TV/mm

Two Makeovers

by Amy Brett

     I found that I really didn't know what to do. The situation was so totally alien.
     I had spoken softly to Barbara for a scant moment after she had admitted me to the
basement room of the store. The racks of clothing and piles of shoes and makeup table and old
couch were familiar from my one previous visit with her but the situation had changed. She
seemed nervous and held her hands close in front of her as we talked for that few seconds before
the bell rang.
     Then he'd come in and we had frowningly appraised each other over Barbara's shoulder as
she greeted him. Then, graciously, she introduced us.
     "Bruce, this is Mike."
     "Hi, how are you?" I said as we shook hands. He nodded and I thought for a moment he
wasn't going to return the greeting.
     "Mike. Nice to meet you." He was used to meeting people and seemed to be a thoroughly
masculine person. His handshake was a firm as I liked; more did damage to your hand and felt
reminiscent of intimidation while less gave you that gaggy feeling of having touched something
that wasn't quite alive. His self-assurance seemed good.
     "Okay," Barbara said with an uncomfortable sigh. "Do you want to get ready?"
     Both of us, I noticed, nodded at the same time and with the same apparent unease. He
turned and put the small suitcase he carried on the floor, opening it while I did the same with the
briefcase in mine. I heard him take a deep breath to calm himself and found myself resenting him
for doing it before I could. Now I would feel I was only following suit but, strangely, couldn't
prevent it anyway.
     I could feel my pulse pounding in my neck and found that, rather than proceding, I had to
sit down on the chair and catch my breath. I really hadn't been so freightened in a very long time.
He noticed and, quickly scanning me from ankle to face, followed suit by sitting in the nearby
chair.
     "This isn't quite like the boy's locker room, is it?" he said softly. I couldn't help but smile at
the comment since it was such a wild understatement. And then the contrast brought a picture
into my mind that I couldn't help but laugh at and my smile broke into a real laugh.
     "My God, what an understatement!" His face broke in emulation of mine, I'm sure. And
his head went back in amusement, the laughter pouring out.
     After a moment, I stuck out my hand again. "Bruce, it's nice to meet you." This time I said
it with a lot less distraction and a lot more sincerity than I had the first. I found I really meant it. I
liked him.
     For a moment, we both paused and, I found, were doing exactly the same thing--really
looking at the other and registering what we saw.
     He was, I remembered from when we were introduced, of a like size--short for a man,
about 5-7. He was in his 30's, probably late 30's but hard to tell since he seemed to be a boyish
looking man. Small wrinkles creased the soft skin of his face at the corners of his eyes and the
corners of his mouth. Laugh lines. He looked like a happy person. He seemed self-assured and
confident, as personified by the solid handshake. Intelligence shown from him bright eyes.
     His hair was rapidly thinning and blond it seemed almost transparent though he didn't
appear bald. He had a nice smile and a wonderful laugh that, though not loud or boistrous, filled
the room with mirth.
     He unbuttoned his shirt, as we still watched each other, and I followed suit. I thought, as
he stripped the teeshirt over his head, that we probably looked like mirror images--no hair on our
chests, flat stomachs, small waists, no excess flesh in any spot on our upper bodies including an
overabundance of muscles.
     "You probably got hassled in school, too," I said.
     "I got to be a great joke teller," he answered as he pulled off his shoes and socks.
"Somebody doesn't want to hit you if they're laughing."
     "Yeah," I said. "I did some of that and some helping other people with classes and a dash
of karate."
     "I always wanted to learn something like that. Just in case but it doesn't seem like there's
anything you can do short of killing somebody and I never wanted to do that."
     "Yeah. Me neither. But there are a few things that just hurt a lot."
     He laughed with me as he stood and stripped off his pants and underpants. I glanced at
him, as I probably would have another man in a locker room, but made little mental note. He sat
again and threaded his legs, one at a time, into a pair of pantyhose.
     I put my own thigh-high stockings on and stepped into the lacy panties. Then I clipped the
bra around my middle, turned it around and found the shoulder straps. Then I lifted first one and
then the other of my soft breast forms and seated them in the cups of the bra. Their cold, from a
day in the car, shocked my warm skin but quickly began warming to my body. I knew they would
be fine in a few minutes.
     I looked up to see him staring at my chest.
     "Boy, those are nice! Where did you get them?"
     "Upstairs," I said with a pleased grin. "They cost a lot but they're worth it."
     "Yeah. I guess!"
