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                 K R I S T E N' S    C O L L E C T I O N
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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.
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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

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The author does not condone child abuse, this story is 
meant as an erotic fantasy not depicting anything in 
real life. Anyone acting out such scenarios in "real 
life" can look forward to many unproductive years 
getting it up the butt by a fellow convict in their 
local prison system.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 74