He drew the jeans and the cotton underwear down as he assumed the position, baring hair-sprinkled belly and bobbing cock. He paused, eyeing the navel, the cut of hip muscles. Of course he’d never seen himself from this angle. It looked strange. He curved his hand around the soft flank, taking in the shapes of the musculature. His muscles didn’t seem as well defined as he’d thought they were.
Fee made an impatient sound and tipped her hips, sending the head of her cock bumping into his cheek.
“All right, all right.” He grabbed the offending organ, curling his fingers around its hot girth. It pulsed against his skin, twitched. He looked at it, and it seemed to look back out of that one eye, which was a bit weepy at the moment.
Mal touched the bead of moisture. It was clear and sticky -- definitely pre-come. Feeling a bit more daring, he smeared the liquid across the smooth glans. Fee shivered.
He stared for a moment at his thumb -- slim, a bit pale, neatly manicured -- then slowly leaned forward and licked the smooth, warm skin.
“God!” The word burst out of Fee’s mouth, harsh, abrupt. Mal peered up at her, quirking an eyebrow.
“Had enough already?” he asked.
“No. God, no. If you stop now, I’ll kill you.”
He chuckled. Experimentally, he drew the tip of his tongue over the glans again, let it slip just a bit inside the slit. He cupped the weight of Fee’s testicles with one hand, steadying the twitching cock with the other. Fee moaned.
Surely he didn’t sound quite that… desperate when she took him in her mouth. He hoped not. He hoped he sounded more cool and manly. Although Fee did have a way when it came to fellatio. He’d always thought she’d enjoyed it -- it had seemed that way to him, anyway. He let the head of her cock slide along his tongue, moving toward the back of his throat. Her hands came down on his shoulders, holding onto him. Whether she was steadying herself or him, he couldn’t tell.
The cock -- his cock, though it wasn’t at the moment, and he had a hard time thinking of it as Fee’s cock -- tasted a little salty, but not terribly strange. It lacked the heavy flavors of Fee’s sex, the thick, salt-bitter juices. A dark, musky smell lingered, though, in the dark thatch of hair at the root. He let the shaft move deeper into his mouth, slowly, then just as slowly drew back until the saliva-shiny head popped free.
He looked up at her, noting the slack-jawed, empty-eyed expression, and once again hoped he didn’t look that idiotic in the midst of sexual arousal. That would just be embarrassing.
“How is it?” he asked. “Better than when I eat your pussy?”
Fee shook her head, still looking dazed. “No. Not better, really. Just… different.” Her hips tipped forward, and the cock bumped against Mal’s chin. “More.”
He rolled his eyes and complied. The cock slid easily into his mouth, still spit-slick and hard. It bumped the back of his throat and he tried not to gag.
The noises coming from Fee both encouraged and amused him. More than that, though, they gave him a sense of power. He could run his tongue… that way… and she would make that noise. Run it this way and she made an entirely different sound, no less needy. Her fingers suddenly dug into his hair, hard and strong, pressing against his scalp. At the same time, she began to pulse her hips, thrusting in and out of his mouth.
He swallowed hard at the unexpectedly jarring contact against the back of his throat. It was uncomfortable, and he wondered how many times he’d inadvertently done that to her. It was only fair, he thought, that he should take it now that she was dishing it out.
She was making different, but still interesting noises now -- short grunts as the cock rammed into his mouth, breathy, uncontrolled gasps as he curled his tongue around it, surrounding it as best he could with heat and damp suction. He could taste the buildup of salty pre-come, could feel Fee tensing, muscles tautening, fingers digging into his hair, his scalp. Her thrusting sped up, becoming harder, wilder.
Then it hit him. She might not be able to interpret the all-important signal, the way his body felt just before he came. She wouldn’t know -- after all, she’d only climaxed once in his body. She would just keep thrusting until everything let go --
He was going to have to swallow.
He almost jerked away at the thought, repulsed by the idea of gulping down a mouthful of thick semen. But she did it. Sometimes, anyway. It was only fair that he offer her the same treatment. Pressing the cock back down his throat, he hoped to God he didn’t puke.