     "I have some you can try," Barbara said, interjecting herself into the meeting for the first
time since we had met. "Would you like that?"
     "Yes! Yes, I would," he said with that infectious smile.
     "You have a padded bra, right?" she asked.
     "Yes."
     "Here," I said, holding out an extra, lacy bra I had with me. "Try this."
     He put it on while Barbara went through her cabinets and found the breast forms and
brought them to him.
     "Cadillacs," she said handing them to him and watching as he put them in the cups of the
bra carefully. "Really too big for you. They're C cups."
     He grinned. "I always did like big tits." He drew in his breath as the cold plastic material
hit his skin. "Oh, shit. I see what you mean about cold."
     "I'll take your mind off it," I said. "Sit back and bounce them in your hands." I
demonstrated, feeling the soft gel move with my movements.
     He sat back, looking at his own chest and doing as I had shown him. He watched the
forms move as if they were real breasts and his smile increased. Peripherally, I saw that the
experience was having another affect as well through the thin material of the pantyhose.
     Ridiculously, we both grinned at the other as we sat boucing our boobs in our palms. Both
with the same relish.
     "Okay, sweethearts," Barbara said with a smile in her voice. "Cover up." She handed me a
bright red silk robe and him a blue one. Both, we saw as we stood, reached the floor and nearly
wrapped all the way around us before tying. "You look wonderful in red," she said, pulling at the
lapels of the robe. I grinned at her complement in spite of herself.
     "You guys are having fun already," she said, smiling. "I'm glad. But wait until you see
each other made up. You're not going to believe it."
     She moved to the makeup table, putting her hands on the back of the chair. "Who's first?"
We shrugged at each other and, rather than stand there all day, I sat down, carefully crossing my
nylon covered legs and arranging the slick material of the robe.
     Five minutes later and a few deft strokes with eyebrown pencil, lipstick brush, and a
coverup stick, and I was finished. She tapped me on the shoulder to indicate the fact though I had
seen the transformation in the small mirror in front of me.
     I moved and he quickly took my place with his back to me.
     "Could I borrow your brush," I asked. She handed it to me. I walked to my briefcase and
pulled out the wig and brushed out the tight curls at the back and sides before putting it on. Then,
in a few more strokes, I brushed it out over my forehead and around my ears.
     The long hair tickled at my ears and neck seductively. I put the dangling earrings in place
in two more motions.
     Then I sat and put on the high heels, tightening the strap around the ankles and putting the
tiny buckles to the side where they wouldn't rub against my ankle bone painfully.
     Then I went and sat on a makeup chair near Barbara and Bruce as she worked on his face.
Only his reflection showed her actions and that truncated by the small size of the mirror. The
details seemed to be working but their was no overall impression.
     "Oh, yes. That looks nice," Barbara said as she worked at smiled in response to it. "You're
lovely! Oh, yes."
     I had heard this same patter as she made me up the first time and, I understood, this was at
least his second time as well. I watched the slight tremor in his hands where they sat crossed on
his leg. His fingers seemed to move in a more feminine way as she worked, though the tiny
movements were by no means definitive. I couldn't believe that he was more frightened than I had
been my second time or now, my third.
     "You want to stay blond." She said it as a matter of fact rather than a question but allowed
him to at least nod his tacit approval. She moved to the head form and pulled the long, blond hair
from it. The long hairs clung to the brush as she passed it through, again and again.
     I had seen hair on a woman that clung like this and almost hung in the air with the static
electricity. She put it on his head and looked at him from the front to brush it down across his
forehead and around his ears. She patted it into place.
     "Earrings?" He nodded. She pulled a pair from a small cabinet on the makeup table and
held them up. They were long, teardrop shaped pearls below several more, smaller versions. She
clasped them to his ears with the screw posts.
     "Okay?" he asked. She held her hands at the side of his face, looking critically. Then her
face changed to a smile and she nodded to him.
     He turned toward the full-length mirror to our right, away from me. His back blocked my
view until I stood up. I looked over his shoulder as he looked at himself in the glass.
     "My God," he whispered.
     "You're beautiful," I said behind him in the same voice. Both of us looked at the same
vision. And he was beautiful. His eyes shown brightly from their enlargement by the eyebrow
pencil and mascara. His pink lips pouted with invitation. The dangling pearl drops peeked from
between the layers of long blond hair.
     We took our eyes off his reflection at the same time and, I found, both of us looking at
mine instead.
