Archive-name: Changes/daylife.txt
Archive-author:
Archive-title: Day in the Life, A
I wake up early, with that same eagerness I had often
felt as a child on Christmas morning. A light, tingly
feeling bubbles up inside me, until I can scarcely contain
it. I feel as if I have to do something with all this
energy, or I will explode. Unable to think of anything
else, I bounce out of bed and into the shower. The steaming
water ca!esses my skin, adding an element of sensuality to
my euphoria. I begin singing something I heard on the radio
the other day, slightly off key, humming where I don't know
the words. The song has a nice beat, and I can feel my
pulse moving in time with it as I pick up a bar of soap and
begin spreading creamy lather over my body; first one arm,
then the other, followed by my shoulders and down to my
breasts. My nipples are erect, poking comically through the
soap, and the gentle abrasion of the washcloth makes them
even stiffer. I cup one breast in my free hand, stroking
the hard point with my thumb, and delighting in the slippery
smoothness of it. I close my eyes, losing myself in a
moment of private erotica. Slowly, more from gravity than
any conscious thought of my own, my hand slips downward. It
crosses my stomach easily, gliding like an ice skater over
my frictionless skin, and comes to rest among soft, wet
curls. I run my fingers idly through those curls for a few
minutes, not seeking stimulation, simply enjoying the feel
of them against my fingers. Gradually, however, my touch
grows bolder and I slip my index finger between the warm,
soapy folds. When I brush my clit, a thrill runs up my
spine. I touch it again, more confidently this time, and
rejoice in the little explosions it sparks. I begin rubbing
it slowly, then increase the pace slightly. That same song
I had been singing earlier is now running through my head,
and I match my rhythm to it. I am feeling slightly dizzy,
so I lean back against the cool tiled wall. My other hand
has now joined its mate, and is exploring the deeper regions
of my cunt. Faster and faster, my fingers dart in and out.
I can feel the pressure mounting inside me with every
heaving breath until it finally boils over. I thrust my
fingers deep inside, then hold them there as shudders engulf
them. The walls of my cunt grip my fingers tightly, pulsing
aggressively, as sticky juices flood around them. The
throbbing subsides slowly, replaced by a sensation of
satisfied warmth and fullness, as I withdraw my fingers and
rinse the remaining soap from my body.
Refreshed from the shower, I vigorously towel myself dry
and slip into the pink lace underwear and bra I know you
like so well. My legs are tanned and clean-shaven, so I
decide to forego stockings today. I seat myself at the
dressing table in my room and brush out my long, blonde
hair. It curls damply around my face, moist tendrils
cascading over my shoulders and partway down my back.
Leaning close to the mirror, I carefully apply a soft blush
that makes my cheeks glow, and accent my blue eyes with
blue-grey eye shadow. Mascara next, then eye liner and soft
pink lip gloss. I scrutinize my reflection, pleased with
what I see. A quick glance at the clock shows that it is
only 7:30 - you won't arrive for another hour. Sighing, I
pick up the hair dryer. Dry, my hair fans down my back in a
golden cloud and curls around my face like an airy picture
frame. I look at the clock again - 7:53 - open the closet,
and debate silently over what to wear. I pull out a pale
pink dress, holding it against myself as I turn toward the
mirror, then shake my head and put it back. A blue skirt
and flowered blouse follow, then a green dress and a black
one. Impatiently, I rifle through the clothes and finally
select awhite knit dress that clings intimately to my body,
displaying my flat stomach and rounded hips nicely, while
hinting at the hollow between my thighs. It leaves my arms
bare, and the scooped neck reveals just a taste of cleavage.
I add white pumps and a bit of jewelry, then smile at my
image in the mirror. I know your tastes well, and am sure
you will like it.
Finally - 8:30. I listen eagerly for the doorbell, but
it stubbornly doesn't ring. The clock ticks away the
minutes, tick-tock, tick-tock, and still you aren't here. I
should have known you'd be late - probably just to get even
with me for all the times I've made you wait. I giggle at
this touch of spite, knowing full well that you've looked
forward to today as eagerly as I have. Finally, I hear your
shoes clicking down the hall, and have the door open before
you can knock. I greet you with a huge hug, our lips
meeting in a passionate kiss. After a moment I step back,
pulling you into the apartment, and close the door.
