Me… I woke up somewhat exhausted, but mostly still horny as hell. While our lovemaking was amazing, deep and passionate, it also had ended without me having an orgasm. It’s something we’ve experimented with from time to time, as it raises my sexual energy level (and overall energy level), and I’ve always been more focused on her pleasure, anyway.

Last night, she was in rare form while we hit the local bar for cocktails and dinner, very playful and sexy, and I would have sworn she was tipsy all night if I hadn’t been with her all day leading up to our outing. She couldn’t keep her hands off me despite being in a public setting, and I couldn’t figure out what had gotten into her.

“What on earth has gotten into you?” I asked, after having to remove her hand from my crotch while the waitress took our order.

“It must be this,” she said, running her finger along the necklace—choker—she had bought earlier in the week. We had talked about it a few nights ago, because while I thought it was lovely, it didn’t seem exactly like her style. She told me how she had gotten it from a psychic—healer—who offered to read her palm outside the market. She didn’t feel comfortable not tipping her, and the lady gave her the choker in exchange for her kindness.

“It has magical feminine powers,” the psychic had apparently told her. Well, it was quickly becoming one of my new favorite things, as I loved her sexual energy tonight and couldn’t wait to get her home and out of her clothes.

Turns out I wouldn’t have to wait that long, as after our second drink, she removed her panties and slyly handed them to me under the bar.

“Check please!” was all I could think to say.

She was ravenous on the way home, and spent half the time with her skirt hiked up and rubbing her wet sex for me to see, and the other half toying with the raging hard-on fighting to escape from my pants.

Once in the driveway, we made out in the car like we were in high school and barely made it in the door before she had hiked up her skirt, pushed me to my knees, and led my head between her legs. No complaints from me; lapping at her juices is my absolute favorite pastime, and her wetness made it very clear just how turned on she was. She stood over me just inside the doorway while I licked her to an orgasm before we stumbled our way to the bedroom.

We ripped each other’s clothes off on the way and dove onto the bed into a passionate 69. I couldn’t believe she was allowing me to touch her—much less lead her to another orgasm so soon after the first. Normally, an orgasm leaves her so sensitive that she’s done after one, and it might take hours (or days) before she’s ready again. I typically respect her need for a bit of distance after, but was greedily accepting her interest in coming again as I licked and tickled her to several more before we both collapsed.

While our night included several orgasms, none of them were mine, and I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that I woke up with a raging hard-on and immediately disappointed that my lover wasn’t in the bed beside me. I had shared with her years ago my fascination with delayed—controlled—orgasms, and while it wasn’t often something she was into, her playful mode last night had her pulling out all the stops, as she would tease me near to orgasm only to pull away seconds before my imminent explosion as we continued on toward hers.

The imagery was fresh in my brain, and I couldn’t think about anything else other than her final orgasm, which flooded my mouth as my hand slowly made its way to the wet spot still present on the sheets beside me.

My horny state got the better of me and I looked up some stories online and started to masturbate, but almost immediately I felt guilty and wanted to save my pent-up passion for her return, hoping she might still be in the same mood after her class as she was last night. Despite my best efforts, however, I couldn’t take my hand off my erection and decided I needed to get out of bed if I stood any chance of preserving my current state more than a handful of minutes.

I finally found the strength to remove my hand and slide out from under the covers. I stood in front of the full-length mirror at the foot of our bed for a moment. I pulled my cock away from my body, released it, and watched as it slapped back against my stomach.

“What a ridiculous appendage,” I laughed. I then spent a few minutes looking over my body and wishing I was more chiseled, wishing I was less hairy; wishing the average “man traits” weren’t so apparent.

I'm not exactly a manly man, have never really gotten along with men, and we have joked often that if it weren’t for my penis, I’d probably be the chick in our relationship.

As I turned around from the mirror, I spotted the articles of clothing scattered around the room—a reminder of our play the night before. I started to pick up a few items when I found the panties she had removed and handed to me at the bar. A black satin thong that immediately sent shivers back to my sex as my hazy memory thought about her grin as she removed them under the bar. They were dry now, her wetness long since gone, but despite my best efforts I couldn’t resist lifting them to my nose to inhale her scent. My other hand quickly found its way back to my throbbing tool as I inhaled. I glanced at the clock, wondering when she would be home. “Too long,” I thought.