     "Jesus!" he whispered again. "You're gorgeous!" He turned to me then and I saw the full
affect of his blond, shining smile. He looked up at me because of the heels I wore. "You're . . .
you're . . . you're as pretty as any woman I've ever met."
     I couldn't help smiling back at this unabashed adoration.
     "You're both beautiful. You wouldn't have any problem going into any place at all. I mean,
no one would think you're . . ." Barbara stopped as we both turned to her smiling. "Really. You
could got to Sears or . . . anywhere. No one would think that you were . . ."
     "Guys, Barbara," I filled in for her. I looked at Bruce then and slowly our faces changed to
amusement. "You'd never know it from looking at us though, would you."
     After a moment of just staring at each other, he slipped the tie off the robe and let it fall
open. It was tremendously sensual, I realized with a start.
     "Let's get dressed." I remember, as he said it, that I still wore the red robe Barbara had
given me before the makeup session.
     "Yeah," I said with a grin, untying my own robe and shrugging out of it.
     All of us turned to the racks then with Barbara trying to guide us a little. Her efforts were
ruined by our own exuberance though.
     "You've got to try this!" I said as I found the yellow sweater-dress. "You've got to." He
took it from my hand and off the hanger.
     "And you've got to try these," Barbara said.
     The whole hanger of material weighed so little I could feel only the hanger. The blouse's
neckline almost kept it from staying on the hanger and wouldn't have but that clothespin-like clips
held it at the shoulders. I unclipped it and dropped the light material over my head. The circle of
the neck held to my shoulder tips showing the straps of the bra until Barbara moved them out to
the tips of my shoulders as well. She adjusted the back above the brastrap even as I worked to do
the same in front.
     She leant her arm to aid my balance as I stepped into the skirt with one, then the other leg.
I pulled it up until the waistband clutched slightly above the waist of my low panties, leaving a
gap between the blouse and skirt.
     But it was short still and a series of buttons went up the front. I unbuttoned two and,
looking in the mirror, saw that it almost showed the white panties below. I was sure it would if I
sat down.
     I turned and felt the material of both the skirt and blouse float upward. Until I had turned
to Bruce. His long blond hair cascaded across the shoulders of the yellow sweater material that
opened in a deep vee in the front, shaped to a nice waistline, flared to his hips and stopped at mid-
thigh. His feet now had a pair of bright yellow heels on them.
     I closed the two steps to him in a flash that he almost backed away from, and grabbed his
hands and held them away from his body.
     "God, you've got a fantastic shape, too."
     "You, too. I can't believe it. You're so . . . so feminine."
     Barbara only stood back with a proprietary smile on her face and her arms crossed over
her chest. A sort of pride of authorship or creation. She liked her creations to be admired, even by
each other.
     I looked into his eyes then and saw a different intention. Without knowing what to do
about it, I only watched as his head tilted, his lips parted slightly, and they met mine.
     I heard Barbara shift and clear her throat but found that he was unaffected, either by her
discomfort or any other thought that it may have brought to him. I didn't move from the kiss but
only accepted it without thought or regret.
     His soft lips closed around mine very softly and his tongue found the slight opening to my
own and explored the red lipstick covered surfaces of them.
     "I . . . ah, need to check the store. Upstairs," Barbara said softly, like clanging bells in my
ears. "I'll be back in . . . ah, why don't you call me when you want me back down to help you."
     He hadn't moved, I found, and neither had I. I heard her steps retreat up the staircase and
away from us, the floor creaking above. Instead, I felt the very soft brush of his fingers across the
bare skin between my blouse and skirt on my sides. To answer him, I found my arms rising until
my elbows rested on his shoulders and my fingers found that bright stack of hay colored, long
hair.
     We stood that way, his fingers fluttering over my skin and lips fluttering over mine, my
nerves fluttering until I could no longer stand it. In the mood of his movements, I found myself
very slowly tightening my hold on the sides of his head through the flounce of hair.
     First our lips truly met, mine spreading within his to allow his tongue access. His seemed
to pulse at the firmer touch. It was natural that my calf rose, brushing the nylon of the stockings
together as it lifted under me. His hands finally found my waist, pulling me into him.
     I felt the new lumps of our false breasts pressing together. And then the odd feeling of the
sweater material against my bare stomach. His whispered words came between gasps and kisses.
     "Oh . . . God . . . you're so . . . sexy." I could only moan my thanks for the compliment
into his mouth as it covered mine.
