Steve Steps Out

by C.M. Ellis

 

"Hey Steve, I've got to duck out early tonight."

Steve looked up from his desk to see Ken leaning against the doorway to his tiny office. The younger man had his hands in his pockets and was looking at Steve with casual disinterest. "I'm going out to a club on Bridge street and I have to leave at four to pick up some friends."

Steve closed his eyes and sighed. Ken leaving early would mean Steve staying late, and probably making some delivery runs too. It wasn't the first time either. Even though Steve was Assistant Manager of the restaurant and technically Ken was his subordinate, the little punk, still in his early twenties, had managed to catch the eye of the owner. They had both gone to the same university, and now, that alumni bond had earned Ken a fast-track pass to the old man's heart.

That left Steve, who had had to work for everything he did, stuck having to cover Ken's shifts whenever the kid felt like taking off for a party. He nearly opened his mouth to tell Ken he had to stay, but the kid turned and walked away without even waiting for an answer. The only time Steve had ever tried to make Ken stay, he had only earned a reprimand for himself from the owner. "He's still young, Steve. And he's a good kid. He's got life to live. Is it really so hard to cover him for a couple measly hours?"

Steve had bristled at the implication that he didn't have life to live, but then sagged in his chair. All he would have done if he didn't stay late was head home and eat a frozen dinner in front of the TV. Ken was picking up friends and going to party at a club. That sounded more worthwhile even to Steve. So he just sighed again and marked the schedule that Ken would be leaving early.

Exactly as predicted, the Friday-night dinner rush proved too much for the remaining delivery drivers and Steve had to pull some runs himself, driving into the middle of nowhere for drunken house-partiers and crappy tips. He didn't leave work until midnight.

As he pulled the sign off the roof of his car, he wondered if this was really his life. He was only in his late thirties, but he felt like an old man, mired in service industry jobs, barely above entry level with little possibility of advancement.

He stood there by his car, leaning against the open door and inhaling the cool air of a Grand Rapids Summer evening. In his heart of hearts, he knew that he could do better, but the non-stop drudgery of his day-to-day rut seemed to sap the life right out of him. What he needed was a clean break. A fresh start.

The cool breeze slapped him in the face with a piece of paper. He staggered back a little at the unexpected impact and pulled it away from his face. It was a flyer for one of the local nightspots over on Bridge street. "Hey, Mamacita!" it read, "Come on down to Mulligan's and try a Bonita Margarita! It'll change your life!"

Steve leaned back against the side of his car, staring at the flyer in the dim orange lights of the parking lot. "Maybe I could use a drink."

On the rare occasion that he went out after work, he usually went to the Triangle, a little tavern with a mostly-middle-aged clientele. But the most exciting thing that ever seemed to happen there were the occasional yelps from women being goosed by Jim, a sixty-year-old dwarf and a regular.

Mulligan's, on the other hand was a dance-club. Dark. Loud. Full of twenty-something's getting drunk and having fun. Steve got into his car and made his way to Bridge street.

Almost as soon as he set foot in the door, he felt out of place. Seeing all the young people dancing and drinking and laughing, it almost seemed to bring the age-gap into a sharper contrast. He began to think this was a bad idea.

"Hello stranger."

Steve turned to see who had spoken. It was a short man, dark hair and skin, and one of those faces that defied you to guess his age. As far as Steve could tell, the man could have been 30 or 60. He smiled with straight white teeth and a hand raised in greeting.

"Uh, hi."

"You look like you feel that you don't belong here." The man smirked, as though that idea was the funniest he'd heard all night.

"Oh, well, I guess it's just that I'm..."

The little smiling man held up both hands and waved Steve's hesitation away. "No no no. You are where you've chosen to be, so why climb the ladder if you aren't going to dive right in?"

Steve blinked.

"What you need," he grinned, "is a special. Tonight, we're making 'Bonitas.' Come with me."

With that, the little man disappeared into the crowd. By squinting in the dim light, Steve could see him weaving his way through the crowd to the bar. After taking a quick, deep breath, he followed the grinning man into the throng.

His anxiety didn't fade, but as he made his way through the writhing dancing bodies, feeling the pounding of the dance-techno bass in his chest, he found his heartbeat pounding in time, his breathing going faster. He licked his lips, feeling on the precipice of something he couldn't identify.

