In the last twenty years travel has changed. No more long flights and jet lag, step up to the machine and in an instant you’re swapped with someone on the other side of the globe.
My luck is aboslutely terrible, even when something good happens to me I wind up getting the short end of the stick.
I replaced my decidedly female coworker on a work trip at the last minute and of course all of the arrangements had been made for her. Of course when I swap travelled for the first time I’d find myself stuck in the body of a beautiful blonde, because it was just my luck for this to happen to me.
The woman in my mirror is beautiful and perfectly my type. Curvaceous and blonde, generous in all the right places and tight and toned everywhere else. She’s everything I want in a woman, too bad this woman is me.
I can feel their eyes on me, men that I pass and men that I work with. They want me and they don’t know my secret. They don’t know whose mind is inside this beautiful body.
But he is in the same position that I am. He’s had his gender switched too, and when we meet in that dark bar late at night we both realize the opportunity this represents.
Can I really go through with this? Can I really go up to a hotel room with a man? Can I let him touch me? Can I touch him in turn?
I know that I want this. I know that I need this. I know that I’m aching for this.
But can I give in?
Excerpt
I smiled over my glass, taking a sip and watching as he took a full gulp and then closed his eyes.
“So fucking intense,” he said, “Never felt anything like this before. Like a shotgun with a hair trigger. Goddamn.”
Of course, he felt like that. This was all new to him and he didn’t have the same level of experience with it that his body did. In a lot of ways, I was by far the more fortunate one, at least as I understood it. Women are far better at holding back or at least retaining their energy after climax than men were.
He took a smaller sip and his shoulders rose and fell with his breath. I stepped around him, striding to the window and looking over the city.
My reflection in the window was visible. My look disheveled but undeniably desirable. I untucked the rest of my shirt and played with the buttons of it, popping them one by one until my full cleavage and dark lace bra was on display.
I took a small sip of my drink, the scotch burning a little as it went down, and stared out over the glittering lights of the city. This was an odd night, that was undeniable, but I wanted it to happen more and more.
And I had an idea, one informed by my own experiences in a body at least somewhat approximating hers. I knew what to do to delay things. I knew that sometimes you had to see it through in order to build up the energy to perform.
The knock of my glass on the table top drew his eyes open and he looked at me, standing there half undone in the lighting of his room. He watched me cock my hip to one side with a hunger in his eyes, his glass half empty as he stared at me.
“I think,” I said slowly, taking my time striding over to him so that he could get the full glimpse of me, “That I have a plan for tonight. At least for our first experience tonight I know just what to do.”
I was at him now, my finger reaching out to trace circles on his hard abdomen through his shirt.
“I’m going to take control now,” I cooed to him, my hand flattening out and pushing him backwards until he slammed up against the wall behind him, “You just relax and leave me in charge.”
Then I fell to my knees, knowing that if I was going to do this I was going to do all of this. Knowing that I was going to value the lesson if nothing else, but knowing in my heart of hearts that I was going to enjoy this for the pleasure it offered alone.
My hands expertly undressed him, slipping open his belt and drawing down his zipper. My fingers grasped the fabric of his pants at the thighs, making sure to close around his boxers and tug them down until his cock bounced out in front of me.
It was gorgeous and I knew it. Far bigger than my own and brimming with tasty looking veins. The head of him grew and ebbed in front of me, throbbing along to the beating of his heart and his need.
I took him in hand, running my fingers up his thigh and closing around the base of him. I squeezed lightly and began to stroke, hearing him moan and seeing him staring down at me through lidded eyes.
“I’m not going to last,” he confessed, “Oh god Rachel I’m not going to fucking last.”
“Then let go,” I told him, “Let go and feel it, baby. We’re going to get this one done and then I’m going to build you up again. So let go and enjoy the ride, it’s going to be a hell of a journey.”
I ducked forward, and the head of him slipped past my lips.