"Happy birthday, Jacki!" I exclaim cheerfully. You have
just turned 24, and we are going to spend the day
celebrating, just as we have done for the past four years.
I notice you eyeing me approvingly, and feel a soft, tingly
glow build up inside me. Grabbing your hand, I lead you
eagerly to the bedroom where I help you to undress. When I
remove your levis, I gasp in mock horror. "Jacki! You
didn't shave your legs this morning!" You look slightly
embarrassed as you admit that you'd forgotten, but we both
know it is all a sham - you just prefer having me shave them
for you. Accordingly, I have already prepared a luxuriant
bubble bath, and lead you to it. You sigh as you lower
yourself into the thick, scented bubbles, and your eyes
close blissfully. For a long moment you just recline there,
totally absorbed in the hot water lapping against your skin.
Then, as if remembering that you aren't alone, you open your
eyes, stretch lazily, like a cat, and extend one soapy leg
toward me. Carefully, so my dress won't get wet, I grasp
your foot, tickling the bottom of it until you giggle, and
pick up a razor. I begin at your slim ankle, then stroke
slowly up the graceful curve of your calf. The bubbles
allow the razor to glide smoothly over your skin, stripping
away hairs and revealing soft, bare skin. When I have
finished your lower leg, I move on to your firm, muscular
thigh. I gaze admiringly at it, stroking the newly shaved
surface and clearing away stray bubbles. I can see that
you've been out in the sun quite a bit, because you have a
beautiful golden-brown tan. I notice the conspicuous lack
of a tan line and grin, easily visualizing you lying naked
on the beach. The image is very tempting, and I briefly
consider changing today's plans to include a trip to the
beach. Perhaps another day...
When I finish shaving your legs I drain the tub, running
a little warm water to rinse away the last of the clinging
foam. Then, hand in hand, we return to my bedroom, where I
open the drawer I keep just for you. First, I take out a
pair of white silk panties, trimmed in lace. You step into
them, and I slide them up your long, graceful legs. I note
with approval that the short, dark curls nestled between
your thighs are faeshly trimmed, an I ruffle them playfully
with my hand before covering them with the white silk.
Next, a matching silk bra. I stand behind you, caressing
your chest as I fasten it around you. You lean back against
me, revelling in the sensuous touch of silk, and I can feel
your nipples growing harder. Knowing your love of frilly
things, I next select a lacy white garter belt which I help
you into. Finally - stockings. I bunch the nylon up around
my hands, then slip it over your foot and carefully ease it
up your leg. As I fasten the garters to the stockings, I
allow the back of my hand to lightly brush your crotch.
From your sharp intake of breath, I know that you are
aroused. Now that your undergarments have been taken care
of, I turn to the closet and pull out a cheerful red dress.
You put it on, and I step back to admire you. The short
skirt shows off your legs beautifully, and when you turn I
see that it also fits snugly around your cute ass. The
bodice is cut low in back, slightly higher in front, so that
no cleavage actually shows, but the impression of small,
pert breasts is clear. Your tanned arms are left
deliciously bare. The final touches - a slim black belt,
jewelry, and low heeled black pumps.
When we are satisfied with your outfit, I seat you at my
dressing table and begin brushing your short, dark hair.
You offer a token protest that you are perfectly capable of
brushing your own hair, but I know that on this one special
day you want to be pampered a bit, and I am only too happy
to oblige. Freshly washed, your hair is already soft and
fluffy and needs only a few touches from my curling iron
before it feathers back charmingly from your face. Finally,
I am ready to start your makeup. You don't need much - just
a little blush to highlight your cheekbones, a touch of grey
eye shadow over your sparkling brown eyes, and a delicate
coating of lip gloss. At your request I add a bit of
mascara, though your lashes are already long and silky. The
overall effect is stunning, and I feel my insides turning
flip-flops as we look at each other, side by side, in the
mirror. You turn to me, and we exchange a deep, passionate
kiss, then grab our purses and leave the apartment.
We decide not to drive, since the weather is so lovely.
