give myself an orgasm. It wasn't as if it would cost me anything. There were plenty of them locked up in Mom's body just waiting to be released. My breath increased and my heart raced as I made my decision. 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. Wow! It was like 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. So I moved my fingers off my clit and into my wet vagina. 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. I started moving my fingers in and out of my vagina. First two, then three. I needed to fill myself up. 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. 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. I repeated the movements again and again, my engorged pussy lips and buzzing clit letting 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 arousal. My thighs became rigid. I strained to keep my balance. My hand moved faster and faster, fingertips running in circles across my pulsing clit. 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 hands tortured my clit, stroking it, ever harder, until I shuddered to 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 in her clit 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 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 body without intending to do it. 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 sexpot would start taking each other's 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 grabbed each nipple between my thumb and forefinger and pulled them straight out. I pulled so hard that I was afraid that I would rip the nipples right off. Still I couldn't stop. Even the pain felt good. I wasn't doing any of this intentionally. Mom's body seemed to be directing my actions. I was almost in a daze, just going along with her body's flow. Through no volition on my part. I put my hands around the middle of one breast and squeezed as hard as I could. The end of the tit, the areola, and the nipple bulged out like a water balloon. I was afraid that the end of my tit would burst but it felt so good. I bent my head down and took the engorged tip 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. Holding my nipple in my mouth with one hand, the other sneaked down to my pussy. My clit was still swollen and sensitive from my last orgasm. I jammed all of my fingers into Mom's cunt and moved them back and forth. It didn't take long to bring me to another climax. The musky scent of orgasm filled the air. My fingers were wet from Mom's gushing pussy juices. I licked them clean. Mom's pussy tastes wonderful. 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 was craving still another. In my exploration of Mom's room I spotted a vibrator in one of her dresser drawers. 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 her vibrator in the back of the drawer behind her panties. I threw myself down on Mom's bed, turned the vibrator on, and shoved it into my cunt. I was so wet that it penetrated without any resistance. I tossed and squirmed on the bed, thrilling to the deep vibrations. I pulled on my nipples and ran my fingers over my pussy lips and clit. 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. 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 I forced myself to another orgasm. My body shook and I came. 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 seemed 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. My morning's orgasmic session was seen from the perspective of a 16 year old 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 four or five years ago, just after her divorce. She wrote: "My name is Claire and I am 29 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 have been married for 10 very faithful years and about 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, 0-60 in one second flat. I could never get enough sex. I was not satisfied after having 2 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 have sex without stopping. 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 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 was the only man I ever met that could come close to satisfying my physical needs." "PSAS has, at various times, and depending on its intensity or my situation, interfered with my work, my marriage and my psychological wellbeing. 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 sex 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 urges. It didn't go away. It got worse. It became a 24 X 7 constant state of high arousal. My breasts tingled and swelled. They pained me all the time. My clit felt like it was sticking out so far that people could see it. My entire pelvic area hurt with the constant arousal. 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 cum. My legs shook, sometimes even my hands. 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 and could have repeated climaxes during a PSAS episode with no apparent limit. Under normal circumstances she suspected that she could also have multiple orgasms but she never intended to find out. She most disliked having to ask my Dad to give her climaxes during a PSAS session and afterwards 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 an 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 almost 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. Soon it became an irresistible desire for sexual stimulation. 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. 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. At the start of a PSAS episode, the first time she did it there was no need for a buildup. She wrote that she usually needed relief so badly at this point that any delay would be agony. 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 and cum. There was no emotional pleasure in cumming but it 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. Holding a breast in her mouth with one hand, she would massage her pussy to get rid of the intense sexual need. 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 Mom giving herself a climax. These climaxes were as inevitable as a knee jerk caused by a doctor's rubber hammer hit on the patellar tendon. Mom wrote that there was no emotional gratification in these climaxes. Cumming just served to temporarily relieve the immediate physical symptoms. Mom knew that she would have to do it again and again. Despite the ability to give herself orgasms quickly, Mom seemed determined not to get any enjoyment from having a climax. During a PSAS episode her breasts and cunt became so sensitive that any accidental touch would generate a need for an orgasm. Wearing itchy or tight garments was impossible. She noted, in an almost clinical fashion, that while stimulating her clit 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. This was an infallible sign of her body's arousal. 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. 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 orgasmic peak each time and for the general feeling of lassitude after cumming, 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 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 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 fucking myself again. But my eyes were glued to my legs. They were stretched out in front of me. In the brightly lit room I could see the muscles start to quiver. 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. It 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's. 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 pleasuring myself. I couldn't resist anymore. I was almost there. My cunt had swallowed my body and would not give it back until I came. But still staring at my sculpted legs I started counting off seconds. "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 a 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. One passage clinically described the process of giving herself an orgasm. It read, "When I am driven to have an orgasm I use the vibrator to massage my legs from the calf and inside of my thighs to my genitals. That usually starts me off. My body takes over at this point and I do the rest without thinking too much about it. A lot of the women that I've talked to at the clinic feel that fantasy is an essential part of masturbation. Not me. I don't fantasize at all. In fact I try not to think about what I am doing. I just want the relief. After I get myself started, I stroke my breasts and pull on them a bit. I don't like doing this but my body seems to require it. Breast play seems essential to prime me for an orgasm. When the nipples erect I take them in my mouth and suck them. I couldn't do this in high school but after I had the children my breasts grew much bigger. Nipple sucking seems to relieve the turgid feeling in my breasts." "By this time I am no longer consciously directing my actions. I've done it so often that everything seems automatic. After a while I start squirming on the bed. Then I put my hand on my cunt. It gets wet easily. I move my fingers around my cunt lips. When I feel them swell, I put a couple of fingers inside. I move them in and out. When my fingers touch my G spot on the front inside wall of my vagina my hips start raising and lowering as if I was being fucked. I don't do this voluntarily. It just happens. It doesn't feel like fucking at all but it triggers off my hip and lower torso response. To hasten my orgasm, I work on my clitoris . I roll it lightly between my thumb and forefinger while I keep finger fucking myself with the other. Just before the end, my whole body starts to quiver and my legs start shaking. Then my legs get rigid, I spasm, and I usually have an orgasm. It all happens automatically and I can't alter the process. That's just about it for ordinary orgasms. The climax itself is like an electric jolt to my insides and leaves me thoroughly exhausted. But having the climax relieves the tension in my breasts and genitals and I can function normally until the tension builds up again. This may take minutes or hours but I know that I will eventually have to do it all over again." "My breasts often feel sore after I cum. That's usually from biting and sucking them too hard. My pussy lips are swollen and my legs are as tired as if I have run a mile. Each time I climax I resolve that I will be easier on my body next time. It rarely works out that way. I'm so eager to give myself an orgasm to relieve the tension that I tend to forget my promise to myself. I just want to get it over with as fast as possible." In the notebook there were careful entries of each exact time Mom orgasmed. In one PSAS episode she had 22 real thrashing 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. Throughout Mom's notebook there were passages that implied that she hated all forms of female sexuality, particularly when she was forced to manipulate her body to relive her PSAS symptoms. But contrary to what Mom wrote, I did get some sexual pleasure from masturbating but I resented having to do it over and over. If I don't give myself a climax when my body demands it, I will be in agony until I do. I don't hate my body. I just hate what it makes me do. I looked up Mom's PSAS condition on an internet medical database. It wasn't common but many people experienced excessive sex drives for short periods at some times in their lives. It was considered part of the sex addiction complex of symptoms. The medical articles specified PSAS symptoms as: 1. Experiencing physiological response similar to sexual arousal (e.g. genital and breast sensitivity and/or engorgement). These physical signs last for an extended period of time (from hours to days) and do not go away on their own. 2. These physical signs are not related to feeling sexually excited or sexual desire. 3. The physical experience may be triggered by nonsexual events or may arise spontaneously. 4. The physical signs of arousal do not usually go away after orgasm, or may require multiple orgasms to go away. 5. The experience is considered intrusive and unwanted, and when it persists, can create significant distress. The main thrust of the articles was that PSAS was involuntary. Sufferers had to give themselves, or their partners had to give them, repeated orgasms, sometimes for hours on end. The climaxes that women gave themselves could be pleasant or unpleasant, satisfying or not satisfying. Although most sufferers from PSAS claimed that they got no satisfaction from cumming, some admitted that they actually did enjoy it. The social onus of the condition, however, discouraged them from admitting that they received any sexual pleasure. Some women had PSAS in a passive form. They would have a series of spontaneous orgasms, more than 100 a day, in episodes lasting from days to years. These orgasms occurred without any volition on their part, sort of like a pelvic attack of hiccups. They were most often triggered by any pressure or vibration of the pelvic region although some women mentioned that they could be set off by loud noises or particular foods. Sitting, walking or riding in a car was difficult. The repeated orgasms interfered with all of their daily activities. The general conclusion was that PSAS is not brought on by the mind. It is an actual physical disorder. This explains why, even though I still had Steve's mentality, I had PSAS symptoms. It was all the fault of Mom's body. Mom's symptoms were unusual. The orgasms did not occur spontaneously. She had to make herself orgasm. During a PSAS episode the sexual urges increased to the point where she was incapable of doing anything but manipulating her genitals until she climaxed. This gave her a period of relief lasting from a few minutes to a couple of hours. She would have to do it again and again until the episode passed. Since she hated touching her female genitalia, she felt that the mental agony was worse than the physical agony. On the other hand, I enjoyed touching Mom's body, Never more so than when it gave me an iron clad excuse to play with my tits and cunt. So PSAS, while annoying, was not the curse for me that it was for Mom. The medical articles described PSAS, or PGAD as it is sometimes called, quite well. It is a condition caused by a very strong libido producing unquenchable sexual urges unrelated to any person or situation. It produced an overwhelming desire for stimulation of the cunt and breasts and all the other sexual zones. There was no satisfaction and no cure. During her PSAS episodes she seem to be truly multi orgasmic. She could give herself climaxes without limit. 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." Mom's notebook encouraged me to start keeping a diary of my own. I figured that after I switched back to Steve I might like to read it. Mom could also find my comments interesting as another perspective on PSAS. Fortunately, most of the time Mom's PSAS episodes were comparatively short lived, lasting from a few hours to a few days. Repeated orgasms could alleviate the physical symptoms for a while but they would soon arise again. The condition seemed to have other effects as well. One was a lack of conscious control when aroused. The articles called it a true addiction. When a sexual urge hit, Mom was driven to manipulate her genitalia until reaching a climax. Mom was fortunate because she could climax quickly. For most women this generally meant prolonged periods of masturbation or the use of mechanical sex aids since, one medical article went on discretely to say, most sexual partners did not have the endurance to cope with prolonged episodes of PSAS. Consciousness was suppressed and the body's animal instincts took over. I could certainly testify that this was true. When I was building up to an orgasm, nothing I could do could stop it. It was like Mom's body had an overriding sex program built into it, an autopilot, so to speak. 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. Once I decided to give myself an orgasm, I had no say in what my 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 joy of cumming - but I couldn't alter a thing. CHAPTER 6 The next few days were spent in a haze of orgasmic delirium. Mom's "condition" seemed to fluctuate. But it never was the fantasy of a sex orgy that I had imagined. I would awaken in the morning with an overwhelming sexual feeling in my breasts and pelvis. My ultra-sensitive nipples were stiff all the time. I desperately needed to stroke and massage my afflicted parts. The only relief was to masturbate myself to an orgasm. The climax temporarily relieved my physical needs but I knew that I would have to do it again shortly. Sometimes I could go hours between needing another climax, other times I literally had to roll my nipples and finger fuck myself until I came two or three times before I could even think of anything else. It was 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. I could see it all happening to me but I couldn't alter what was happening. I could only lie back and watch myself bringing Mom's body to an orgasm. I just 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. 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. I felt all the physical sensations of her masturbation and the thrill of her climax but I couldn't alter what she was doing. In fact, I was both curious and fascinated by what my hands and mouth did to my body. When I looked at what I was doing to myself in front of a mirror I got too distracted as a climax approached. All I could think about was cumming 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. It's not as if I could stop it from happening. 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 then spread them a bit to show my pussy. 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 as I chewed and sucked my titties I forgot all about it. 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 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 cunt and sucked my tittie. 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 found my climax pleasurable but I'm sure that Mom would have found it frustrating. Still I felt embarrassed that I had so little control over my body during my "urge." I could do nothing about it. And I certainly tried. 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. I could even hear the squishy sounds of my fingers moving. 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 could watch my hips rise and fall as they tried to coordinate their motions with the flailing hands in my cunt. Finally I could watch my legs get rigid and my whole body spasm as I came. It's too bad that Emmys weren't given for porn videos. Mine would have been a serious contender. There was no acting. It was all real. I watched it 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. Mom's 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 occasional long breaks from PSAS symptoms I usually fixed a bit of lunch or took a shower. Sometimes with a really long break I tried to keep the house clean or even read a bit. On 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 to be pleasured instantly 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 gushing 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. 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. I worked the cucumber in and out, staring at it all the while. I was astounded at what I was doing to myself. My legs stretched in front of me and started shaking. My thighs were getting rigid. I could hardly believe that I was fucking myself with a cucumber 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. During a PSAS episode I forced myself to masturbate to completion several times in front of the big bedroom mirror. Maybe I could see something that I didn't capture in the video. I had the hope that if I could see what I was doing I might gain some measure of control of the process. To no avail. It was usually the same. I would feel the ache and fullness in my breasts and genitals which demanded that I manipulate my body to an orgasm to get a modicum of relief. I would stand in front of the mirror, a beautiful, stacked woman, and start stroking my body. If I was clothed, I would unfasten and step out of my jeans. Then I would unbutton my shirt, reach into my bra and pull out a large breast. If my need for a climax was particularly intense, I would simply pull my panties aside and shove my fingers directly into my usually sopping vagina. Often I would simply shed all my garments and stand fully unclothed in front of the mirror. The sight of my uncontrolled hands manipulating my naked body added a perverse element of excitement to the scene. I watched myself masturbating Mom's body in the large mirror almost as if I was looking at an instructional video in a sex education class. It wasn't me I was seeing in the mirror, although I felt all the sensations of what I was doing to myself. It was as if I was standing outside myself watching someone I didn't know. An actress in a movie doing unimaginable things to her own body. 