     His hands followed the bare midriff of the outfit I wore around my back until they passed
each other. Then they ranged upward under the back of the blouse, pulling me tighter and tighter
into his front.
     The skin of my back tingled, the goosebumps raging, where his fingers touched it and my
return of his kiss seemed to increase with the feelings it caused. I could feel his tongue playing
with the skin inside my mouth, caressing my teeth and my tongue. The vibration of my moans
made the tentative touches of his tongue even more excruciating.
     His hands loosened and tightened across my back as our kiss extended. I could feel the
pressure of his breasts pressing into my chest and the equal pressure of his pressure against my
breasts as well.
     My hands played uncontrolled in his long hair and with the dangling earrings at his ears.
     His mouth moved from mine, leaving me panting, but recontacted my cheeks and neck,
raising goosebumps everywhere he moved. I found I couldn't make my hands do anything but
open and spread, relax, and open again as his mouth moved.
     "You taste wonderful," he whispered below my ear before his mouth moved to it and his
tongue found the opening of it. It made my legs weaken and, I found, he was almost holding me
up as I held on to his sweater covered shoulders and he to my back.
     "Oh . . . oh, my God," I sighed. "That feels . . . so . . . wonderful." I squirmed as his
tongue explored my ear lightly eliciting wild surges of feeling thoughout my body.
     I didn't feel his hands slip to my sides for a moment. My legs seemed to stroke each other
on their own, the nylon rubbing together and building static electricity that seemed to surge
through me in crackling discharges.
     I tried to keep my balance as he released my sides and lifted the lightweight material of the
blouse above my bra. His hands powerfully massaged the breast forms until I could clearly feel the
movements. I breathed harder as the fingers of one of his hands slid under my bra and breast form
to find my own hardened nipple to pinch it.
     I cringed, expecting pain and instead felt the totally opposite feeling of nerves firing
wildly. I found myself standing on tiptoe with my head back and mouth open.
     "Ah, fuck . . . ah, oh . . . that feels . . ." That's all I could gasp out before I felt his lips suck
the tiny bud of nipple up and his teeth play at it. I froze, both with a kind of fear and the intense
feeling of it.
     The terrible mixture of fear, pleasure and a slight pain concentrated every cell of my brain
on that nipple and his movement on it. God, this had to be what a woman felt when I did this to
her. I could only stand there frozen, my hands open on his shoulders. I couldn't even blink my
eyes.
     With a sucking sound, his lips pulled the skin of my chest out until the pain nearly
overwhelmed me then allowed it loose again. I looked down at the huge smile on his face.
     "Oh, God," I gasped. "That must be . . ." I couldn't get my breath.
     "Yeah," he said. "But you react like no woman I've ever been with. Unbelievable!"
     I blushed at the strange compliment. I couldn't say anything.
     "Come here," he said, taking my hand and leading me across the room. As we reached the
rather tacky terrycloth covered day bed, he turned me and allowed no other option but to sit
down.
     I sat on the edge of it, poised precariously as I watched his smiling face. It seemed to glow
through the filiments of blond hair and the covering of makeup. I saw a tiny smear of lipstick at
the bottom of his lower lip.
     I found that the easy way to sit was to cross my nylon covered legs only to see the
expanse of leg to the hem of the short dress. The unbuttoned front opened across them, allowing
a glimpse of the top of the stockings and a tiny bit of white skin through the cut. I crossed my
wrists over the opening modestly and tried to catch my breath.
     He seemed to naturally flow as he moved beside me and sat down, his knees delicately
together though the hem of the sweater dress rose as drastically as had mine. We laughed together
as we both looked at the hems and squirmed slightly to rearrange them. Incidentally, I noticed that
nothing showed in the laps of either skirt though I knew for sure that I had something that might
show and though he was probably in the same condition but the folds of material concealed them.
     The intensity of my feelings had cooled somewhat now but the sexual tension was still
thick around us. He twisted his head to the side and flung the long blond hair over his shoulder in
an intensely feminine gesture. I watched it run back over his shoulder as he moved toward me
until his lips again touched mine. I closed my eyes to enjoy the soft touch.
     And felt the firey touch of the tips of his fingers on the material over my knee. My ankle
straightened in response to the very slight touch and my knee straightened.
     The tiny kisses, and the wispy touches on my knee, continued until again I was on the
verge of expiring for a perceived lack of oxygen. My lips parted to draw in the air and his tongue
followed it.