When he approached the bar, it was packed, and yet there seemed to be an empty spot just for him. The small man stood there waiting for him, behind the bar and already pouring a colorful liquid into an oddly shaped glass. In the strange light of the club, the greenish liquid seemed to glow.

"Trust me," said the little grinning man, "this is just what you need. It'll change your whole outlook on life."

Steve looked down at the drink and felt his mouth begin to water. He looked back up. "That's a tall order just for a drink. What's in it?"

The bartender grinned again and made a strange flourish with his hands. "Let me put it this way, everything in this glass is about as far from what you usually drink as you can get."

After a brief moment of consideration, Steve took the drink and downed it in three big swallows.

The man winked. "You have a good time now, okay?"

Already, Steve could feel a warmth... No, that wasn't the right word... A heat traveling down his throat, filling his chest and belly. He turned away from the bar and looked over the dance floor.

Watching the bouncing pulsing mass of young, sexy flesh mingling and grinding and sliding in the flashing strobes and colored lights of the club, Steve's heart began to race, beating faster and faster to match the pounding bass of the techno music filling his ears and penetrating his mind like it wanted him, wanted his arms and legs and hands and feet and ass and chest to dance!

A part of him resisted, afraid to step out there, afraid of looking stupid, of being laughed at, but there was another part, a part that seemed to bubble up from inside him like a genie from a bottle, a part that would not be denied.

He took a step, then another, onto the dance floor, feeling his body moving to the rhythm. He felt his hands, usually so awkward, gliding and swinging like carefree doves, riding the currents, not air currents, but music. His feet rose and fell without any of the hesitant half-steps that had always plagued his previous attempts to dance. He felt as though he were surrounded by fluid, and that he swam in a sea of blissful motion, slowly dissolving, melting into the sensual warmth all around him.

It occurred to him that he may well have been drugged, but in truth, he felt so good that his first reaction to that thought was gratitude. He reached up to brush the hair out of his eyes, a little confused, because his hair shouldn't have been long enough to obscure his vision. Still, the feeling of his hair whipping around his head as he danced filled him with a delicious joy.

The song began to change. Though the pulsing beat remained constant, the high harmonics rose in volume, singing out a deliriously synthesized melody that sent a jolt right down Steve's spine, all the way to his hips, which began to slide and weave, not in thrusts, but in a grinding, silky-smooth figure-eight.

Sporadically, he felt quick drafts of cool air on his calves, as though his pants no longer went all the way to his ankles. The material swooshed and swirled over his shins and around his knees like silk on silk, a smoothness that made him think of rose petals and satin sheets.

A dizziness swirled all around him as he continued to dance, rotating his hips and rubbing his hands up and down his strangely loose and also silky-smooth shirt. It felt looser at the neck, and his sleeves seemed to have pulled up past his elbows, leaving his bare arms to flip and glide in the sweet sexy music. In the quick flashes of the club strobes, he watched his hands weaving through the air, and before his eyes, he saw them shrinking, his hands and wrists growing long and slender, his skin growing smoother and darker, his nails extending.

Steve reeled, his skin electric and tingling all over. Something was happening to him. Something more than happy-drugs. He couldn't quite find it in himself to be afraid, but he had to see, had to know. He left the dance floor, and staggered toward the restrooms. The heat that had spread throughout his body seemed to be flowing out of every pore, making him feel as though he were basking in some invisible tropical sun. His shoes made a sharper click-click on the hard wooden floor that he remembered before, and his ass seemed to sway a little while he walked.

He reached a pair of doors, the restrooms, and he blinked, his vision blurry and confused. He put out a hand to steady himself on the wall. Which was the men's room? Everything seemed to sway and swirl. He chose the door on the left and went inside.

An old leather couch against the wall, and the lack of urinals told him he had chosen the women's room, but it was unimportant compared to what he needed to know. He made his way to the mirror and gasped.

His hair had changed, from light-brown to nearly black, and grown out past his shoulders. His skin too had darkened from his normal pink-white to a glowing cinnamon hue. He blinked and saw the feminine face blink with him, growing more and more beautiful by the second, reforming into high cheekbones, a delicate jawline and thin arched eyebrows above gorgeous chocolate eyes. He reached up to touch his smooth cheek in wonder, only to discover finely manicured nails on the ends of lithe slender fingers.

His shirt had become smooth and sleeveless, and as he looked lower, it had merged with his pants, which were also silk, and rising up his now-hairless thighs, the separate legs splitting and merging into the hem of a light silky summer dress.