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 I tried to hold my gaze while masturbating. I pulled the bed directly in front of the mirror. 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 roughly 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. The 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 without trying to understand the deep seated psychopathology. So I would sit on the edge of the bed, extend my long legs before me and run my hands up my legs from my ankles to my mound. Often 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 could hear her cries of sexual agony and was always surprised that they were in my Mom's voice. Just before cumming, I could see my face, or at least the face of the woman in the mirror become contorted, gasping and screaming 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. This went on for almost a week. 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 ate my own breakfast quickly so I could start working on myself again. More often than not I had my fingers in my vagina before I finished my coffee. Even kitchen utensils weren't safe if my desire was strong. You would be surprised at the number of kitchen items that will fit in a well lubricated cunt, especially if the incentive is strong. I would masturbate with the rounded handles of cooking spoons and spatulas if I couldn't find a properly shaped cucumber, squash or carrot in the refrigerator. I developed a "love" affair with cucumbers although I rarely found one that fit as nicely as the one I had originally used. I regretted having eaten it. I should have washed it off and saved it. When I go shopping next time I'll know what to look for. I must confess that I loved touching Mom's body even when not driven by the demands of PSAS. After the school bus picked up Stephanie I would deliberately try to fuck 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. I paused from time to time to lick my tasty digits. I enjoy my own flavors. I once saw a picture of a very flexible gymnast sucking her own cunt. I would love to be able to do that to myself in Mom's body. Perhaps I could do it if I worked on my flexibility. Probably not - Mom's body may be too old now. But now my Mom's cunt is calling me again. It needs attention. No point hurrying now. I have all morning to make love to myself. I looked around the kitchen to find something to put into my pussy, It needed to be filled and I had used up all the cucumbers and carrots in the refrigerator. I must remember to buy more the next time I get a chance to go shopping. I searched the refrigerator and pulled open all the drawers to find a surrogate penis. Finally I found a package of hard dinner rolls. Actually they were small French bread baguettes. Each was about eight inches long and a bit bigger than one inch in width. I guess Mom had forgotten about them. They were stale but that shouldn't make any difference. By this time I was desperate. I grabbed one and tried to push it into my hungry vagina. But it was too dry and caught my pussy lips as I tried to shove it in. It needed lubrication. Butter, that's the thing. I scooped up some butter from the residue of breakfast and liberally applied it to the roll with shaking fingers. It went in easily. I was filled at last. I don't remember much of the rest of the morning. All I know is that I managed to make it to my bed where I spent the next few hours in orgiastic bliss. I sucked my nipples and worked the baguette in and out of my vagina. My legs tensed. I climaxed and then I did it all over again. Once simply wasn't enough. I orgasmed two more times that I was aware of and probably had a couple more small climaxes that have slipped my memory. I must have dozed off for a while, still sucking my titty, my hands caressing my genitals. When I came back to my senses my breasts were sore. There were bruise marks around my areolas. My thighs ached. My clitoris was swollen. But my cunt was satisfied. Really satisfied. After I was fully awake I pulled the dinner roll out of my cunt, by now thoroughly saturated with my pussy juices. I couldn't resist the temptation. I licked the soggy roll then ate it slowly, savoring the taste. It was the next thing to sucking my own cunt. A pussy juice soaked roll would make a wonderful appetizer for a carnal orgy. I'll have to remember to do it again. But that wasn't the end of my kitchen adventures. On one occasion I used the rubber bulb of the turkey baster as a makeshift clit pump. I rubbed leftover butter from my toast around my vulva to make a seal, then squeezed the bulb and applied the open end to my throbbing clitoris. The vacuum tugged at my clit and engorged it with blood. The swollen clit was exquisitely sensitive. It made it easy to finish the job with my fingers. After my climax my fingers tasted like buttered cunt. I even tried sticking pins through my turgid nipples in the hope that the pain would suppress my arousal. 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. 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. 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 put a little slip knot of dental floss around it and pulled it tight. This little tourniquet kept the nipple hard and stiff even after it warmed. I gathered my courage and pushed the point of the pin into the base of a nipple while I held it in position. It wasn't like I was doing it to myself but to a lab specimen just like in biology class in school. 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 dental floss slip knots 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. The pain made my need for an orgasm even more intense. 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 simply 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 what I did to myself or I would suffer the consequences after the PSAS "urge" had passed. Overall, I discovered that while I couldn't turn off Mom's insatiable craving for sex while her body was having one of its "urges" 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. And after a week Mom's PSAS episode wound 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 movie a couple of more times. While I appreciated the scene, it was almost like looking at 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. Fucking a woman was much more fun than watching a mindless sitcom on TV. And, naturally it was much more enjoyable because I was the woman I fucked. 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 Steve's loving. 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. I would pull my big boobs from my bra and hold them in my arms as if they were playful puppies. I would caress the smooth surfaces and kiss the top of each tit. I loved to watch myself play with my breasts. They were such strange and delightful body parts, totally outside my experience as a boy. 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. I really got off on making my boobies tingle. I didn't intend to hurt myself badly but it gave me a chance to work off a little of my resentment at being held captive in Mom's lovely body. Even though I could give myself great orgasms I felt that I was being robbed of a normal young man's life. I desperately wanted to be Steve again but at the same time I would hate to lose the ability to masturbate Mom's body to such fulfilling climaxes. They were truly addictive. As Mae West said "Sometimes too much of a good thing is wonderful." After the sexy torture of my tits had gotten me started I would caress my legs, working my hands up the inside of my thighs until I could touch my cunt lips and clitoris. I clutched the flesh between my fingers, squeezing my thighs. I pulled my pussy lips apart and rolled and jacked off my clitoris until my juices flowed. Had I been flexible enough I would have sucked my cunt clean, savoring my own taste. My goal was to work myself up to a sexual plateau trying to hold Mom's body just on the edge of cumming as long as I could. I watched with delight as my legs went out of control, vibrating and tensing. My thighs started shaking, promising untold pleasures at their apex. Most of the time I usually didn't try to give myself a full blown climax. Just have a little fun. I would even talk to myself, commenting on the pleasures I was forcing my body to endure. "Bite your tits, Steve," I would say to myself. "Finger fuck yourself. Put those fingers into your pussy. Feel your body get excited. Look at how your legs are shaking. Doesn't your cunt feel good? But you better stop playing with your sexy tits and cunt or you will make yourself cum." Then I would try to back off to do it 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 cumming for most of the evening. I saw that as a triumph over my carnal desires. But all too often I got carried away and the force of the imminent climax was too much to resist. I 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. I shouted to myself because I knew no one would hear me, "I'm fucking my Mommy. I'm making my Mommy cum. I'M GOING TO CUM NOW. I'M CUMMING, MOMMY. I'M CUMMING IN YOUR BODY. YES, YES. I'M CUMMING NOW!" After I came down from the high I would say, "Steve, you naughty boy. Look what you made your Mommy do." When I did that a couple of times an evening, who cared what was on TV. This evening, after I put Stephanie to sleep and finished up the household chores, I had a large glass of wine, maybe two or three, but what the hell, I was an adult now. Then I went to my bedroom and turned on the small TV. But I didn't watch the program. It was just an excuse. I went to bed early, a little bit woozy from the wine, intending to have fun exploring Mom's nooks and crannies until I fell asleep. I sat on the edge of the bed my breasts heavy in my palms. In the flickering light of the TV I watched the waves of flesh ripple through my boobs as I ran my hands over them. They seemed so large. They hung down below my belly button and the ends rested on my thighs. My breasts must have grown a couple of cup sizes without my noticing it. How could I ever explain this to Mom when we switched back. My fingers unconsciously gravitated to the very sensitive nubs. The fingers seemed to have a will of their own as they stroked and rolled my nipples. I could feel the twinges of arousal in my pussy and I let one hand stray down to my cunt. My clitoris had apparently grown too. It felt the size of a walnut and was exquisitely sensitive. I jacked it like a little cock, Up, down. My fingers on my clit gave me a sensation that reminded me of how it felt when I played with my man's cock months ago. Perhaps I had a bit too much to drink because my boobs and clit didn't feel like my body parts at all. I was becoming an orgasm machine. I must have dozed off or else I would have felt the person slide into bed next to me. It was a man. No it was Steve. He put his hand on my breast and started caressing it. His other hand slipped down to my cunt, his fingers encircling my new clitoris. I put my hand down to help and I found his stiff prick. It had grown huge and was dripping precum. "What are you doing here?" I managed to whisper. "When did you come back from Europe?" "I came back especially to fuck my Mommy," he whispered back. "I used to look through a peephole into your bedroom and watch you undress. It was much better than the girlie magazines. I loved to see you pull your tits out of your bra and take off your panties. I would watch you clean your cunt with a washcloth when you finished peeing. Then I would go back to my room and rub my prick until I came. It's a shame that you hated your body so much. I would have loved it. I always dreamed of hugging you, sucking your hard nipples, putting my big cock in your cunt and fucking you until you cried for mercy. And now I'm going to do it!" He took me in his strong arms and flipped me over. I couldn't resist. In fact I wanted whatever he was going to do to me. Then he grabbed my hips and pulled me up until he had me kneeling on the bed, doggie style. With one surge he drove his big cock into my cunt from behind. I was so wet that it penetrated easily. I was finally getting fucked. Then he reached under my body and grabbed my dangling nipples. Using them as reins he dragged my body back and forth on his rigid cock. The pain in my nipples was exquisite and soon merged with the wonderful agony of his cock in my cunt. He pulled my nipples harder and harder as he drove his cock deeper. I was afraid that he would rip my nipples off but I didn't care. I had never felt this way before. I reached down and fingered my big clitoris to increase the sensation. And then I exploded in the most massive cum of my life. Waves of pleasure radiated from my cunt and nipples and washed over my whole body. I tried to stretch the moment out but I was beyond any conscious control. "We did it!" My mind shouted as I lay splayed out on the bed. "I've finally been fucked!" But my calisthenics made me so tired. I rolled on my side and bent a tit up to my mouth. And then I must have passed out, either from the excitement of fucking or the wine. I awoke to the morning sun streaming in the room. I was totally hung over. There was no sign of Steve. It had been my alcohol fueled imagination. My breasts and clitoris were normal sized again. The sheets smelled of funky sex. What a dream! Better than TV. But I wanted to get fucked for real. CHAPTER 8 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 Steve's 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. I was tempted to write back that if he performed the way he did in my dream, the girl was in for a ride of a lifetime. Steve wrote that he would not be coming back from Europe 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. 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 many 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? 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 34 Mom's body, my body, still had the figure for it. It accentuated my boobs and you could see my protruding nipples. I must have looked like a whore. I don't know what I was thinking. I just wanted to look nice for my Dad. He 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 restaurant for a good dinner and had several glasses of wine. I was not used to drinking wine or alcohol of any sort. My body was 34 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 days of their marriage. At the end of the dinner Dad said, "I don't know what has happened to you Claire. 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 almost five years ago. He sensed my reservations about discussing my recent life. He also wanted to know where Steve was. 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, not leaving out any details. By this time I was definitely looped. I told him about the personality transfer, discovering Mom's sexuality and my bouts of masturbation during the PSAS episodes. Perhaps it was the wine but our conversation was unusually frank. Nothing was off limits. 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, 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 him that I had carefully researched it on the internet and in the college library. Mom's co-workers confirmed that the 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. My personality was burned into Mom's female body, the one I am now inhabiting. I was a man, really a teen aged boy, in a sexy woman's body. If Mom was correct and that the change was permanent, I would never be Steve again. I would just have to get used to living as a woman. Similarly Mom's personality was permanently burned into Steve's male body. Since she was transgendered, it was a welcome change for her. Her personality was in the proper sex body at last. "Well," Dad asked, "have you accepted your new life? Are you content with being a woman?" I assured him that I was. That there were a few difficult periods but I learned to deal with them. I especially appreciated Mom's erotic sensibilities. I even enjoyed touching all my womanly body parts. It would be nice if I could find someone else to touch them too. I didn't mind having female sex at all. Fortunately I didn't share Mom's ambition and I wouldn't have to prove myself at the university. 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 long 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 boobs, 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 noticed that his son was now a sexy woman. 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. "I've never had sex with a man. All I've done is make myself cum. I want to feel a penis inside my cunt 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 my cunt before. Please do it to me again. Please fuck me." Dad looked startled. He thought for a second, several emotions playing 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 not wearing a bra and just 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 with big, and by this time, very erect nipples centered in large areolas. My long dark hair cascaded around the upper slopes of my breasts, framing them and highlighting their whiteness. "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 said. I put a hand under each breast and raised them, offering them to my Dad. "Do you remember my titties? Do you like them? Take my breasts, pull them toward you, suck them. They are all yours. My tits 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. If you make love to me I'll let you 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 put your cock in my cunt. You will feel my beautiful calves on your back pressing your prick into me." 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. "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 grown to the size of acorns. "That feels wonderful!" I exclaimed. "Well, have you considered my offer?" 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 little rocks. 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 hated sex. She hated being a woman. But you seem to love it. I started wanting you halfway through dinner, even before you told me about the transfer. I wanted to rip off that dress and grab your tits. When you were sitting in front of me in the living room with your legs stretched out, it was all I could do not to crawl toward you, put my head under your skirt and start sucking your cunt. 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 Claire's magnificent body. I've dreamed of it every night since our divorce." "You don't have to worry about that, Dad. The last few months have shown me how much Mom was missing 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 literally shouted for him to shove his cock into me. And he did. His penis pushed past my lips and plunged into my vagina. My pussy 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. 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, "Claire 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 fucked 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 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 my body, the way that I could make it 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. More than I did my cock because Dad uses my cunt 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 making love 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 loved to have 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. In later years Mom's PSAS condition interfered with their sex life. She was so determined not to enjoy having an orgasm that it forced them apart. She accepted full responsibility for ruining their marriage and confessed about it in her notebook. 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. