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"James honey," my voice trailed and I pulled away from him.He looked at me puzzled. I was about to say something when his cell phone rang. Taking that as a cue, I left the room and tried to gain my composure and get my body under control. My heart was racing and my pussy was soaked. Shortly after I heard him call to me he was heading out. I said goodbye from upstairs, slightly relieved he had gone.It had taken all I had to say no to him this morning. I kept thinking of it. His words. His hands on me. How good they felt as he travelled up my thigh. How right it felt. It wasn't like I hadn't thought of it before. I had, many times in fact, thought of him, of us, as I masturbated.James and I had always been so close. His father left when he was just a baby and had never been around. It had always been him and me. There had been a man here and there over the years for me, but not one who had stayed or that I wanted to become part of our life. I was always happy to have it just be us.As. One of them was always there when I needed them. They helped to clean me up and gave me injections to counter the infection, and a pep talk whenever I was reasonably cognisant.They had decided after a few days that their own particular DNA would be immune from the virus, so they had abandoned the space suits. Wendy had turned out to be a woman in her late fifties, and it shows how ill I was, that I hadn't even been disappointed that she wasn't a nubile twenty-five year old.It was Wendy who was with me on that fateful day when I'd started to recover from the worst of the symptoms, and was finally getting a grip on reality.'I'm growing breasts,' I said, looking down at the bulges in my pyjamas.'Yes,' she said, 'and a nice pair you're getting too.'She wasn't meant to respond in that way.'That's the wrong answer,' I told her. 'You're meant to say it's just a temporary result of the illness, or whatever medication you've been giving me.'Wendy looked carefully at me. 'Well, I think Dr..
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