A sudden bouncing sensation from his chest startled him, and he placed both hands to his chest, where his nipples began to swell. He gave a small moan as his new fingernails lightly brushed his growing, sensitive nipples. Below them, a puffiness grew firmer and firmer, filling his hands, then the dress as a pair of large full breasts swelled from his chest with a wave of ecstasy that ran all over his body. As he caressed his luscious tits, he felt a hard-on growing from down below, but when he looked down, the bulge was not growing, but shrinking.

He dropped a hand down between his thighs just in time to feel what remained of his penis settle into place as an ultra-sensitive rosebud of a clitoris, nestled between a pair of slick labia, without even a pair of panties to block the way. He was endlessly grateful for that, as his gently probing fingers tickled that rosebud releasing a shock of pleasure that spread from his warm wet crotch to the rest of his hot, tingly body.

In the rush of ecstasy that overwhelmed him, Steve found himself settling back in his mind, relaxing completely into the sensation. As he did, he felt something else rise up from inside him to take his place.

From inside Steve's mind, Heather took a step forward and looked in the mirror at the hot Latina; hair down to her ass, narrow waist, and skirt hiked to allow easy access to her probing fingers. She smiled.

Steve could feel everything: the soft tickle as Heather's long nails brushed the downy feminine mound, the spreading as she parted the fleshy outer lips, the gentle, oh-so-gentle, insertion of a finger, moving slow and sweet so not to scratch.

Inside his head, Steve gasped at the sensation, the feeling of movement in a sensitive place that had never existed before, but Heather just smiled again, closing her eyes and sighing as she inserted another finger. The two fingers wiggled against each other, twitching against the warm slick sides of their pussy. Heather withdrew them slowly, sliding the tips up between their inner lips for one long smooth caress of their clitoris, like a sweet sip of cocoa on a cold day.

Heather and Steve watched in the mirror as she raised her hand and wiggled her fingers, letting them air-dry as she used her other hand to smooth the skirt back down around her hips. Steve tried to speak, to move, to blink, anything, but it was no use, Heather was in complete control.

"Aww," Heather mock-pouted into the mirror, taking a few steps forward on her high heels, sashaying forward to lean both hands on the sink and lean in close. Her voice was rich and breathy, with just the hint of an accent. "Poor Steve. I know you're confused, baby, but don't be. I'm not taking you over. In fact, I'm not even real. I'm you. Or rather, you're me. You wanted a change. So don't chicken out on us now. The night is young!"

Steve could do nothing but watch as their hot sexy body walked towards the door of the restroom. No, he could do more than watch. He could hear the heels clacking on the floor. He could feel the silk hem of the dress brushing lightly against their smooth thighs and the gentle bounce of their breasts. He could smell the drying juices on their fingers and the ones still dripping from down below. Their body left the restroom and re-entered the heavy thumping pulse of the dance music.

Without hesitation, Heather marched right out into the center of the dance floor and stood there, completely motionless except for the constant roaming of her gaze, drifting and scanning the dancing crowds until she stopped on a tall, handsome man in a black silk shirt. Their face lit up in a mischievous grin. "Oh, excellent," she said.

It was Ken, Steve's underling at the restaurant.

As Heather began to saunter towards Ken, Steve struggled from within to no avail. Nothing he could do seemed to have any effect, and he could feel his breath coming faster, the heat in his belly flaring again to flush his face, and warm his nether regions, keeping them hot despite the air of the club running across the moist bare skin beneath the dress. Each footstep across the dance floor was slow, but deliberate, each step placed with care, intended to move ever closer to the young man in the silk shirt.

He saw her now, and Heather held eye contact, a hungry expression crossing her face as she licked her lips. Ken's eyes widened a little, first in surprise and then in lust. She smiled at him, holding his gaze for a few more seconds, before walking right past him to a dark little corridor in the back of the club. Steve wasn't sure what Heather intended, but that look she'd given Ken was not meant to discourage him.

Sure enough, only a few seconds after she entered the corridor, which led to an emergency exit, Ken appeared from around the corner, a mischievous smile on his face. Heather had placed her hands behind her back, leaning against the wall in a casual pose. "Hi there," she said.

"Hi," said Ken, as he leaned against the wall opposite her. "I love that dress."