Fee seemed unaware of his struggle, her hands grasping his scalp, pulling too hard on his hair, clutching his shoulders. Her thrusts had become firm and determined; one long, deep, pounding movement after another. He could tell she’d just let herself go, giving in to the needy sensations of her body, letting the cock go after what it wanted. He’d been in that position enough times, himself, but he was familiar enough with it to be able to control it, so he could give Fee what she needed rather than taking what he wanted. Or at least he tried.
He clenched her hips tight, slowing her frantic thrusting a bit. The head of the cock slamming into the back of his throat was becoming rapidly problematic, and he was afraid he might gag, which wouldn’t be at all manly.
Although technically he wasn’t a man at the moment. His round, heavy breasts jiggled at every thrust, as did the wider, softer hips. He felt her orgasm coming, felt the tightening of muscle, and was prepared when suddenly her fingers clenched hard in his hair, hard enough to pull some of it out. Remembering how Fee usually did this, he steeled himself, pressed the head of the cock all the way to the back of his throat, and as the cock began to pulse inside his mouth, he swallowed.
Three, four gulps, and Fee was done. Mal pulled back, grimacing. As far back in his mouth as the cock had been when it had ejaculated, he hadn’t tasted much, but what he had tasted hadn’t exactly been crème brûlée.
“Yuck,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “That was just --”
“Incredible,” Fee murmured. Looking up, Mal realized she was still drifting through that post-orgasmic haze -- and again with the goofy faces. Her mouth curved up in an enraptured smile. “Amazing. Just… lovely.”
“I’ll never ask you to swallow again,” Mal said, and he meant it. Slowly, knees creaking a bit, he got to his feet.
She gave him a surprised look. “Oh, I don’t mind. You get used to it, and you like it so much. Now I know why.”
He studied her enraptured expression, frowning. He was, frankly, finding her satisfaction annoying. He crossed his arms over his chest, forgetting at first that there was more than a flat surface there.
“Your turn,” he said.
Fee’s entranced look faded. “What do you mean?”
“Go down on me,” he ordered.
Chapter Five
Fee blinked. Her first reaction was to flat-out refuse him, and she opened her mouth to do just that, then closed it again. It was only fair. After all, he’d just swallowed.
“I…” she started, the masculine rumble of her voice startling her for some reason. She should be getting accustomed to it by now. Then again, that masculine voice had just been warbling like a girl, thanks to Mal’s more than adequate skills at fellatio.
“You what?” said Mal. She studied him. He looked belligerent, arms crossed over his chest -- Note to self: that makes your tits look really weird.
Fee crossed her arms right back, emphatically, in a way she could tell made her dick jiggle. She met his look, head tilted in challenge. “Where did you learn to suck cock like that, anyway? Have you been fucking other men behind my back?”
Mal scoffed. “Of course not. Your mouth just knows what to do. Just like my mouth --” He nodded toward her, an accusatory tilt to one eyebrow. “-- seems to be making you say ‘fuck’ a lot. And it definitely knows how to eat pussy, so…”
“That’s a likely excuse.” She was grasping at straws now, and she knew it. “I bet it was Jim, that little hottie UPS driver at your office.”
“You are totally stalling and trying to change the subject.”
He was right about that. She sighed. “All right. Fine.”
Mal grimaced. “Gee. You sound so enthusiastic.”
“Yes. And notice how that affects your level of arousal.”
Leaving him to mull that, Fee headed back to the bedroom.
She was lying on her side in the bed when he came in to join her. She had turned the covers back, leaving the bed ready for him. With her head propped on her fist, she patted the sheets beside her. She hoped her expression was appropriately come-hither -- not being used to the face, it was hard to tell if she looked seductive or like she was about to puke.
Maybe it was closer to the latter, because Mal hesitated in the doorway, taking her in and frowning oddly. Finally he took the last few steps across the room and sat next to her on the bed.
Fee laid her big, brown hand on Mal’s slim, pale thigh. Mal’s breath caught. Fee leaned toward him.