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. For a teen age boy even bad sex is wonderful. By conventional standards we both were a bit 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. One evening when watching TV I was fidgeting in my chair, probably getting a little bored. Dad came up behind me, slipped his hands into the top of my knit sweater, and with one motion pulled out one of my large breasts. I leaned back in the chair and looked at what he was doing to me with a mixture of interest and pleasure. I was fully clothed except for the indecent exposure of my bare breast. It lay there in solitary splendor. A big pink boob on the blue fabric of the sweater. The light brown nipple was centered in the large areola. What Dad did was entirely unexpected. I looked at my bare tit with total dispassion, almost as if was an exhibit in an art gallery. It was lovely and would have been a beautiful still life painting. I wasn't sexually excited at all, just intensely curious. Dad cupped my naked breast in one hand and rolled the nipple with the other until it got hard. He ran his fingers around the areola until little bumps appeared on its surface. He pulled and flicked my growing nipple with his fingers, fanning them out and stroking them over my nub. Back and forth, little jolts of pleasure as each finger flicked the nipple in turn. I was a passive observer, fascinated by the sight. I didn't make an effort to either stop him or help him. My entire consciousness was focused on what Dad was doing to my tit. It was an odd feeling. Like watching a scene from a movie. Definitely a French one. Both of his hands caressed my boob, engulfing it, stroking it, My Dad was making love to my exposed naked boob while I looked on. It was thoroughly indecent and I loved it. The whole breast seemed to swell and turn a lovely shade of pink. I saw my nipple expand before my eyes until it became almost painfully stiff. The little bumps on my areola grew. I felt that It was a totally erotic moment. It didn't feel sexy. It felt almost religious. As if Dad was worshiping a pagan goddess. His hands wandered higher on my chest. My nipple became rock hard and erected, like sweet candy ready for licking and sucking. His hands were literally radiating a deeply penetrating sensual energy. Every move and touch of his hand sent goose bumps all over my breast and body. For a moment I looked up and his eyes said lovingly "Yeah, that's my little girl" - then he went right to work again. He sucked my nipple, biting it artfully. Then went back to rubbing it with a feather-like touch that made me moan. I was now thoroughly aroused through my tit. I gave over my full body to his touch - not that I had any other choice - letting him play on it like on a fine instrument. Pleasure was sweeping over me, I raised my arms, nodding my head from side to side as if I were dreaming - yes, I was. He did not let me sleep though, kept on intensely adoring my nipple and my breast. I squirmed and heaved my chest up and down to the rhythm of his motions. I was not acting, I felt like I was going to cum. He was not touching my clitoris at all, still I felt I was getting the full treatment - I was hot and wet everywhere. I squeezed and rubbed my thighs together, as my whole body was engulfed with pleasure waves. I realized I was about to have a huge nipple orgasm... I was the goddess of orgasms, the role that I ascribed to my Mom years ago. It was a magical vision, one of the most beautiful things I ever saw. I will always remember the sight of my Dad caressing my naked breast. Of course I got sexually exited. How could it not happen? My breast was being expertly manipulated by a true master. If there was such a thing as a tit play Ph.D., Dad should have had it. The only difference between watching my breast being loved and a movie was that I could feel every sexy thing that my Dad was doing to me. He seemed to know just how to turn me on. My entire being was centered in my boob. All I could think about was having him kiss it, suck it, squeeze it, even bite it. My nipple had grown rock hard, larger than I had ever seen it before. It was dark red and huge. I had become all nipple. A gigantic, hot, stiff, sensitive, longing teat. I needed a warm, wet mouth to engulf it. Finally Dad's strong hands stretched my lovely breast up to my lips. "Nurse on this lovely nipple for a while. It is a perfect pacifier. It always seems to calm you down. I'll undress you and get you ready for bed." he said. I followed his instructions to the letter, sucking and holding my enlarged and very sensitive nipple in my mouth. Dad was right about the calming effect of nipple sucking. Once my nipple was between my lips everything faded away except for Dad and my magic tit. He unbuttoned my sweater and jeans, then gently stripped off my clothes. He took me in his arms and carried me off to bed. Within seconds he was tonguing my cunt and raising me to my first climax of the evening. All the while I kept chewing and biting my beautiful breast with its wonderfully responsive nipple, holding it in my mouth with both hands. I didn't miss a suck of my turgid nipple until his penis penetrated me for a climactic second orgasm. By that time I didn't give a damn about tit sucking. I just wanted to be fucked until I couldn't stand. 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 inside. 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. 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. On the darkened school bus ride back home, Mom fell asleep against his shoulder and he could feel the heaviness of her breasts 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. Mom awoke, leaned forward so her breast slipped out of her loose bra 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 midterm 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 cunt during her frequent masturbation sessions. No hot dog was safe in her house. 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's breast was in Dad's mouth as much as his cock was in her cunt. 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. They would sit side by side in the movies eating popcorn, Mom giving Dad a hand job while he finger fucked her to an orgasm. Dad said that they chose noisy action movies to mask their climactic gasps of pleasure. 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 a couple of 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. 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 cunt and tits. 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. Running for more than 30 minutes with the right sweatshirt would give me a small climax. I called it my sex shirt and it hung in a special place right next to the exercise machine. 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 tousled. 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 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 Mom's tits and legs turned me on. Now they 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 would welcome 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. Most of the time I didn't wear a bra 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 shapely 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. Dad took care of what was between them. In the weeks after Mom and I had exchanged consciousness, I would sit on the floor next to my bed and look at my beautiful legs. I would raise a leg on the bed and run my hands over it, kneading the resilient flesh, aware that I was realizing my teen fantasy of loving my Mom's legs. I stroked my full thigh and kissed my well-shaped nicely muscled calf. My hands drifted up my thigh, drawn to my cunt by an irresistible impulse. My fingers buried themselves inside. I was doing myself just the way I always wanted to "do" Mom. Sometimes I sucked the fleshy curved portion of my calf into my mouth while I finger fucked myself. I often bit down on my calf as if I wanted to devour, as if to savor a bit of Mom's lovely leg. I never really hurt myself. I never did more than leave a few tooth marks but I was sure that if I was ever captured by cannibals and roasted for dinner they would eat my calves first. Like the drumstick of a turkey. Then my thighs and my juicy pussy, saving my tits for dessert. Maybe they would even bite my nipples off as an appetizer. I was sure I would taste delicious. It was a really sick thought but I knew that's exactly what I would do if I was a guest at the cannibal's dinner and forced to eat a clone of herself. Whenever I played with my legs and masturbated, 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. 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. After I told him about my legs tensing up during sex, he insisted on a demonstration. I told him that I would show him but I'm sure Dad didn't know what I meant to do. I loved my Dad so much that I would masturbate myself to a climax in front of him while he looked at and felt my legs. It didn't seem like a big deal. I had done myself many times before. "Dad," I said, "I want you to watch me make myself cum. Put your hands around my thighs and feel them get hard when I climax. I've always done this in private but I don't want to have any secrets from you." I started by gently stroking my legs and worked my fingers up to my pussy lips. Of course Dad knew that I had satisfied myself during past PSAS episodes. But, for some reason today, I felt embarrassed giving myself a climax in front of him in broad daylight. I stroked my pussy and even put my fingers inside but nothing was happening. "Baby, you don't have to do it, " Dad said. "I believe you." "No," I replied. "I want to do it for you, Daddy. I've done it to myself so many times when I just had to. Now I want to do it so you can see. I want to give you my orgasm as a present of love. Maybe if I close my eyes and pretend that I'm alone, I can make myself cum." So I shut my eyes, put my head back, and redoubled my efforts. Nothing happened. Then I felt my hands being lifted out of the way and a soft, loving mouth started licking my cunt. Dad was helping me with my body again. As he sucked I began to feel the familiar twinges of incipient arousal. I reached up to clutch my tits. Between Dad's sucking and my tit play, I felt my body's sexual autopilot turn on. It knew just what to do. My fingers roamed over my body as I started masturbating. There was no more embarrassment or shame. I felt like I was giving my Dad the gift of my most intimate private experience. I didn't have to think about what I was doing as the fingers of one hand plunged into my vulva and caressed the area around my clitoris. The other stayed at my breast, rolling and pulling the nipple. My hands were pleasuring my body automatically. It was pure muscle learning. I could feel my arousal rising. It was heavenly. I was masturbating not for my body's needs but simply for the love of my Dad. This was so much nicer and far more satisfying than the PSAS orgasms I gave myself. I opened my eyes and watched my nude body, Mom's lovely body, stretched out on the bed in the bright sunlight while my hands worked to give it a climax. I loved to see my body being sexually aroused. It was both simultaneously erotic and strangely beautiful. I remembered how much I enjoyed watching myself cum in front of a mirror. I could see my hands caressing Mom's lovely body, feel my fingers roll my nipples and plunge into my vagina. I could pull those lovely boobs up to my mouth and suck, tongue and chew those very same nipples, getting wonderful sensations in my mouth and boobs. I could look at my sexy legs as I masturbated my cunt, watching the muscles quiver in an orgiastic dance, occasionally taking my hands from my vulva to fondle my thighs and calves. It was much better and far sexier than any porn movie on TV. Even though I could feel myself explode in ecstasy, I never could believe that the beautiful woman I saw in the mirror, writhing and shaking to a climax, was me. I started describing my actions to my Dad like a play by play sports announcer would describe a baseball game. Dad could see what I was doing very well but my comments added color and some sense of my emotional feeling. Indeed I was a bit surprised about how calmly I could discuss my sexual feelings while my body was on the verge of what I felt would be a big climax. It was almost like watching the video of Mom masturbating her magnificent body to a peak of sexual ecstasy. I could see her lick her lips in anticipation. I loved the sight of the woman, me, starting to cum. Had I still been a man I would have fucked me right on the spot. Actually I sort of expected Dad to plunge his cock right into me. I certainly would have done it if I were him. But I think he was curious about seeing me do it. I know that watching women masturbate to a climax is a favorite of porn video fans. I must have been putting on a great show. If Dad asked me to I would have been happy to perform for him any time provided he agreed to fuck me properly afterward. I went on with my play by play description. "After I get myself excited by stroking my legs, I usually touch my breasts." I said in a calm voice. "I love to caress my tits. Look at my nipples. They are so stiff and swollen. I'll play with my boobies a bit longer than I usually do and give plenty of attention to my nipples to get myself really hot. When I can get my nipples this way it means that my body is telling me that it is ready to cum. I don't think I will finish myself off yet because I want to build up to a big climax. See how big and stiff the nipples are. They are so sensitive and sexy. Now I will put them in my mouth and suck them." I lowered my head and pulled the nipple of one tit up to my mouth. My cheeks hollowed and swelled as I sucked. After nursing my breast for a minute or two, I let my wet nipple slip out of my mouth. My Dad watched me with a bemused look on his face, as if he couldn't comprehend that I actually masturbating in front of him. More so that I appeared to enjoy it so much, He licked his lips. I just know he wanted to dive back into my pussy and finish me off himself. That would have been very nice but I had started this demonstration and needed to finish it myself. "Put your hands on my legs, Dad." I removed my fingers from my pussy, took his hands and put them on my legs. "Around my thighs. Can you feel them vibrate? I'm going to try to make myself cum. Feel my thighs get stiff. Kiss my calves too. It feels very sexy. I like to have you play with my calves. Let me finish myself off so you can see." As I talked I put my hands back on my cunt and resumed stroking my pussy lips. I felt totally content with my sexuality. I had absolutely no shame anymore about masturbating. In fact I was proud that I could give myself an orgasm in front of my Dad. We should have no secrets from each other. I moved my body so that Dad had a had a good view of my pubic area. I caressed my pussy lips and vulva. "I've gotten myself excited enough to start really finger fucking my pussy. I won't touch my clitoris yet. I want to hold off and have a mind blowing climax for you." "Look how swollen my pussy lips are. I 'm getting really wet. I think I'll put a couple of more fingers in my cunt and when I get ready I'll play with my clit." I started plunging my fingers in and out. My hand motions got faster. My body started to roll from side to side on the bed. I couldn't lay still. Every once in a while I removed my fingers from my cunt and sucked them. "Daddy, I'm getting very excited now. Look how big and wet my cunt lips are. My pussy is starting to drip. I like the taste of my own juices. I wish I could suck myself while I make myself cum." My body motions increased as I drove my fingers deeper and deeper. After about a minute of intense finger fucking I said, "I'm getting hot enough to touch my clitoris. That should make me cum. Be sure to watch what happens to me while I'm cumming. I don't think I will be able to talk clearly because all I can think about after I start playing with my clit is how good my pussy feels when I cum." My hips raised and lowered to meet my rapid thrusts. My fingers never stopped on my clitoris. I pulled my tiny cock so hard that Dad winced in empathy. I looked at my breasts. They were bright pink and my nipples were engorged. I closed my eyes. My tongue licked my lips. I began to make little catlike whimpering sounds of pleasure. My legs started their orgiastic dance on the bed, my torso shook. My cunt started to clutch my plunging fingers. I could feel my rhythmic vaginal contractions. My climax was starting. "My legs," I gasped, "my legs." My thighs had turned hard. I had less than ten seconds left. Just before the climax I managed to shout to my Dad, "Feel my thighs." He put his hands on my thighs squeezed the flesh. And then in one mighty spasm I started to have the mother of all orgasms. I gasped loudly, my hips lifted to meet my hand, my legs became rigid, my thighs like marble slabs, my back arched. My body formed a perfect bridge, supported only by my head, thrown back against the pillow, and my feet, pressing down into the bed. Just before I climaxed I cried "I'm starting to cum. It's going to be a big one. My pussy is going to explode. Dad, watch me cum! I'm doing it for you. It's all for you! YES, YES! I can feel myself cumming. Look at me! I'm going to have a climax NOW! "Feel me, Dad. I'M CUMMING!" I felt the carnal agony in my pussy. My cunt exploded in a rainbow of erotic feelings. "I'M CUMMING, DADDY. I LOVE YOU. I'M CUMMING JUST FOR YOU! I'VE MADE MYSELF CUM FOR YOU!" My orgasm seemed to last almost forever. When it was over Dad cradled me in his arms, moved me to the center of the bed, covered my naked body with a sheet, and pulled the drapes shut to darken the room. I slept until dinnertime. Delicious smells wafted through the house. I heard Dad call, "Wake up Claire. Dinner is in half an hour." I took a quick shower and cleaned myself up. Combed my hair and tied it back in a ponytail. 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 sixth anniversary," Dad said. "It's exactly six months 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 fucked out. 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 alright. 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. CHAPTER 11 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 my titties 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 titties. 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. I can feel my cum spreading from my tits and legs to my cunt. I'm all on fire. I can feel my pussy 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 Claire anymore, just Claire'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. I'm going to cum RIGHT NOW. It's happening NOW! I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING! I'M JUST A CUNT THAT'S CUMMING. I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING!" "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 teenaged boy interprets everything in a sexual context. Perhaps I described my PSAS experiences in too benign a manner. Just because I reached an accommodation to my urges doesn't mean that every PSAS sufferer can do so. One of the important issues about sexuality that the existence of PSAS raises is that sexual pleasure is never only something that happens in our bodies. From an individual perspective, what is most important about sexual pleasure is that it is chosen and desirable. There is a big difference between physical signs of arousal, and the individual experience of sexual pleasure. Mom wrote that one of the barriers that women who experience PSAS talk about is the social attitudes of those around them. People think that having PSAS means they are experiencing sexual pleasure all day long. In fact PSAS has led some women to hate their bodies to the point of contemplating suicide. That's the way it was with Mom. I seem to be an unusual case. I managed to convince myself that my need for repeated orgasms was an opportunity for pleasure. I focused my anger on my loss of voluntary control. It was a problem of will power, not of runaway sexuality. In the context of a college community, my life as a single mom would have been quite ordinary. I kept the house in good order, looked after Stephanie's wellbeing, 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." 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, had a wonderful fuck 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. 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 Robert finished without draining a breast, I bent it up to my mouth. It seemed so huge. So much flesh. I had to use both hands to raise it. The nipple and areolas 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. Thin but sweet. It reminded me of melted vanilla ice cream without the vanilla. Thankfully my big boobies produced a plentiful supply of Grade A. Robert never went hungry. Mother's milk tastes so good 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. Strange as it seems, I still couldn't get used to Mom's breasts as mine. Every once in a while I would pull out a boob and stare at it. My hands cradled the massive mammary gently. I caressed the breast like I would caress a lover, reveling in the sensations that I could feel when running my hands over the surface. My breasts were part of me but they were also my favorite toy. How wonderful it was to have my own private pleasure domes. In the very unlikely event that I managed to switch back to Steve, my breasts were the parts of Mom's body that I would most miss. I had a little game where I tried squirting milk in my mouth from as far away as I could. After a while I could hit my mouth from six or seven inches. I didn't do that too often because it made such a mess when I missed. I liked my milk right from the source. But of course even though the sight of my tits seemed strange, I always felt the delightful sensations of breast play whenever I handled them. I'll bet cows feel turned on when the farmer milks their tits. I know I did when I milked mine. 