Heather grinned and gently chewed her lower lip. "It looks even better on the floor."

Steve began to panic. He had always seen Ken as sort of a punk. A young man more interested in having a good time than doing a good job. Someone who cared more about himself than anyone else. Someone who didn't respect... well, someone who didn't respect Steve.

Now, he saw a handsome man. Tall, so tall, and something about his eyes and smile made his heart pound and his knees shake. No. No. Steve tried to shake those thoughts away. Those were Heather's thoughts, not his own. He tried to stop this. Tried to move away as Ken approached and put his hands around his waist, pulling his hips in close. The contact made Steve gasp, like a sort of electric shock, but... good.

"Is that right?" asked Ken, with a grin. "I'd like to see that."

Heather smiled, bringing her hands around Ken's back and sliding them down his waist and ass, gripping for a moment before moving on to hold Ken's arms, pulling them in even closer. "Oh, I think you'll see all sorts of things before the night is through."

Ken chuckled, a deep, pleasant rumble that seemed to bypass the conscious part of Steve/Heather's mind, penetrating straight to the animal attraction, and their heart beat a little faster. Ken looked down at them with large, smiling eyes. "You're a sexy one, aren't you?" His grin popped into a gasp of surprise as Heather dropped her hands to his crotch and unzipped his fly. Once the momentary shock had passed, the grin returned. "Oh yeah, that's what I'm talking about."

Heather slid down to kneel between Ken's legs and he leaned forward, placing both hands on the wall over her head. Steve tried to scream, to stop his hands, Heather's hands from undoing Ken's pants, caressing the warm bulge that lay beneath the red cotton boxers. The caress lasted only a moment before she spreading the fly of that too, gripping the hot, twitching rod and bringing it out into the warm music-filled air.

Steve could feel it in his hand and though he was repulsed, his body, his female body betrayed him. It felt so good in his hand, the heat, the soft skin over swelling hardness. He had felt it before, on his own cock before this surreal transformation, but now it was someone else's. Instead of the familiar known sensation of his own fingers on his own shaft, it was another shaft, responding to the soft fondling on it's own, while his newly-created pussy grew slick and warm below.

Heather stroked it once, twice, softly bringing it to full erection and Steve marveled at the size of it. Not merely because it was larger than his own had been, but also because he had simply never been faced with another man's hard cock only inches away. He had never been good with guessing measurements of any kind, but all he knew was that it looked huge, bobbing slightly with Ken's heartbeat, swelling ever thicker, ever longer, ever stiffer, the purplish head growing full, like a mushroom in a time-lapse nature video.

He could feel his mouth watering, and at the same time that he was desperate to turn away, he wanted it. He wanted it in ways he didn't even understand. The desire didn't originate from his conscious mind, or even Heather's, it came from deep inside, from the part of him that had no words. He wanted it, and he wanted it now!

Heather eagerly obliged, leaning forward to kiss it gently on the tip while stroking it more, her small feminine hand wrapped around a full handful, her fingers and thumb barely meeting on the other side of the thick dick. Following the kiss was a lick, eliciting a deep moan from above, and as her tongue swirled around the swollen head, Steve was overwhelmed by the taste and smell that filled his awareness with salty and musky and sex! He could feel the strange soft-stiff member filling his mouth, pressing his tongue and cheeks, in and out as Heather bobbed her head up and down on Ken's maleness.

It tasted... not good, but right somehow, and Steve found himself lost in the sensation, feeling the hot sex filling his mouth then retreating, only to return again harder, feeling his hands lift to fondle Ken's heavy hairy balls and stroke the shaft in time with the thrusting motion of Ken's hips.

Ken groaned in pleasure, breathing heavy and deep, dropping one of his hands from the wall to Heather's head, running his fingers through her long dark hair, gripping a handful and pulling, just a little. "Oh yeah, suck it!"

The pulling of his hair jolted Steve, hurting just a little but blending with his excitement and arousal like the spice that makes the recipe just right. Heather continued to suck Ken's big dick and Steve felt his hands, one gently pulling at and fondling the full testicles and the other reaching around to caress Ken's rock-hard, thrusting ass.

Then Ken grunted, thrusting hard enough to push Steve/Heather back against the wall and the thick shaft twitched, spurting hot sticky cum into their mouth. Most of it went inside, but Ken's dick slipped out mid-way through, and sprayed more onto their chest, where it mixed with their beading sweat and dripped down between their breasts.