     My hand, nearest him, slid to the thin covering over his knee, almost hovering there, while
the other found his side. For a second, the sweaterlike material of the dress came as a surprise but
that quickly passed as I stroked his side. I felt the swell under the bra as, surprised, I felt his hand
nearly at the hem of my skirt.
     We both only brushingly touched the other but our hands moved constantly.
     His lips pressed hard against mine and his tongue truly insinuated itself into my psyche as
his hand found the crack between my legs and pushed its way between them. I couldn't keep them
crossed that way and found the floor with the tip of my sharp high heeled toes.
     His fingernails traced the inside of my thigh from my knee to the top of the stocking and
back, again and again, as his tongue explored my mouth and his lips vibrated against mine.
     I realised my fingers still traced small circles on his leg through the material of his
pantyhose while the other stroked his side and the side of his breast.
     Even with this preparation, I jumped as I felt his fingers touch the naked skin between the
top of my stocking and panties, and, I'm sure, gasped into his mouth. He didn't stop any of his
ministrations.
     I was lulled by his soft movement though it enflamed the naked skin. Then his finger slid
down and between my legs, the whole hand on the inside of my thighs. Moving up and down, it
slowly moved the fraction of an inch until his forefinger was rubbing between my legs. I couldn't
help but spread them to allow his access.
     It felt as if he were stroking a woman's parts as his finger moved over the outside of the
panties, never leaving the sensitive skin of the inside of my thigh. He stroked far between my legs
and back out, manipulating me. My legs vibrated with his attentions.
     Broadening my perspective, I found that I was responding strongly to him; my fingers
clutching at a piece of his skin through the pantyhose, my hand cupping and squeezing his breast,
my mouth now suctioning his tongue and refusing to release it in spite of my panting need for
breath.
     Though it was making itself powerfully apparent, he only brushed past my manhood over
the lacy surface of the panties before finding the elastic at the waist and again enflaming me with
his soft touch at my waist high under the skirt.
     With gentle, slow movements that continuously set my skin aflame, he moved the
waistband of the panties downward. Carefully, he lifted the waistband over my most sensitive
part, continuing to move it downward. Still tracing the waistband and moving it downward, he
rocked me so it came out from under me in slow increments until again I felt his hand leave my
naked skin and return to my stockings.
     The panties dropped and, for the first time in the exercise, I actually participated by lifting
my foot free of them. And then the other.
     He moved our center of gravity until I was forced to move my hands to the surface of the
day bed behind me to keep from falling over. Freed of holding me up and not returning to my lap,
his hand firmly squeezed my breast and his tongue pistoned in and out of my mouth quickly.
     I felt our saliva on my lips and chin as he moved away from me a fraction of an inch. My
eyes wouldn't focus for a minute and then I saw his smiling, red lips and beautifully defined eyes.
     "You are a fantastic cunt," he sighed. "You know what I'm going to do to you now, don't
you?"
     I could only jerkily nod. I was afraid I knew. His hand was again between my completely
naked legs and his forefinger was broadly massaging far between my legs.
     Quickly, as if to strike before I changed my mind, he kissed my mouth, my chin, my neck,
my chest, my stomach. Kneeling in front of me and looking up through the tangle of blond hair, he
kissed my knee and thigh through the nylon.
     His shoulders moved between my knees. He looked directly into my eyes as he lifted the
tiny skirt. I didn't see more as I leaned back and his mouth lowered to kiss the skin above my
stockings. Licking and kissing the skin into waves of tingling goose bumps.
     His kisses found my balls and traced up the length of my dick until he reached the head.
With only the tip of his tongue, he traced the shape until the nerves were firing so rapidly, I
couldn't keep both feet on the floor.
     I expected him to take it in his mouth but he only allowed the head between his ruby lips,
his tongue still moving over the sensative skin. It took me by surprise when he released it and held
it aside as he kissed my tummy through the thatch of pubic hair, moving downward. I could feel
the long hair caressing the skin of my stomach, legs and thighs.
     His kisses move down, around all my masculine equipment making me feel increasingly
like it wasn't there at all. I felt as if he was doing this to me as a woman. I was a woman.
     His hand lifted my balls out of the way and, taking advantage of my lifted leg, lifted the
other above his head until he had access far between my spread legs.
     First he kissed the flesh far between my legs, then licked and sucked it. Amazingly, it felt
as I thought it must for a woman to be kissed on the nether lips. Then his finger found the tight
opening of my asshole, gently massaging and manipulating it.