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. When little 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 once 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. The next day we admitted to each other that we were both fascinated by the bountiful tits of Mom's body. For some reason, probably buried in abnormal psychology, an overwhelming obsession with Mom's milky tits triggered off intense sexual responses in both of us. When I undressed for bed I would hold my breasts up for Dad while he played with my nipples. If there was enough time before the baby's next feeding, Dad would sample my milk and then give me a taste by a long soulful kiss. When we made love, Dad would nurse on my tit as he fucked me. It was just as I promised he could do. Timing his thrusts to his tit-milking, he would bring me to the brink, and hold me there for many seconds. We would both come in unison, eyes closed, wallowing in a mixture of our secretions, feeling one another's fading throbs. One night I awoke to find that Dad had his hands around one breast. He had been fondling the breast and I, in my sleep had grasped its partner. I felt Dad's lips on my nipple and the milk began to flow. Warm streams of milk washed my chest from the unattended teat, and I could feel my pussy contract as his hands urged milk from the nipple he was sucking. I raised the other huge tit to my own mouth and sucked from my apparently unlimited supply. I reveled in the sensation of both breasts giving milk at the same time. Dad kept my nipple in his mouth while his hand moved to my pussy. His fingers found their way inside and started my climb to an orgasm. I was being milked and finger fucked at the same time. Without thinking I reached for Dad's hard cock and started moving my fingers around the head. I could hear Dad moan in between sucks. His lips vibrated my nipple while his tongue circled around the tip. I even felt him chew a bit, a feeling guaranteed to send me over the edge. So we stroked and sucked and finger fucked each other to mutual orgasms. It was wonderful. I was not entirely free of PSAS symptoms following Robert's birth but they seemed to change in form and intensity. They came on suddenly but lasted only a short time. If Dad wasn't there to help, I still needed to give myself occasional orgasms. But the focus was now on my breasts. I would go through the day normally, then, in an instant I would get the feeling that my boobs would burst unless I relieved the pressure immediately. The first time it happened I opened my blouse and removed my bra to see if something was wrong. My breasts each resembled a soft cantaloupe half with a red cherry on top. Little drops of milk oozed out of the nipples. Despite the nagging fullness, I was fascinated by the sight. I couldn't believe that those twin peaks of flesh were mine. Beautiful - but they were beginning to hurt. It wasn't time for a feeding so I sucked the turgid nipple of the most painful breast until the tit was empty. Then I attended to the other. Sometimes instead of sucking I put my hands around my breast and manually expelled the milk into a wide mouth glass container, intending to save it for Robert's bottle. I ran my hands down the length of the breast from base to nipple, squeezing as I went, stripping the milk from my tit. I milked myself like a goat. Then I did the other breast. It was a nasty job but someone had to do it. I'm glad it was me. Of course Dad helped too. If Robert didn't need the surplus milk, we used it in our coffee. It was sweet and delicious. Nothing like fresh milk from your private dairy. You know, I'm not sure this was PSAS at all. Perhaps it was just an overactive "let down" reflex. Whatever the cause, I just loved having my boobs sucked. 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 the matter was. 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. Little Robert weaned himself when he was about nine months old. I didn't try to wean him. In fact I rather enjoyed him sucking at my full tit. I was using my breasts as they were meant to be used. He simply liked the taste of whatever Gerber put in those little bottles better than the milk that came out of my nipples. On the other hand both Dad and I liked my milk. Preferably straight from the source. In fact, I liked all the exudations from my body, and from Dad's too. Whenever I fingered myself, I licked my wet fingers clean savoring my own taste. After Dad ate my cunt, I would pull his head upward and give him a long soulful kiss savoring the mixture of our flavors. We both regretted that my milky tits would soon dry up. Of course we could keep my milk flowing for a while by draining my breasts regularly. We were both eager to give it a try. I would suck on my tits during the day when Dad was occupied with business matters while he took over in the evenings. After the kids were in bed we performed our delightful milking chore. We would both get undressed for bed. Dad would sit down on an armless chair in our bedroom. I would fondle and suck his penis until it turned rigid, then I would lower myself on it, straddling his legs, facing him. There we were, his cock up my cunt, sitting face to face. We caressed each other's bodies as we talked over the events of the day. His head was level with my breasts. Eventually the nipple of one breast would find its way into his mouth and he would begin sucking. I would feel the let down reflex as the milk began to flow. I reveled in the joy of nursing my Dad. Every minute or so he would give me a long kiss and I could taste and even drink my nectar from his mouth. When the first tit was empty, he would start on the second. Much of the time we never even got to do the second breast. The combination of intimate body contact, erotic touching, and tit play usually raised us to the point that only a legitimate, and often furious, fuck would satisfy our urges. We fucked and came, and fucked and came. When we both collapsed back on the bed in exhaustion, Dad would gently reach over and drain the remaining tit. I loved it. I loved my tits. I loved Dad. And my milk kept flowing from my big, sensitive, motherly boobies for five, maybe six, more months. So Dad and I and the two kids lived five ecstatic, glorious, fulfilling years. We loved each other dearly and we both forgot that I was his son living in a woman's body. The only reminder was our names. He called me Claire 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 fucking 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. Dad's friends and colleagues held a memorial service in the college chapel. It was very well attended but I simply couldn't go. Not only was I too grief stricken but the shock had triggered off an intense PSAS episode. Thankfully I had had few PSAS urges since the birth of baby Robert, but the condition had merely been dormant. While Dad was being eulogized in the chapel, I was locked in my room giving myself one climax after another. For days my hand was flailing my cunt while I was chewing my titties raw. I paused only to eat a little between orgasms then was forced to return to pleasuring myself. By this time we had household help and they looked after the kids while Mommy was "sick." Mommy was more than sick. She was devastated. Surprisingly the only thing that kept me sane was my obligation to meet the insistent carnal demands of my body. I little time to feel sorry for myself before the twinges of my cunt and the ache of my breasts required my immediate attention. If there was any side benefit to PSAS, this was it. I usually started masturbating by stimulating my breasts. They were bigger than they had been before the baby but still as sensitive. I reached my hands up and rolled both nipples between thumb and forefinger. When the nipples got big enough I held my right breast in my right hand and ran my left forefinger around the base of the nipple, then started stroking toward the tip. I opened the fingers of my left hand like a fan and ran them back and forth over the nipple. If I did it long enough my nipples would get almost painfully stiff. I could feel jolts of tit excitement as each finger hit the nipple in turn. This manipulation of my boobs would hasten my rise to a climax. That, of course, was my intent. Thanks to all of Dad's loving attention I had extremely responsive breasts. Still fanning my nipple with my left hand I moved my now unoccupied right hand down my belly to my mound and rubbed it almost in synchrony with my left. I let my fingers slide down to my pussy and ran them around the dry lips. I needed more lubrication so I slowly moved my lips apart and thrust two fingers directly into my vagina. It was usually wet and slippery inside. I moved them back and forth a bit. That felt so good that I abandoned my breast and moved my other hand to my pussy. I worked my fingers around the lips and then started gently rolling my protruding clit. I shut my eyes and fantasized that I was being fucked by Dad's big prick. How I wanted that in my cunt! I could feel the rising sexual tension over my entire body, the empty feeling that had to be filled, the tightness, the longing. My legs no longer responded to my will and began their pre orgasmic dance. I was going to cum sooner than I expected. I didn't fight it. Yes, I knew I was going to have to do it again but for now I just lay back and let the climax wash over me. So the next two weeks passed. Between orgasms I watched TV, ate a bit, exercised, and tried to keep the house fairly neat. One problem was that I had trouble sleeping. I felt groggy, my eyes would shut, and I would doze off. Then I would feel the urge in my cunt forcing me to pleasure myself. I've said that wrong. It wasn't a pleasure. It was an obligation. All I could think about was giving myself another orgasm. I had to cum or I felt that I would surely go insane. When I did manage to fall asleep, my dreams, often nightmares, were all about sex. One dream was a replay of my imaginary fuck with Steve. I was Mom and he fucked me to repeated climaxes, so realistic that I orgasmed several times in my sleep. Just as in my dream of years ago, my tits had become huge and my clitoris was the size of a walnut. In my dreams I could actually fuck myself with the nipple of my tit by pulling it down between my legs and shoving it into my cunt. In one dream I had become flexible enough to lick my own pussy sucking and chewing my engorged clitoris to a climax. I had to put a towel on the sheet under my pussy or the bed would be soaked by my juices by morning. My worst nightmares were scary and perverse and seemed to be dredged from the darkest recesses of Mom's id. Nothing in my life had ever prepared me for them. In one nightmare I envisioned myself performing the most unspeakable sexual acts in public, a town whore wandering naked down our short main street. The nightmare was extremely realistic and vivid. I could see all the familiar storefronts and signs. And there I was, begging for sex from every man, woman, girl and boy. I would lie in the town commons surrounded by a ring of onlookers while anyone who wanted fucked me in whatever orifice they desired. All of Steve's high school friends, the ones who called me the mega-MILF of the neighborhood, lined up to fuck me over and over again. They worked in teams. One sucked and bit my tits while another drove his prick into my cunt. Each fuck gave me a full orgasm. Then they reversed positions and did it again. My body shook, rolled and spasmed, my legs performed their ritual dance, my thighs became rigid. When they finished I would lie and wait for another team to fuck me, the neighborhood slut, and give me more orgasms. The line seemed never ending. I would cum and cum and cum but never seemed satisfied. I would suck the pricks of the men ready to penetrate my cunt and ass and stick my fingers in the vaginas of the women waiting to use me. And they did use me, eating my cunt, playing with my breasts, fisting me, making me suck them as they sat on my face. I would even let several dogs fuck me at a time, mouth and cunt. I writhed and squirmed as I came but nothing satisfied me. I needed more and more as I desperately sought some gratification from my orgy. I was driven to take on all comers in the vain hope that one would bring me relief. But it never happened. This nightmare repeated often with several variations. When I awoke I usually found that I had several fingers in my wet cunt, sometimes my whole hand. My breasts were bruised from myself sucking and I had bite marks around my areolas. On reflection I was amused to realize that my prophecy of so many years ago was wrong. At least in my nightmare, all of Steve's high school friends finally did get their opportunity to fuck me, the mega-MILF, and suck my tits. It was sick to contemplate but, at the peak of my PSAS urge, had there really been a line of high school studs lined up to use me, I would have let them. 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 20, going on 21. 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, and, I might say, easier to put in my mouth. I loved sucking my own tits. It was the only erogenous zone I could reach with my tongue. I dearly loved to be sucked but I was not yet ready to have another man eat my cunt. I was still a great piece of ass. Too bad I had no one to take advantage of my assets. My body longed for a good fuck. A real fuck, not one I could give myself. But I didn't know any man whose cock I wanted inside me And so things went on for some time. It took me a while to get over Dad's death but eventually I went back to playing with Mom's body for amusement. Especially during long TV shows after the kids were in bed. 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. I certainly didn't feel that I was a man trapped inside of it. 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 clit. In short, I was happy being me. I still had occasional episodes of PSAS. Some intense, some just mild. I still hated being forced to masturbate but I knew that the symptoms would eventually pass. 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, during one of my minor PSAS urges, I heard the doorbell ring. I had just given myself a climax so I knew that I had a half hour or so of respite before the need came on me again. 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." As Steve talked, I began to fidget, crossing my legs and wiggling my butt on the chair. My hands drifted up to the front of my sweater and I unconsciously started rubbing the area over my nipples. Steve seemed to get the clue right away. "Are you having a PSAS episode, Claire?" What could I do but admit it. I was within a minute of pulling down my skirt and 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." He walked me to the bedroom and stripped off my confining garments. I felt odd, a mature woman lying nude, squirming on the bed, 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 pants. 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. 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. When Steve touched my clit, I felt 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 jeans 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 it away from my clit and pulling him on his knees. I reached for his pants and started pulling them down. Steve was only happy to help. He quickly shed his shorts 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 the rest of the day 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. By the end of the afternoon the PSAS episode had diminished and, thanks to Steve's help I felt almost normal. When the kids came home I introduced Steve. I said that he had been going to college 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. Little did they know that they were getting a world renowned scientist to wash beakers. 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 that he was Claire 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 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 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, dear, 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 loved the body that you left me with. Remember I had the desires of a teen age boy. Any sex was good sex. I loved playing with your tits and your cunt. Your great legs were something else. I would kneel on the floor, put a leg on my bed and fondle it and kiss it. My psyche was still that of a teen aged boy. I thought of them as your legs, Mom's legs, legs that I lusted after and would never get to handle. I especially loved my 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. Heady stuff for a teen. It took me quite a while to accept your beautiful, sexy body as mine. Even now, when I catch glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror stepping out of the shower I have a male longing to fuck the woman that I see. If I was a lesbian I would be down on me in a second." "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 and how to make love to a woman." "So, dear Steve, 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 sat on the edge of my bed looking very downhearted. I's sure his confession took a lot out of him. Steve had a lot of unresolved guilt about his abandonment of his family. He had also stolen ten years of my youth. But, for me, having had the opportunity to fall in love with Dad more than made up for it. I wanted to make peace with Steve before he left. The best way I could think of doing it was making love to him and showing him how wonderful a truly voluntary compassionate love could be. "Steve," I said, "love me tonight before you leave. I want you to make love to me right now. Fuck me. I want us both to enjoy having you use my body. It's what I dreamed of doing 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 did it this afternoon but that was simply therapy. This time I want you to really enjoy it. I want you to pant and shiver and cum and cum. 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. Young Steve always wanted to fuck his Mommy. I'm giving the new Steve the chance to fuck me out of my mind. You can play all you want with my beautiful breasts and legs. Caress them, squeeze them, suck them. Maybe after tonight you can work it out of your system and won't be so attracted to bimbos with big tits and nice legs." "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 your PSAS urges. That was something I could never do. I know that you are physically my mother but now I'm all mixed up." Steve pushed me back on the bed and kissed me. "Hurry Steve," I pleaded. "I feel so empty inside. 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 tits. 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." Steve reached out and touched me. His hand landed on my stomach but I reached up and placed it firmly on my breast. "That's it darling. Hold my tit. Put your other hand on it too. Now squeeze me a little between your hands. Rub it a little, Roll the nipple. Kiss it. Love it. Now hold it up and look at it in the light. Isn't it one of the most beautiful things you have ever seen? It has a sister just like it. You can play with this one while I make love to the other." Both Steve and I sat facing each other on the bed caressing my breasts. It may have been the first time Steve paid so much undivided attention to a pair of tits, even his own when he was me. During a PSAS episode breast play was just a way station on the way to a quick orgasm. I pulled my nightgown over my head and sat naked in front of Steve. His eyes were fixed on my big tits. They were indeed beautiful, full, and symmetrical. The nipples were large and erect and centered in my large dark pink areolas. I loved them dearly. They were had been my friends and occasional pacifiers since we switched bodies. It's too bad that Mom never learned to appreciate them. My boobies could well have been my best body part. Dad loved them and I was proud of them. "Steve, darling, why don't you suck on my nipple. I have no milk to give you but I'm sure you will like it." 