I proceeded with the best of intentions, trying to clean up the scattered clothes, but somehow all I ended up with in my hand were the panties that smelled so strongly of her, the bra she’d worn under her tank top, and the thigh-high stockings that had remained on until after her last orgasm, just before we crashed for the night. Despite my best efforts, I felt myself rub them over my skin. They were so soft, and I started trying to figure out how to masturbate into them without leaving a trace.

“What a pervert,” I thought to myself, but also continued on. I was soon masturbating into her satin thong before I finally pulled away again.

I came up with a plan to distract myself, even if it also made me feel like even more of a pervert than before. I sat on the edge of the bed and slid first one of the thigh-highs, and then the other, up my legs. The feeling was incredible—the tightness, but also the chill that they caused with any slight breeze.

“How do women focus on anything other than sex with these things on all day?” I thought to myself. I also laughed and was borderline disgusted by the thick hair of my legs poking out through the sheer material and the tuft of hair at the top where the stockings stopped (for her at the top of her thighs, for me barely above the knees).

“You look ridiculous,” I thought, shaming myself again.

“Be a man!” I scolded myself out loud, but instead of taking them off I stood in front of the mirror and watched myself slowly pull her panties over one leg and then the other. They were impossibly tight and barely covered—hid—anything as my cock stuck out several inches above the top and my balls were incapable of being contained by the thin strip of fabric at the base. I stared in the mirror aghast at myself yet again but also clearly being turned on by the fabric containing—rubbing against—my sex and couldn’t help once again rubbing the underside of my rock-hard cock through the smooth satin.
I heard a noise downstairs, and my heart stopped for a moment. I soon realized it was just the mailman sliding our mail into the slot, and after glancing at the clock, somehow convinced myself not to immediately regain my sanity and get out of her underwear. In fact, I grabbed her bra and tried a few times to put it on. Between the small size of the bra and my large chest and shoulders (and admittedly having no skill whatsoever with bra straps or clasps), I simply held it up to see how ridiculous it looked without any breasts to fill it out and then tossed it aside. Just as I was convincing myself to come to my senses and take off the ridiculous apparel, I noticed her new choker sitting on the dresser.

“Ahhh, my new favorite object,” I thought to myself, remembering my wife blaming it for her complete lack of sexual inhibitions the night before. I grabbed it and held it up to my throat. I was surprised that it was actually plenty large enough, so I latched the clasp behind the back of my neck and immediately felt a shiver course through my body as the buckle was fastened snug.

I felt immediately different.

It was indescribable, but something had changed. As I looked down at my body, I almost fainted as I realized that in fact everything had indeed changed.

The chest and shoulders I was struggling to wrap the bra around just moments ago were small, silky, and suddenly had breasts protruding from them. Sexy, perky little breasts. My hands found their way up to them almost immediately, and I traced the round outline of each with my fingers.

My fingers! I held them up to my face and realized they were maybe half the size I was used to seeing and feeling. I stared at them as they traced circles around the tiny areolas that now poked out the front of my breasts and became more pronounced as soon as I fondled them. My giant man hands were gone, and I had these dainty, soft hands in their place. I shook my head, trying to wake up from this dream, but at that moment, it hit me. My eyes looked up and my jaw dropped as the creature that looked back at me from the mirror for the first time was someone else.

Every part of my body had been transformed into a smaller, curvier, smoother, sexier version. I couldn’t help but be immediately turned on by the figure I saw looking back at me. I guess in all honesty I had been turned on before, but I couldn’t help but like what I saw in the mirror. I watched in awe as my hands traced down again over the curves of the breasts that now resided where my pecs had been. Then lower, as these tiny hands caressed down my now curvy torso and trailed off at the sexy indentation where my hipbone met a rather tight stomach. I instinctively spun around slightly to check out my ass in the mirror...

“Not as good as hers, but not bad,” I thought, and as a self-professed ass man, I felt like I could say that with good confidence. The thong that was stretched to its fullest length before wrapped perfectly around two tight buttocks and disappeared into a fine line of fabric that wrapped beneath to my crotch.

Oh holy…my crotch! My eyes suddenly got wide as I spun back around, now completely fixated. I realized that my cock was no longer straining against the upper edge of the panty line. In fact, it was nowhere to be seen. In its place was a slightly protruding pubic mound that would have set my imagination running wild on any woman. But in this case… I had to know what lay beneath. I was almost terrified to look, so I traced a hand slowly down the front of the panties, lightly tracing from a very cute little belly button down over a flat tummy to what felt very much like a set of womanly lips. Suddenly both my body and mind went simultaneously crazy. Not only was my brain being turned on as I watched my hand disappear underneath a woman’s panties, but my body was set ablaze with a full-body tingle as these nimble little fingers made their way over the smooth lips hidden below.

Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t take my eyes off them. I slowly pulled the panties out of the way and stared at the neatly trimmed patch of hair at the top before slowly tracing two fingers along the edge of the outer lips. It was like I still had the excitement I would also have of watching my own fingers on my wife’s sex, but now could also feel the results of the same touch. The tingling, the heat. I shook just trying to take it all in. It was like every nerve ending in my body was alive and focused, and I hadn’t even touched the center of my attention.

It felt amazing. I was lustfully craving more, and my fingers began to seek further exploration. I eventually allowed one finger to drift just inside the outer lips and trace along the inner folds. My inner folds. I was amazed at how warm it was between those lips and at the moisture already building up inside them. I could feel things inside my body I’d never known before, and suddenly everything felt so connected, so profoundly sensitive in a way I’d never known, even at the height of an orgasm.

I trailed a lone finger ever so slowly from bottom to top, dipping in just enough to grab a bit of the silky juices and continuing upward to where the lips met and a delicate hood protected my very own clit. I nervously pulled my finger away, at first afraid to touch it—as though I was on my first date or had just seen, or been allowed access to, a woman’s sex for the first time.

I released the upper line of the panties for a moment while I regained my breath. I was starting to get a bit dizzy and was worried I might pass out, but as I stared in the mirror, an uncontrollable urge was welling up inside of me. Like a vibrating heat radiating from those lips throughout my entire body. It needed to be touched. It craved more contact.

I couldn’t resist as I pulled the panties aside again and retraced those lips. This time the wetness was clear, and I could feel the lips moving against each other, sliding over each other as my fingers investigated the space between them. I pulled the lips apart to expose the pink folds beneath, my eyes completely transfixed.

I knew what I should find there, but was at the same time fascinated and surprised to see it on—no, in—my own body. I continued tracing my tiny finger up, and at the top I outlined the hood and then applied slightly more pressure to the tiny bud buried beneath. I was instantly weak in the knees and thought I might actually crash to the floor. A flash of light and heat and tingling washed over my entire body as my finger came in contact with my clit. My clit.

My head spun, but I couldn’t remove my finger. I was amazed at how much more intense it was than even the head of my cock. It was a collection of nerve endings all the same, but seemed directly wired into the whole of my body rather than just the tip of my cock. I was still so horny, but now it felt completely different than I remembered before. It was more internal, more spread throughout my entire body, more all-consuming, more complete.
I couldn’t stop rubbing my finger back and forth across the area above my clit, occasionally dipping a finger back inside the outer folds for a bit more of the juices now pooling up there, and I realized I could feel a bit of my own juices running down my inner thigh. I was trailing my finger in slow concentric circles and could feel warmth—no, heat—spreading out over my entire body. Every inch of this tiny body was buzzing, set ablaze with sensation, and I felt myself getting dizzy.

I pushed forward, needing to know what it felt like. What it could feel like. To know the intensity my wife has described to me for years. Just as I started to ramp up the speed and pressure, wanting—no, needing—to know what it felt like to come, to climax in this body, as I was feeling a new and higher wave of pleasure about to crash over me, I heard keys jiggling at the front door.

“SHIT!” I screamed to myself.

It was the first time I’d heard the higher-pitched voice come from this slender throat, and it startled me just as much as the door opening downstairs did.

I begrudgingly pulled my hand out from the folds between my legs and spun around, trying to figure out what to do next. I grabbed the bra and tried to hide it.

“Who gives a shit about the bra?” I thought.

I could hear the door closing again, and I frantically tried to pull the thigh-highs off but tripped over my own arm and fell to the floor. This body may be soft, curvy, and sexy as hell, but it was also awkward and new to me in every way.

I leapt up, trying again to get the pantyhose off, but heard her at the foot of the stairs. I panicked and leapt into the bed and under the covers to hide. She bounded up the stairs and into the room.

“Honey, I’m home… What the fuck?”

I could see anger in her eyes.

“Who the hell are you? Where is HE?” she screamed in a mad fury.

“No. It’s… I’m… I…” I stammered, trying to find words and still not recognizing my own voice.