     I was forced by the weakness in my arms to lie back completely, raising my legs still
higher. As if a cue, his mouth moved down to kiss that puckered muscle.
     I'd never even conceived of the possibility of someone doing this to me. It felt . . . I can't
explain the feeling. Everything seemed to center on it. My full attention. Every nerve in my body.
     And then I felt his tongue at the portal, exploring, pushing, tittilating, until I felt it open to
him. This had to be what it felt like for a woman to have someone do this to her cunt. It felt
wonderful.
     His tongue pistoned in and out of me increasing my arousal beyond anything I had ever
felt.
     I felt only tremendous disappointment as I felt him leave me for a second and his
movement up my body.
     He kissed the head of my dick, my stomach, my chest on his way back to my panting
mouth. His tongue fell into my open mouth even as I felt his hands between my legs, spreading me
further.
     Then I knew what he was doing! And I tensed.
     "I'm going to fuck you," he said with a smile that I couldn't respond to. "Relax, my sweet
little cunt. Let me in you."
     I felt something else then at that portal and knew what he was about to do. He rubbed his
dick across the portal until I could feel its slickness. I wondered for a split second when he had
pulled down the pantyhose he wore.
     And then it pressed at the small hole. It was too big! My asshole, too small and too tight!
It was impossible!
     "Relax, my sweet," he whispered. I tried and felt the head of his cock start into the
impossibly tiny hole.
     "It's too small," I said.
     "No. It's all right. Relax."
     I tried again and as I partially succeeded, felt him slide further until the red of pain covered
the insides of my eyelids.
     In a motion, he pushed much harder and I felt the pain lessen as the larger head slid into
me. A wave of relief swept through me.
     He moved back slightly, increasing the pain, then forward and further in. The pain
diminished. Then out again less painfully. And back in further.
     His hand found the shape of my breast and massaged it roughly.
     My legs wrapped around him, my ankles feeling the hem of the yellow dress and pulling it
upward with them.
     He moved slightly away from me but far enough that I could focus on the smiling, very
feminine face in front of me.
     "This is what it feels like," he almost groaned. "This is what it feels like to be a woman." 
     His body completely still, his hand lifted the curls of my hair from my eyes and face,
stoking my face softly.
     "I'm going to come deep inside you." The thought sent a thrill through my body that
translated into a shudder that started somewhere so far inside me it had never been touched before
in my life. "I'm going to come inside you. And you're going to come with me."
     He moved out of me slightly and moved back in again. One hand stroked my face as his
tongue again found my open mouth. One found my breast and squeezed hard enough that I felt it
below the breast form. My legs held the short skirted sweater dress high.
     "You set the pace, my little cunt," he whispered between deep kisses. "Straighten your
legs."
     As I did, I felt the nylons on our legs caress each other. I felt him slide almost dangerously
far out of me, the pain again almost taking control.
     "Bring your knees up." I did, following the shape of his sides. "All the way to your
beautiful armpits." I did, almost excruciatingly feeling him so deeply inside me I was sure he could
go no further.
     "Slowly." His tongue found my neck and his hot breath heated and dried the saliva as he
placed it. "Straighten."
     I did and felt him move out again. His mouth found my ear. And his voice, a sigh, came
with his tongue into it.
     "Up. Ahhhh!" He plunged into me as my legs came back to my shoulders. His own
pleasure was obviously as intense as my own. "Ahhh."
     I had the idea. I knew exactly how far I could straighten to take him to the portal of
myself. One of my hands ranged the material of the back of the sweater material roughly; the
other had finally found the hem of the skirt and the rounded shape of his bottom, to pull him still
further into me around my own knees.
     I could feel the muscles of his ass clutching as he thrust harder into me.
     "Oh, baby," he sighed into my ear. "Oh, fuck me."
     "Yes, yes," I heard myself moan. "Make me come. Fuck me. Fuck me."
     Almost with each word, I stroked his sides from nylon covered thigh to shoulders, our
speed increasing to a pitch that raised a noisy film of sweat between us that my dick slid through
on its way to orgasm.
     I heard the grunt in my ear as I felt him stiffen and his movements become erratic. Almost
as if in slow motion, I felt his come splash deep inside me and knew that I could hold mine no
longer.
     My body spasmed, my legs crushing him into me. Then spasmotically, they straightened
and held my midsection up from the day bed, lifting us both in the process. Almost vibrating, my
center spasmed, clasping him, holding him.