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 sucked my tit and his cock got even harder. "Now it's time to stop loving my tits and explore the rest of me. It's all waiting for you. Wouldn't you like to feel my gorgeous legs? I've tried hard to keep them in good shape. I'm sure you will like them much better than you did when they were yours." I raised my leg and stretched it over Steve's lap. "Look how nice my legs are. My calves are just perfect for wrapping around your back and holding you close when we fuck. The thighs are great too. I look at them 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 clit for a while they will get as hard as your cock." I wanted Steve to play with my body but what I really wanted to do was turn him on to the point where he couldn't resist fucking me. And I wanted him to fuck me for hours, not just a quick bang, "Now it's my turn Steve. While you love my body. I get to play with your cock." As he was caressing my legs his penis pushed its way out of his pajamas. I put my hand around his stiff cock and rubbed the head. against my fleshy calf. "Doesn't that feel nice? Your prick loves my legs as much as your hands. Now let me bend over so I can squeeze your wonderful cock between my titties. My nipples long for a touch of your penis. I want you to tit fuck me." As I talked I twisted around so I was now facing Steve instead of almost sitting in his lap. True to my word I started rubbing my turgid nipples on the end of his very hard penis. Droplets of Steve's pre-cum lubricated my nipples as they slithered across his cock head. I wrapped my big tits around his penis and started moving my body. The way I was sitting I couldn't provide much motion but Steve got the idea and started tit fucking me. Funny thing. I'm sure that Steve, when he was me would never consider tit fucking and I'm quite certain that Mom never allowed my Dad to tit fuck her. Steve gave an upward thrust and I grasped his cock between my lips. No pretense now. Steve's cock in my mouth let me realize a boyhood dream. I simply started giving him the blow job of a lifetime. And I didn't feel at all hesitant about doing it. It had been my cock for 15 years and I had enjoyed playing with it. I liked to lick my cum off of my hand after I ejaculated. When I masturbated as a teen I always tried to bend down to suck my penis. Once, when I had a huge hard-on I managed to get the entire head of my cock in my mouth. It was just after I had sneaked a peek at my Mom nakedly pleasuring herself to a massive PSAS climax in her bedroom. So my cock must have been extra-long. I licked and sucked the sensitive surface and managed to squeeze a few drops of delicious, salty pre-cum out of the end. I tried to finish the job and ejaculate right into my mouth but my back began to hurt so badly that I had to stop. Alas, I never got the opportunity to do it again. Mom and I switched soon afterwards. But now I had the chance. It might have been Steve's cock now but they were my memories. Steve's cock was smooth and surprisingly tasty. I licked up his pre-cum and sucked the end to try to get more. As I sucked and lightly let my teeth scrape over the end I put my hand around the shaft and started an up and down motion. I was masturbating his penis as well as sucking. Just the way I always imagined I would like it. 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 amazed disbelief and intense pleasure. It was like his Mom was giving him a blow job. How sick is that? I thoroughly enjoyed making love to his cock. I could feel my legs twitching and getting stiff. My sure signs of arousal. I was afraid that 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. "For God's sake Steve. Fuck me. We have played games long enough. 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 love me. Just use me in the way I like to be used. Don't think of me as your Mom but as another bimbo with big tits and nice legs. Then stick your cock in me. We only have a few more hours before you have to leave for California" 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've been wanting to do this all evening. Suck my tits and make me cum." 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. My hips lifted and dropped, pistoning Steve's 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'm your Mommy and you're fucking me. When you were my Mommy and 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 fucking 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. Our bodies need each other. Make me cum hard. Make your Mommy 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. Again my mind flashed back to the time I saw her masturbating, writhing in ecstasy on her bed. Except now it was my cock working in her cunt instead of her fingers. Those legs that I lusted after were around me and my mouth was chewing her tits. We had melted into each other in a sexual stew. Steve was me and I was Steve. But then as I felt my orgasm start to grow I regained my own persona. The electric jolts flowed through my body from tits to cunt and everywhere in between. My rigid legs told me that I was going to cum, and soon. "I'm getting there," I gasped, " - now fuck me hard Steve. Yes, yes, YES. You are making me cum. I'm going to cum now. Your cock is deep in Mommy's cunt. You are fucking your Mommy. You are making me cum. YOUR MOMMY IS CUMMING ON YOUR PRICK. I'M 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 my body. 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. Finally he said, "Claire, your body is wonderful. I hated it when it was mine but now I love it. I know that you are physically my Mommy, at least your body is. And I know that years ago Steve's body always wanted to make love to Claire's body. And it still does. But I raised the person inside you from a baby. I don't think of you as my mother but I wish I did. I want you to be. My cock wants to be inside you. I need your legs around me. I love fucking my Mommy. And you really do have big tits and great legs." We made love again that evening. It was a long powerful fuck. A marathon of lovemaking that lasted at least two hours. 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 legs, my showgirl legs, wrapped around his body and held him close. My calves, those beautifully fleshy calves that I played with and masturbated over in the throes of teen lust, 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. Just before I lost control I kissed Steve and said softly in almost a matter of fact voice, "You are making your Mommy cum. You are Mommy's baby and you are making me cum. Your Mommy always wanted her baby boy to fuck her. Mommy loves cumming on your cock. Fuck me hard, Steve. I'm going to cum. Mommy is going to cum." My incestual invitation seemed to turn him on even more. Steve responded by fucking me even harder. In seconds I started shaking out of control. The sexual explosion spread all over my body in an instant. I tensed. My thighs became insanely rigid. I had no time to think, not even the ten seconds of warning that my legs usually gave me. "I'M CUMMNG," I screamed. "I'M CUMMING, MOMMY IS CUMMING!" I climaxed, and felt myself rising toward the peak again. Steve's hard cock kept driving in and out of my cunt. His hands clutched my breasts, squeezing and pulling. My legs were wrapped around his body, my calves beat a tattoo on his back. 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 yesterday afternoon. I'm glad we made peace with each other. You are a wonderful mother fucker. A really great one. Oh yes, I have one small regret. You never got a chance to suck milk from my tit while you fucked me. We would have both enjoyed it. Be gentle with the bimbos with big tits and great legs. 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 Steve's visit served as a turning point in my life. I gave up grieving for Dad and tried to resume my social life. The college was a focal point of my social activities. 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, 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 "Claire, let me drive you home. You can pick up your car in the morning." It was Diane, 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. Diane 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 Diane was compact and muscular, but very well formed. Perhaps the best way to describe Diane 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. Diane looked like a miniature of one of those sexy women featured in his Superhero comic books. The ones Steve 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 Diane. He would have loved to have Diane 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 Diane. 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 Diane 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. Diane 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. Diane'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 Diane 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 what came over me. I just wanted 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 Diane was indeed a lesbian I was setting myself up to be seduced. I made coffee and offered her a cup. Diane 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 Diane prattled on about her courses. As I rose to pour us more coffee, I smoothed my blouse down, giving Diane a good view of the contours of my breasts. Diane could clearly see my erect nipples pushing out the front of the shirt. I crossed my legs as I sat down making sure Diane got a glimpse of my still firm thighs. I did everything I could to entice Diane short of saying "fuck me." By this time Diane 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 Diane had been on the gymnastic team and asked her if she would massage my sore muscles just a bit. If I could convince Diane to get her hands on me it would just be a matter of time. Diane 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. Diane 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. Diane 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, Diane. 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. Diane 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 Diane gave up all pretense. She slipped her fingers under my panties and touched my pussy lips. "That helps a lot Diane. Don't be shy. Your touch feels so good." By this time Diane had one hand on my cunt, the other holding my ass. She squeezed my pubic region between her hands. It was delightful. The pressure drove her fingers into my cunt and she started moving them around. I lay back on the couch. As I did I opened my blouse and unhooked my front opening bra. My breasts spilled out. They were not as big 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 Diane 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. "Diane, 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 Diane 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 Diane. How could I mind. Just a minute ago she had her fingers in my cunt and would almost certainly have them in my cunt again. I took off my panties and blouse. "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. Diane agreed that this was a good idea and stripped down to the buff. Diane'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. 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 Claire the situation was entirely different. Diane had matured a bit and some of her gymnastic muscular tone had softened. She was growing voluptuous. 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. Diane 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. 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. Diane'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 Diane's nipples were at least twice the size. When I rolled them the nipples became hard and enlarged even more. I just had to get my mouth on them. Diane 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 Diane's hand. I tried to get one of Diane's nipples in my mouth but it was too late. "Diane," I cried, "slow down. I'm not ready to cum yet. I'm not ready - - - I'm going to have a climax. Diane you are making me cum. I'm going to cum. I'M CUMMING!, I'M CUMMING" My orgasm exploded unexpectedly as I squirmed and shuddered in Diane's embrace. Diane knew that she had given me a climax in the guise of a leg massage. "I'm sorry that I made you cum," she said. "Should I go home now?" "Don't be silly Diane. 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 Diane. "I would like that a lot." We scrounged around the kitchen looking for a good evening meal. I had a pizza in the freezer. Diane thought would be more than satisfactory. Putting the pizza in the oven took almost half an hour because Diane 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 Diane and I adjourned to bed. We didn't want to waste a minute. I snuggled up to Diane 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 Diane closely and explained that I could cum over and over in a short time. I had had a lot of practice with repeated cumming during PSAS episodes. It was one of the very few benefits of the disease. Diane said that she wished that she could do the same but alas she was good for only a couple of climaxes a night. Then Diane smiled. "But I can do it to you as many times 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." Diane 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 Diane enthusiastically. I lay down on the bed and Diane 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. Diane raised her head and asked, "Would you like me to make you cum now?" "Yes, Diane. Please make me cum." Diane 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 Diane 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. Diane had shoved one of her big, big nipples in my mouth. She didn't forget. The nipple was huge and fleshy. It 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 tittie off!" Diane almost shouted. With Diane 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 Diane. "I remembered what you said about putting my nipple in your mouth. Can I make you come again?" "In a while, Diane. 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 Diane 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. Diane 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 Claire and as Steve. Diane had her legs wrapped around me and was squeezing me tight. It was something that I always wanted as a teen aged boy and now as a grown woman. I knew she was going to make me cum. It was just a matter of time. Diane 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 Diane easier access to my inner thighs. But that wasn't Diane'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. Diane 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. Diane 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. Diane drove me almost to 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 Diane'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 Diane cum. I started sucking her a bit harder, my tongue circling her clit. I felt Diane's thighs compress around my head. Then they started vibrating a bit. In turn Diane increased her attentions to my clit. This time we wanted and needed to make each other cum. When I felt Diane'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. Diane'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 Diane 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 Diane 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 screamed "I'M CUMMING!" at exactly the same time. Even after the simultaneous climax Diane and I continued to suck each other, almost by reflex, and we forced each other to a second smaller climax. It was wonderful. The next morning Diane came into the kitchen as I was frying some eggs. She had a crestfallen, guilty look and almost seemed ready to cry. "I'm so sorry for what happened last night," she said. "I didn't mean to but I just couldn't stop myself. Please don't think too badly of me. I won't let it happen again." I realized in an instant that Diane believed that she had seduced me and was entirely responsible for yesterday's lesbian encounter. What could I say to make it right? "Diane, sit down and have a cup of fresh brewed coffee. Nothing happened that we didn't both want to have happen. It was a lovely experience and certainly no one's fault. You are a wonderful person and I would do it again in an instant. Our lovemaking was like a breath of fresh air." "But you must think that I am so perverted. Is there any way I can make it right?" "Diane, have breakfast and then come back to the bedroom. I'll show you what a woman like myself has to do to get satisfaction without a lovely person like you to help." We ate in silence and then Diane followed me back to the bedroom. I'm sure she didn't know what to expect but then I didn't know what I would do either. I decided that the best thing I could do was put on a bit of a show to give Diane an indication of how perverted my sexuality actually was. It didn't matter what she thought of me. I just wanted to make her feel better about herself. When we reached the bedroom I had Diane sit in a chair while I stood in front of her. I turned slowly around as if I was modeling a dress. "Do I look OK, Diane? I've worked so hard to keep myself in shape. It's been so long since anyone has enjoyed my body as much as you did last night. Are you sure that there's nothing more that you want to do to me before you have to leave? We still have some time." Diane looked sheepishly at me and shook her head. I put my left leg up on the edge of the bed and caressed it with my hands, stroking it from ankle to thigh. I paid special attention to the curve of the calf then moved my hands on the thigh almost to my pussy. Then I turned to Diane again. "Wouldn't you like legs like these wrapped around you? I would squeeze your body between my soft thighs and massage your back with my beautiful legs. I know you would. Anyone would." I put my hand on my mound and gave it a few strokes. "Now look how I'm going to make love to my body to get myself really excited." It seemed an odd thing for me to say but it wasn't much of a stretch. I let my mind drift back to the months after Mom and I had switched personalities and remembered how much I enjoyed fondling and caressing the new me. My legs, tits, and cunt always responded to my touch. I just had to be careful not to get carried away in trying to excite Diane. As I said this, I stole a look at Diane. She was sitting slack jawed in the chair, a look of disbelief on her face. I put my leg back on the bed and leaned over, stroking it again from the ankle to the thigh. My robe parted and my breasts swung free, dangling so that the nipples rested on the upper surface of the thigh. Then, still facing Diane, I licked my fingers and spread my pussy lips with the index fingers of each hand making sure that she had a good view of the pink interior. I put two fingers of my right hand into my cunt and moved them back and forth making slightly squishing sounds. "See what I'm doing?" I said to Diane. "I'm getting my body nice and sexy just for you. I'll bet you wish you were doing this to me. Maybe with your tongue. But since you won't help me, I'll have to love my body all by myself." Still facing Diane I raised the fingers that had been in my pussy to my mouth and licked them. By this time Diane was squirming in her chair. She clutched the armrests so tightly I thought they would break. Her eyes had a glazed look and she was breathing hard. "Now," I said, "I'm going to have more fun playing with my body." I dropped my robe completely and leaned forward. My breasts swung free. "Look at my titties now. Don't you wish you could do this to them?" I put my hands under my right breast and pulled it away from my chest. My fingers encircled the middle of the breast and I stroked it toward the tip. Then I squeezed as hard as I could and the tip and areola expanded to an almost grotesque size. I rolled the nipple between my fingers and it expanded to twice its normal size. "I love my tits," I said to my Diane. "If you can't help me I'm going to suck them and enjoy them all for myself while you just watch." I raised a tit to my mouth and briefly sucked the nipple. I felt my cheeks hollow and fill. Then I let it drop with a plop and raised the other one. I never even got the tit to my mouth. Diane leapt from the chair and pushed me down on the bed. "I can't stand it," she almost shouted. "I've got to have you now!" She drove her face into my pussy and started sucking, tonguing and chewing. Her hands reached up to my boobies and pulled my body into her mouth. She squeezed so hard that I thought my tits might actually explode. This wasn't the gentle, almost placid Diane of last night but a ravenous sexual demon. She chewed and tongued. My little exhibition had so primed me for sex that I came almost immediately, then once again. Diane still kept mauling my body and I loved it. She worked me over for half an hour, sucking and squeezing. Then she pulled her head away and stuck her entire hand in my cunt, working her fingers around in my insides. I shuddered and came again. Diane seemed insatiable. I turned her over. "Now it's my turn, Diane." My mouth sucked her huge nipples. I chewed gently and she shuddered in a climax. Twice at least. But that was just the appetizer. I kissed my way down her body until my mouth was level with her belly button. My big boobs were just about level with her cunt. On