Besides, it is nearly impossible to find parking places on a
Saturday, so we walk half a block to the bus stop. While we
wait for the bus, we glance at each other nervously. Will
it work? Can we pull it off? Or will we be caught this
time? Every time we go out together like this, the same
questions torment us for the first few moments. Then, the
bus pulls up and we climb on, pay our fare, and look around
for a seat. The bus is crowded today, and there are no open
seats, but a pair of chivalrous young men near the front
stand when they see us looking around, offering us their
seats. The lusty admiration in their glances is obvious,
and we exchange a relieved smile as we sit down. The two
men hover over us, making small talk, as the bus trundles
through the streets. Flattered by their attention, we chat
politely with them, flirting ever so slightly, until we
reach our stop. Then we thank them for the seats, say our
goodbyes, and leave.
As we step down, I am monetarily blinded by the bright
sunlight. It is going to get hot today! I check my watch -
9:56 - and set off at a brisk pace across the crowded
parking lot with you by my side. Though it is still early,
I can already feel heat radiating up from the asphalt, and
breathe a sigh of relief when we step into the
airconditioned mall.
"Where would you like to start?" I ask. You shrug, so
we start wandering down the corridor, looking into windows.
"That would be cute on you!" you suggest, pointing at a
black leather teddy in the display window of a lingerie
shop. Intrigued, we enter and start rummaging through the
racks. Before long, we have each found several appealing
outfits and retire to the dressing room to try them on.
Fortunately, the rooms are large, and we decide to share one
so that we can see how each outfit looks. The first thing
you try on, a frothy confection of pink and white lace,
reminds me of cotton candy. I giggle, commenting that you
look good enough to eat. "Maybe later" you whisper
suggestively.
I slip into the teddy that had caught your eye, and you
lick your lips approvingly. My breasts nearly spill out of
the tightly laced bodice, and the seat consists of only a
leather thong between my well-toned buttocks. "Nice..." you
purr, running your fingertips lightly up the back of my
thigh and over my exposed rump. I arch my back, stretching
luxuriously, and one of my breasts does tumble from its
precarious perch. The other is about to escape as well, its
nipple already peeping impudently over the leather cup.
Standing behind me, you put your arms around me, cupping my
breasts in your hands. My nipples stiffen instantly at your
touch, and you tweak them playfully. Your breath is hot
against my ear, and your hands are soft. Sighing
blissfully, I recline against your body for a moment. Your
hands roam easily over my breasts, evoking shivers and goose
bumps with your light, teasing touch. I moan softly as you
lick the edge of my ear then nibble gently on my earlobe.
Unable to restrain myself any longer, I turn around and kiss
you. Your lips part eagerly, welcoming my probing tongue.
I explore your mouth, tasting your sweet breath and the
smooth hardness of your teeth. You tongue joins mine in a
slippery, undulating dance.
Abruptly, you break away. With one hand on each of my
shoulders, you push me gently back until I feel the hard
edge of a bench against the backs of my knees. You continue
to exert a steady pressure, easing me down, until I am
sitting on that narrow ledge. The mirror is directly in
front of me, and I have an exciting view of your ass, framed
in pink and white lace, as you bend over me. My knees open
easily at your touch, and you spread them further. I
shiver, feeling suddenly vulnerable and exposed, with only a
flimsy bit of leather between us. Your nimble fingers
quickly overcome that obstacle, the snaps popping open like
firecrackers at your touch. As each snap gives I feel a
coolness, a slight draft, creeping across my pussy with
silken fingers. Your breath steams against my thigh, a
turbulent contrast to the cooler breeze that whispers
through my hair. In the mirror I see your dark curls,
poisedU like the heart of some sweet flower between the
petals of my thighs. As the last snap gives, you meet my
gaze with laughter dancing in your eyes.
I moan softly, anticipating your touch, nor am I
disappointed. Cupping my buttocks in your hands, you slide
me forward until I am perched on the edge of the seat.
Then, still caressing my rear, you lower you mouth. At
first there is only the warm, sensuous brushing of your lips
over my soft fur. I close my eyes, so absorbed in the
sensation that I hardly notice your hands sliding over my
hips and thighs. I only become aware of them gradually, as
you part my labia. Dimly, my lust-fogged brain realizes
what you are about to do, and my body coils like a spring in
anticipation. Your lips close over my straining clit,
triggering the pent up energy and causing my hips to jerk
spasmodically against your face.
