by Jen Eastwood
This kid's gonna be so fucked up. Par for the course in my family. “Shut up and make me want to come inside you.”
That's all it took. Anya put her right hand down below, her teeth biting against her lower lip. The way she squirmed felt just as amazing as when she was on top.
Her first hard gasp brought a smile to my face. I was ready to start hammering away, but I knew I wouldn't last. It would have been like starting a marathon with the finish-line in sight.
Anya's cheeks flushed pink as every breath got its own noise. Her left hand cradled her breasts, fluffing and bouncing them for her pleasure as much as mine. Staying still when she was that fucking hot and ready tortured that primal instinct to slam away.
The good work between her thighs stopped, and then Anya slapped both hands on my ass. She pulled me all the way in. Hitting rock-bottom forced a ravenous moan out of her.
She kept working with her arms, making it happen whether I wanted it to or not. My cock was getting the same treatment it had given Lara's mouth earlier, the thrusts happening at Anya's command. Within seconds, I knew she was on the road to one hell of a climax.
I put my arms between hers and my torso. Forcing them over her head, I gripped both wrists tight, keeping the special one away from her bracelet. I had learned from that mistake, that Anya will have her way with you until she's satisfied, whether you're helpless or not.
From tip to trunk and back again, her entire body jarred with each impact. Her shouts started hurting my ears. Anya was letting herself go delightfully mad, sounding more like a petite screamer than the sensual moaner she'd always been.
This is what they mean by 'fucking her brains out.' Indeed, she didn't sound like she had any left. I drew on energy I didn't really have to begin with.
I pulled her arms down behind her head and kept the grip on both wrists with my right hand. I closed the left around her throat. The room started going hazy as I felt the warm ache in my sack.
Silky yet sculpted, her legs came up and then snapped shut around the small of my back. Anya had me trapped, cutting the length of my thrust in half.
I kept on. Squeezing her throat just hard enough to distort her screams only turned her on even more. As I closed harder, it just made her legs squeeze around me like a vise.
We fought to see who could squeeze harder until Anya's eyes shot open. She looked right at me, her face a red, blissful mess. She nodded before her eyes rolled back in her head.
An instant of panic came over me, until her thighs slammed me all the way in. They shivered around me, her entire body seizing as she writhed underneath me. She was dead to the world, but very much more alive than she'd ever been.
I let go of her neck and wrists, feeling my strength give out. Cum rushed through my plumbing as hard and fast as the endorphins flooding my brain. Like a burst dam, the candidates for half of our first child began shooting hard and heavy.
Her back wall was slick now, sliding my head around to cover everything. The overload on my skin made me start shaking as well. My body was locked in, and it felt very generous that morning.
The balls of her feet pressed harder. Whether out of the San Andreas of orgasms or her own will, the point was clear. Anya's body wouldn't stand for a single drop being wasted.
Anya peaked as I kept unloading. She was spent, but I couldn't have stopped if I tried. It felt like my life-force itself was getting shot right into her.
Her arms, still trembling, wrapped around my shoulders. With her hands on my back, she pulled me tighter. “You have a very happy wife, Alexei.”
You fucking better be. One last, painful spurt forced me to collapse into her. I fought for every breath, our bodies drenched, exhausted, and above all else, satisfied.
What normally ended up being depraved by the end had turned into something beautiful. Sex with Anya always left your mind blown, but there's nothing quite like this time. Up for anything as she was, begging me to put our child in her was the invitation to violate her in the deepest, most sensual way. I've never felt anything like it since.
I stopped in the doorway of Anya's classroom. The students had paired up, practicing those facial expressions that drive a man wild, as they rode their dummies. Only, it wasn't Anya pacing and observing among them.
Knowing enough from what Anya described as 'advanced tutoring,' Lara had filled in as substitute teacher for the past several months. One of the perks for being your wife's boss is that you don't have to worry about work demanding a short maternity leave. And Lara had been handling the job like she had been at it for years. If she wanted to stay on as official staff after her two years, the invitation was already there.