a whim, I spread her legs and rubbed her clit with my turgid nipple. Diane responded instantly. "Fuck me with your tittie, fuck me," she begged. I flicked my nipple back and forth on her clit as she squirmed under me. She reached down and spread her cunt lips apart as far as she could. "Shove your boobie into me." But my tit was too big. Only the nipple and part of areola could get in. It felt great to me but I could see that Diane needed more. Reluctantly I pulled the end of my tit from her vagina and put my mouth directly on her cunt, trying to do to her what she had done to me. "Fuck me, fuck me," she cried. "Make me cum." I did what I could and she did cum, perhaps far too quickly. "Do it again. Make me cum again." This time I was more gentle. I tongued her engorged clit and moved my hands up her body to her big nipples. I rotated them in my fingers, marveling at their size. Diane came again, and once more before I stopped. For a girl who claimed that she could orgasm only once or twice a night, she was setting an all-time record. A personal best. We held each other in our arms as the afterglow of the orgasms wound down. Eventually we sat up in bed. I turned to her and said, "See what real depravity is? You didn't seduce me last night. We did it to each other, and I'm glad. This morning I put on a sex show knowing that it would drive you over the edge. I'm not really like that but I had to convince you that I sincerely wanted what happened last night. You couldn't resist me any more than I could resist you. Now let's get up and take showers and see about getting my car back from the college." CHAPTER 16 Diane became a good friend of mine and an occasional lover. I had her over for dinner two, maybe three times a month. We went shopping and to the movies together. Stephanie 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 Diane played with hers. Often we switched and caressed each other's tits. Or lay face to face, Diane's tit in my mouth and my tit 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 Diane's hand or mine. Sometimes it was hard to tell the difference. In our quieter moments, Diane 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. Once in a while we went 69 on each other licking and sucking each other's juices for minutes on end. I always wanted to be able to suck myself, either cock or pussy, and I asked Diane, with her gymnastics training, if she could do it to herself. She shyly admitted that she could when she was younger. She confessed that when she was my assistant she would crawl into bed, double over, and lick her own cunt, pretending that she was sucking me. At my urging she demonstrated that if she tried hard enough she could still suck her own pussy. She put her hands around her legs and pulled her head toward her pussy. This bent her body almost double and raised her hips toward her face. Then she moved her hands to her ass and pulled as forcibly as she could. Her whole genital region was within inches of her face. She lowered her mouth to her vulva, stuck out her tongue and actually licked her own clitoris. With a little more effort she wrapped her lips around her clitoris and started sucking. I never believed anyone could actually do that. I could see that it was a strain but she enthusiastically sucked her clit long enough to shudder through a small climax. When she finished satisfying herself she straightened her body almost explosively. "Wow", said Diane. "I made myself cum. I wasn't sure I could still do it. But I used to eat my own pussy almost every night while I was working for you. It was the next best thing to sucking your delicious cunt. But I don't think I'll be eating myself again soon. Too much back strain." I lowered my mouth to her pussy and sucked her to a real thrashing orgasm. Diane kissed me, hugged me and said that she liked it much better when I did it to her that when she did it to herself. With Diane 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 Diane if she ever climaxed with a man. She said that she had and it was pretty good. But she preferred cumming with women, and particularly cumming 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. My tits were real too, in case she wondered. She could just suck them and see. I would fondle Diane 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. Diane 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. Finally when the physical tension rose to the point where it intruded on what we were saying to each other, either Diane or I would say, "Let's do it." Diane would wrap her sensuous body around mine and her hand or mouth would find my vagina. I delighted in chewing Diane's big fleshy nipples while she developed a real taste for the exudations that flowed profusely from my cunt. She never did anything halfheartedly. 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. Each of us would try to think of imaginative ways to excite the other. In one of my walks in the park I found a couple of large goose feathers. After dinner, the next time Diane came over, I asked her to take off her clothes, lay down on the bed and shut her eyes. Then I ran the feathers over her tits and her clit, gently but insistently. At first she hardly responded but after a few minutes of feathery stimulation she began to squirm and roll on the bed. It was like the Chinese water torture. Tiny little bits of stimulation that had an additive effect. Within ten minutes she was clutching her breasts, a look of agonized tension on her face. Finally she almost shouted, "I can't stand it anymore. For God's sake Claire, make me cum." Diane repaid me in turn. One evening she came over with a clit pump. A top of the line model. I don't know where she got it from. She never told me but I suspect that she "borrowed" it from the Human Sexuality Lab. It looked far more efficient than the rubber bulb from the turkey baster that I used years ago. She insisted that I try it. She would help. We sat on the bed after dinner and, while Diane got the apparatus ready, we discussed the virtues of mechanical aids to sexuality. She started me off slowly by massaging my back to get me a bit excited. "Now," said Diane, "it's time for the main event." She connected the pump to a glass tube about the diameter of a shot glass and twice as long, lubricated the upper rim to make a good seal, and positioned it over my clit. Then she started drawing a vacuum. It started with a gentle sucking that felt wonderful. My clit seemed to be expanding and getting more and more sensitive by the second. She kept pumping. By now it felt that everyone I ever knew or dreamed of knowing was sucking on my growing clit at once. Dad sucked on it, Steve sucked on it, Diane sucked on it. All of those MILF obsessed high school boys sucked on it. Everyone in my nightmares sucked on it. All those horny men and longing lesbians who wanted to fuck Mom in class sucked on it. All at once. The more Diane pumped the stronger the sucking feeling became. "Do it more, Diane," I cried, "Pump my clit more. I want it!" "Claire," Diane said. "I love you but I think I should stop before I do any damage. Your entire clit and most of your pussy lips are in the tube. And your clit is turning red." "Well, if you won't suck any more, finish me off. I feel that I'm about to explode. Make me cum - PLEASE." Diane disconnected the pump. There I was, my expanded clit sucked into a tube, writhing on the bed begging for my friend to give me a climax. She plunged her fingers into my dripping cunt and worked them back and forth. This was no subtle love making. Just plain old finger fucking. I reached my hand down and grabbed the glass tube that had swallowed my clit. I worked it back and forth, twisted it, pulled it, just like masturbating a prick. The sensation was indescribable. With both our hands working on my cunt I orgasmed almost immediately. Diane released the vacuum in the tube and removed it from my clit. My clit was swollen and exquisitely sensitive. I couldn't touch it and I couldn't even bear to have Diane touch it. Diane's clit pump had put an end to our evening's lovemaking. Well, not quite. While she couldn't touch my clit with her fingers, her tongue was strangely soothing and quite arousing. Within half an hour Diane could wrap her lips around my clit, which now felt to me only the size of a baseball, and give me a quiet climax. All the while my own mouth was glued to her pussy and I repaid her in kind. I, in turn was fascinated by Diane's soft tits and large fleshy nipples. The nipples were two, no three times the size of mine. Mine weren't small by any means but Diane's were huge. When I asked her about it, Diane 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. Diane 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 exciting her tiny clit she gave herself a little orgasm by rubbing between her legs with a wet washcloth under the pretense that she was cleaning herself. Diane got so much pleasure from her young body that she knew she was going straight to hell. As she got older Diane became confused by her own sexual urges and her attraction to other women. Puberty came early. She started having her periods when she was 12 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 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. She would tie long shoelaces around her breasts, pulling the laces tight enough to turn the breasts purple. Then she would play with her nipples and cunt until she climaxed. To punish herself for 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. Diane'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, Diane 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. Diane 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, Diane 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 only upside benefit for Diane was that the nipples had become extremely sensitive. 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. As soon as she could, Diane left home, went to the state college and explored her sexuality in a permissive environment. She told me that the first year she boarded with a young couple, the coaches of the gymnastic team, and slept with both of them as partial payment of her rent. They were very kind to her but one or the other, sometimes both, would come into her room at night and fuck her until she was gasping for breath, totally exhausted. She would cum with one and then be forced to cum with the other. Often both would use her at the same time. While she enjoyed the physical feeling of the husband's cock in her cunt she didn't get the same emotional satisfaction as she did in the arms of the wife. Despite being used as a sexual indentured servant, Diane did well in her studies. Then she came to my college, by now a committed lesbian. Whatever the cause, I thoroughly enjoyed Diane's massive nipples. They filled my mouth as I sucked them. Diane must have liked what I did to her nipples because she kept asking me to bite and chew them when I played with her tits. Often I would run my fingers around her nipples as if I was trying to pick cherries from a tree. Diane put her head back and moaned with pleasure. If I kept up the nipple massage, Diane would cum. Not as forcefully as with a full scale cunt sucking but still a good orgasm. Once Diane 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. Diane 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 in my cunt, the other holding my breast to my mouth. 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. Diane fed the kids and put them to bed. Then she disrobed and joined me. Diane stayed overnight giving me one orgasm after another. She kept her mouth on my cunt for almost two hours straight, 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 clit and I will cum." And cum I did, over and over. Diane was a very good friend and a wonderful sex therapist. I didn't think of my relationship with Diane as abnormal at all. She was a lovely person with a warm welcoming body. I had just enough male personality left in me to appreciate giving her sex as a man and receiving her love as a woman. 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 all good things come to an end. Diane received an appointment as an Assistant Professor at an out of state university. It was a big promotion and would be good for her career. I insisted that she take it and reluctantly bid her goodbye. I still have Diane's address and phone number on my Rolodex. In case of a carnal emergency, you know. Diane was my last encounter with voluntary lesbian sex. Well, not quite my last encounter. I hired a college girl as a babysitter while I went to a university affair. When I returned home late, I found her lying on the couch, masturbating, while she watched a porn movie on TV. She was flailing her hand in her cunt as a climax seemed to elude her. The babysitter was so intent on what she was doing that she didn't even notice me quietly enter the room. I watched her lithe body squirm on the couch as she tried desperately to cum. Good Samaritan that I was, I sat down next to her, gently removed her hand, and substituted my mouth and tongue. Her eyes opened wide, startled both by my appearance and what I was doing. She stared at me with big doe eyes that literally begged me to finish her off. I did just as Dad had done for me years ago. She tasted delicious, fresh and creamy. She wrapped her legs around me as she shuddered through a long and very intense orgasm. I'm afraid that I kept my mouth on her cunt long after she came. I raised her to a second climax and then she did me. I used her as a babysitter many more times during the semester and enjoyed her each time she came over. Just as, I am sure, she enjoyed me. Sometimes I didn't even go out. I loved sex with Diane and the babysitter immensely, but for me, there was no substitute for a hard cock in my cunt. Unfortunately since Dad died and Steve left for the West Coast I have found no one whose cock I would want inside me. But you never know who will turn up. CHAPTER 17 Months later little Robert developed a nagging cough that wouldn't go away. It worried me enough that I took him to the old pediatric physician that Mom had used for Stephanie and me when we were babies. He examined Robert and said that he seemed in good health but might have a new form of strep that was going around. Just to make sure, he set up an appointment for Robert in the pediatric ward of the university hospital to get a complete diagnosis. I was greeted by a strong, attractive woman resident. She looked like she had been a college athlete, probably a member of the rowing team. She ran Robert through a series of tests, none of which revealed any potentially dangerous results. The doctor pronounced him generally OK but wanted to keep him in the hospital for the night for a course of antibiotic treatment. She was going off duty and suggested that we stop next door at a local bar for a quick drink - just to calm my nerves. I surely needed it. We found a secluded booth in a corner and ordered. Marge, the doctor, asked if I remembered her. Naturally I didn't. She mentioned that she had been a student of mine, actually Mom, about 15 years earlier. It was just after Mom got her professorship. She had gone on to medical school and specialized in pediatrics. After the second drink, the conversation got freer. She commiserated with me on Dad's death and asked how I was getting on. I mentioned that I missed his company as well as his embraces. After another drink Marge confessed that she always lusted after me in class but realized that nothing would ever come of it. That probably placed her as one of Mom's lesbian admirers. But it was more complicated than that. Marge admitted that she was bi-sexual. She had both male and female lovers. When she was in Mom's class she said that she got fucked regularly by boys. But she always fantasized that she was being fucked by or was fucking Mom. It was impossible at the time. But now I was sitting next to her. Then we had a couple of more drinks. Marge mentioned that I appeared to be a vital woman. How, she wondered, had I satisfied my sexual needs after my husband's death? I wasn't about to give her a full rundown, especially not about Diane. As the conversation went on she told me that the hospital was evaluating a sexual aid, a Sybian machine, for alleviating sexual tension for single women. She remembered that I, Mom, had been in charge of the sexuality laboratory and wanted my professional opinion. Would I like to see it? She had one at home and I could examine it there. She only lived a block from the hospital, a short walk. We walked to her house. I guess my gait was unsteady from the drinks and the long day's worry. Marge suggested that I relax on the easy chair for a few minutes. She bundled me into the chair and loosened my clothing. Not much of a task. All I was wearing was a sweater and a skirt, and under clothes, of course. She handed me a glass of wine. It had a bit of an odd taste but Marge said that it contained a small dose of a tranquilizer that would help me relax. She told me not to worry if I dozed off. She would wake me in a few minutes. I must have fallen asleep because I had a wonderful little dream. I imagined the lovely sensation of a mouth sucking on my nipples and a hand stroking my pussy. It was more than imagination. While I slept Marge had raised my sweater and unfastened my bra, freeing my tits from their confinement. As she raised a breast to her mouth, I felt her warm, wet, soft lips engulf my nipple. I felt the gentle suction as her tongue played around my enlarging pap. When my nipple got hard she pulled my panties aside and started on my vulva. I imagined it was all part of my tranquilized dream. It was only after I sensed a finger penetrate my vagina that I realized that Marge was feeling me up in my sleep. Although she had taken advantage of me, my actions made it easy for her. Through barely opened eyes, I saw her alternate between fondling my nipples and licking my cunt juices off her wet fingers. And I lay back and let her do it all to me. After my long day of worry I needed sexual relief so badly that I would have let Snow White's seven Dwarves fuck me. One right after the other. Marge was very skillful. She knew how to use her lips and fingers well. She was an experienced seductress. Marge raised me to a pre-orgasmic state in just a few minutes while I pretended to be asleep. After a couple of minutes, I couldn't pretend any longer. My body started rolling back and forth and my legs extended in front of me. I knew that I had only a few more seconds before I climaxed. There was no point in pretending to be asleep any longer. I fully opened my eyes to see Marge feasting on my tit. She was no longer gently sucking but had the nipple and areola of my big boob in her mouth and was working it over as if she wished to make a meal of me. Her other hand was still in my cunt, fingers working around, stroking and squeezing my clitoris between her thumb and forefinger. My legs shook and I could feel them getting rigid. I grasped her head with my hands and pulled her face up to me. I could hear my wet tit pop out of her mouth. My lips covered hers and I held her close as I climaxed. "That was quite a wakeup call," I said. "Do you always wake your guests that way?" Marge looked a little sheepish. "I thought you were sound asleep," she said. "I didn't mean to go all the way. I just needed to get my mouth on your beautiful boobies." She went on to confess. "Your tits are so inviting. I always wanted to suck them when I was your student. The tranquilizer I gave you was a small dose of ketamine. That's the date rape drug. I figured that it would be the only way I could get your tits in my mouth. I wanted your tits so badly. When you fell asleep I knew I had an chance to do it. I hope you are not angry with me but when I saw you lying there I couldn't resist the temptation. I thought it would keep you asleep longer and you wouldn't know." Marge was realizing her long deferred dream of having Mom's tits and cunt at her disposal. I hoped that I was worth the wait. What could I say. She comforted me when I needed reassurance. I pulled her head against my breast and said, "Suck as much as you want, but then I really have to go." Marge returned her mouth to my nipple and redoubled her efforts. I watched her cheeks hollow and fill as she tried to suck my entire body into her mouth. I felt her fingers penetrate my vagina again but I made no move to stop her. Despite my reluctance at being simply being used as a sexual object, she was exciting me again. I am ashamed to say that I let her. To my surprise, I had another climax while she sucked and fingered me. I didn't even have time to tell her that I was about to cum. This climax was totally unexpected. My legs became instantly