Sally was gently moving her body, now and again lifting it from his face and allowing him to breathe, there was no need to be cruel, and he was her lover as well as her slave. She had her hands on her breasts and playing with her nipples, tweaking and twisting pulling and making them rise tom the occasion. She was near to completion of her own sexual gratification, and she could feel the tremors running through her body, and exploding into the waiting orifice that was giving her so much pleasure. He had done well and it was only right that she should reward his efforts, but it was a foregone conclusion before the act that it would happen. Her body slipped down to his chest, and then down further so that their sexes were now touching, the fluids from the orgasm had lubricated her entrance, and she impaled herself on his manhood. She fell to his body pressing her breasts tight to his, and at the same time kissing him full on the mouth, and not for the first time tasting her own juices.. She brought in the drinks and he could sense her anxiety. The whole issueof the 'transformation' was looming like that 1000 pound elephant in theroom, even as both them struggled to reconcile what they were feeling."I'm doing fine," she said, passing him his drink. "I'm...uh..." She litup a cigarette, trying to concentrate. Unable to think beyond the factthat there was this man, here, in her apartment, and the reaction in herbody, and the connection to his presence and desire, and sex, sex the wayshe has sex now, sex the way she wants it now. Her self-perception, andlust, and awareness were never so strong, never so female. Never beforehad all that converged in such a powerful way. Never before had she felther former self to be such a vague, helpless observer to all she wasfeeling."...I am doing fine. I think. I'm adjusting," she said.Her intensity was palpable. Like the intensity he'd seen in her before.The way she masturbated, things she said. His memory knew who she'd.
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