The taste, like Ken's cock, was simultaneously bad and yet so good, the slimy texture coating Steve's tongue, and rolling around as Heather swirled it, taking a moment to lick a trailing drop off her lower lip with a smile.

"Oh, baby, that was fucking fantastic." Ken was breathing hard, and Heather looked up to meet his gaze. She grinned and gave his drooping cock a quick jerk before reaching up. Ken took her hands and helped her to her feet.

"I hope it wasn't so fantastic that you're done for the evening," she said, a dare, a demand in her voice. Steve tried to call out, but he was confused. He didn't want this, but, the memory of Ken's shaft spreading his lips, the taste, the smell, the feel of Ken's thick manly fingers curled in his long long hair. It made him want more.

Ken smiled, pulling Heather/Steve in close. Their hips met Ken's and Steve could feel Ken's dick pressing the skirt between her thighs, brushing the silk against her eager pussy. It was like he was melting into Ken's arms as the rapid pulse of the dance music echoed through the dark little corridor.

"Don't worry about that, baby," said Ken's sexy baritone. "I'm good to go."

Already? Steve was surprised, and doubly-so to find himself excited at the prospect. The space between his legs pulsed and quivered. There was a feeling, almost like a hard-on, but with only the tip, (his clitoris?) twitching with arousal. And the heat, the heat spread from his hungry pussy throughout her body; running up her spine, stiffening her nipples, making her dizzy.

Ken leaned in to kiss her, and Heather opened her mouth to admit his warm wet tongue. Steve placed one arm around Ken's waist and ran the other over his powerful shoulders while losing himself in the kiss, closing his eyes and luxuriating in sensation.

He could feel it when Ken lowered a hand to cup her breast, lifting, squeezing, caressing the nipple with a thumb, and Heather moaned, a soft sound emerging through their kiss, and her back arched, pressing into his hand, into his hips.

When the kiss ended, gradually, slowly, tenderly, they pulled apart just enough to stare into each other's eyes. "So," said Ken, "My place?"

Steve couldn't quite believe what was happening, but he could hear Heather's soft feminine voice answering: "I'm not sure I can wait that long," she said. She pillaged Steve's memories for a second. "How about your truck?"

Ken's mouth opened into a wide goofy grin. "Well, fuck. How can I say no to that?"

Before Steve knew it, he was being led by the hand out of the corridor back onto the dance floor. The heavy pounding of the techno bass filled everything, giving a rhythm to the world; to the dancers, to their footsteps, to Heather's heartbeat. As they wove their way through the bouncing, grinding crowd, Steve caught the eye of the little bartender who had first greeted him from across the room. The man gave him a sly wink.

The next thing he knew, Steve was outside. The sudden change from the hot humid atmosphere of the club to the cool night breeze sent a shock through him. The chill air brought her nipples to attention again, and she could feel the bounce in her breasts as well as the breeze swirling under her skirt.

But more than that was Ken's hand on hers, holding her a little too tight, pulling her along a little too fast. She had to hurry on her heels to keep up. He looked back with a sexy grin and she returned it, breathing hard from the exertion but excited too. They made their way down the street, walking almost a block to where Ken had parked his truck.

Letting go of her hand for a moment, Ken hopped up onto the side and climbed into the pickup bed. "Come on," he said eagerly, "I've got some blankets." He held out his hand to help her up.

Steve laughed inwardly. Pretty convenient that he just happened to have blankets in his truck. He's done this before, but then the gravity of that hit him and he rebelled again. He struggled in a futile effort to stop Heather from taking his hand and climbing into the truck. Once again, he heard Heather's little chuckle. "Come on now, Steve. You'll have a lot more fun if you let yourself get into this. Remember that cock in our mouth?"

Steve did remember, and the memory brought the heat up from within him again, spinning him about and running a delicious shiver up his spine.

"Steve, baby, that was just the warm-up act. Wait until you see the main event!"

Ken helped them into the bed of the truck, and standing there, they pressed close again, leaning in to luxuriate in a hot wet kiss. Out here, it was different, but just as good. The pounding bass of the dance music had faded into a quiet background of city noises: some traffic from the main drag, the hum of air handling units on the nearby building. The night air was cool, even cold compared to the humid heat inside the club. All the more exciting then, to draw close to a warm body, sharing the touch of skin against skin. The softness of his lips on hers, the welcome invasion of his broad wet tongue in her mouth, reminding her of his thick cock, but different and wonderful in its own way, able to swirl around with hers like a playful animal.