rigid, extending so stiffly that I almost fell off the chair. Marge held me while I thrashed and shuddered. My body had been building up to it all evening and I needed the sexual release. After my unexpected second orgasm I started to get up to leave. None of this had been planned. It had all taken me by surprise. Marge stopped me by saying that she really wanted my advice on the Sybian. It would only take a few minutes. She led me into the next room and showed me the Sybian. Of course I had heard about it but this was the first time I had actually seen one. It looked like half of a large bucket on its side, covered with padding. I went closer so I could get a better look. It had a rubber penis attachment, mounted on the center of the top. It had a small control box connected to it, with two switches and two knobs for adjusting the penile motions. I had a good idea what this was and what it was used for. Marge asked if I would like to try it to give a considered opinion. It was too much of a temptation for my needy body to resist. Since I'd already had two orgasms in Marge's presence tonight, it didn't matter too much if I had another. I was also sort of curious myself. Something like this might come in handy if I had another PSAS episode. But I had my doubts too. I knew that the Sybian provided an amplified "hands off" masturbation experience for women who have difficulty having an orgasm. I, in Mom's body, rarely had trouble giving myself an orgasm. With the proper stimulation I could cum very easily. It was stopping having orgasms that was the problem. For me, riding the Sybian might be like giving drinks to an alcoholic. But, like most alcoholics, I was sure I could stop after one drink. I stripped off my skirt and panties. I had enough experience with my orgasms to know that I could get a bit messy when I had a climax and I didn't want my vaginal juices to stain my clothes. The amount of liquid that came out of me when I climaxed hard always surprised Dad and delighted Diane. I had no false modesty about Mom's body, in fact I was a bit of an exhibitionist. Marge was both a woman and a doctor so she had seen everything I had to show before. Besides, I rationalized, she already had had my tit in her mouth, her fingers in my cunt, and had made me cum. I pulled the Sybian out and set it on the floor. Plugging it in, I spread my pussy lips apart with my fingers and started working the rubber cock into me. Even with Marge's sex play I wasn't that wet yet. She offered me a little dab of medical lubricant to rub over the rubber penis. It must have been the large size since it took a little doing to push it inside. My knees were on the floor and I was straddling the machine. As I got slicker I lowered myself on the device. The rubber cock fully filled my cunt. The control had settings to make the Sybian penis rotate, as well as vibrate. I decided to start out with just vibration and so I turned the vibrate knob to a low setting. Then, flipping the vibrate switch on, I turned the knob slowly, I felt the vibrations starting, both inside me and right on my clit and labia. It was like a humongous hand held vibrator. I just sat there, getting more and more aroused. Unconsciously I raised my hands to my tits and started caressing them through my sweater. I could feel the vibration in the tit flesh. The nipples started to swell. The total feeling was very pleasant and I'm sure it would make me cum in a while. But this didn't seem to be the overpowering Sybian sensation that I had read about. I turned the vibrate knob up a bit. The increased sensation urged me to turn the knob fully on to make the vibrations stronger. Big mistake. I felt my body slip over the edge and I was powerless to stop it. I started thrashing about, impaled on the Sybian's cock. Every part of my pussy was being stimulated at once. I put my hand down to my cunt and felt that my lower lips were engorged, my juices flowed The vibrations were overwhelming my sensitive clit. I started sweating. I just had to get out of my sweater and bra. It took a few moments but I managed it and my breasts could swing free. It was all happening far too fast. There was no sensual build up. I could feel my thighs get rigid. My body was being forced into having an instant orgasm. I needed to catch my breath, but the orgasm never seemed to stop. I grabbed for the control, but instead of turning it off, I mistakenly flipped the rotate switch on. The vibrating cock start to rotate in my cunt pressing against each wall in turn. When it hit my G spot, my body seemed to go crazy. It was an erotic explosion. My will was paralyzed. I was having one quick climax after another. I would shudder through one orgasm, collapse in exhaustion, then feel my body being raised by the tireless rubber cock to another orgasm. These were not earth moving emotional climaxes. They were totally involuntary but they were true orgasms. The sexual triggers in my cunt were being directly stimulated and I reacted automatically. I had no conscious control. It was a simple reflex. My body jerked, my muscles tightened, my senses turned inward. I felt the thrill of sexual release as I came. The orgasms were coming just about every three minutes. I looked down unable able to believe what my own body was doing to me. My abdomen was sucking in and out as I gasped for breath. I bent double and my boobs dangled forward. Bouncing and shaking, I could see and feel the ripples of flesh on my tits like little wavelets on the ocean. My nipples were blood red and swollen. As I turned from side to side, the stiff nipples bounced on my rock hard thighs. Each impact sent a jolt through my system. I tried to reach up to steady my tits but I couldn't gather the strength to raise my arms. The controller slipped from my hand and fell out of reach. "I'M CUMMING!" I screamed. A minute later I felt my body tensing again. "Marge, I'm going to cum again." "Help me!" I cried to Marge. She obviously misunderstood my meaning. What I wanted her to do was shut off the Sybian. Instead she sat on the floor in front of me, reached forward and grabbed my naked dangling boobs. I could feel the strength of her grip as she pulled my body backward and forward using my tits as reins. Then she started squeezing and rolling the nipples between her fingers. Marge moved closer. "Open your mouth," she commanded. I did it without thinking. In a single motion Marge bent the end of the breast that she had been holding upward and shoved it into my gaping mouth. "Hold it. Suck it," Marge said. In an almost automatic action I held my vibrating breast in place with my hand. Soon I was so out of my mind with orgiastic lust that I started chewing my own tit , reveling in both the pain and the erotic sensation. My breast had never felt so big or so tender. Marge continued squeezing and pulling the other breast so hard that I felt she would rip it off my body. The feelings from my tits went right to my cunt. My conscious mind seemed to be out of the loop. The Sybian's motions directly stimulated my sexual parts and they responded without my volition. My orgasms were simple reflexes triggered by the intense clitoral vibration. A man or woman in a vegetative coma can be given an orgasm if properly stimulated. That's what the machine was doing to me. Clitoris to spinal column to brain stem to orgasm. Then back to clitoris and the cycle starts over again. The only difference was that I was acutely aware of the climaxes. I couldn't stop the buildup but I could feel my body rising to the peak. Then I would cum, collapse, and start rising again. Over and over. It was an exquisite agony. The orgasms were coming in waves one after the other, with no end in sight. My conscious mind had long lost control of my body - it was now along just for the ride. I came repeatedly, gasping for breath between climaxes, more times than I even imagined was possible. My juices ran down the sides of the Sybian and my rigid thighs slid on the vinyl. My legs were unresponsive to my will and wouldn't lift my body off the machine. I pushed my free hand down to my full calf and felt it tensing and relaxing, almost as if I was toe dancing. I thrashed and moaned and screamed as I exploded in another climax. Except when I was actually cumming, I had periods of mental clarity. I felt my body writhe through the buildup to each orgasm. I felt my thighs clutch the machine almost as if I was riding a horse. I felt the lovely torture of my tits as my mouth chewed my nipple and Marge's hands squeezed the other breast. I was perversely proud of what my body could endure. If I could die of pleasure the Sybian could be the executioner. And then the Sybian raised me to another climax. And after that to still another. The vibrating rubber cock kept moving in my cunt. All the parts of my vulva were being forcefully massaged. It was like the dentist's drill hitting a naked nerve in my tooth except that I felt intense erotic excitement instead of pain. Waves of sexual electricity raced throughout my body, as if every erogenous zone was being stimulated simultaneously. It wasn't like normal sex where the feeling increased slowly. The vibrating prick triggered a climactic explosion that made all the muscles in my body tense and forced me to spasm to an instantaneous orgasm. One orgasm turned into two orgasms, which turned into a third and a fourth. The last one was so forceful that all my muscles contracted at once. I bit down hard. I felt a sharp pain in my tit and a salty taste. My tit slipped out of my mouth. I could hear myself screaming. "My God," I thought. "I've bitten my nipple off!" "I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING! Marge, help me. Stop me from cumming. Do something. I don't want to cum anymore. I'M CUMMING. I'M CUMMING!" But the Sybian inexorably forced me to one climactic peak after another. My body didn't know how to shut down its reflex loop. Marge planted her lips on mine and smothered my moans with her mouth. Her tongue reached down my throat. I couldn't scream out loud any more but my mind kept shouting, "I'M CUMMING!" I slipped in and out of consciousness. I was just a cunt of vibrating flesh on an orgiastic machine. I shook and shuddered and came again and still again. I had no will, no control. There was nothing left inside me. Finally Marge saw that I had had enough and turned the device off. I barely had the strength to get off of the Sybian before I collapsed on the floor in a sweaty, exhausted, satiated, heap. I felt ashamed of myself and totally embarrassed at the exhibition I put on for Marge. After all, I barely knew her. It was the first time I regretted Mom's unbridled sexuality. I felt that I had behaved like a complete slut. After about half an hour, I regained enough strength to take a quick shower and put on my clothes. In the shower I examined the breast that I had been chewing on. Apart from a few bloody tooth marks around the areola it seemed to be OK. Thank God I hadn't bitten off the nipple. I'm not that depraved yet. I told Marge that I appreciated her hospitality but that I felt sober enough to drive home. I would be back to the hospital tomorrow morning to pick up Robert after his antibiotic treatment. Incidentally, I wouldn't recommend the Sybian for PSAS sufferers or other sexual disorders without considerable further evaluation. CHAPTER 18 That evening I reflected on my experience with Marge and the Sybian. It was the flip side of PSAS. For me, the worse part of PSAS was not masturbating myself to a climax but the loss of voluntary control. When I had an episode of PSAS I was driven to do things to my body that I wouldn't do otherwise. But still, I was doing it to myself. The Sybian, on the other hand forced my body to do things that I didn't want to have done. I wasn't doing it to myself, the machine was doing it to me. In both cases I wanted to able to control and welcome having an orgasm. Neither PSAS or the Sybian let me do that. My initial fears had been well founded. The Sybian had unlocked Mom's sexual Pandora's Box. Had I not been rescued I would have remained on the machine, having climax after climax until I passed out - or worse. I looked up ketamine, the "date rape" drug that Marge had given me and found that was a dissociative anesthetic that had some hallucinogenic effects. It made the user feel disconnected and not in control. That's just the way I felt. Ketamine has been used to facilitate sexual assault. I had been assaulted both by Marge and by the Sybian. Had Marge been a man, he could certainly have fucked me without any resistance on my part. But I couldn't entirely blame the drug. I had contributed to both assaults myself. Getting on the Sybian was a voluntary act. The big question I had to ask myself was why didn't I get off while I was still able. From all my reading about the Sybian, I knew that the device simply facilitated female orgasm. It was not a torture machine. I could have simply gotten off. But why didn't I? I had to face the fact that I had become addicted to orgasms in Mom's body. The years of masturbating when coping with Mom's PSAS had left their mark. I got relief of tension when I gave myself a climax. It wasn't love, it wasn't even good sex. It was just the need to feel that orgasmic thrill race through me, an electric shock of ecstasy. My body became conditioned to needing orgasms in stressful situations just like a junkie needs another fix. Each time after I came I couldn't wait until the next time. I remember promising myself that I would get off the Sybian after the next climax. But after I shuddered through the orgasm I needed just one more. I truly was an orgasm addict. Just one more drink - err, climax. Once the sensations started I was on for the ride. But it was a hell of a ride. Like the lady from Niger on the back of a tiger. My experience on the Sybian made me think through my life situation carefully. First, I would never, ever, become Steve again. All thought that my life as a woman was a temporary condition had to be erased. Second, Dad was really dead. Dad's death was not a bad dream from which I would awaken. I would never be in his arms again. Third, my relationship with Diane, the babysitter, and my brief encounter with Marge showed me that I was truly bi-sexual. The physical shape of my lover didn't seem to matter much. What I wanted was a mouth on my tits, and a hand, cock, or tongue in my cunt. My body would take over from there. Finally, and most worrisome, I had a serious addiction to orgasms. It was an out of control addiction like drugs, drinking or smoking. The problem was that giving into the desire for an orgasm was far too convenient. When I got an uncontrollable desire for sexual release, I didn't have to go to a store to get a bottle or a carton. My breasts, vagina, and clitoris were always with me. All I needed to do was find a secluded place, touch my body in the right way and give myself a lovely climax. It sounds easy and it was. It was something I had done to myself. From my first hesitant attempts to give Mom's body a climax after our personality transfer through my rationalization of my PSAS needs as opportunities for pleasure, I grew to welcome and ultimately need orgasmic thrills. Over the years I had conditioned myself like Pavlov's dogs or Thorndyke's cats. I recall reading that if an association is followed by a “satisfying state of affairs” it will be strengthened and if it is followed by an “annoying state of affairs “ it will be weakened. Giving myself a climax was certainly a satisfying state of affairs and all the actions leading up to it were strengthened. Each action strengthened the connection to the next, from the first touch of my tits to the caress of my clitoris, to the ultimate driving orgasm. My internal masturbatory autopilot was programmed to make me cum as soon as possible. Unfortunately after I satisfied myself I wanted more, I couldn't stop. I was like the alcoholic who couldn't quit drinking after the first glass. Living with and loving Dad had turned my essential eroticism into a mutually shared blessing. We were true partners in our carnal journey, each felt gratified by the other. But with Dad gone, my body still craved fulfillment and would not be denied. That very thought reinforced the idea that I had a problem with my sexuality. The very opposite of Mom's problem. But I'll think about it tomorrow. I undressed to get ready for bed then looked at myself in the full length mirror. I was exhausted from the events of the evening and I'm not sure I was thinking clearly. Everything seemed hazy. It must have been the after effects of the tranquilizer. My thoughts flitted here and there, not anchored to reality. I couldn't control my imagination. I was in a waking dream. Here I was, a widow on the verge of middle age. I had two lovely children, and, fortunately, a comfortable income. I turned slowly from side to side in front of the mirror. I was entranced by the view. The reflection showed a well-toned woman with bountiful breasts and great legs. I was truly the MILF that Steve's high school friends wanted to fuck. A bit older, perhaps, but I knew I would still have been a great piece of ass. I returned my gaze to the mirror. Strangely enough, my face seemed to look younger than it had in the years after the switch. The tension caused by PSAS had largely vanished. I had accepted and almost welcomed the necessity of giving myself orgasms. I still wore my hair in a ponytail like a schoolgirl. It was so easy to tie. If you looked closely you could see the slight lines around my eyes and face. The fashion magazines charitably called them "laugh lines." I felt that each one represented a gem of wisdom that I had picked up over the last decade. But all in all, a quick glance would reveal a girlish looking face on a very voluptuous frame. I reminded myself of Leslie Caron in the movie "Gigi." A baby face on a courtesan's body. I remember reading that most men lust after their daughters or their little sisters. Obviously most don't act on their impulses. But perhaps that's one of the reasons that Dad enjoyed bedding me. I was his child as well as his passionate wife. "I like the way I look," I said quietly to no one in particular. "If I were a lesbian, I would love to "do" me myself." I imagined myself sucking and licking a mirror image of my body and I got turned on by the very thought. I certainly couldn't blame Marge for the way she used me tonight. Had I been her I would have done me myself. I could feel my nipples start to stiffen in anticipation of self-pleasuring. How wonderful it would be to go 69 with my mirror image, giving and receiving orgasms for hours. Of course, I "did" myself often, probably far too often, even when I didn't have a PSAS urge. But tonight was tonight. I ran my hands over my breasts. Gravity had taken its toll over the last decade. My breasts had become larger and fuller. They were no longer the half melons that Mom's body had when we switched. Age, breast feeding, and enthusiastic loving does that to you. Standing erect my nipples nearly reached my belly button. At first I was disappointed in this change in my lovely boobs but paradoxically they made pleasuring myself more enjoyable. Don't get me wrong. My breasts were even sexier than they were when Mom and I switched. They had become exquisitely sensitive. But they were no longer the tits of a Playboy bunny, more like those of a burlesque star or an artist's model. There was a lot of meat packed inside of them. When I looked at myself in a mirror I was always astounded at their mature beauty and erotic promise. Although I was confident of my sexuality as a woman, I still felt some of the urges of a 15 year old teen aged boy whenever I touched myself. This was certainly true when I fondled my breasts. I had played with my tits for years, shared them with Dad, nursed a child, offered them to Diane and even Marge, but I could never get used to the idea that those lovely "fun bags" were mine. I felt naughty when I fished them out of my bra for a midafternoon grope. It was almost as if I was ravishing my Mom. Caressing the heavy mounds of sensitive flesh was always pleasurable but actually sucking the nipples was indescribable. I would tongue the slightly rough nipple surface and feel it grow hard. In my mouth the nipple grew to the size of a small acorn. Initially sucking and chewing my nipple was vaguely like scratching a small itch. Pleasurable at first. But the need for stimulation didn't go away, It grew more intense and demanded more and more sucking and more aggressive chewing. Soon simple nipple nibbling was not enough. My hands gripped my fleshy breast, forcing it deeper and deeper into my mouth. I gripped my nipple with my teeth and bit as hard as I dared. The pleasurable feeling metamorphosed into a sexual desire that spread throughout my body, to my legs, to my cunt. I wanted me in the worst way - and I usually had me. When I went to bed in the evening I would usually clear my mind of the day's worries by giving myself a gentle "good night" climax. Then I would put my hands around a dangling tit, squeeze it until the end bulged like a water balloon, raise the nipple to my mouth and suck and chew the tender nub and areola for minutes on end. My cunt was satisfied but I still wanted my tit. Often I fell asleep still tonguing my nipple like a pacifier. I would alternate between breasts, sometimes doing both at the same time. If I felt really horny I would suck both nipples together, holding my breasts in place with my hands. Sucking both nipples was particularly exciting. Sort of stereo eroticism. My boobs were still my favorite sex toys. Warm, sexy, and very tasty. I remembered the pleasure of nursing at my own breast after Robert's birth and longed to breast feed myself if I ever got pregnant again. I loved the taste of my milk. More important, I loved the idea that it came from Mom's big beautiful tits. Had I been selfish enough, I would have sucked myself dry and bottle fed Robert. I would dearly like to nurse at my own breast again. I almost laughed as I imagined the vision of my schoolgirl face sucking my very womanly boobs. 