The only sounds are my ragged breathing and the soft
slurping noises you make as you suck gently on my clit,
applying your teeth occasionally with delicate precision. I
am focused so completely on that tiny button of flesh that I
never notice your fingers creeping into me, until suddenly
they are there. You are using fingers from both hands,
stroking me in several directions at once. It feels as if
my cunt will fly apart under your darting touches - now
deep, now shallow; aggressive, then butterfly soft. My eyes
pop open in shock and are captured by the mirror. The sight
of your head reflected between my twitching thighs and your
fingers flashing, wet and slippery, in and out of my cunt
stoke the blaze inside me to greater heights. A wave of
consuming heat crashes over me, blanking out my vision and
ringing in my ears. Convulsions begin deep inside me,
spreading outward from a molten core. They ripple through
smooth internal muscles, clenching around your fingers in
successive contractions.
As the feeling dissipates I become aware of hot pain in
my chest, and realize that I am holding my breath. I let it
out slowly, cocooned in a sense of well-being. Inhale.
Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Each measured breath builds the
calm within me. Finally, I open my eyes and give you a weak
smile. Your face is flushed, and your hair is slightly
tousled from my hands running through it. You rise slowly,
drawing me into your arms as we stand. Your lips brush mine
softly, and I taste the faint saltiness of my juices. We
stretch languidly, like two cats in the sun, before changing
back into our own clothes. I carefully brush your hair and
repair your makeup, then we emerge. I purchase the leather
teddy, because I know we will enjoy it again another day.
Perhaps next time you will be wearing it?
Our next stop is a shoe store. The moment he sees us, a
pimply high school boy rushes over, nearly tripping over his
own feet. We giggle at his puppyish eagerness and the
almost reverent way he handles your foot as he sizes it. He
is trying so hard to be charming, you can't help flirting
with him just a little. He blushes adorably, even his ears
and neck turning red. Stammering terribly, he admits that
today is his first day on the job, school having just ended
for the summer. Though you do not buy any shoes, you blow
him a kiss as we leave and I see the other clerks glaring
enviouly at him.
We wander through several other shops, just looking
mostly, trying a few things on. To any casual observer, we
look like sisters or best friends. After a while you
comment that you are hungry. We check the time and are
amazed to see that it is almost 1:30.
For lunch we go to Pierre's, just like we do every year.
It is small, styled after the Parisian sidewalk cafes, and
the food is good. As we take our seats, the owner rushes
up.
"Bon jour!" he greets us ecstatically. Only years of
practice enable me to keep a straight face at his outrageous
accent. His real name is Peter O'Donnell, and the
ridiculous "french" accent he affects does nothing to
disguise his Brooklyn origin.
"Bon jour, Pierre!" we reply cheerfully. This is a game
we have played many times before. He knows our secret; we
know his. We are all friends, and the secrets make no
difference. Still, I wince as I remember Pierre's
disastrous attempt to seduce you. He failed, of course, but
it forced us to reveal ourselves to him. That was in the
past, however, and today the sun is shining. I grin as
Pierre rattles off the day's specials, then leaves us to
greet another customer.
We scan the menus briefly, then you whisper your order to
me. When the waiter comes, I order for both of us. He
raises an eyebrow in surprise, but does not comment. It is
the same every year, but it does not grow dull. Every time
seems like the first time. Our food comes, and we eat. It
is good, just like it always is. After the meal I pay the
check and bid Pierre a fond adieu. I kiss him on the cheek
as we leave, and while he clearly enjoys it, he shifts
uncomfortably when you approach. You wink mischievously at
him. "Maybe next time, Pierre..." you purr.
It is almost 3:00 now. I ask what you would like to do,
already knowing the answer, but asking anyway just because
you like to be asked. You pretend to think for a moment,
then suggest a movie. There is a theatre nearby that shows
foreign films every Saturday afternoon. You like them
because they are sad and make you cry. As we walk the few
short blocks to the theatre, you say that you hope it is an
Italian show. They are your favorites, because they are the
saddest. When the marquee comes into view, we discover
gladly that it is a Fellini film - of all the Italian movies
we have seen, his are the best. We buy our tickets, then
slip into the cool dimness of the auditorium just as the
lights go out.