“What do you want?” she asked him in a low, challenging voice. “You want to spread those legs open for me. You want me to put my face there, fuck you with my tongue.”
Mal’s chin tipped up, his eyes darkening. Fee’s gaze fell to his breasts; she could see them rising and falling in a quicker rhythm as his breath sped up. Slowly, he opened his thighs.
Fee looked down. God, was that what she looked like? Slick and wet, red and pink, framed by blonde-brown curls. Sure, she’d seen pussies before, in porn movies, or medical texts, but those were usually neatly trimmed and shaved, or line drawings. Her own personal cunt was neither of those things.
Her first thought was that it was ridiculous-looking, not to mention messy. She should call the day spa and schedule some kind of bikini waxing marathon as soon as possible. Preferably while Mal was still in her body, because it would hurt a lot less that way.
Then her stray thoughts drifted away as Mal’s bodily instincts took over. She found herself leaning forward, fingertips pressing against damp, warm thighs, gently opening them farther. The arousal-slicked skin was soft and velvety to the touch, pale and lovely.
The thick, heady scent drifted to her nostrils. She felt her cock twitch, trying to harden again, as the smell filled her head. Fragrance, she thought. It was thick and musky, but her brain wanted to call it a fragrance. Her eyes drifted shut as she lost herself to the flood of need that washed hot through her in response to it.
Then pubic hair tickled her nose, and she drew a deep breath. The intense, consuming smell almost made her dizzy. Guided by the instinct of the body she wore, her hand slipped farther up the soft curve of thigh, and her first two fingers sank into the wet heat between Mal’s spread legs. Mal’s hips lifted a little, and he gasped as Fee pushed her fingers deeper inside. So wet, so hot… The wanton response of her own body embarrassed her in a way, watching it like this from the outside, but that strange, awkward feeling was countered by the way Mal’s brain and body reacted all around her. The heat, the slick wetness on his fingers, the musky smell in his nostrils, pushed his previously sated body into another cycle of raging need. Fee closed her eyes, letting it wash over her. As she did, her face lowered. She felt the heat of Mal’s cunt against her lips, then she opened her eyes, dipped her head that fraction of an inch, and tasted.
She had tasted herself before, off her own fingers, out of curiosity, and off Mal’s lips and tongue after he’d gone down on her. So the taste itself wasn’t a surprise. Just the headiness of it, the way it seemed to cling to her tongue, to rise through her mouth to the back of her nose, making her hungry, making her want this to fill her mouth forever. She stroked wet labia with her tongue, sucked the hard, pebbled clit between her lips. Mal’s body shook under her, his hands clutching the sheets.
Fee’s body clamored again for release, and she could feel the jut of her cock becoming erect again. But right now, with her face buried between Mal’s legs, she wanted nothing more than to feel the riotous pulse of orgasm under her mouth, around her fingers.
She knew where her own G-spot was, but with the different angle it proved more elusive than usual. She knew when she found it, though; Mal’s thighs jumped and he said, “Shit!” suddenly, and one hand grabbed at her head.
Pressing harder at the spot, she began to thrust her fingers, teasing Mal’s clit at the same time, feeling his body grow more and more taut with the stimulation. She withdrew her fingers and tongue-fucked him, listening to his cry of disappointment when she withdrew, followed by a gasp of surprised satisfaction when she drove her tongue inside. That didn’t seem to draw out the kind of reaction she wanted, though, and she knew from experience that finger stimulation was generally better for her. So she pressed fingers in again, three this time, tasted the freely-flowing wetness of Mal’s need. Her fingers were drenched.
Thinking of what she liked, then, of what nearly always brought her off when Mal did it to her, she withdrew one wet finger from Mal’s vagina and rimmed him with it, then gently slid it into his ass. In a little, then deep -- Mal came. Hard, his body pounding in deep, rolling pulsations over the fingers she held embedded in him. A rush of fluid hit her tongue, lighter, less musky than previously. Fee chuckled a little at the near-screaming moan that wrenched from Mal’s throat.