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. My vulva was still a bit wet from my Sybian workout earlier this evening. My pussy lips were swollen and my abused clit protruded out of its protective hood. Nothing hurt but a little soothing cream would help me feel better in the morning. I put a dab of aloe skin cream on my fingers to apply to my swollen parts. 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 clit wasn't painful but it was super sensitive. My cream covered fingers soothed my clit at first, then my touch became sexually exciting. I didn't have the sense to stop touching myself. It felt so good. 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 another climax. I was angry at myself for doing it. I was giving in to my addiction. Years ago Mom had written that some PSAS victims had contemplated suicide rather than give in to the incessant demands of their body. Now I knew what she meant. I was furious at myself. How weak could I be? But I couldn't stop. It was a flashback of my Sybian experience of just a couple of hours ago. Then I had lost control of my body as well as my senses. It is happening to me again. My hands continued their practiced seduction by themselves. Don't do it my mind begged. But my body wasn't listening. I wanted to cum. I needed to cum. I have to make myself cum. NOW! I began furiously finger fucking myself. In and out, in and out. 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 climaxing 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. Despite all that happened this evening 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 people 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. Diane, the babysitter, Marge, and even the Sybian played into my needs. 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. I had to constantly resist the tendency not to give myself to anyone who wanted me. I wanted, no, 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. Diane's loving was different. We mutually enjoyed each other's sexuality but what really turned me on was the feeling of companionship. A climax was a climax, at least to me, but the gradual and relaxed buildup, the give and take of fondling, sucking and ultimately cumming with a close friend was refreshing. I grew to love Diane as a sister, albeit one with privileges. The situation that gave me the most concern was brief encounter with Marge and my ride on the Sybian. I have no excuses about submitting to Marge's seduction. I was half drunk, I was worried and I wanted to be reassured by my body. I let myself be used and I behaved like a tramp. It was my behavior on the Sybian that bothered me. I had plenty of orgasms, no complaint about that, but getting there was not half the fun. In fact there was no fun. In all my prior climaxes, the feeling progressed from the periphery to the center. Even early on, while I getting acquainted with Mom's body, I would play with my beautiful legs, fondle my full calves, roll and then suck my nipples before putting my hands down to my cunt. Even then I fingered myself for a long time before I dared touch my sensitive clit. The feelings would grow from my legs, tits and cunt to merge into an intense desire for completion. Only then would I give myself a climax. It was much the same with Dad, with Steve, and with Diane. But on the Sybian all the buildup was eliminated. The vibrating rubber cock forcefully stimulated my cunt. No sensory touching, no erotic anticipation, no sexual fondling, just increasingly intense stimulation. My body was driven to a climax with the same emotionality as flipping a switch to turn on the hall light. The instantaneous feeling of cumming was the same as it always was. I would blast skyward and crash down immediately afterward. Then the Sybian would do it to me again. I knew I was addicted to orgasms when I found that I wouldn't get off the machine even after every nerve in my body begged me to stop. Just one more climax. Please! Paradoxically, Mom probably would have welcomed having such a machine. The vibrating penis would have given her the relief she needed during her PSAS episodes without any action or thought on her part. She probably could have read a magazine while the rubber cock fucked her, orgasming as she turned the pages. Since she hated sex as a woman so much she would have no difficulty stopping. For her it would have been just like brushing her teeth with a vibrating toothbrush. I, on the other hand, 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. Perhaps I would go to college and take all those nerdy courses that I avoided as a teen ager. Otherwise it was simply too easy to counter boredom by pulling out and playing with my welcoming breasts or plunging a finger into my eager cunt. While I certainly disliked giving into the demands of PSAS, I'm afraid that I sometimes used the condition as a justification for fucking myself. That's exactly what it was - self fucking. Just with my hands instead of a prick. I craved the physical release of orgasms. The secret of life was in my cunt. I wanted the overwhelming body convulsions, the spasms. They had become my answer to all of life's problems, frustration, boredom, anxiety, even fear. If that asteroid, featured in all the science fiction films ever strikes the earth, I know that I would be making myself cum just as it hit. The research that I did on PSAS convinced me that I was not a nymphomaniac. I never felt compelled to seduce other people, OK, except Dad, Steve, and Diane. I only rarely had sexual fantasies when I was masturbating. Nor did I ever offer sexual favors to get people to like me. It was a pure addiction to a set of sensations, like a drunk or a coke addict. I could control my urges most of the time but there were moments when I needed a sexual climax so much that I thought about offering myself on the street to all comers, just a common street whore. I would have behaved just as I did in my nightmares. A dozen new pricks a night might have satisfied me. But I was far too old for that kind of life. Who would want a middle aged whore, no matter how great her tits and legs, when there are plenty of willing 20 year olds around? The only thing in my favor was that I didn't need the money. I could undercut the competition. How does $1 a fuck sound? How about free? CHAPTER 19 I briefly toyed with the idea that I could resume Mom's university position and teach again. But this time I would let all those horny studs and lesbians that drooled over me in class have me. Let's see. Thirty students in a class, four classes a week. That's new 120 pricks, mouths, and sets of hands a semester, 240 a year. That should keep me busy. I could even promise them an A if they made me cum a couple of times a night, an A if I had a mind blowing orgasm. But of course it was just a fantasy. I couldn't teach a class. I didn't even have a high school diploma. Being a cheap street whore sounds easier. Or I could let Marge have me as an experimental subject. She would know what to do with my tits and cunt. I imagined myself lying on her couch while she explored the hundreds of ways she could make me cum. And I would help by making her cum as well. If this didn't work, I could even buy my own Sybian and fuck myself to death. I've got to snap out of these day dreams, take myself in hand, and see what I could do to fight my addiction to orgasms. There is no twelve step program for compulsive masturbators, at least none that I've heard of. I'll model my "cure" after the successful weight reduction programs I read about. Cut down on portions, skip snacks, watch what you eat, and try to get as much enjoyment as possible out of each smaller bite. My self-therapy program was simple. I would ration the number of times I "did" myself to two times a week. Perhaps I might "do" myself a third time on holidays or as a special treat. That may sound like a lot to most people but it is hard to quit an addiction cold turkey. I would also get more involved with other activities to take my mind off of the joys of self- fulfillment. Stephanie's school PTA wanted me to participate and the soccer league always needed more coaches. I certainly would stop looking at so many boring TV shows, or when I watched, I would sit on my hands. I would try to continue my self-education. It would be embarrassing to get a high school equivalency diploma because everyone thought of Mom as a retired professor but I could get an internet correspondence college degree. I had plenty of "life experience." There was nothing I could do about my now infrequent bouts of PSAS except promise not to enjoy myself too much. I would have to adopt Mom's strategy of being angry at myself for giving in to my carnal needs. Well perhaps not too angry. I still loved playing with my cunt. I just didn't plan to visit it so often. I got a long phone call from Steve a few weeks ago. After a series of interviews he accepted a job with a biotech firm in the Palo Alto area. The company's owners found his knowledge of biotechnology encyclopedic, far greater than would be expected of a typical graduate student. But this was California. Wunderkinds are the norm. Little did they know that Steve, as Mom, had developed many of the techniques that they were using. He met a Stanford student and moved in with her so there wasn't much chance of him returning soon. I don't know what his girlfriend looks like but odds are she has big tits and nice legs. I told him that if I ever get milk in my breasts again I would let him suck milk from my nipples while he drove his cock into me. Then he would really feel like he was fucking his Mommy. He laughed but seemed interested. If I ever got milk in my boobs again he promised to make a special trip. Not much chance of that happening though. I have his e-mail address and I promised to send him a special alert if I started dripping. I'm sure that would be a memorable fuck for both of us. In line with myself therapy program I got much more involved in Stephanie's school activities. I attended all the book club meetings and even read the books. I went bowling with several lady friends. Most important, I started writing this account of my life since Mom and Steve switched bodies so many years ago. I'll try to include all the details, both the happy and unhappy ones. I don't plan to censor anything. It will be a mixture of fact and fantasy since I'm not always sure that I can separate the two. Whatever it is, it will be from the heart. Or maybe from the cunt. My little joke. I'm sure the diary won't be a best seller but it may help someone enduring the despair of PSAS. When I finish it I will upload it to the university library and will publish it on the internet. Although much of the material deals with sex, I don't want it to be construed as a work of pornography although to the casual reader it may seem to be a florid litany of my perversions. Rather it is introspective account of my efforts to cope with a sexual disorder which demanded that I give myself repeated orgasms and the people who influenced my life over the last decade and a half. My climax rationing strategy seems to be working. Monday and Thursday are my special nights. The next days are school days and the kids have to be in bed early. This gives me a long evening to enjoy the pleasures of my body. I usually start with a long bubble bath, relaxing in the scented warm water. My hands start caressing my floating boobies, slithering over the soap lubricated mounds as they work their way down to the growing nipples. I raise a beautiful leg out of the water and admire its sensuous shape. I reach forward and run my hands from calf to thigh, pressing and massaging the resilient flesh. I do this over and over with each leg in turn, stopping my upward motion closer to my vulva each time. When I first started my bubble bath sessions I didn't stop the ascent of my hands until they were in my clit and I usually finished myself off in the tub. I certainly enjoyed the climaxes and it made cleanup a lot easier but I felt that there was something lacking. Then it occurred to me that I missed the wonderful taste of my juices and even the funky odor of my cunt after I climaxed. If I was going to ration sex I needed the full experience, not a sanitized version. So I changed the routine. After I got myself really primed in the tub, I rinsed all the soap suds off my body with a hand held shower. I held the spray extra- long on my boobs and between my legs. Ostensibly to wash off all the suds from under my breasts and in the nooks and crannies of my vulva but really because it felt so good. Just like a wet vibrator. Then I would dry myself and lie down on the soft sheets of my bed. I could hardly wait. The buildup had gotten me so hot that my hands literally flew to my genitals. By the time my head hit the pillow my fingers were in my cunt. I pleasured myself furiously, driving my hands in and out until I exploded in a massive orgasm. It was a release I really needed. My body relaxed as I sucked the tasty juices off my fingers. With my first climax out of the way my immediate need for release seemed to diminish and I could enjoy myself in a much more relaxed way. I rose from the bed and poured myself a glass of good wine, then I put a CD in the stereo. If I was going to make love to my body I wanted it to be in a romantic atmosphere. I lay back in bed sipping the wine while the fingers of my unoccupied hand played with my nipples. They got hard. Not as hard as when Dad worked his magic, but hard enough. When I finished the wine I put the glass on the bed table and raised one of my magnificent breasts to my mouth. The nipple tasted of wine at first. Then It tasted of me. I raised the other breast to my mouth and tongued the tip thoroughly. I have to love my babies equally. No point having one get jealous of the other. But this breast play was getting me excited again, even after my furious self fuck. I guess I'll have to masturbate again before I can get to sleep. No. I know I'll have to masturbate again. My fingers are already in my cunt. God! I love fucking myself. This isn't PSAS anymore. It's pure self-love, or at least total self enjoyment of my magnificently sexual body. I may have only a few years left but I intend to use me well. CHAPTER 20 My luck with men changed a few months after the phone call from Steve. 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. 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 sweatshirts 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. "Claire," 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. I wanted to drop my notes, get down on my hands and knees to peek under your skirt. 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 wet from the turn that the conversation had taken. 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. By that time I was so wet that he plunged 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 was the first time I had a real cock in me since Steve and I fucked more than two years ago. 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 fucking, 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." He did, and we both came together in a shattering pair of simultaneous orgasms. 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 quick 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 fucked. The whole thing had taken less than half an hour, probably a record for 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 fucked. I am thankful that I had the sense to go back on the pill otherwise I might have had triplets. Apart from the great sex, 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 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. Then we took a room at a posh downtown hotel near the ballet theater. Eric had ordered a bottle of champagne to be sent up to the room and we toasted each other than 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 his 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 around his waist and my full calves pressing 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. By this time Eric had moved down to my mound. 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 moved lower, gently licking the outer lips of my vagina. I spread the lips apart with my fingers giving him better access to the juicier parts inside. Eric put his hands on my thighs and pulled them towards his head. I got the hint and held him captive with my strong legs. He intertwined his fingers with mine as we both manipulated my cunt lips. His tongue found my clitoris and he started licking. It was a wonderfully intimate moment. He and I were both holding hands as we caressed my cunt. As Eric sucked my clitoris my legs started involuntary shaking. We kept it up for almost half an hour approaching and receding from near climaxes. Finally I couldn't hold out any longer. I could feel my orgasm starting from my toes and working its way up my legs. They began to quiver, a sure sign. My muscles tightened and my legs became rigid. I pressed Eric's head into my cunt. "Eric, you are making me cum. I can't hold back. I'm going to cum now. I'm cumming, I'M CUMMING!" I heard myself say. The last was almost a shout. Eric hugged my still quivering body. "That was just the appetizer. I'm not done yet." He massaged my body, arms, breasts and torso. I hovered in a post orgasmic state, satisfied but wanting much more. As Eric manhandled me I grabbed his rigid cock and shoved it into my dripping hole. Again I wrapped my legs around his body, this time determined not to let him wriggle free. "That feels so very good, Professor. Remember," I teased "I'm just a school girl. Fuck my young pussy. Fuck me, fuck me hard, fuck your young student, Professor. Suck my big titties, make me cum hard." 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. I reached up and pinched one of my nipples, tighter and tighter. The erotic pain 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. I watched myself fucking and simultaneously getting fucked. 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 telltale 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. "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 "I'M CUMMING, I'M CUMMING - NOW!" as I had a powerful, earth moving orgasm just before Eric's final thrust. 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 fucking 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. With a final mighty thrust he 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. 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. The idea of rationing my climaxes was abandoned under the influence of Eric's lovemaking. 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. Then his 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 personality switch with Mom. He wouldn't believe it anyway. Nor did I tell him about Diane. 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. 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. My gynecologist tells me that I am not too old to have another baby. I still get my periods. I'm in very good shape, workouts, both in bed and at the gym, see to that. I'm looking forward to the baby and feeling my breasts fill up with milk again. Eric says he likes milk. I certainly hope so. I wonder if I still have Steve's e-mail address? END *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* 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. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Kristen's collection - Directory 74