I haven't seen this film before, and I don't think you
have either. It is very good, and very sad. I glance over
at you and see tears streaming from your eyes. You always
forget to bring a handkerchief, so I give you mine. While
you dab at your eyes, I rest my hand comfortingly on your
knee. Slipping my hand under your skirt, I stroke your
thigh gently throughout the remainder of the movie. When it
is over, we sit quietly for a moment before leaving. The
sunlight dazzles us and I reel slightly, disoriented after
emerging from the dark theatre into daylight.
It is growing late, so we decide to return to my
apartment. On the way back, however, we pass a bar and you
suggest stopping for a drink. Our entry creates a bit of a
stir among the other patrons, most of whom appear to be
businessmen in their early thirties. One of them wanders
over to our table and sits down beside you. He introduces
himself and offers to buy us a round of drinks. I accept
for both of us. The drinks arrive and we sip them idly
while chatting about inconsequential things. Though he
politely includes me in the conversation, it is obvious that
you are the one he is interested in. Knowing your strict
disinterest in men, I am curious how you will handle this
situation. You are already beginning to shift uncomfortably
in your chair and mumble periodically that we really must be
going. Undaunted, he sets his hand lightly on your knee and
begins stroking up your thigh. You freeze, panic stricken,
a look of such horror on your face that I almost laugh
aloud.
"Come on, Jacki. We really do have to get home." I say
nonchalantly, taking you by the arm. You nod woodenly and
stand, shaking off your would-be seducer's hand. He glares
at us, muttering something about frigid bitches. I ignore
him, leading you firmly out of the bar. You sigh in relief
as we step back onto the sidewalk. The laughter I have been
suppressing finally bursts forth. You glare at me, not
amused, but as the tension eases you finally begin to smile.
By the time the bus arrives you are laughing as hard as I
am.
"Did you see his face?" you gasp, tears streaming from
your eyes. "He looked so mad, I thought he wanted to
strangle you right there!"
"Yeah, but he would have been even madder if you'd let
him continue! I'd love to have seen his face then! Maybe
we should go back and invite him home with us. I'm sure
he'd accept." You scowl at this suggestion and stick your
tongue out at me. Except for an occasional stifled giggle,
we ride the rest of the way back in silence.
When we arrive at my apartment we walk slowly into the
bedroom without saying anything. A pervasive sadness
overcomes me as the day draws to a close. We've had such
fun, and I don't want it to end. You look slightly downcast
too. Sighing, I take you in my arms and give you a long,
slow kiss. "Goodbye, Jacki..." I whisper. "I'll see you
again next year..." A single tear trickles down your cheek
as you turn and leave the room.
For a moment I stare sadly at the door, then I force a
smile to my lips and begin undressing. When I am stripped
down to my underwear I step in front of the mirror and brush
out my hair. Static electricity crackles through the golden
cloud that swirls around me. I meticulously touch up my
makeup, then lie down on the bed to wait.
I do not have to wait long. After only a few minutes the
door creaks slowly open and you walk in. Your freshly
scrubbed face glows, and your hair is damp and slightly
askew. You are naked, bronze muscles rippling gracefully as
you stalk across the room. Our careful transformation has
been reversed, and you are now every bit a man.
I sigh delightedly as you take me in your arms, my head
resting against your broad chest. The primitive rhythms of
your heartbeat stir tides of passion within me. Your warm,
masculine scent clouds my senses like some exquisite drug.
Surrendering to your embrace, I raise my lips to meet your
own. Your kiss is fierce and demanding. My head swims
dizzily as you seem to suck the air out of my lungs. Every
fiber of my body screams for your touch.
You ease me down onto the blankets, a hungry gleam in
your eyes. Slowly, you remove my lacy undergarments,
kissing every inch of flesh that is exposed. I moan
slightly, squirming as you brush your lips teasingly over my
belly. Your hands find my breasts, exploring their firm
softness and stiff nipples as if for the first time. While
I twine my fingers through your hair, you engulf one swollen
aureola with your lips. Your mouth is hot and moist on my
breast. The fluttering dance of your tongue draws my nipple
to an even stiffer peak which you nibble eagerly. Then,
with agonizing slowness, you begin blazing a trail down my
chest and stomach with your kisses.