As they kissed, his hands traveled slowly down her back, his fingers caressing her skin through the silk of her dress, all around her back and hips, to grip the soft round cheeks of her ass, filling Steve with a delirious pleasure.

Soon enough, Steve could feel Ken's stiff bulge pressing between her legs again, and his hands traveled below the hem of her dress, pulling up along her smooth leg and hip. Suddenly he pulled away with a shocked smile on his face. He took a step back and looked down as he lifted her skirt, revealing her bare hips and slick pussy.

"Jesus! No panties either?" He laughed. "My god, you're the hottest thing I've ever seen!" Then his eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her breath catch in her throat.

When she recovered, chewing on her lower lip for a moment, then smiled. "So how 'bout those blankets, stud?"

He nodded eagerly, then pulled away, bending over to open a dusty duffle-bag tucked in the corner of the pickup bed. While he was digging through it, Steve reached over to goose him, enjoying the firm, male ass and the reaction. Ken jumped a little, then laughed looking back at her with a grin before pulling out the blankets.

They weren't exactly clean, fluffy and soft, but as a means of padding the otherwise cold metal surface of the truck bed, they would do nicely. He spread an old thick patchwork quilt out on the bottom of the bed, and folded another near the cab for a makeshift pillow. That done, he sat down on the blanket and held out a hand.

Heather took it, kicked off her heels, and sat down next to him. She brushed the long hair out of her eyes, then ran a hand behind her neck pulling her long hair out of the way so she could sit and move around without accidentally pulling.

Ken watched her, a grin on his face as he began to unbutton his black silk shirt. Heather smiled mischievously and leaned forward to grab the shirt in both hands, pulling it violently apart, popping the buttons and baring his firm, defined chest. He gasped in shock, but the smile never left his face. "Wow," he said.

She winked. "So get a move on. You're too slow!" As if to illustrate the point, Heather scooted her hips forward off of the bottom of her dress, then lifted it up and over her head in a smooth graceful motion. Her full firm breasts swung free, bouncing from the motion of removing the dress. As she slid the dress off, pulling it along her long silky hair, her nipples crinkled in the cool air. Steve had closed his eyes, relishing the smooth textures and the pleasant sensations, but when he opened them, the sight pleased him even more.

Ken had undone his pants and was trying to get both legs and his shoes off simultaneously in a rather clumsy motion. Heather laughed, a wonderful musical sound in the calm night. She crawled onto her hands and knees, feeling her breasts swinging beneath her slender chest and noting the unaccustomed room between her legs. Her long hair trailed all down her back, the ends tickling her ass, some locks hanging over her shoulders, or around her waist. So much hair, the feel of it on her bare skin was driving her wild.

Kneeling by his feet, she pulled off his shoes and then slipped his pants off entirely, revealing his strong legs. She rested one hand on his knee, running her thumb across the hairy surface. Between his legs, poking up from the open fly of his red boxers, the head of his cock already stood free, waiting, excited.

"Come on," she said. "Boxers too."

It took him a moment to disengage his manhood from the open fly, and he had to lean back on the blanket to slip them down off his hips.

As soon as they were down around his ankles she pounced on him, pinning him against the floor of the truck. She straddled his hard stomach and placed both hands on his chest, looking down at his surprised, but pleased expression. "Got protection?" she asked?

He nodded, then wriggled around underneath her to grab his pants and pull a condom out of the pocket. Steve could feel Ken's warm hard abs pressing against her wet pussy, twitching as he moved, and she slid down his front, rubbing her slick labia against his skin, grinding her buried clitoris against him until she felt his hard dick pulsing against her ass.

She raised her hips, supporting her weight on her knees leaning forward onto his chest. She felt the tip of his penis slowly sliding between her ass cheeks, and then brushing ever so lightly across her moist slit before bouncing free. She settled onto his legs and took the condom from his outstretched hand.

She tore open the wrapper and placed it in her mouth with a flourish. Ken frowned for a moment until she leaned down over his dick and used her mouth to slowly unroll the condom onto his stiff shaft.

Then, a big smile on her face, she moved forward again, raising her hips and putting one hand between her legs, positioning his thick shaft, then slowly settling back onto it.