She caught sight of me and jogged over. “So?”
“She's started contracting. I'm going there right now.” Anya insisted on giving birth at the academy, which was fine by me. I still had to make sure it ran smoothly.
Lara's face lit up. She couldn't wait to meet little Joseph. Without looking back, she yelled, “Class dismissed!”
“It's not like she's having him right this minute.”
“I know, but,” she turned like she was going there with me, “you know she'd like having both of us there with her.” They were practically sisters by that point, helped along by that small fragment of Anya's original self I had left intact.
“I've gotta call my parents and let them know. I guess it's time to show my mom what this mysterious 'job' Grandpa landed for me is all about.” I dreaded the thought, but I couldn't hide it from her forever. Hell, she had only met Anya a couple of times at their house, and only recently.
“She'll shit cinder blocks.”
We started marching down the first of many hallways ahead. “I know, but what could she really do about it? I'm sure my dad is so ready to tell her all those fucked up stories from his childhood, just to drive her insane.” And at least she'd know why I was married so soon after meeting her, and expecting a baby not long after.
Lara picked up the pace, forcing me to do the same. “You can't have fun with Anya six weeks after this, you know.”
The new baby dry-spell had hung over the due date like a cloud for months. “Don't remind me.” Her mouth was still good to go, but what she had between her legs was downright magical. Even though I could get it elsewhere, and had to in order to do my job, nobody compared to Anya in the sex department.
One person came close, though. “You know she'd kill me if you felt the slightest bit deprived.”
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
That's a wrap! I hope you enjoyed this series, and I feel like I could have kept it going, but this ending felt right to me. While I could have gone into Alex's exams that didn't have any bearing on the overall plot, I knew I had to give each story in this series some significance to his becoming Headmaster. If I'm in doubt about how important it is to advancing the plot, I cut a scene or even an entire story from my outline.
I'm hoping to get the first of my next series out days after the start of 2018, so be on the lookout. Instead of showing an older title, I decided to dig through the incomplete manuscript for this next one. We all know what every man would do if he woke up a woman one day, and that's turn into the biggest bimbo imaginable. The change in perspective is making this one hella fun to write.
A SHORT EXCERPT FROM THE UPCOMING:
HIS BIMBO SWITCH
His visibility suddenly shot from a couple of feet, to dozens of feet. Jack saw his kayak, the pole already somewhere up or down the river. What shocked him most wasn't how cold, clear, and still the water was. It was the riot of fish that outright ignored him.
Focused more on the oxygen he already wanted more of, Jack plunged the last ten feet to his boat. His lungs were already stinging, threatening to purge and inhale any second. The first loop of his knot on the front carrying handle almost felt like the end of his effort.
Jack persevered until his knot was finished. He regretted it that second, massive bubbles shooting above his face. The burn of water down the wrong h
ole shocked his entire body.
Kicking as hard as he could, Jack kept his grip on the rope. He felt himself lose that panic as calm set in. As he broke through to the dingy part of the river again, he pulled out his last reserve of willpower.
His body shot through the surface. As jack shot up to his hips, he took what he knew was the sweetest breath he could imagine. But that wasn't all that was sweet.
He let out an echoing cough as he bobbed in the channel. The water sputtering up from his lungs almost tasted like artificial sweetener. It made him want to hurl so badly, he knew he had to start swimming back.
Dragging himself on all fours, Jack rested with his legs still in the water. Another shot of water surged from his mouth and nostrils. I almost bought it down there.
He crawled the rest of the way onto the pebbly bank, pushing himself up on his knees. He had survived, at least. Now all he had to do was pull hundreds of pounds of plastic and water without any help.
* * *
The shrill chirp of a robin woke Jack up. Fucker's right over my head, probably trying to shit on me. He tossed the cover and half the sleeping bag off himself. His joints and muscles felt better, but the pressure on his face had stopped completely.