Still straddling me, you turn and plant one knee on
either side of my head. Your swollen cock bobs above my
face, brushing against my cheeks. Eagerly, I grasp it and
guide it down to my waiting mouth. As I close my lips
around the head, I feel your mouth on my clit. I have been
terribly aroused all day, and now that pent up energy seeks
release. My hips jerk frantically, grinding my cunt against
your face. Simultaneously, I raise my head slightly,
engulfing your cock. You begin thrusting slowly into my
mouth, matching your pace to the movements of my hips. A
drop of pre- cum forms, and I greedily lap it up. The salty
taste adds to my arousal. My tongue glides rapidly,
flickering across your head then stroking the smooth sides
firmly. I suck gently, hoping to elicit more of your salty
fluid. I can feel you swelling inside my mouth, your cock
pulsing with a life of its own. Your balls dangle in front
of my nose, and I breathe deeply of their warm, musky scent.
Your tongue darts erratically across my clit and between my
slippery folds, accompanied by your fingers. I am writhing
desperately beneath you, smearing your cheeks with my
slippery juices. I am teetering on the brink of a
cataclysmic orgasm, when you suddenly raise your head.
Your cheeks glisten wetly as you turn to face me once
again. I spread my thighs wider, allowing you free access
to my tender core. For a moment you only brush the tip of
your cock across my lips, teasing me. I twist and thrust
vainly, trying to capture you inside me, and at last you
relent. For a moment you press against my cunt, positioning
yourself, then with one violent shove you bury yourself
completely inside me. I gasp at the suddenness of it, my
thighs jerking convulsively as you withdraw partway, but I
am ready for your next thrust and rise to meet it. We lapse
into a steady rhythm as old as time, the very pulse of life
expressing itself in our movements. We are no longer just
ourselves; we have become the archetypal man and woman,
renewing ourselves in this ancient ritual. I am filled
completely, %s I was meant to be filled. When you wihdraw,
my muscles tighten and clench around you, seeking to hold
you yet within me. When you thrust, I welcome you deeply
with an answering thrust of my own.
Primal tides surge high within us as I wrap my leg around
yours, pulling you deep into me. Wordlessly communicating
my intention, I embrace you tightly and we roll together,
trading places. Now I am on top, and I ride you like a
thoroughbred. I can feel your muscles tensing beneath me as
I draw my knees up and plant them on either side of your
hips. I shift my weight off you, rising until you are
almost out of me, then plunge back down, impaling myself.
The muscles in your thighs quiver, and your face is tight
and flushed. Again I rise up onto my knees. Your eyes
close, anticipating my downward stroke. I gasp as I feel
your cock tearing into me, hot and urgent. Another stroke
and we are both hovering on the brink. You grip my hips,
your nails digging lightly into my flanks, as I pull off you
a final time. Your hands give my descent added force as I
impale myself again. This time I do not pull away. The
muscles in my thighs convulse, suddenly refusing to bear my
weight, and my toes clench. The wild pulsing of my cunt
makes you lose control, and I can feel you beginning to
throb inside me. Your hot cum gushes into me, wave after
scalding wave. I contract around you, milking you of every
drop. The seconds stretch out into eternity as we strain
together. Finally the convulsions subside.
One by one the fibers in my thighs unclench, easing the
tension. I raise myself weakly, freeing your now flaccid
cock, then collapse on top of you. My cheek rests on your
shoulder, and your arms are around me, holding me close.
This is the moment I like best of all, because I feel so
close to you and so safe. With a blissful sigh I close my
eyes and reflect on how wonderful our unique relationship
is. As 'Jacki' you are my best friend and sometimes lover;
as 'Mark' you are a superb lover and boyfriend. Sex has
been much more exciting since you shared your secret
fantasies with me, because I love fulfilling them as much as
you do. I open my eyes briefly and whisper "Happy birthday
darling," then snuggle against your chest and drift off to
sleep.
--
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