Steve gasped as the head spread him. The outer lips, he'd felt before, back in the bathroom. But as Heather lowered her hips further, the slow penetration of her dripping vagina was a sensation entirely unlike anything Steve had ever known. It was filling something that hadn't felt empty. He could feel the heat of Ken's dick as it slid up inside him, slipping into a secret place, a place that had never existed until tonight.

Steve sat back onto Ken's hips, feeling the hardness push ever deeper inside him, filling him completely, and then she was down, sitting on Ken's cock, and all she could do was sit there for a moment, eyes wide, astonished at the feeling.

"Oh, baby," moaned Ken. "Oh that's good."

Steve blinked, breathing hard, then she felt a hand on her breast, rubbing and lifting, the thumb stroking her nipple. Her breath caught for a moment, but then she smiled, and began to raise her hips, lifting and lowering onto the stiffness inside her. Sliding friction, slow at first, but gradually faster, building waves of ecstasy that traveled from her pulsing cunt all through her body, joining the waves radiating from her breasts and Ken's kneading caresses.

As she bounced up and down on Ken's thick manhood, the cool air of the Grand Rapids night blew all around her and she looked up at the stars, feeling as though every molecule in the universe was a part of what she was feeling at that very instant, and that she was a part of everything else.

Over her shoulder, she heard voices laughing, and she turned her head just a little, to see a young couple staring from the sidewalk, laughing as they walked by. Steve smiled. They were part of this too, so let them watch. She thought of that couple, excited by what they'd seen, making love on their own later, spreading the pleasure all over the world.

Ah, but she'd been neglecting her partner in all this, so she looked down at Ken's smiling face again, and ran her own hands across his broad flat chest, gently drawing her fingernails across the skin. Ken had both hands around her hips rubbing her ass cheeks as she pumped up and down.

Steve stopped for a moment, then pulled off, climbing off of Ken with a grin, then went to her hands and knees, presenting doggie-style. He obliged eagerly, climbing up and moving behind her. His hands went around her hips again, and she could feel him on his knees between her legs. She enjoyed the way her breasts moved, hanging in the air as Ken took his cock, rubbing the end over her ass cheeks. It left trails of her own juices mixed with his pre-cum that felt cool against the air.

She wasn't kept waiting, as he placed the end of his cock into her spread pussy and thrust. The filling sensation was the same, but this time so quick, so hard, so deep. Before, she'd been in control. Control of the speed, control of the rhythm. Now Ken was thrusting, pounding into her and it was different, submitting to his insistent cock as it penetrated deep inside her again and again.

Her breasts swayed, bouncing in the rhythm of his thrusting and the waves of pleasure spreading from her pussy and nipples built higher, stronger, until she felt her self losing control of her body. All her muscles tensing and a high feminine groan of ecstasy escaped her lips. The wave crested over her and all conscious thought was lost for several seconds. It subsided slowly, and began to build again!

"You like that, baby?" moaned Ken between grunts. "You like it when I fuck you like that?"

"Yes, oh yes!" Steve gasped and sighed in pleasure. His old male orgasms had been intense, yes, but after a second or two they were definitively done, and even though his dick would remain sensitive afterward, there was no question when he was finished. This... this was different. The intensity was similar, but as another wave approached its peak, he was lost again, only to find himself entering another. They all blurred and blended together in an endless tide of sensation.

Ken pulled out then, and Steve blinked, resting there on her hands and knees, trying to catch her breath. Then she felt a hand around her waist. "Come on, baby," said Ken. "On your back." Steve looked up to see a grin on his face. "I'm going to finish you off in missionary."

Smiling, Steve enthusiastically obeyed, shifting around to lie on the blanket, her head on the makeshift pillow, the cool fabric of the quilt against her hot, sweaty skin. Her breasts settled into her chest, looking smaller at first, but as she raised a hand to one, she could still feel it's bulk, it's sensitive flesh and erect nipple. She tickled it, the crinkled skin all around it almost as pleasing as the nipple itself.

Hands on her calves lifted both her legs and she saw Ken moving between them, his stiff cock bobbing as it hung free in front of his own muscular thighs. She allowed him to spread her thighs, holding both her legs in the air as he leaned in to position himself, then thrust, filling her once again. As he continued thrusting, he lay down over her and she wrapped her legs around him, crossing her ankles around his back as he pounded into her, his powerful chest pressing against her tits, his face only inches from her own.