She ripped the sheets off the bed, presumably expecting to find the lover she knew beneath them. I guess in reality she did—but didn’t recognize him. Er, her… me. I instinctively tried to cover my body—my naked breasts with one hand and my groin with the other.

“Where is he? What the hell is going on? And why are you wearing my clothes, you little slut?”

“No. Love,” I started. “It’s me,” I tried to explain. “It’s the necklace. The choker, I put it on and…”

She was still looking around the room, but paused ever so slightly to look back at me.

“What the hell are you talking about?” She stared at me intently, looking deeply into my smaller but still-blue eyes, and I think for a second must have seen something she recognized.

“I was trying on your clothes, and when I put the choker on…” I tried to find words to make sense of the insanity.

“Why were you putting my clothes on?” she screamed. “Never mind, this just can’t be real.” She was still searching around the room, but I also caught her eyes look me up and down as they passed over my body. I’ve always known my wife had a thing for the ladies, and it had fueled many fantasies for both of us over the years.

Now, I suddenly felt very self-conscious, wondering if I was her type—or if she found my new body attractive.

“Lover,” I paused. “I know it’s weird, but it’s me. I swear to you. The same man that made love to you last night and who you handed these panties to under the bar.” My hand found its way to the choker again. “This thing… it changed me as soon as I put it around my neck.”

“Then take it off. Prove it.” She demanded, but her voice was calming down and softening.

My hand reached around to the back of my neck.

“But…” I was lost for words. “I don’t know if I want to,” I pleaded.

“What if it doesn’t work again?” I asked.

“What the hell are you talking about?” she asked, reaching out to free it from my neck.

“Well,” I began, feeling myself blush—but it seemed to be my entire body rather than just my cheeks. “I think… I think I like this body,” I stammered. “What if, what if I, if we kept it for a little while?”

“Oh my god, have you gone crazy?” she asked.

“You don’t like it?” I asked, feeling insecure and trying again to cover up even more than before. “It’s so… smooth, and all that annoying, disgusting hair is gone… and I have… I have boobs and… I have a kitty.” I saw her eyes drop once again to look me over as my hand once again traced my curves, fearing that I might never get to do it again. I wondered if she could see the wetness on her panties between my new thighs.

“Well, if it really is you,” she started to calm down a bit now. “Stand up and let me see you.”

I followed her orders and slowly slid out from the bed. I stood before her and felt both excitement and shame run through my new-to-me body. I felt so exposed. So embarrassed to have even been caught putting her clothes on, terrified for what it had done, and yet hopeful that she liked what she saw before her.

“Lower your arms,” she said, as she reached out to slowly guide them away and to my side, completely exposing me to her gaze.

I waited nervously as she traced her eyes up and down my body.

“You actually look quite pretty,” she said, almost chuckling. “Turn around.”

I spun in place and caught a glimpse of myself again in the mirror. A body I didn’t recognize standing next to a wife I knew so well. Suddenly, it all felt more real than before. Less of a dream I could wake up from at any moment, but I couldn’t help memorizing the beauty of those two bodies standing together in case I never saw it again. This all had to be a dream.

“I’d do you!” she said, laughing for the first time, and I began to relax slightly.

Pride welled up inside me as I spun back around and took her in my arms in one move. She felt so different. My arms didn’t wrap as far around her waist as I was used to, and I couldn’t just lift her off the ground without thinking as I could before, and there was a different type of heat between us. The softness of smooth skin on smooth skin. I’d felt her skin before, thousands of times, but it seemed like there was less between us now, and my skin tingled from head to toe at her touch—even as she remained fully clothed in her yoga wear.

As I nuzzled my face into her shoulder and nibbled my way up along her neck to her ear, she froze.

“Oh my god… it is you!” Her voice shook as she spoke.

“I told you,” I said. “But… what do we do about it?”

She freed herself from my embrace, and once again her eyes trailed up and down my womanly figure. I waited—excited, afraid, confused—looking for words or to wake up from the strangest dream I’ve ever had.

“Well, I for one am gonna need a drink,” she said as she spun to walk out of the room, “but you’d better come along. if I know you at all, you won’t be able to keep your hands off that body for more than two minutes.”

I started to follow her out of the room when she spun back around with a sinister grin.

“And after that, I’m gonna take my panties back. I’m honestly not sure I can keep my hands off that body, either.”