“You liked that,” she said, then licked him again, along the full length of open, swollen labia.
“God,” was all Mal could say. Fee laughed. Rising over him, looking down at the small, open body, not perfect, but lovely, desirable, wantable, she slid her newly revived erection into the deep, wet heat and rode him, hard and fast, watched her own face as Mal came again, and finally made a small sound as her own borrowed body reached one last, shaky climax.
Wet, bedraggled, and reeking of sex, they curled down into the covers together and slept.
Chapter Six
They’d intended to be at the bar as soon as it opened, but the oral sex marathon -- and the nap -- had delayed them. Still feeling a bit weak in the knees, Fee pushed the door open and led the way in.
The St. Patrick’s Day decorations were gone, but otherwise the place was the same -- a little too dark, a little tawdry, and smelling of cigarette smoke and beer.
Irish Stalker Guy was behind the bar, wiping it down.
“Hey!” Fee stalked across the room and plopped onto a barstool. “One question. What the fuck?”
He smiled placidly as Mal settled onto the stool next to her. She spared her husband a glance. Mal pushed his hair back, awkwardly tucking blonde strands behind his ear.
“Just granting a wish,” the bartender said.
“What are you, some kind of leprechaun?”
The bartender grinned. “There’s no such thing as leprechauns.”
Mal snorted. It wasn’t a very ladylike snort. “Just forget the semantics and switch us back.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Of course we’re sure,” Mal snapped.
“Yes, we’re sure,” Fee confirmed. “I want my tits back.”
With a chuckle, the bartender tossed his cloth over his shoulder. “Did you learn anything, the two of you?”
“Yes,” they both said in unison. Fee assumed that was the answer he was after, and she was certainly willing to give it to him if it got her back into her own familiar body. Mal looked at her, and judging by his expression, he felt the same.
But the bartender’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think you did.”
“We did, trust me.” Surely he wouldn’t just… leave them this way. Fee felt a panic attack blossoming in the middle of her chest.
“Fee needs more positive reinforcement from me,” Mal mumbled.
“What was that?” The bartender perked, eyebrows going up. Fee looked at Mal with interest.
“She… isn’t as sure about her attractiveness as I am.” He glanced at her, then turned his attention to his hands, folded on the bar, as if he were embarrassed. “I need to tell her what I feel more often. I need to tell her I love her and think she’s be
autiful.”
“Bah.” The bartender looked disappointed. “Could have read that in Redbook, now couldn’t you?”
Mal’s eyes widened. “I don’t read Redbook. And I was just telling you what I learned.”
“Well, color me not impressed. And you, Fee?”
“Um…” She shifted on the stool, afraid to say anything at all after the reaction to Mal’s revelations, which she’d found touching. “Mal doesn’t mean to be a clueless dork. He just… really doesn’t get things sometimes.”
Mal rolled his eyes. “Gee, thanks.”
She turned toward him, desperate for him to understand. “I don’t mean it that way. I mean… I judge too harshly. I assume you know what’s going on in my head, and that’s not fair, because you can’t read my mind, right?”
Seeming somehow puzzled and placated at once, Mal nodded. “Right. And I do my best. Honestly.”
“I know you do. And I know… I understand how hard it is for you sometimes. I’ll try not to be such a bitch in the future, okay?”
He smiled a little, then frowned. “I had no idea…” He trailed off. “I had no idea you saw yourself that way.”
“I had no idea you saw me that way.” Her eyes were growing hot, and she blinked back impending tears.
“Oh, good God, save me from the lovey-dovey shite.” The bartender made a face. “All right, all right, I’ll switch you back, just… for the love of God stop talking.”
“I don’t like you,” said Fee.
“Me, either,” Mal chimed in.
“You don’t have to.” He looked at them both by turns, eyes glazing a bit, then said, “Granted.”
“I still have tits,” Mal stated.
“Give it a couple hours. Magic takes time, you know.”
“Actually, I didn’t. It’s always instantaneous in the movies.” Mal looked down and cupped his breasts, then shrugged.
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