The thrusting was different again, a different angle and the friction felt good, but didn't build like it had before. Even still, she liked this. She liked looking into his eyes as he thrust into her, a constant easy pleasure as she smelled him, tasted his sweat as it dripped onto her face, ran a hand through his short brown hair. An idea occurred to her then, and she lowered one hand to the junction between them, finding the quivering nub of her clitoris, and rubbing ever so gently as Ken continued to pound. Now the building waves resumed, and she sighed, panted, her breath heaving as the pleasure rose and fell, rose and fell with each thrust and Ken was grunting and he thrust hard and twitched inside and the spurting of his cum inside her pushed her over the edge and she was screaming, screaming as her whole body glowed with sex.

As the wave gradually subsided, Ken lowered himself to lay on top of her, his dick still inside her but smaller, softer. He was so heavy, but his weight on her felt good, as though he was keeping her warm and safe. He looked down at her and their eyes met. Steve looked into Ken's gorgeous chocolate-brown eyes, but then they closed, as Ken moved in for another kiss. Steve closed his eyes as well, relishing the kiss in the afterglow of the best sex she'd ever had.

After a while, they broke the kiss and Ken climbed off, just enough to lie on his back next to her, and they both lay there, looking up at the stars. Steve ran one hand lazily around her nipple, and closed her eyes, enjoying the cool air on her sweaty skin and the pleasant tickle of her finger.

"Nice, isn't it?" said Heather, inside her head. "Just thought I'd point out that you have complete control of your body."

Steve's eyes opened wide, and she realized it was true. She moved her hand, and it's long, manicured nails, in front of her face and flexed the fingers. "But... how?" she whispered.

"Easy," laughed Heather. "You were never out of control. I told you at the beginning that I'm not really real. Or rather, I'm just a part of you that you've always hidden from yourself. Hidden under all the things you felt like you were supposed to do. But don't you see? Those things don't get rid of me, but they don't have to! Nor do you have to get rid of them. They are part of your life as well, just as I am, and your dissatisfaction comes from attempting to choose one at the exclusion of the other. What you need, is to spend a while on one side of the border, and the rest of the time on the other. You might eventually decide to stay on one side or the other, but for now, just remember that you don't have to choose just one."

Steve smiled, looking up at the stars.

"And you know what I say is true," said Heather. "Because after all..."

"I'm you," said Steve/Heather.

She lay there for a while longer, but when she looked over at Ken, he'd fallen asleep. She took a moment to look him up and down. His muscular chest rising and falling with each breath, his flaccid dick lying between his legs, still coated in their shared fluids. She covered him with his quilt, then took her dress and slid it back over her head, taking care to ease her long dark hair back over her shoulders. With the dress smoothed over her hips and her hair smoothed back into a semblance of style, she quietly climbed out of the truck and back onto the ground.

As she walked back to where she had parked, the sharp clack of her heels on the sidewalk began to grow duller. The cool air blowing across her calves began to fade, as the silk of her dress lengthened and changed. The hanging weight of her long hair gradually receded and the bouncing of her breasts gradually diminished to nothing. By the time Steve reached out for the car door, his hand had returned to normal. He held it up in front of his face and felt a momentary sense of loss. But then, he knew this hand. It was his. He'd worked hard with this hand and it shared his history. He formed a fist and smiled, then got into the car and drove home.

Steve was already at his desk when Ken showed up, late, for work the next day. Ken's face was lit up by a big glowing smile.

"Have a good time last night, Ken?" asked Steve.

"Oh wow, did I ever! I met this sweet little latin chica down at-"

"Glad to hear it," said Steve, "Because you're working late tonight to make up for it."

Ken frowned. "Oh come on, man. Maybe I ought to talk to Mr. Southern about-"

"Not necessary," said Steve. "I showed him my new scheduling plan this morning. Showed him how we can cover the peak hours more efficiently and save some nice money. He liked it so much he gave me complete control over employee hours, including yours. But don't worry, I think we can work out some free nights for you to go clubbing. I'm not a dictator after all."

Ken smiled. "Okay, I guess that's fair. Thanks, man. Because I've gotta see this chick again. She was practically begging for it! Fucking fantastic!"

"Oh, I'll bet you see her again," said Steve, with a chuckle. "Sounds like she's going to be looking for you."

  

  

  

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