Rolling out, Jack noticed his legs weren't his own. Shapely, long, and with bald skin smoother than a baby's ass. Even the feet looked smaller, delicate even. “What the fuck?” The voice coming out of his mouth was a few octaves higher than his booming speech.
Those same legs and feet didn't reach the ground when he tried to get out, either. Shoving off, Jack winced as the round gravel dug into the soles of his feet. He'd barely felt a thing walking on it before.
A swoosh on the back of his neck caught Jack's attention. Thinking it was a leaf from one of the trees he was between, he reached back and felt hair down to his shoulder blades. Remembering the hair loss from the night before, he checked his face.
Bald and smooth as his legs. Pulling his t-shirt up to check under there, what used to be a modest set of abs was now flat, hairless, and narrower. Even down there?
Running daintier fingers than he remembered under his waistband, Jack's heart felt like it had just stopped. The smooth silk of the skin was the least of his worries. I'm fucking dreaming. This can't be real.
Pulling the boxers out further, Jack no longer felt like the manliest man to ever man the hell out of man-things. What used to be a boastfully large cock... just wasn't there.
With feet in the now oversized boots, Jack stumbled to the water's edge. What looked back in the reflection forced out a sound worth calling the cops over: A woman's terrified scream.
“Why—” The instant she heard her own voice, Jack's hands slammed over her mouth. The image of a stunning but horrified woman stared back through tears even a man would cry. I've gotta wake up.
* * *
She pulled the boots off at the door going into the kitchen, and then bolted for the master bedroom upstairs. The entire wall of mirror Jack had used to watch himself fuck wouldn't lie.
Yep, this Jack's a Jill. She stepped into the narrow gap between the bed and the mirror and checked out the new body, dropping the cargo pants first. Even without makeup and my hair a wreck, not bad.
The slim yet curvy figure showed it's fuller glory as Jack lifted her shirt over her head. That guy wasn't lying. These are some knock-out tits.
Jack kept her arms straight down, bringing them together more times than she could count. Indeed, the breasts bounced like the real deal. Jack even hugged them upward, knowing her missing cock would have had a raging boner well before that point.
It was time for the boxers to go. Jack struggled to breath as they crept down. Plain as day, Jack had a pussy of her very own, hairless like nothing had ever grown there.
Huh. I don't even notice I don't have a dick unless I'm thinking about it. Jack spun herself around, jutted her ass out, and any other test pose you could imagine anyone with a new body trying. I still don't like it, but I'd absolutely fuck out what little brains I look like I have.
Jack remembered the 'lost and found' box under her bed, full of whatever past conquests had left behind. She finally had a use for it, other than saving the day for a one-night-stand with hair ties or tampons. Yes, she used to be one of those guys. I've gotta wash this river funk off of me.
She pulled the box out and tossed it on the bed. A few discrete sex toys, lipstick, even a whole purse. It was a veritable bar-slut-starter-kit, minus the wardrobe.
* * *
Jack sat on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror in all her nude glory. Her face blushed again as soon as she noticed the vibrator with her own reflection. Why is it so embarrassing? This isn't even me.
She leaned back, her ass barely on the edge of the mattress. Jack almost couldn't turn the knob on the bottom. The toy buzzed to life as she started it off on the lowest setting.
Jack stopped just short of touching it to herself. If this is all a dream, it's the most fucked up thing I've ever experienced. Acknowledging just how unlikely this all was, she found the will to press down.
Her head jerked back. She couldn't imagine backing out now. Jack's body or not, the feeling was as real as the static noise clouding the edges of her mind.
“Mmmh...” Jack pushed the tip down a little, and then just a smidge more. It felt better the more of it she had in contact with herself.
It already felt as good as the best parts of sex, as she knew it so far. Instead of one part of her old body, every part of her rippled with the energy coursing from between her thighs. The toe-curling thing women did finally made sense.
Jack built up the nerve and desire to look at herself in the oversized mirror. God I'd fuck her until she couldn't walk. She imagined those perfect, luxuriously long legs in the mirror propped on her former shoulders.
Her cheeks flushed with heat again, realizing she was fantasizing about fucking herself. But I would, in a heartbeat. The moment of confusion fell apart as soon as Jack cranked the vibrator up to the next stop.
* * *
“Trixie,” Jack got a fresh reminder that her voice wasn't the same, “I need your help.”
“And you are?” The slim, busty brunette crossed her arms and put one foot forward.
“It's me, Jack Harpeth.”
“Did he dress up one of his girlfriends in his clothes to play a prank? I'm not in the mood right now, sugar.” The door started closing.
Jack pulled the storm door and put a narrow wrist through the main door. “Wait!”
Trixie's head shot backward. “Excuse me?”
“You can ask me anything, and I know this is fucking weird, but I am Jack.”
She almost shut an eye as she dropped a brow. “Fine. What does the tattoo on my inner thigh say?”
“'Lucky you,' in French.”
“He's seen it enough to memorize it, but I know he wouldn't go so far as to pronounce it for you.”
Jack rolled her eyes and stated, “Quel chanceux etes-vous.”
The dropped brow shot way up. “Alright, what does he hate most about my husband?”
Too easy. “Neil lies about his fucking golf scores, and he expects the impossible, yesterday.”
“No fucking way.” Trixie looked like she was holding back a laughing fit. “I know it sounds weird, but I believe you.”
What the fuck? “Alright.” Jack put her arm the rest of the way through the door and stepped inside. “I don't know what happened, but I woke up this morning, and this is what I look like.”
“And how many times did you think about how hard you'd fuck your own brains out? You're exactly your own type.”
Jack blushed, knowing how long she'd spent having that exact that, and then taking liberties with her new body. “Jesus fuck, I don't know what the hell to do right now.”
Trixie couldn't hold the laughter back any longer. “Neil's gonna be so pissed.”
“What?”
“You wouldn't believe me if I told you why, and you of all pe
ople, show up at my door a big-titted, blonde bimbo. It's fucking hilarious at this point.”
What the shit are you talking about? “Trixie, I don't know what the fuck to do.”
“Oh my God.” Trixie put her right hand over her mouth. “Get in here, right now.”
Jack wanted to find out why, but she couldn't even speak. Trixie pulled her in by the collar of the t-shirt. Somehow, the day had gotten even stranger. “What was that about?”
Trixie stared into Jack's eyes with devious enthusiasm. “I know exactly what you need!”
“Yeah?” Jack hoped beyond reason that somehow, she'd know a way to turn her back.
“A makeover.”
Fuck.
* * *
What felt like hours of torture only ended up being forty-five minutes. Makeup, hair styling, and a few pieces of borrowed clothing later, Jack stared at herself in the mirror. Her habitual instinct to pop a boner felt like an insult.
“I hate to say it,” Trixie wrapped her arms around Jack's slight shoulders, “but you're a knock-out.”
She couldn't argue against it, staring at herself in the mirror. Jack wore the blue mini-dress and stockings, better than Trixie did that one time Jack had fucked her stupid at an office party. Jack gave herself an approving nod, pouting her lips out for full effect.
“This is great and all, but how do I keep my damn job?”
“You know the answer already.”
Jack had heard the rumors about the new girls in the research department replacing a whole swath of staff that had quit one day. “No way, I'm not fucking Neil.” Watching herself penetrate her marvelous pussy with a piece of plastic, in the mirror, was one thing. Sexing up that bastard was about ten levels of magnitude too far. “You've been fucking me behind his back for a reason.”
“Calm down. He's not that bad, and you're not the Adonis you think you are.” Trixie couldn't help driving the knife in further. “Especially now.”
Jack sent up a dainty middle finger. “I won't do it.”
“And if you're a woman now, we can't just call you Jack.” Trixie ignored the bird still flipped her way. “Quick, what's a sexy woman's name.”